PROLOGUE

LIVE BY THE LIGHT

The falcon was heard before it was seen. The shrill cry pierced the silent woods and drew all eyes upward, save for one. The King of Veiland recognized the bird’s cry but did not look up. His eyes only narrowed as he continued to stare forward. In front of the King, rows of knights clad in silver and blue armor, stood in formations, preparing for battle. But the forest was quiet and there was no enemy in sight. Not yet.

The knights of the Crescent Shield stood at the edge of a small clearing, waiting for movement in front of them. The forest remained still, and they were becoming restless. For them, the screech of the falcon was startling, but also a welcome break from silence. For King Marcus, however, the cry pierced his chest. The white gyrfalcon was a Messenger of the Crown and Marcus knew the feathered envoy carried ill news in her talons. The King found his mouth had suddenly become dry.

“Looks like a message sire,” said one of the knights, as he looked up through the trees. He and the King were on horseback, atop a hill behind the formation of knights.

“Very astute, Phillip,” said another knight as he rode up to them. He addressed the King directly, “I’ve sent for the message, sire. Should be here soon.”

“Thank you, Commander.” the King replied. He did not move his gaze from the opening in the trees beyond his men.

“Yes, thank you Sir High and Mighty Commander Ages,” Phillip said in jest.

The Commander, Arthur Ages, smiled. He was chewing on comfit seeds as he brought his horse next to the King and the knight. “Something wrong little brother,” Arthur asked, as he threw the shells at Phillip.

Phillip was holding a large wine skin and opened it for another drink. “Oh no, Commander,” he started to say, “But your helmet does seem a bit small as of late.”

“Jealousy does not become you Sergeant,” the Commander said, shaking his head. He reached for his brother’s wine, “You’ll fit in a man’s uniform one day.”

Phillip pulled the wine from Arthur’s reach. “Your wit may be as dull as your sword, brother,” he said, taking a long swig of the red spirits.

King Marcus interrupted. “Arthur keeps his wits about him,” the King said to Phillip as he gestured for the wine. “Do you?”

Phillip straightened himself in the saddle and handed the wine to his King. “Yes, forgive me sire. I do.”

The King of Veiland smelled the red spirits. “You seem on edge, my friend.” He held the flask up, “And why not. Your first time on the battlefield and all.”

“Yes. And I am ready my lord. Ready as I could be.”

“I see that,” the King replied, as he took a short sip of the wine.

“Only…my thoughts keep getting the better of me,” Phillip admitted. “They shake my nerves.”

“Let them,” said Arthur. “Carry the hard thoughts. Let them strengthen your resolve. As father used to say, Embrace the-”

“Don’t start that now. You’re not Father,” said Phillip sharply. He was annoyed that Arthur tried to impart their father’s wisdom. “You wouldn’t say those words if you heard what I have.”

Arthur shook his head. “Brother. You’ve heard rumors among soldiers, nothing more. Pay them no mind.”

King Marcus furrowed his brow. “You have my attention, Phillip,”

Phillip contemplated his words. “Well,” he began, “some of the men are saying, things. Eerie things…about the Empress. About the company she keeps. Any truth to them?”

The King pressed Phillip, “Well that depends. What do you mean eerie?”

Phillip continued, “Her advisors…well, some have said that they seem…strange. One of them, a woman in green robes…they say that she whispers to the Empress. She’s known to change her mind with a single word.”

“So what?” Arthur said with little patience. “You could only hope that our King had such trust in his own advisors. Or in you and I.”

Phillip continued, “Not likely. I heard the woman is some kind of fortuneteller… or soothsayer.”

“Please,” Arthur said with exasperation. “You should leave the fairy tales to your childhood, Phillip. A soothsayer? Do you believe that the soldier in white is a wizard, as well?”

Arthur caught himself as soon as he said it and a silence grew between the trio. Arthur was aware of this rumor. Of the white knight. He admitted now that he had almost forgotten. Be it from belief or disbelief, he had put it out of his mind. What was said of this Shimmering Knight, just seemed too outlandish. Too implausible. But it was still said.

The King of Veiland was impressed at how fast word spread. He spoke with the Empress some two weeks ago in Selene. He had also met the Soothsayer. But he only heard of this Soldier in White. That rumor came from elsewhere.

“It seems there is much talk of my meeting with the Empress,” King Marcus said, as he nodded to himself. He then asked, “Tell me. What do they say of this knight in shining armor?”

Phillip’s head began to lower as he spoke. “There’s some dire talk of the Shimmering Knight. He wears white armor and carries a silver spear with him. Some people say that he is no man. That he is something more.

“Phillip…” Arthur began to interject but his voice fell away as his brother continued.

Phillip whispered, “When the Empress attacked Miridian, he was the one to take the city. Single handedly.” Phillip paused for a moment, as if remembering a forgotten story, “There was talk of him casting some type of magic spell. Or something to that effect.”

Arthur shifted in the saddle of his horse and breathed a loud sigh. He seemed uncomfortable with the thought but could not bring himself to say anything in response to his brother’s musings. He only grabbed a few more seeds and put them in his mouth. Arthur didn’t believe in magic or the like. He knew these were simply stories. So why did he feel so uneasy?

The King was looking at Phillip as he spoke but now turned his head to face the woods in front of them. A light mist was now creeping into the clearing from the outline of trees. His thoughts began to wander.

“Forgive me sire, I shouldn’t put stock in such things,” Phillip said with a shrug.

King Marcus replied, “Worry not Phillip. These rumors are just that. The Empress surrounds herself with strange peoples. Foreign peoples like her. Exotic yes, but tricksters and charlatans. Nothing more. I cannot say what truly happened at Miridian. I’ve only heard what you have. But I have seen the Empress firsthand. I do not believe it was magic that took the Central Kingdom.

Arthur took in a breath. The conversation had begun to dampen his spirits. But now, he felt his mettle return with the King’s words. He looked at his brother and his mood began to soften.

“None of this matters brother,” Arthur said plainly. “The Empress would see us all cower with talk of the supernatural. She would seek to infect Veiland with fear. That is all we need to know about her. We are here to shield Selene from the armies of the Sanguine Empire. That is what we will do.

Phillip nodded to his brother in agreement. “For your family,” he said. He then extended his arm to offer Arthur some wine.

Arthur reached for the flask. “To our family,” he said. He then took a drink.

They were interrupted by the arrival of another knight in blue and silver armor. “M’lord. A letter has arrived from Selene. Shall I…”

“Thank you.” King Marcus was quick to snatch the letter and the messenger bowed to take his leave. The letter was sealed with dark blue wax, a crescent moon at the center, the royal insignia of Veiland. The two brothers were silent as Marcus snapped the seal. He took in a breath as he opened it and studied the words.

My King,

My heart swells in my chest and stifles my words. I can only say that I am sorry. It is my great worry realized that I may lose another from my womb. Forgive me.

The chirurgeon does not understand the difficulty I have had. The apothecaries are unable to help as I feel our union may wither. There is no punishment that I could bear, that we could bear, worse than this. I fear that I have already failed you once again. As if the love I hold for you is matched by your disappointment in me. That fear wounds me. Only your hand on mine would lift this pain.

Please return as soon as you can. Return to me my true love. My True King.

Your Queen,
Theia of Selene

Phillip looked at his King. He wanted to ask of the letter and if there was any news. He then looked to Arthur, whose eyes were fixed on the darkness of the woods. Phillip decided to keep quiet. The King would inform them in time.

King Marcus cursed his misfortune. He calmly folded the paper, but it was all he could do to keep from crumpling it in his hand. This was the third…time this had happened. The third pregnancy without child. Thoughts of deep sorrow gave way to burning frustration. He looked back to the serenity of the forest and his frustration turned to anger. He felt ashamed of himself as he thought of the Queen. Theia of Selene. He wanted to comfort her and shout at her at the same time. To remind her that he would never blame her for this and for her to strike it forever from her mind. He could never be angry with her for such a thing and he hated that she believed that. He loved her and nothing could change that.

The King began to feel that it must be his own fault. He must have made her feel this way somehow. He must have somehow placed this pressure on her shoulders. He felt a blade in his heart that compelled him to be with her. He had to go to her. To tell her that it was not her fault. He had to…

A horn echoed loudly and broke the silence. The Crescent Shield hardened themselves and stood at attention. King Marcus and the Ages brothers fixed their gaze back toward the trees. Past the formations of archers and knights, the pines began to thin out. Further still, was a small clearing that could be seen through the morning mist. Veiland horns sounded again as the mist began to swirl away, and the first formations of armored men came into view. The soldiers were only just visible from the opposite side of the clearing but the crimson and black of their armors caught the light of the morning. These were the colors of the Empress of Gules and her army now marched through the trees. The opposing forces had arrived.

Out of the darkness came the army of the Sanguine Empire. The King and the Crescent Shield watched as the Phoenix Scepter Knights came into view. Clad in red and black armor, the knights of the Scepter folded outward from their marching formations and swelled wide across the expanse of trees. The army of the Empress now enveloped the entire eastern edge of the clearing. But the Empress of Gules could not yet be seen.

Arthur was the first to speak. “What did father used to say, Phillip?”

“Stand Firm…Embrace the Storm,” replied Phillip.

“And we will,” said Arthur. He put his hand on his brother’s shoulder and nodded to him. The Commander then shook the reins, guiding his horse down the hill and toward the rows of waiting knights.

Arthur shouted and signaled to the front line to take position. The blue banner of the Crescent Shield was raised and lowered across the field and the silver knights committed themselves to their posts. Pikemen rushed to the front followed by the Shieldmen next to them, equipped with great shields almost 6 feet in height. The Shieldmen slammed the large hunks of iron into the ground and took position. Behind them, the Pikemen took formation with their weapons and let out a war cry. Archers stood furthest from the front, holding their longbows at rest.

Banners across the field were raised once more, signaling that the Crescent Shield were ready. The knights now stood at attention, awaiting further orders. Arthur nodded at the King, who looked at him and nodded back. The Commander looked out toward the clearing and saw the mist growing once more as the Phoenix Scepter now formed a front line. Arthur then turned to his men, trying to fight a swelling pride in his chest as he rode back up to the hill.

“What news, sire?” the Commander asked as he approached the King. “I trust the Empress has surrendered?”

Marcus realized he was still holding the letter. He put it away quickly. “Afraid not.”

Phillip seemed hopeful. “Did they say anything of reinforcements,” he said. “Istoria or…”

“Istoria would still be weeks away,” Arthur reminded Phillip.

“No sign of the Empress it seems,” The King stated. His voice seemed to trail off.

“Not that I can tell. I’ve yet to see any banners from them at all,” said the Commander.

“Perhaps they’re ill prepared,” Phillip questioned.

The King’s voice was grim, “Or they intend to engage without terms of surrender.”

“Or peace,” Arthur replied somberly.

The King shared the concern of his Commander. They now waited for some signal of parley, but there was no indication by the Empire to meet in good faith. No signals or banners to propose a meeting. The King intended to avoid bloodshed if he could, but there was no sign yet of an exchange. Nor of the Empress herself.

“We will do what we must,” the King said. He seemed to shrink as he spoke, “We will defend Selene.”

Marcus struggled to put his worries to the back of his mind. He was prepared in his body, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The letter had taken hold of him. It was clear to the King that his Queen must be in pain. She must be lost to deep despair for the need to send her letter. Perhaps she feared…the King tried to come back to the now. He surveyed the vanguard to focus his attention.

The Crescent Shield, brave royal knights of Veiland stood firm and ready. They had marched from Selene the previous night and prepared themselves for a full day. Now the Shield Knights were eager to prove themselves within this bastion of forest. Eager to defend their lands from those that would claim them. That enemy was before them now and they looked to the battlefield with increasing fervor.

Phillip could feel his breathing quicken and his body tense. Despite the unease of the moment, he noticed his hands did not shake. His heartbeat remained steady. He looked to his brother and felt a growing respect. Arthur seemed to be calm and focused. His head was forward as if trying to take in everything. His hand remained steady on the hilt of his sword. Phillip had seen his brother. But now he saw his Commander.

Arthur could feel his brother’s gaze. He could only guess what Phillip thought of him in that moment, and he tried to be still. He tried to look centered. Yet he could not help his increasing heartbeat. He felt not fear but a growing intensity. The heat of the moment made his brow sweat. He noticed the tension in his hand and relaxed his grip on his sword. A battle lay before him and he was the one to win or lose it. For his King. For his Kingdom. The lives in his hands were not his own. Arthur’s stomach turned and for a moment he regretted eating so many sweet seeds.

“Your orders my King?” said Arthur. He needed to get out of his head.

The King hesitated for a moment. He considered the situation and tried to sort through his thoughts. King Marcus was not willing to engage unless provoked. They had come to meet the forces of the Sanguine Empire that marched toward Selene. But there was no sign of an attack yet. Arrows would be of little value at this distance. The army of Veiland was still well out of range and furthermore, their current position was obscured between pillars of pine and fir.

Before Marcus could speak, a short rhythm pounded in the forest. The drums of the distant army. They beat for a moment then stopped. The dark of the forest grew brighter, but it made little difference. The Knights of the Sanguine Empire were now veiled in the swirling haze of the morning mist. The fog grew thicker now, and Arthur struggled to make out their full arrangement. The Phoenix Scepter were nearly invisible as the beat of a drum started again, somewhere through the mist.

King Marcus commanded his horse down the hill and toward the front line of the Crescent Shield. The two brothers followed. They guided their mounts past the regiment of knights and stopped just behind the forefront. The drums stopped.

The mist dissipated just enough to get a view of the opposing army. The Phoenix Scepter held fast with only a front line. Beyond that the King could not see. Why are they prolonging the attack? The King could only speculate. What is their plan? The King did not know.

Even now there was no sign of the Empress of Gules. Her reputation painted a ruler that would not send her forces to fight on her behalf. Her manner would indicate that she was a woman of her word. King Marcus recalled their meeting not long ago in Selene. She had come to the Crescent Keep for an audience with the King and the Queen. To consider their quality, to assess their worth. For the Empress had traveled from Miridian to discuss assimilation and bring Veiland into her Empire. An asset for her to attain. It seems that things did not go to her liking.

Marcus remembered the ominous demeanor of the Empress of Gules. She exuded a quiet fierceness that he tried to be unaffected by. She was polite and pleasant. Consoling and kindly but something about her made Marcus uneasy. Almost as if she were peering through you. The Queen of Veiland summarized it as something otherworldly. A calm menace.

The Empress had not been seen or heard from in nearly half a month and now she did not seem present. The King was unsure of her intentions and motives now. Perhaps this was a ruse but there had been no evidence of movement anywhere else across Veiland. If anything, her full forces were still further east. Perhaps even in Miridian.

King Marcus finally spoke, “We make the first move.”

Arthur replied, “At your Command Sire. The Shield is-”

“-Listen,” interrupted Phillip.

A drumbeat echoed in the distance. Then another. There was movement. The front line of soldiers began to separate, forming an opening near the middle of the gathered army. The Phoenix Scepter began to create a hole in their defenses, the tincture of their armors and cloaks seemed like the opening of a red curtain in a darkened hall. With a significant gap in their front line, the red soldiers halted as another drum sounded.

The Crescent Shield of Veiland held fast with anticipation, the knights seemed to tighten their grip on their weapons all at once. Across the field, it was too far and too dark to make out what was at the center of the line. The forest seemed to grow even quieter.

The King and his two comrades looked on in confusion. Marcus squinted, trying to make sense of the tactic of separating a front line. Next to him, Arthur was frowning, desperately searching his mind for some forgotten battle strategy that eluded him. A third drum was beaten, and a light began to shine at the empty space in the front line.

Phillip spoke first. “Sire?”, he asked. “What is…?”

Arthur peered through the mist, “Looks like a torch…” he said.

The King’s eyes widened, and he felt himself yank on the reins of his horse. He began yelling something as loud as he could. But it was all so sudden. His cry to fall back was drowned out by a piercing screech in the silence of the forest. So sudden and so loud. The sound was not a falcon. It was not natural at all. The noise echoed as the spark at the center of the Phoenix Scepter army grew suddenly and a focused beam of white light shot forth. The light crossed the field in an instant and in the flash of a second, the beam was upon the front line of the Crescent Shield. A deafening force sent Marcus falling from his steed and the sudden brightness in the dark left everyone stunned.

The noise had stopped but a ringing persisted in Arthur’s ears. He opened his eyes and steadied his horse, barely managing to avoid being thrown from his mount. He could only now see clearly. As his eyes recovered from the light, the ringing he heard gave way to screams. Arthur looked around to see a thick line seared into the ground where the beam of light had reached them. It looked as if the soil had been tilled perfectly straight from where it started, directly through the Crescent Shield army. All along the ground, soldiers had fallen that had attempted to avoid the light, but there were no soldiers in the path of the beam. Arthur felt heat of the moment as he noticed the men around the tilled earth were missing limbs. They had not been cut off from a blade. They were just gone. Flesh and metal alike were no longer there.

Men clutched where their arms should have been. Some crawled away without legs to stand on. Those in the path of the light had simply vanished. The beam took anything that touched it. Where there was once something, there was now nothing. There were no blood traces from those that had disappeared. The blood was only from those that seemed to be missing parts of their body. Weapons seemed to have been broken but no shattered pieces were scattered about. Shields were cut in half, part of them missing entirely. Horses lay still on the ground. And the people. The people were…

“Arthur!”

Phillip had pulled his horse close and was yanking on Arthur’s armor, trying to get his attention. Arthur was dazed. He was still collecting himself as Phillip yelled at him, pointing toward the open field. Arthur followed his brother’s finger, out past the strewn bodies of his fellow soldiers, and along the seared earth that made a direct line to the opposing forces. The open field seemed smaller now, as the soldiers of the Phoenix Scepter were now coming at them with weapons drawn.

Arthur scraped the sweat from his brow and looked around quickly. He didn’t see the King…but he had to do something fast. Grabbing the reins at last, Arthur drew his horse forward to the line of fallen soldiers. Phillip kept at his side as they rode in front of the broken line. Arthur turned to take stock of his men. The Crescent Shield had been torn in half, with two regiments of soldiers separated by the gash left in the earth. His mind was racing, and his breathing was heavy.

The line was shattered, the Flying Wing formation was out of the question. Arthur trusted his men but understood where their minds were. Like his own. Scattered. He knew the knights near the center must have been battered by the blast. But the two furthest ends of the Veiland army would be unbroken. The outer infantry and cavalry were not hit by the blast. They would be shaken, but fully equipped and of sound mind, awaiting orders from their Commander. The Second Eclipse maneuver could work. It would have to.

“Phillip, the banner!” Arthur shouted. Phillip looked to his right and grabbed the pole embedded in the ground. He turned back as Arthur unsheathed his sword, facing the incoming Phoenix some hundred yards away.

Phillip tossed the flag to his brother and unsheathed his own sword, “Your orders, Commander?”

Arthur looked directly at his brother, “Find the King. Get him to safety. Those are your orders,” He then turned with the flag in hand and raised it high. Phillip pulled back his horse, looking at his brother, his Commander, in the light shining through the trees. He wanted to protest. He wanted to say anything, but he couldn’t. Arthur was already riding away, down the line of soldiers, the blue banner waving above him.

“Crescent Shield,” Arthur cried out to the men in front of him, his voice carrying through the forest. “The Silver Moon shines bright!” The soldiers of Veiland roared back, rallying themselves and preparing for battle. Arthur answered back, “Our Shields will Break through the Night! We are Veiland. We Live by the Light!” The cheering echoed through the trees as the enemy closed in. The Crescent Shield braced themselves for the coming attack.

Phillip did not cheer. He felt a heightened sense of awareness now as he rode back toward the hill where the King was last seen. He wanted to help his brother, but he knew the King should come first. Phillip’s hands shook as he searched for the King among his fallen comrades. Behind him, he heard the horn of Veiland touting new formation orders. Phillip looked again to the front line and his heart jumped in his chest. He looked back as a red wave crashed through the trees. The Phoenix Scepter were upon them now.

King Marcus opened his eyes to the horn of Veiland. His face was caked with dirt as he looked up through the trees. He listened for a moment. By the trumpeting of the horn, he made out the Second Eclipse formation. The King let his mind wander and recalled teaching the tactic to Arthur as a modified version of the Double Envelopment maneuver. As the horn stopped, Marcus heard the ringing of swords coming together. Swords from battle. The fighting had already begun.

Marcus was still off balance and he struggled to pick himself up. He was still crouched on the ground, when the shine of blue and silver caught his eye. In the dirt and pebbles, next to where he knelt, lay the body of a fallen soldier. The lifeless frame belonged to a soldier of Veiland. Marcus looked at the brave knight, and now saw that his arm and shoulder were missing. The King was horrified and pushed himself to his feet. Marcus remembered now. The light. That terrible light caused this.

The King unsheathed his sword and spun around. In front of him, the Crescent Shield were engaging the Phoenix Scepter. Marcus was bombarded in sight and sound as he witnessed the knights meet in fierce battle. Weapons clashed and soldiers fell. The forest seemed almost alight with the heat of combat.

The King was still reeling from the initial shock of what happened. There was still an overwhelming ring in his ears and a distant light kept brightening, then dimming. Marcus tried to grasp his senses. The sounds of sword and shield met with the same pounding in his head. King Marcus composed himself and gripped tightly on his weapon. He tried to quickly get a handle on the state of the battle. He saw no horses. The line had been broken. The soldiers looked to be on their last legs. Where was the heavy infantry and the cavalry?

Suddenly, a knight in red and black rushed toward King Marcus, his sword held high. The King of Veiland swung his blade and cut the knight down quickly. Another Scepter knight came at the King, their swords joined with a sharp crack. Both combatants struggled to gain the upper hand while the chaos of the battle consumed the pair. They were suddenly enveloped by other soldiers engaged in melees of their own. Through the screams and slamming of steel, a screech could be heard. White lights would emanate from the forest for a split second before a split moment of resounding silence.

The Scepter Knight came at the King once more, but the ebb and flow of battle took his attention just long enough for the King to strike. Marucs did not hear the cry of pain as the knight of the Phoenix Scepter fell to his knees. The rush of the battle was overwhelming. The sounds were deafening, and the King was only aware of his labored breath.

Before King Marcus could step over his fallen foe, another red knight sprinted toward him brandishing a spear. The King parried the thrust and stepped back, stumbling on the body of a fallen soldier. He maintained his balance but swayed, lowering his weapon for a moment to steady himself. Another thrust came toward him. With little time to move, the King went on the offensive and swung his blade wildly, pushing the Scepter knight back.

The knight of the Phoenix Scepter readied his spear for another strike. Suddenly, a blade came through his chest. He cried out with a spurt of blood before dropping his weapon.

“My King!” yelled Phillip. He pulled his sword from the dying knight. “You’re arm!”

King Marcus looked down to see blood dripping from his hand. He had been hit at some point, but the adrenaline was too high notice.

“A scratch,” the King said. “Phillip. We need to-”

“-We need to get you out of here!” Phillip interrupted.

“No! No. I will not abandon my...” But he already found himself moving with Phillip. Not running but just moving away from the flailing bodies and weapons. They could not remain in the thick of the battle. The Phoenix Scepter and the Crescent Shield were clashing and falling all around them now. Their swords ringing in the speckled midday light. Phillip guided his King through the small skirmishes, swinging his own blade to clear a path. Through the waves of soldiers, they weaved themselves. Without thought, they made their way toward a knotted hill past shrubs and undergrowth. Phillip saw a way out. Marcus saw higher ground. The King could perhaps get a clearer sense of their position. Of the position of his troops.

The white light blinked again followed by another terrible screech. It would continually brighten the woods, illuminating the carnage. The same light that ripped through an entire battalion was firing periodically through the battle. Somewhere. Everywhere it seemed.

“The light. That blasted light,” Marcus decried.

“It’s him Sire,” said Phillip, moving the King in front of him. “I’ve seen it.”

Marcus stepped over rock and roots. He then clamored up the hill, steadying himself on the trunk of tall pine. He was sure he knew what Phillip meant. But he asked anyway. “Seen it? Seen what?” the King asked.

As Marcus pulled Phillip up from the dry gully, he almost lost his grip. Across from them, past the grassy hollow, through the sea of steel and iron, he saw the source of the light.

Near the center of the forest, a shining figure came into view. The Shimmering Knight. Clad in radiant white armor, the Knight held out a long white spear as he made his way through the battlefield. With a thrust of the spear, a bolt of white lightning streamed forth, followed by a thunderous screech. The light shot out like an arrow and ripped through the air cutting through everything in its path. Trunks of knotted wood were torn from the forest and exploded into a burst of splinters as they fell.

The spear of the Shimmering Knight would unleash a brilliant beam of light that seared through flesh and bone and armor. Flash after flash cleared a row of Crescent Shield instantly. The white bolt shot forth and the blue knights were no longer there. They simply disappeared in a circular waft of ash and smoke. Remnants of bloodied armor fell to the ground where the light only grazed, and a person once stood. Horses were left galloping without riders while others were missing limbs entirely. And with every burst of light, a deafening noise would follow.

“He’s here Sire!” Phillip said. “You cannot stay.”

The King of Veiland could not agree nor refuse. He simply looked on in bewilderment.

Suddenly, with a crack, a large maple tree came out of the sky, falling toward the pair. Phillip grabbed his King and dove out of the way. The tree came crashing into the hill in a flurry of branches and brown leaves. The knight and his King tumbled through the roots and back down into the brush of the ravine.

The King of Veiland tried to pick himself up but a weight fell over him. Marcus tried to catch his breath. He groped around for his sword, but it was gone. The King did not search for it, he could only raise his head. He saw that Phillip was still in the grass and they both looked on, into the unyielding fight before them. To Marcus, it seemed that the forest was dimming around him.

Phillip pulled himself up, but he too seemed to falter as he helped the King. He needed to get the King out, but it seemed there was not leaving. Marcus could feel the hesitation in his friend’s grip. He could sense that Phillip knew what he did. There were no words, only an overpowering sense of dread. The Crescent Shield was shattered. The battle was lost. The Phoenix Scepter was upon them now. The battle was moving toward them all while the bright light continued to flicker in the distance and the unnatural sound echoed through them.

Then, out of nowhere but all around them, flew the cavalry of the Crescent Shield. Like a storm of swords, the horses cut through the Phoenix Scepter from both sides. Blue knights swung swords and lance into the enemy, breaking their advance. The King recognized the tactic. Arthur had delivered the Second Eclipse formation and pulled back his troops, only to envelope the enemy as they rushed in. The Empire had dealt a swift blow, but they also sent their full force into the fray.

Phillip breathed in a renewed sense of vigor. He stared in awe as the mounted horsemen rode through the battlefield tearing through the army of the Empress. He could not help the rising fire in his chest. A sudden urge to take up arms. To help his comrades. He clutched his sword and held it up, intending to join the fight. Then he saw his brother.

Commander Arthur Ages led the charge of the north flank and now came cutting through ranks of the enemy. His sword was bloodied as it rained down on his foes, sending them back. A Phoenix Scepter knight rushed in, but Arthur slashed with his sword and the red knight came off his feet as he fell.

“Arthur!” Phillip yelled. He could not contain himself.

The Commander looked up. “Phillip!?” What-where is…” he started to say. He saw the King and made his way toward his brother, into the gully where the fighting thinned out.

For a moment, it seemed like the air changed for the King and the brothers. But it was only for a moment. The turn of the tide passed just as quickly as the blasts of light started again. The riders of Veiland were still not enough. The screeches were heard as a white light shone once more.

Arthur looked back toward the weave of soldiers around him. Several riderless horses fled across from he and his comrades. One limped along and fell in the grass. It was now apparent that one of the hind legs of the horse were missing. The madness of the conflict only increased with the arrival of the Crescent Shield mounts. It was clear that the cavalry was only enough to thin the ranks of the Phoenix Scepter, but it was not enough to take down the Shimmering Knight.

Arthur turned again toward his brother and the King. “My Lord.” “You must take your leave!”

Before the King could speak another horse came running at them, almost slamming into Arthur’s mount. His horse reared up, nearly knocking the Commander off and the fleeing horse stumbled as it passed the King. Phillip tried to reach out for the reigns as it fled, but it was too fast. The horse galloped through the ravine and disappeared into the brush.

Just then they heard a painful shriek and a blast of light seemed to pass directly over them. Everyone lowered their heads and Arthur sunk into the saddle. The Commander looked over his shoulder and followed the trail of singed soil and splatters of blood. Behind a family of fir trees, the Shimmering Knight came into view.

He was still a distance away and had not seen them through the battle. Arthur could tell that he had not been aiming for them with the last shot. The Knight seemed…worn. Tired even. He walked slower. Arrows protruded from his shoulder. He was swinging his spear with great force, but wilder now. Like a cornered animal. It was clear that the Phoenix Scepter was over reliant on this single knight. The battle was taking its toll.

“Phillip,” Arthur started calmly now. “Take the King. And take care.”

“Wait, Arthur. You can’t. He’s not human,” Phillip argued.

Arthur looked on as two Veiland soldiers came at the Shimmering Knight. They were brave but were cut down with little effort. Arthur needed to move now.

"Even in the stories, wizards were human", Arthur stated plainly. He did not look away from the battle. “Go!” he finally said, “Leave this to me.”

The King held his arm as he gazed at his Commander. He knew there was nothing left that he could do himself. It was now in Arthur’s hands. Phillip knew there was nothing left to say. He had his own duties to fulfill. He let out a breath. He then turned and led the King into the ravine, through the undergrowth and after the fleeing horses.

Arthur had never looked back at his brother or his King. His mind was only on one thing now. He grabbed a spear protruding from a fallen knight, gathered his courage and kicked at his steed. He began to ride directly into the heat of battle. Through the melee and groups of warring knights. Around the thick pines and fallen firs. He rode forward.

As his horse galloped toward the thick of battle, Arthur tried to make sense of the situation. People were dying but like nothing he had ever seen. Incinerated like parchment in a flame. “Focus,” he thought. “Bring him down.” He made his way toward the burning light.

The Shimmering Knight sent another ray of white fire from his spear. Like an arrow of light, it pierced the air in a straight line that cut through metal and flesh alike. How was this possible?

A magic weapon perhaps? Arthur couldn’t believe his own thoughts on the matter. He had never believed in faeries or magic. But after what he was seeing with his own eyes, he was prepared to believe anything. This soldier was killing so many with each thrust of his spear. Every single thrust. Single thrusts. Arthur then realized what he already knew. The light of the Shimmering Knight was destructive, but not continuous. There were pauses between blasts. The timing could prove useful and Arthur began to count the beats of his heart,

The Commander’s heartbeats were hastened…4…5…6. He continued to count, doing his best to drown out the cries of death ringing in his ears. 7…8…9…Arthur could barely keep up with the pounding in his chest. 12…13…14…a bright light, a thunderous crash and then death. 17 heart beats. That was the time between each beam of light. Did the knight need to recover in some way? Were the blasts taking a toll? Arthur decided it didn’t matter now. 17 beats. It was a lifetime and a moment, but it was his only chance. He steeled himself as he rode forward, the Shimmering Knight had cleared an opening. Stay on his left side, nearest to the shield in his off hand. He had already gotten close enough to be seen, now to keep his attention.

Arthur pulled closer and swung his spear on the left, then the right, picking off two knights in red. A blast of white came near him, but he was already moving. Closer now, the Shimmering Knight was now on his own, without guards or defenses. The cavalry had done their job after all.

Arthur felt a noticeable change in the air. Like a kind of heat bearing down on him. He rode faster as he heard the blasts of energy behind him. He was careful to stay ahead of the arrows of light, weaving in and out of trees as he encircled the Shimmering evil before him. He reached the clearing where the white Knight stood and darted behind a tree as the light pierced the wood, splinters shattering as the trunk gave way.

There. Arthur seized his horse and turned toward the white armored Knight, riding directly at him now. 17 beats. 16. The Shimmering Knight readied himself and raised his spear, shield at his side. 10 beats. Now 9. Almost there. The hooves of Arthur’s horse slammed the ground, flinging mud and soil behind her with each step. The other men seemed like a blur of red streaked silver around him. Arthur could almost hear the stifled breathing of the Shimmering Knight as he closed in on him. 3 beats left. He was close. Close enough. Arthur raised his spear into a throwing position and flung it directly at the bright light in front of him.

The Shimmering Knight raised his shield, deflecting the spear away and into the ground on his left. The blow knocked the white Knight off balance just enough for him to sway. He struggled to raise his spear again, but Arthur had closed the distance. He had drawn his sword, swinging down hard as he rode past the Knight. The blade made a sharp clang against the spear, sending it away from him as a white blast of energy shot forth, cutting through the brightened forest.

Arthur felt like he was on fire and a renewed sense of urgency washed over him. He circled the Shimmering Knight, tightly as he jumped off his mount and rushed forward. He was almost surprised at the speed and ferocity that he himself was now displaying. Sword met shield as the Shimmering Knight defended himself against Arthur’s assault. He had to stay close. Too far away and he would be incinerated. The spear came forward and Arthur parried with his sword. Too close and he would be skewered.

Arthur knew he had to keep the pressure on. He swung his sword furiously and each clash rang out in the darkness. The sound of metal became a loud debate between the two warriors. Arthur made a direct point with his sword. The Shimmering Knight deflected with his shield and replied with his spear. But his responses began to slow. The Knights armor must be heavy. His shield and spear must be weighing him down. Two arrows protruded from beneath the shimmering armor and they must have hit flesh. Arthur could hear the heavy breathing of the evil being in front of him. Almost an otherworldly growl.

Arthur felt his own breathing catch a rhythm. He was not afraid. He felt a heighted sense of awareness. That he was lighter and faster. And the Shimmering Knight relied too much on his own horrible magic that came from his weapon. 17 heartbeats. It was time. Arthur stepped back and opened himself to the spear, lowering his shield, allowing it to enter his space. The edge of the spear came toward him and he raised his sword up to meet it. Moving the tip away from him, the blast of light sounded like the scraping of iron on rough stone. The light cut through the trunks of trees, sending them crashing to the forest floor in the distance.

Arthur moved in. The spear came back down on him like a hammer and he swatted the tip away, leaving an opening. He plunged his sword into the Knight’s left arm and heard his foe roar in pain. The gleaming shield struck Arthur’s right shoulder knocking him back and tearing his sword out from the flesh where it had pierced.

The spear fell to the ground, bouncing off the rocks with a heavy echo of metal. Arthur barely got his footing back before he was once again swinging his sword. His breath was shallow now and he felt a burning in his chest, different than before. His silver blade ripped through the air, then tore through flesh. It landed on the Shimmering Knight’s forearm just above his pure white bracer. The loud crunch of breaking bone was drowned out by the cry of the Knight. His arm fell from the joint with a spray of blood and the Knight was down.

Arthur held his sword in place as he tried to calm himself. He breathed in deeply and allowed himself a small moment of relief despite the battle going on around him. It felt like a battle had been won. He and the Shimmering Knight had opened a small clearing with their fight. Bodies were strewn about, but the others that still fought seemed like distant shadows in the trees. In that moment, Arther felt that he and his foe were the only two people in the forest. He couldn’t help but take pride in the moment. Arthur Ages defeated the Shimmering Knight. This evil would hurt no one anymore.

Elsewhere in the forest, King Marcus pulled the reins of his horse, guiding him up the rocky path. Phillip was behind him, on the shaky ground leading up the cliffside. They had found the fleeing horses and rode two of them through the forest toward Selene. It was the late afternoon now, and the sounds of the battle could still be heard from their current position. The path they traveled led higher up and the horses whinnied in frustration. Marcus was sweating as well, eager to reach a higher vantage point to have a look around. Their pace had slowed somewhat since leaving the battlefield, but the tension had never let up. The King could not help but feel defeated. He had left his men, hurried away when they needed him most. Was he a coward?

He wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to change his frame of mind. He had to leave the battle. The full forces of Veilend must be called together. They must rally behind Selene to defeat this evil. To defeat this terrible power that the Empress unleashed upon them. The King tried to convince himself of this, but it was no use. He knew why he left. He knew.

Marcus looked at Phillip wondering what his thoughts were. He said nothing but put his hand on Philip’s shoulder. The king knew where his friend’s thoughts were. He was looking out over the forest where sounds of clashing steel, low rumbling of hooves were heard. And howls of pain. Peircing, shrieking pain. As loud as the falcon he had heard that morning only constant.

They turned to continue their climb up to the ridge. It was not an easy climb to reach the top, but the King needed to have another look at the battle from above. He needed to know that he did not abandon his men to die. He only hoped his Commander gave them a chance.

Arthur caught his breath and looked down at the severed forearm laying in the mud. Behind him, the Shimmering Knight clutched his elbow. The knight was hacking and coughing as he writhed in pain, his brilliant white armor still shone brightly despite the dirt and blood splattered across it.  Even now, Arthur was surprised to see the Knight struggle to lift himself. Finish it, he thought to himself. Put him down for good. Arthur tried to raise his sword and realized that the fire in the moment had passed and his body ached. He felt the weight of the heavy weapon and the stifling armor. He looked at the White Knight and saw him struggling as well.

Arthur Ages commanded the Shimmering Knight, “Stay down. Your arm is gone. Your weapon is gone. This is over.”

“It seems…so,” The Shimmering Knight managed to whisper through his helm. He was still facing the ground, as he knelt on one knee.

Arthur saw the magic spear laying plainly on the rocks. He considered picking it up but thought against it. The Commander kicked the spear away and strained to raise his sword. He stepped toward the Shimmering Knight and his heart got the better of him. For a split second, Arthur saw the Knight differently now, just a glimmer of something else. He had to know.

“Before your end,” Arther said. “I need to know. What are you? Some kind of wizard?”

The Shimmering Knight’s movement slowed and he let go of his bloody stump. His voice was hoarse as it cracked in a whisper, “I… am a man. Like you.” He tried to lift himself with his left arm, a flood of red gushed from his right.

Arthur was furious now. “Tell me. How? How did you do this,” he screamed.

A long silence. The wind seemed to pick up. The Shimmering Knight turned his head toward Arthur. “Let me show you.”

He raised his bloody stump and Arthur was once again staring at the light of death. Immediately he recoiled and fell back as he heard a terrifying scraping sound. A screech like before, but rougher. Like the grinding of metal but louder. A blinding beam exploded in front of Arthur and shot out in an expanding array of light. The Commander had nearly been inside the blast and tumbled away as he hit the ground.

Arthur looked up to the see the light pour out of the missing arm while the Shimmering Knight held it up almost uncontrollably. The Commander was still in the mud when he realized the breastplate of his armor had been torn away, revealing the mail underneath. It was broken and falling away. The plackart that had protected his body was now gone around the chest and abdomen. He had nearly been eaten by the light. Engulfed in the shimmering fire that now began to dissipate.

The Shimmering Knight pulled his arm to him and cradled his missing limb in his breast. Blood no longer spurted from the gaping wound. It seemed as if his wrist had been burned and the metal of his gauntlets now hung loosely around his forearm. The knight was clearly in pain as he turned to Arthur.

It was not the weapon. It was the Shimmering Knight himself.

Arthur’s stomach turned. No man could do this. This was wrong. Clearly, whatever this knight is, whatever monster stood before him, it was not human. It was something supernatural.

The white Knight raised his right forearm once more. Toward Arthur now, who couldn’t move himself to get on his feet. He had lost count of his heartbeats. He held his breath. He stared at the knight. Then, a trio of Crescent Shield riders came galloping through the mist. Their weapons drawn, they came directly toward the Shimmering Knight. He moved his arm toward the riders. An arrow hit the Knight in the abdomen and shoulder before the light went off again. They were gone. Two of the horses had disappeared as well. But not the third. The steed had twisted itself around and reared back before fleeing. It came directly at Arthur.

The Commander was quick to attach himself to the saddle. It knocked the wind out of him as he caught the horn and put one foot into the stirrup. He was already riding away as he still clung to the side of the galloping horse. The distance from the Shimmering Knight grew, but it did nothing to ease the sense of heat on the back of Arthur’s neck. He could no longer count his heartbeats, he could only hope. The Commander struggled to pull himself onto the saddle. He tried to swing his leg around the horse, but it was too late. A burning light cut through the horse and Arthur was thrown off. A flash of white and red and the Commander fell at full speed. He flew through the air, before his back slammed into the trunk of a fallen tree.

Drifting in and out of darkness, Arthur saw a shimmering spark in the distance. Every time he opened his eyes the spark drew closer. The Shimmering Knight plodded slowly toward Arthur. He limped along, the white of his armor covered in specks of brown and red. The Knight was stumbling as he walked, straining to keep his balance. He lurched toward the Commander, but did not raise his hand. He did not use the destructive light.

Arthur tried to pull himself up but his legs refused his command. He tried to lift his hand, but it fell. His head hung low and his neck was slack. He could see now that the pauldron on his armor was gone. He could also see that part of his shoulder was missing as well, the exposed muscle so red, it was almost black. Blood now dripped down his arm and soaked the blue cape that folded around his side. He felt no pain, only a cold numbness.

He was utterly spent. Arthur felt as if he had nothing left in him and the cold in his arm began to enter his heart. He couldn’t defeat the Shimmering Knight…and yet. Something was happening. The Knight seemed to be straining to stand, swaying in a staggered haze. Arthur lay still among fallen soldiers, in the damp and bloody soil. He began to hear a ringing in his ears that sounded like the clanging of metal. He could not move and could only look on as the Shimmering Knight began to clutch his chest. The Knight then fell to one knee and the ringing grew faintly. Arthur could just barely hear it resonating through the noise of the battle that still raged in the distance.

Suddenly, another sound was heard. A growl of anger, or of pain. The Shimmering Knight moved erratically like a wounded animal as he grasped at his armor. Desperately, he unclasped the buckles from his helmet and yanked it off, throwing it to the ground. Arthur drew in a breath and almost laughed at the sight. Before him, was not a demon or some supernatural being. He was a man with long dark hair, sweat falling from his brow as he struggled to breathe. The Shimmering Knight, the great evil that had been laying waste to the entire battlefield, was a man, no older than Arthur himself.

Despite all the rumors of the Shimmer Knight, Arthur finally saw him for who he was. A knight in shining armor. A man on his knees, seemingly in pain. The Knight had a terrible power, but he was still just a man. All one needed to do was take a weapon and finish him and…and. Arthur let the thought drift away. It would not end the battle, and he knew he was too broken to finish it himself. Arthur now looked at the Shimmering Knight without disdain or pity. He noticed too that the Knight’s armor seemed brighter somehow. The ringing was still drowning out all sound, but the white armor was now truly shimmering. The metal was radiating and beginning to glow, producing a light that made the shaded forest seem bright as the sun.

Arthur suddenly felt a warmth like no other and decided it was not all in vain. He did fight the Shimmering Knight, the man whose name strikes fear in others. He faced that man with honor and bravery, and he could take pride in that. The shimmering grew too bright to bare and Arthur closed his eyes as it covered him. Arthur thought of his King. He thought of his brother. He thought of his wife and of his son. He could faintly hear someone shouting before a loud screech overtook him. The sound of the light. He smiled and told himself that it was the gyrfalcon with good news.

King Marcus turned back to the valley and his heart sank. He felt as if he were falling in a dream. The sound started as a ringing but grew louder until nothing existed but a shaking in his whole body. The horrible screech ripped through his ears and tore through his mind. The birds where going mad, encircling the trees and flying haphazardly in every direction. The horses yanked away from the pair and ran aimlessly into the woods trying to escape the sound.

Marcus stared at the white light emanating of the forest, trying to comprehend the sight before him. The light became a beacon that shot out directly into the sky. Immediately, it expanded and covered everything that Marcus could see in a blinding flash. Phillip fell back, into the grass and Marcus shielded his eyes.

The brightness enveloped Marcus’s every thought, his every heartbeat and for a moment he saw nothing. Marcus thought himself dead, until his eyes adjusted. When he looked back to the valley, he thought that his eyes had been burned out. For he saw nothing where the woods used to be. The forest was gone. Not sheared like crops, there were no trees that had fallen. No trees at all. There was only a crater. An empty bowl of black dirt and soil. No soldiers. No horses. No metal or flesh or foliage. Nothing.

Phillip had picked himself up but nearly fell to his knees once again. The two men looked at what used to be the site of a great battle. An empty crater now existed. A shallow hole of nothing. As the two men stared at what was no longer there, ash began to fall, like the first snow of a cold winter.

END OF PROLOGUE