Cassius and Ellendarra

  CASSIUS

  AND

  ELLENDARRA

  Copyright © 2021 D. C. Armstrong

  All rights reserved.

  For my kids

  With a special thanks to Craig for his advice and encouragement throughout the years.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter One

  King Magnus stood at the edge of a grassy cliff with his arms crossed and his gaze cast downward. He watched intently as a fierce battle waged on before him amid the steep, rocky walls of Shadow Wood Gorge.

  Every so often, a subtle shimmer of light would cast around his form. It was a sign only noticeable to him that his invisibility enchantment was fully functional and prevented all living beings from being aware of his presence. He wanted to watch this particular battle unnoticed, for his army was not being led by Captain Japheth as it normally would have been. The captain was at that time incapacitated, and his second-in-command had taken the helm in the interim. Her name was Ellendarra, and she had been prophesized to not only bring about the end of the king’s rule over Evlontus, but she would also have a hand in his death, if the prophet was to be believed.

  It didn’t take him long to find her among the clashing swords, and when he did, his eyes narrowed slightly, but his lips curled into a devilish smile. He watched as though in a trance as she expertly did away with each of her enemies on the battlefield. Her bright-red hair was gleaming under the light of the sun, and the small spatter of blood on her cheek had begun to dry as the lengthy battle neared its end. While the rest of the Evlontian army was proud to don their metal armor, emblazoned with the royal crest, Ellendarra had chosen, as she always did, to wear her long black coat and layered clothing. She commanded her fellow soldiers with bravery, and they followed her lead with a firm allegiance as Japheth would have wanted. The king was surprised to find that he felt some semblance of what he could only describe as pride. Ellendarra had risen to the occasion and upheld the honor of Evlontus as their impending victory became clear.

  The notorious Cassian soldiers fought recklessly against the Evlontian army with little regard for their own well-being. They wore black padded clothing with high collars that covered the bottom half of their faces. Beneath the hoods they wore, their pale colored eyes and gray toned skin could just barely be seen. Though they appeared lifeless at first glance, they fought with an unnatural strength, credited to the dark magic that kept them alive. They began to retreat before too many of their number had fallen by way of the sword. A murky, gray cloud began to form around each enemy, enveloping them in a magical energy that illuminated briefly from beneath the growing clouds and emitted a low hum. They vanished in an instant, returning to their illusive base wounded and with crazed looks in their dull eyes.

  Magnus watched as nearly all had gone, but his smile quickly faded when he realized there was one enemy soldier who did not appear to be retreating. A tall, lanky man with his hood pulled back to reveal a bald head with a large scar that stretched from ear to ear as though he had at one point been hit in the back of the head with the sharp blade of a sword. He was missing fingers and limping, but neither appeared to slow him down. His vicious attacks were tearing through the Evlontian army as he ran his sword through many with the strength of a juggernaut.

  Magnus watched with concern as Ellendarra began to make her way over to the carnage that was enfolding. His eyes darted from the loose cannon to Ellendarra and back again before exhaling in frustration.

  “Return,” he commanded under his breath with an icy tone. A faint-blue aura briefly surrounded his body as he used his magic to influence the enemy soldier. The man stopped in his tracks, and a cloud of magical energy surrounded him as it had the others. Before anyone could act, he too had vanished and the cloud extinguished, leaving only the bloodshed as evidence of his existence.

  The soldiers looked at one another in confusion but celebrated nonetheless at their victory. Ellendarra arrived at the scene shortly after. She seemed perplexed by the sudden end to their plight but ordered the soldiers to tend to the wounded. She knelt down and checked the vitals of a soldier nearby and sadly closed her eyes.

  Magnus felt guilty. He hadn’t wanted anything to go terribly wrong during Ellendarra’s first efforts as captain. The rogue soldier that had caused such havoc had been getting out of hand during the last few battles. The other Cassian soldiers had followed the king’s battle plans exactly as they had been commanded to do so under his spell and any sign of freewill being exercised would mean the soldier had outlived his usefulness and would require a swift execution. Anything out of the ordinary would raise questions, and that was unacceptable, for the people of Evlontus could never find out the truth that the Cassian soldiers who kept them living in a constant state of fear were in actuality a reserve of recycled souls under the rule of the king himself.

  “Yet another battle I have won and lost under the same sun,” Magnus said aloud and exhaled a sigh of relief. He thoughtfully stroked his neatly trimmed beard, his train of thought beginning with the souls who had been lost and ending with whether there was more gray in his dark hair than the day before.

  Decades of the same song and dance had made him immune to the emotional toll of war. Instead, his focus returned to himself and his efforts to preserve his youth. He had spent the earlier part of the day suffering through the festivals that honored the day of his birth, and in true Evlontian tradition, this meant waking with the sunrise to join with his people as they celebrated their king. Even territories far from his own celebrated, for the rulers at the farthest ends of the realm of Evlontus felt an unwavering allegiance toward King Magnus. It was widely accepted that without him there would be no realm at all.

  Magnus had despised every second. For the last few years, he had demanded that no one acknowledge his actual age in terms of years. Middle aged was an all-encompassing term that was good enough for him, he had decided. Fortunately, this year, the battle he had planned had successfully derailed the celebrations and forced the people into their homes for safety. The king chuckled to himself at the thought. The food and drink, entertainment and song, fine gifts from all over—all of it bored him. He had spent the day distracted, waiting for the battle that afternoon and, more importantly, what would follow: the awakening of his brother, Cassius. Adoptive brother.

  Magnus paced around quietly, every so often looking toward Shadow Wood Forest behind him for a sign that his brother was waking from the enchantment that held him captive. He had hoped to view the recent battle with Cassius, laughing and joking as though it were a sporting event like days past, but sadly, it appeared that emerging from a five-year, magically induced comatose state was taking longer than the king had anticipated.

  He divided his attention equally between watching the soldiers preparing to leave in the gorge below and the stillness of the forest behind him. He paused before nervously glancing back for what felt like the hundredth time and then turned to face the incredibly realistic, although larger-than-life, statue of his late father, King Varimus, for whom the forest had been designated to honor. He took a moment to note their physical similarities. Both Magn
us and his father had been above average in height and similarly built with wide shoulders and the peak physical condition expected of the royal family. However, the statue would boast a greater muscle definition than what Magnus remembered his father possessing and he could not help but scoff with disapproval.

  “I know what you are thinking, Father: Why don’t I just kill her? It would be the only way to ensure the prophecy does not come true. But it is exactly that way of thinking that had you and Grandfather steer this realm toward its own destruction. It is because of that way of thinking that I had to kill you. For you see, Father . . . ,” Magnus continued nonchalantly as he leaned against the statue with his forearm, an arrogant smirk plastered across his face. “I fear no one because I am both hero and villain, and I need not worry about my death because I know exactly where the cause is at all times. Do you see what I see?”

  Magnus gestured out toward the horizon at the late afternoon sun and smugly added, “Nothing. There is complete calm. No mystical creatures terrorizing the people or magic duels breaking out in the streets. Crime is at a complete standstill, for the Evlontians know that with each act they commit, they empower either the darkness or the light.

  “I’ve had to be strict, sure, but ultimately, I’ve killed far fewer than you or Grandfather did. My people are safe in their little homes, and they thank me for it. Call it what you want . . . manipulative . . . deceitful . . . whatever. My lies got the job done and restored stability. All I had to do was twist history to my advantage and drain the magic from our world,” Magnus boasted. What a joyous relief he felt to freely speak of his accomplishments. He glanced around to confirm they were completely alone before he continued.

  “But not . . . all magic,” he finished with a smirk and snapped the fingers of his right hand to ignite a few sparks of blue-tinted energy that crackled with an electrical current before vanishing in an instant. A small red flame caught the wind and landed in front of the king on the grass at his feet.

  He frowned and knelt down. It was no ordinary fire, for it did not take to the grass. It simply glowed and stayed in place. Magnus extinguished it between his fingertips and stood up, turning slowly toward the forest behind him. Sure enough, more red flames of energy could be seen lighting up near the center of the forest. He groaned and looked at his father’s likeness once more.

  “Of course, Cassius still finds a way to keep things interesting,” Magnus grumbled and rolled his eyes. He took a few steps backward, nearing the edge of the cliff, and closed his eyes while simultaneously raising his hands. As his hands lifted to the sky, he conjured an undetectable magical force, similar to that which had enabled his invisibility. It was transparent, save for a shimmer every so often, and it began to rise up from the ground around the trees that bordered the forest.

  “Wouldn’t want anyone to see whatever mess he’s created in there,” Magnus stated, masking his concern with a confident tone. He looked over his enchantment with pride. To any onlooker, the forest appeared completely still with nothing out of the ordinary. The king was impressed with his own ability to accomplish such magical feats, but the increase in his heart rate was a stark reminder that although he possessed the same incredible abilities, without magic in the realm itself, they would not be accomplished with the same ease as they had in his youth. He felt as though he had run ten laps around the palace, but his body began recovering quickly, as it hadn’t been the most complex spell. More concerning was how he would survive after dealing with whatever lies beyond the veil in front of him.

  He exhaled sharply and ran his hands through his dark hair as he mentally prepared to tackle whatever lies ahead for him, but as he had told the stone replica of his father, he was not afraid. How could he be, with a prophet at his disposal? This would not be what killed him, and what wouldn’t kill him was not of concern to him. He let out a sly smile, nodded a farewell to the statue, and made his way into the forest and through the enchantment like passing through a gentle waterfall.

  He was met with a fiery hell that would have sent anyone who did fear death running in the other direction. The flames did not give off heat, nor did they burn through the trees and foliage or scorch the ground. They were simply clinging to any surface and spreading steadily while illuminating the entire forest in an eerie red glow. Consequently, the birds and other wildlife did not seem overly concerned although they appeared to be migrating towards the outskirts of the forest out of caution. Magnus surveyed the scene and took the gamble that his energy would be best spent getting the fire under control, even though that amount of magic would surely leave him physically drained and vulnerable to the cause. But what does that matter? he concluded.

  Once again, he closed his eyes and channeled his energy into forming a blue, magical aura around his body before sending it outward, controlling its direction and forcing it outward so that it completely circled the perimeter of the forest. He opened his eyes, completely engulfed in the blue glow. He moved his hands forward and began pushing toward the center of the forest, and as he did so, his energy followed. As he expected, the flames were repelled. The signature red of the flames meant that it was his brother’s energy, and within it was an evil force that on its own was no match for the king’s magic.

  Up ahead, he could see the small clearing where his brother lay unconscious atop a large stone platform, sheltered beneath a stone pavilion. Both the structure he lay on and the one that sheltered him were engraved with many ancient symbols that were used to strengthen magic. The fading green light emitting from each of them was a sign that the enchantment keeping Cassius captive had nearly run its course. He looked as peaceful as the dead despite the red energy that continuously billowed out from the very pores in his skin.

  Magnus felt his legs trembling as his body grew weaker, but he pressed onward. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face as he allowed his adrenaline to take over, his arms pushing harder as the concentration of red energy began to ball up in front of him and hover over Cassius’s body. Magnus guided his aura upward and started forcing the red energy down into Cassius.

  “Get . . . back . . . in there . . .” He growled in frustration as the pressure threatened to crush him completely.

  The flames began to twist and bend to his will, seemingly forcing their way into Cassius’s heart until there were none left. Magnus called out in exhaustion and collapsed, his blue aura extinguishing as he did so. The forest had returned to normal, and the remaining light from the sun bathed the trees in a warm glow. Magnus groaned in pain and waved his hand to remove the enchantment that was cloaking the forest before he fell forward on his hands and knees, breathing deeply.

  The soft thud of heavy black boots hitting the ground several feet ahead of him made the king cautiously look up to find Cassius approaching. His brother stumbled slightly, holding his head with one hand as a few currents of red energy coursed around his body before completely settling. His different-colored eyes opened, one of blue and one of green, encased in dark lashes and glowing briefly. His jet-black hair had remained perfectly coiffed despite the passage of time and appeared to defy gravity. His many scars, though faint, served as the only imperfection to his appearance. His dark attire was made of heavy cloth and leather, typical dress for an off-duty soldier of the highest ranking, although on him, it was far more intimidating due to his large stature.

  “Cassius?” Magnus asked with a nervous laugh.

  “What happened?” Cassius replied with concern as he knelt down and helped the king stand. They were nearly the same height, with Cassius only having a slight advantage, a source of contention in their youth.

  “Seemed like the evil was trying to escape . . . we were pushing our luck having you unconscious so long. Another day and it would have broken free and devoured the entire realm, I’m sure,” Magnus stated as he stretched his arms, feeling his body rejuvenate thanks to his magic.

  Cassius looked at his hands with concern as though they were not his own. “Our realm breath
es on borrowed time, Magnus. I don’t know how much longer we can keep this up,” he stated solemnly.

  “We’ve got it under control. You just continue to imprison the evil that threatened to destroy our entire existence within your soul, and I will continue maintaining stability under my rule, and . . .”

  “For how long? How long can you continue the facade that I am some treacherous villain out there wreaking havoc across the realm? How long can I keep the true evil at bay? I am only mortal, Magnus . . .”

  “You wouldn’t know it,” Magnus said, laughing. “How fortunate you are that although we are the same age, you are blessed with eternal youth—”

  “So long as I play host to an unmitigated, evil force of destruction,” Cassius interrupted with his eyes wide.

  “Yes, yes, that. Count your blessings, Cassius,” Magnus said casually.

  Cassius looked aghast for a brief moment, but he shook his head and laughed instead of arguing. “It has been too long, Brother,” he said with a warm smile.

  His expression relaxed, and Magnus smiled back with relief to see that Cassius hadn’t changed after all. He was still the powerful prince with the heart of gold. A soul so powerful and pure that it could contain within in it all that threatened to destroy them. The king made every effort to avoid looking upon the faded scars on his brother’s face, but it was not possible. An overwhelming wave of guilt threatened to shake his composure, so he quickly changed the subject.