Fantasy

476

An action packed fantasy for pre-teens,young adults and adults. Peter joins with the wizard, Mystagog, as they battle against evil in a struggle to save the mythical world of Helicon.

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Excerpt
As battles go earthside, this was a particularly gruesome one. The carnage fouled the thick air with death and the smell of evil was everywhere. No hate was more profound or vehemence more vengeful than that felt between the two devastated enemies. A wounded king rode his bloodied horse among the fallen, but his eyes did not see nor did his ears hear the agony of the tortured and dying.
On a hill overlooking the battle, a sinister figure stood against the backdrop of twilight. Covered in his cloak of multicolored pelts, the evil wizard stared out with his colorless eyes focused on the approaching monarch.
The king’s horse danced nervously at the base of the hill, froth covering his nose and mouth. It was not easy to calm the frightened beast, but after a moment, the king was able to call out, “I have done as you asked wizard. I have vanquished mine enemies, see for yourself. The field of battle runs thick with blood, and as prophesied, ‘alone the king shall ride on the backs of many’. I demand what has been promised to me. I am ready to face that which will bring me the beacon of power. As your king, I command you.”
Without saying a word the evil wizard reached under his cloak and, clutched in his hand, he withdrew a ball of black fire. Showing his disdain, the wizard’s eyes boiled with colors when he glared down at the man on his horse.
“King!” the wizard shouted over the thunder clapping in the clouds above. “King, as my king, you command me? Fool, I will show you who is king.”
Myrmadon, the evil wizard and servant to Lord Evil the first, threw the ball of black fire into the midst of the bloodied battlefield. A turbulent, swirling mass was formed where the black fire landed. Creating an acrid smoke, it began to feed on the death around it. From this, a frightening darkness began to grow upward.
The shocked king could only watch while scores of screaming souls were ripped from the bodies of the fallen by the growing darkness. Higher and higher it grew with every added soul. For the king, the screams became almost unbearable as he witnessed the souls of friend and enemy alike dragged into the darkness. He dropped his sword and slowly slid from his saddle.
In disbelief, the king turned to look at the evil wizard. Myrmadon began to laugh at the unfortunate monarch, who slumped to his knees and began to weep.
“Oh may the gods forgive me. What have I done?”
Scathingly Myrmadon responded, “They will not hear you here.”
By this time the darkness was almost above the trees on the hill. In an instant Myrmadon was next to the kneeling monarch. He reached down, and grabbing the wailing king by his blood-stained hair, jerked his head toward the darkness.
“My king? How could you ever think you were my king, you feeble-minded fool? HERE, HERE IS MY KING.”
The man was horrified to see the rising evil begin to pulsate in the middle. His heart sank into his stomach for he now realized what he had helped turn loose on an unwitting world. And then from the darkness, like a giant bird of prey, stepped the most evil being the world had ever known: Lord Evil the first, in his coat of black feathers with his all-black eyes afire.
Myrmadon released the fallen king and stepped to the side as Lord Evil approached. Lord Evil stopped and stared down at the beaten man, then slowly turned his head to look at Myrmadon. In a flash of wickedness he impaled the king with his dagger-like fingers and lifted him high above his head. Then, he turned and effortlessly flung the lifeless body onto the battlefield, where the dark mist snatched the dead king’s soul from his chest and fed it to the growing evil.

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For the first time in all of his experiences on Helicon, Peter wanted to stay. Nothing remained for him earthside. He had everything he wanted right here. Watching Dualla floating across the grassy knoll, stopping to gently cup a butterfly in the palms of her delicate hands, made him sigh with contentment. She was as wonderful as she was beautiful. He could sit and watch her all day. Dualla of the two spirits in one body times two released the butterfly, and they both watched while it made its wind-tossed flight towards the heavens.
"So, how does it feel to have a piece of Helicon named after you, the Pendragon Hills? It has a sort of ring to it, don't you think?" she asked with a laugh. Next he knew, she was sitting beside him and her closeness made him warm.
Just below the knoll, his stallion Mule and the Pegasus raced through the open fields. Running side-by-side, occasionally bucking wildly, the two horses nipped and pushed at each other. Around and around they went, and just as it seemed that Mule was getting the better of the competition, the Pegasus took off in flight. Peter knew that Mule was not a good loser, so he begrudgingly climbed to his feet and went to calm the animal. By this time Mule was in a frenzy, rearing high, smoke pouring from his flared nostrils. He was so mad that even the star on his forehead was beginning to turn a bright red.
When Peter approached, Mule relaxed, which was fortunate for the Pegasus. Even though Mule in his transformed state was a magnificent, black stallion, his heart was all namesake. He was stubborn and would not have retreated. Pendragon always found this part of Mule amusing and oftentimes amazing. After all, there had been many occasions when Mule's tenacity had saved the day.
Peter the pendragon, champion of Helicon, walked swiftly down the grassy knoll and greeted Mule like he always did, grabbing his reins and touching Mule's snout to the side of his face. Turning to go back up the hill, Peter glanced forward and saw Dualla frantically pointing towards the sky. The pendragon looked up and saw a group of bulbous, white clouds that seemed to be erupting over the meadow. Behind the clouds Peter could see streaks of lightning and darkness. Suddenly, Dualla turned from the hill and ran as fast as she could towards the phenomenon.
With all of his pendragon senses pouring over him, Peter mounted Mule and charged up the grassy knoll. He stopped at the top of the hill and stood transfixed. Dualla, who had rushed into the plains below, was no longer the gentle spirit of only a few minutes ago. Now, in a defensive posture, she had become magician warrior. Looking like the claws of a tigress, her outstretched fingers directed a lethal force at the cloud formation. As though a running start would give her attack more force, Dualla lunged again at the erupting sky.
Then he saw three women emerge from the storm of clouds. They were clad in black, with serpents entangled in their hair and blood dripping from their eyes. Each carried a scourge, a whip with small spikes at the end of multiple strands. From stories that he had heard earthside, these had to be none other than the furies, coming to seek revenge for some perceived or imaginary injustice.
Dualla was doing all she could to keep them at bay, but it was not until they spotted the pendragon, with the light of his magic axe shining in the daylight and Mule thundering towards them, that they began to retreat.
Dualla called back to Peter, "Hurry my champion, they mustn't get away." Peter swooped down from Mule, gathered her in his powerful arms and, just as the clouds were about to disappear, Mule leapt into them.