Armies of the Silver Mage
Histories of Malweir Book 1
by Christian Warren Freed
Genre: Epic Fantasy
Having spent most of their lives dreaming about leaving their sleepy village and travelling the world, Delin Kerny and Fennic Attleford never thought that one day they would be forced to flee their town in order to save their lives. Everything changes when they discover the fabled Star Silver sword and learn that there are some who want the weapon for themselves. Hunted by a ruthless mercenary, the boys run from Fel Darrins and are forced into the adventure they only dreamed about.
Ever ashamed of the horrors his kind let loose on the world the last mage, Dakeb, lives his life in shadows. The only thing keeping him alive is his quest to stop the Silver Mage from reassembling the crystal. His chance finally comes through the hearts and wills of Delin and Fennic. Dakeb bestows upon them the crystal shard, entrusting them with the one thing capable of restoring peace to Malweir.
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Phaelor screamed to be drawn. To exact revenge and finish the job already begun. Dead bodies were flung recklessly aside and crushed under the Gnaal’s advance. Blaron did exactly as he was told. His eight men withdrew as fast as they could before the great beast spotted them. Hallis wasn’t so fortunate. The Gnaal’s rotting head turned his way and those vile eyes locked on the sergeant. The Gnaal smiled and started towards the ridge.
The recruits broke and ran in fear. Some stood petrified. Hallis wished he could find a place to hide for this was the most horrific experience of his life. This went beyond the decadence and horrors on the plains of Gren. This was pure and malevolent hatred. He shakily reached back and drew another arrow.
“Save it,” Norgen growled.
The Gnaal was coming closer.
Axe in hand, the Dwarf said, “Take your people and flee. Look after these two for me.”
“Where are you going?”
Norgen smiled grimly. “I’m tired of running from this bastard.”
He started to march out to meet the monster. Too many times he’d been forced to run, each time believing he was free. The Gnaal kept coming. Each knew the only way to be free was for one of them to die.
Fennic watched in shock. Norgen was committing suicide to buy them time. Phaelor in hand, the youth rushed off to stand with his friend. Delin pulled him back just in time.
“Wait! I’ve got a better idea,” he yelled.
The Gnaal’s heavy club missed Norgen’s head and smashed through a tree.
Delin took one his Goblin arrows and touched it to Phaelor’s glowing blade.
“What are you doing?” Fennic asked.
He still wasn’t sure. “Just watch.”
Norgen slashed and his axe bit deep into the Gnaal’s kneecap. They knew he couldn’t last long like this. Norgen needed help. Fennic stared at the arrow as it started to glow. Hallis joined the fight then, moving halfway down the slope and firing off the rest of his quiver. They were all dead if Delin’s idea didn’t work. Delin aimed his arrow carefully and prayed to every god he knew. He didn’t want to die.
Then the Gnaal saw them. Saw the one thing it hated more than life itself. The sword! The golden light was an insult to all Gren. It was an aberration to his master. The Gnaal remembered the pain it caused and knew what to do. Roaring, it forgot its attackers and made for the two boys on the hill. The arrow flew towards it.
Seconds slowed so that every action was deliberate and purposeful. Norgen hacked at the back of its leg. Chunks of muscle and flesh flew away. Dark blood splashed around him and the Gnaal roared on. The wielder had to die. Hallis slipped and fell in the ichors. Phaelor glowed bright enough to rival the sun. And then the arrow struck. The enchanted missile struck the Gnaal in the eye with a fleshy smack and plunged deep into its fever maddened mind. Golden light spread like a virus, seeping from every wound and pore. The Gnaal tossed back its head and screamed before crashing to the ground. There it lay; Hallis swore under his breath. The Gnaal lay unmoving, not breathing. Norgen stared wide eyed.
“You did it,” Fennic whispered in disbelief.
Delin would have smiled if his heart wasn’t in his throat threatening to explode. “We....we need to make sure it’s dead.”
Trembling, they helped each other down to the corpse.
“Stay back,” Norgen warned.
He knew full well how the Gnaal liked to play dead. Too many friends died that way and he wasn’t willing to let these two follow suit. Fennic stared into the monster’s lifeless eyes, expecting to learn the true nature of horror. The feeling of dread was gone.
His thoughts were clear and concise again. The Gnaal was dead.
“It’s all right,” he reassured them.
Holding Phaelor high, Fennic plunged the blade down through the dark heart of the beast. A quiet hiss escaped the body. Together they watched the body melt away, folding in itself until nothing but a putrid scar remained on the ground. A small piece of evil had left the world.
Passionate about history, he combines his knowledge of the past with modern military tactics to create an engaging, quasi-realistic world for the readers. He graduated from Campbell University with a degree in history and is pursuing a Masters of Arts degree in Military History from Norwich University. He currently lives outside of Raleigh, N.C. and devotes his time to writing, his family, and their two Bernese Mountain Dogs. If you drive by you might just find him on the porch with a cigar in one hand and a pen in the other.
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