When The Gods War_Book 2_Chronicles of Meldinar Read online

  When the Gods War

  Published by Samuel C. Stokes

  Copyright 2017 Samuel C. Stokes

  1st Edition

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  Book One: A Coronation of Kings

  Book Two: When the Gods War

  An Introduction from the Author

  Welcome to When the Gods War, the sequel to the action-packed adventure A Coronation of Kings. I have expanded the world you know and love. When the Gods War allows you to explore the continent of Sevalorn, a large and diverse place full of new characters to love, hate or cheer on to glory. Many of your favorites have returned as well, along with a few surprises. So buckle up!

  As you’ve come to expect from me, the pace of the novel is frantic and exciting. I believe you’ll find my writing has improved since A Coronation of Kings and you will find the characters more developed than ever in spite of the hectic pace.

  One of the most frequent critiques A Coronation of Kings received was that on its surface it seemed a retelling of the classic good-vs-evil scenario that forms the heart of most fantasy literature, but this was simply a starting point. If you read carefully you will see the clues of what is to come.

  When the Gods War will throw you headlong into a struggle in which neither side is inherently good or evil; the characters you will meet are simply fighting for survival and for their places in a unique and dangerous universe.

  Lastly, while the book features a romantic encounter or two, it contains no sexual encounters of any variety. This is intentional—I want readers of any age to be able to pick up my work without having to worry what they will come across in their reading.

  I hope you enjoy When the Gods War. If you have any thoughts or feedback don’t hesitate to connect with me via any of the means mentioned above—I would love to hear from you.

  Sincerely,

  Samuel C. Stokes

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Astral Palace of Empyrea

  In a time long forgotten by the fading memories of man, the world of Empyrea stood preeminent among the stars. Its splendor was extolled throughout the heavens, and its domains stretched beyond its celestial sphere and multiplied beyond number as world after world yielded before its might.

  The people of Empyrea could not be denied—they possessed power that could scarcely be comprehended by mortal men. The ancient arts of the Empyreans allowed them to fashion passageways between worlds and soon they spread themselves among the stars.

  Foremost among the Warhost of the Empyreans was the god-king Apollos. His advent was of legend. His coming split the skies as a shimmering portal appeared in the evening air. A shaft of golden light poured through the portal, its rays piercing through the twilight as they struck the planet’s surface. When the light dimmed there stood a majestic being with hair as dark as the night sky. He stood head and shoulders above the natives in steel armor that glimmered in the moonlight. His entire glorious being radiated an inner light.

  As the natives drew nearer the newcomer spoke, and his voice shook the very surface of the world. “I am Apollos. I have come to claim this world. From this day forward you will serve me and no other. If you are faithful, you will be the envy of all who surround you. I will make you mighty and none will stay you. If you refuse, I will cleanse this world of your presence and people it with those of other worlds who will serve. Do you understand?”

  A burly Empyrean native moved through the assembled masses, his bare yet muscled chest a stark contrast to the well armored stranger. Raising his axe, he gestured angrily at Apollos. “You cannot simply claim our world! I cannot speak for all, but I do speak for my village when I say we will not be your slaves.”

  “I regret your displeasure—pray tell which village hath fostered such a fearsome warrior.”

  “I am Tehaka of the Kalgathi,” the warrior answered, gesturing to a village in the valley below.

  “Excellent,” the newcomer said as he lifted a hand. A rend appeared in the sky above the village, and for a moment stars glimmered brightly through the portal. Without warning, great stones began pouring through the breach. As they plummeted toward the village, they burst into flames. With terrifying efficiency, the meteors slammed into the Kalgathi village. Buildings vaporized in an instant as the flaming projectiles struck homes and primitive structures. Shards of broken stone and earth flew in every direction and flames engulfed the wreckage of what had just moments before been a peaceful village.

  Apollos turned to the defiant warrior and nodded. “Very well. The Kalgathi are released from service.” With a flourish of Apollos’s hand the defiant warrior burst into flames. In seconds he was reduced to ashes. Apollos closed his fist and the portal above the ruined village was sealed. “Are there any others who do not wish to serve?”

  As one, the assembled Empyreans knelt and swore fealty.

  Many years passed after that momentous day. True to his word, Apollos had imparted great knowledge to his subjects. The Empyreans mastered the elements and bent them to their will—soon their magic bridged the space between worlds and the Empyreans traveled freely through the heavens in the same manner as Apollos. As their dominions multiplied, Apollos was deified by his people. Obeisance turned to reverence and then to worship—the word of Apollos spread throughout the stars as his followers encountered new worlds and brought them into the fold.

  On the plains of his first appearance a mighty citadel was erected and the lands surrounding the structure were shaped to his will. Sculpted by the arcane arts of Apollos and his servants, the citadel’s translucent walls stretched as far as the eye could see. Magnificent towers rose into the sky, creating a dazzling cityscape. At its heart lay the Astral Palace, Throne of Apollos. From his palace Apollos could gaze through the transparent roof of his citadel and behold the stars, an enduring witness of his Supreme Being.

  Time held no sway over Apollos—its passing held little meaning to one who was ageless. In time he took a wife, Chandra, from among the natives, and sired children with her. Alphaeus and Mythos each bore different aspects of their father Apollos, their power irresistible.

  Alphaeus, the firstborn, was tall of stature like his father, but with hair golden like the sun. His ornate white and gold armor shone brigh
tly as he led the Warhost of Empyrea to countless victories.

  Mythos, on the other hand, possessed his father’s piercing eyes and pitch-black hair. Shorter than his brother, he was lithe and quick, and his armor patterned after his father’s shone like quicksilver as he moved swiftly through enemy ranks. His cunning had brought worlds to their knees and the Warhost rolled over them without hesitation.

  For a time, the dynasty of Apollos stood supreme. Then one night he summoned his sons home. As they entered the throne room at the heart of the Astral Palace they stopped in shock, Apollos sat upon his throne, but not the Apollos they had once known. His heavy brow was creased with worry, strands of silver visible in his once-dark and regal locks. Apollos’s once-mighty physique seemed almost frail as he rested on the throne. In the years that his sons had waged war among the stars, much had changed.

  Alphaeus rushed to his father’s side. “Father, what is happening? What manner of magic is this? I have never seen you so . . .”

  “An enemy has done this,” the fatigued god exclaimed, with all the strength he could muster. Sweeping his hand across the room, he muttered a quiet incantation. The palace floor began to shift as a chasm opened beneath. The breach widened and a blue light pierced through the cleft in the floor and an enormous cavern was revealed. At the heart of the room, floating in the air, was a large blue crystal. Its multifaceted surface radiated light and cast a blue hue across the throne room. Apollos led his sons down the stone stairway until they stood before the crystalline form.

  “What is it?” Mythos asked in awe.

  “It is the Aethyr, my son. It is the center of all that we know. It binds and governs the motion of all the worlds over which it has influence. Without it, there would be chaos in the heavens. Its power is what drew me to this world.”

  “If its power is so great, how is it that you have come to be so . . .” Alphaeus paused, unable to finish his sentence. An unthinkable heresy.

  “Weak?” Apollos answered, unafraid of the truth. “When I first came to this world, I was but a man. My time on many worlds had made me mighty in magic. As I searched the stars I found things, mysteries that had lain hidden for eons. These mysteries spoke of the Aethyr and the gods that once were.”

  “Were?” Alphaeus asked. “You taught us that gods simply are—by our birthright we stand supreme.”

  “Indeed, as all Empyrea was taught, my son. But that is not entirely true.

  “As I studied the ruins of a thousand worlds I learned an ancient truth . . . like the worlds before them, gods are made. I found evidence of gods that once existed here but have long since ceased to be. I traced the rise and fall of celestial hierarchies and learned that to be a god, one must simply be worshipped by enough souls.”

  “So Empyrea was an experiment . . . a laboratory in which you could test your theory?” Mythos asked, his temper rising.

  “An experiment of sorts, but I needed the Aethyr to know if it would work.”

  “Why?” Alphaeus asked.

  “It is a relic of the old gods. A tool they used to measure their ascension.” Apollos swept his hand across the room and the torches were extinguished. As the throne room plunged into darkness, the Aethyr rose into the air. Stars as little pinpricks of light illuminated the now-darkened throne room, the Aethyr glowing a brilliant blue in their midst.

  Apollos continued, “This was the cosmos when I came to Empyrea. As you can see, it was a godless void in the immensity of space, but not for long. When Empyrea took the knee before me I filled that void. Our armies and emissaries carried the Word of Apollos to many worlds and my power grew.” The stars that shimmered throughout the throne room began to glow blue like the Aethyr. As they did, the Aethyr’s light also grew brighter. “The Age of Apollos began and I felt my power magnify beyond anything I had ever felt before. I could feel the power coursing through my veins. I had ascended, my body no longer aged as it once had, and it was as if all time and space stood still before me. In turn you were born, and under your leadership our expansion increased and our armies walked worlds without number, bringing them to their knees before the Throne of Apollos. Then one day everything changed.”

  At first it was almost imperceptible, a small pinprick of red among a swirling sea of blue. Then others began to flicker. The blue stars slowly flickered and went out, and after a few moments they would glow an angry red. As more stars turned to crimson, the Aethyr itself began to change. Crimson patches appeared across its surface.

  Alphaeus broke the stunned silence: “There is another.”

  “Indeed,” Apollos answered. “As another rises my power wanes, and with the change the hands of time take a heavy toll. If we cannot find this usurper soon, the Golden Age of Empyrea will dim, our power will perish and our dynasty will fade into the dust. You must find and crush this rebellion before it is too late.”

  “‘Where would we look for such a being?” Mythos asked.

  “Seek him among his worlds. A being of such power will not be able to hide for long. Find where his followers worship and from them you will learn his identity. Once we know who we seek, we will eradicate every trace of his existence.”

  “It will be done, Father,” Alphaeus answered, sinking to his knees before Apollos.

  “Rise my son. Long have I watched as you have faithfully furthered our interests.” Apollos reached down and took his son’s hand, helping Alphaeus to his feet before embracing him. He whispered, “Find this traitor and take your place at my side.” Then Apollos released his son.

  “I will not fail you, Father. The usurper will be found and dealt with.”

  “I would expect no less.” Turning to address his second son, Apollos spoke quickly. “Mythos, stand by your brother. This being you face will wield immense power—his presence in the Aethyr cannot easily be dismissed. It will take both of you to best him.”

  Apollos embraced his younger son. Worry filled his heart. Will my sons survive a confrontation with a being of such power? Apollos had studied all he could find on the God Wars. Historical records were sparse but the consequences were indelibly engraved in the ruins of a thousand worlds. The last time war was waged between Supreme Beings, chaos had reigned in the heavens.

  “I understand, Father,” Mythos answered, drawing from his sleeve an ornate dagger. The silver skull on the hilt glowed an angry crimson. Curving his arm around the frail Apollos, he whispered, “When I am done there will be no other.” He plunged the blade into his father’s exposed back. Apollos’ howl of pain split the chamber.

  Alphaeus turned, his father’s agony ringing in his ears. Locked in an embrace with Alphaeus’ brother Mythos, their father’s already-pale face was draining of all color, a crimson aura radiating from the pair

  “Mythos, you traitor!” Alphaeus cried. “Would you kill your own father?!”

  “Don’t take that sanctimonious tone with me, brother. I saw the worlds in the Aethyr. Only half of those that shone scarlet are mine, and all of them that did were once ours, worlds we took together. Worlds won for Apollos by our blood and sweat, worlds through which you hoped to ascend and rule. You too have been busy, scheming in the shadows.”

  “Of course I have, Mythos—there can be only one Supreme Being in the universe. It is as axiomatic and as unchanging as the stars themselves. It has taken years of careful planning, poison administered carefully by degree to weaken him. Our mother Chandra, last of the Kalgathi, set me on this course. Now you seek to steal my glory and my birthright. I will not suffer it.”

  Alphaeus chanted as he raised his hand, and a sphere of light, brilliant like the sun, hurtled from the enraged heir.

  Mythos was too close, and in a heartbeat he made his decision. “Goodbye, Father,” he said through gritted teeth. Clutching his father’s frail frame, he spun around, placing the once-god of Empyrea between himself and his brother’s wrath.

  The glowing orb struck the pair and exploded, dazzling light filling the chamber as its concussive blast threw them like
chaff before the wind. When the light cleared Mythos struggled to his feet. Fortunately, his father’s body and his own armor had borne the brunt of the blast.

  As Mythos moved, shooting pains in his chest told him he had several broken ribs. It could have been worse, much worse, he reminded himself as he saw the scarred and shattered stone floor where his father had stood only moments before, a pool of blood the only remains of the once-omnipotent Apollos.

  Focusing his thoughts on his elder brother, Mythos rose into the air, channeling his will to unleash a torrent of destruction. Stone shattered explosively outwards as his anger was made manifest. The earth beneath the palace began to shake the Astral Palace asunder, and storm clouds broiled angrily overhead, visible through the crystalline roof.

  Chanting loudly, words of power rolled off his tongue as Mythos pointed to Alphaeus, who was still struggling to find his footing below. A lightning bolt split the sky and struck the roof of the Astral Palace. The tortured structure crumbled under the assault and a hail of shattered crystal rained down on the heir of Empyrea.

  Shielding his face, Alphaeus bowed his head as the deadly shards rained from the fractured roof. Most of them clattered uselessly from his armor, save for a jagged shard the size of a man’s arm which struck him in the back, its sharp tip driving its way between the plates of his white and gold armor.

  As the barrage slowed Alphaeus rose. Pulling the bloodied shaft of crystal from his shoulder, he hurled it like a javelin at his adversary, only to have it shatter as a shield of quicksilver appeared in the air before Mythos.

  Undeterred, Alphaeus raised a hand and another brilliant orb coalesced gloriously above it. As Alphaeus continued to chant a second and then a third sphere appeared. What was left of the throne room was brilliantly illuminated as the spheres buzzed angrily around the wounded Empyrean. Finishing his incantation, Alphaeus cast both hands at his quarry and the spheres launched skywards towards the soaring Mythos.

  The first sphere struck the silver shield and it exploded outwards in a brilliant flash, absorbing the blast. As the energy of the sphere waned the shield drew itself back together before Mythos. The second sphere struck it and once more the arcane shield took the brunt of the blast and was unable to withstand this second assault. Silver splashes of the mercurial substance showered down throughout the chamber in a display both dazzling and deadly.