The End of the Fantasy (Book #6 of the Sage Saga)
Read The End of the Fantasy (Book #6 of the Sage Saga) Online
Authors: Julius St. Clair
Copyright © 2014 by Julius St. Clair
All rights reserved. This story or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, objects and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are coincidental and should not be taken seriously.
Now Available (at a discounted price for a limited time):
The Last of the Sages (Book 1 Deluxe Edition)
The Dark Kingdom (Book 2 of the Sage Saga)
Hail to the Queen (Book 3 of the Sage Saga)
Of Heroes and Villains (Book 4 of the Sage Saga)
The Legendary Warrior (Book 5 of the Sage Saga)
End of the Fantasy (Book 6 of the Sage Saga)
The Sage Saga continues in:
The Sorcerer’s Ring (Book #1 of the Seven Sorcerers Saga)
Now available for preorder
HERE
Dear Reader,
I hope you’ve enjoyed Bastion’s journey because like all good things, it must come to an end. And yet, like the cycles of the seasons, life always stems from death. Babies are born. People change. Relationships grow. There is beauty in the ugly. Light in the darkness. Silver linings in every cloud. Basically, we are now at a crossroads. For as Bastion reaches his destiny, things have considerably changed.
The world is much different than the one in the 1
st
book of the Sage Saga, and while I think it’s exciting, there’s also a bit of anxiety. For who truly loves change? The kind that alters one’s life significantly? It’s not until after the change has settled and stilled like ripples in a pond that one feels comfortable and satisfied. And yet, change
must
occur, for the growth and benefit of any individual, any people, and any world. I say all of this because change is once again in the winds of Allay. I knew from the day that Bastion was “born” what his ending would be, and how it would alter the Sage Saga. And now that the moment has come, I realize how much I will miss him as the focus and hero of the story, as I did with James.
But in any case, as promised, books 4-6 is a trilogy in of itself. Bastion’s story will be complete, for better or worse, and new characters as well as some old, will pick up the mantle in books 7-9.
But first things first.
So without further ado, I bring you to the conclusion of Bastion’s story.
Just as I was getting nice and comfortable with him, he’s already leaving me.
Feeling Contemplative,
Julius St. Clair
Chapter 1 – The Future of Allay
Chapter 2 – The Last of the Sages
Chapter 3 – A Thorough Cleansing
Chapter 14 – The Future Before Us
Chapter 19 – A Legendary Battle
An Excerpt to Stricken
,
an upcoming fleetbook by Julius St. Clair
“I’m a Sage…but Sages are not just soldiers. They aren’t just warriors. No, they are world-builders. Somewhere along the line, what it means to be a Sage has been lost. The Allayan Order tries to tell us what a Sage is, but they don’t know. They
can’t
know. Most of them can’t even examine their own soul. What you need to know is that you all have a purpose in this world, and it is your duty to complete it. You
must
complete it. For the good of us all. And you must do this while keeping your heart and soul intact.”
-
James Alters, A Sage of Yesterday
No one felt more at home sitting on the throne than Seeker. It was what he had been born to do. He knew that becoming Master of the Allayan Order wasn’t his destiny. It was beneath him, and unworthy of his talents. So when destiny fell into his lap, he seized it, without the permission of his colleagues and advisors. They would get over it. They would
have to.
After all, he was now the
King
.
He rubbed the palms of his hands across the cushions on his arm rests, sighing in pleasure at the tingling feeling that it gave him down his spine. He was feeling a lot of new things as of late, but the throne was by far his favorite. There was something about it that just radiated power. From his seat, he knew that he could shape the future of all the kingdoms, not just Allay, and the prospect brought a smirk to his face.
A clanging noise wretched his attention away from his thoughts, and he turned his attention forward, looking down the long chamber of the Throne Room, past the tall pillars, past the fountains and gardens, and into the black beyond the light, coming from the torches on the side walls. He could see a figure standing there, but he couldn’t identify him.
“The Throne Room is closed!” Seeker shouted, concerned about the lack of guards coming to his aid. Where were they? He had told them to make themselves scarce so that he could enjoy the room for himself, but perhaps his order was too hasty. Surely they should have known not to wander too far.
“But there is no door,” an eerie voice replied, calm as the water in the fountains.
“What?” Seeker asked in fear. He heard the intruder chuckle.
“If you desire no visitors, you should build a door. A simple construct that would more than accomplish the job.”
“Step into the light,” Seeker demanded, and the intruder hesitated.
“I fear that you will run,” he said, calm again.
“Do I have a reason to?”
“None whatsoever, my liege. We are men of…like passion.”
“Then I will stay where I am. But do not make any sudden movements.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” the visitor replied. Seeker sat up on the edge of the throne chair. Despite the intruder’s calm demeanor, he sensed a danger from him, and he was not about to be caught in a moment of weakness. He was certainly no Sage, and there were only average citizens acting as his bodyguards at the moment. Should he survive through the night, he would have to rectify that problem immediately. A few impressionable minds from the Academy would do.
“Come,” Seeker insisted, waving his hand forward while counting the number of steps to the exit out of the corner of his eye. A leap off the throne stage—he would probably stumble as he exited, a grab of the handle and a quick push. Maybe five seconds and he could be out the room. But of course, that was only if the intruder didn’t chase him.
The intruder stepped into the light, and Seeker found himself gasping.
He knew the descriptions. It was hard not to with the entire village preparing for their arrival. Months of training, weapon stocking, fortifying, all of that defense…and one of them had just strolled into the castle.
“You know what I am,” the intruder said, and Seeker tried to keep his breathing at a minimum.
“A Yama,” Seeker replied, and the intruder bowed.
“My name is Iliad. It is nice to meet you.” Seeker was already beginning to sweat. He had thought the Yama to be a myth, and that he would have much more time to enjoy his leisure before conflict arose. For war to come so soon, and after only a couple of days—it was depressing.
“Iliad,” the King said flatly, standing up from the throne chair. “I want to know how you got in.”
“That’s not the knowledge you…seek,” Iliad winked at him. “Pun intended.”
“What happens now?” Seeker asked, his face overcome with worry. He didn’t find his intruder’s attempt at humor funny.
“That is entirely up to you,” the Yama said, taking a step forward. His long thin hands were folded together, and he smiled wide, his sharp pointy teeth sending a shudder down Seeker’s spine. The Yama was so ugly to behold that he wanted to avert his eyes, but he feared that he would offend the creature. The veins that were pumping all over its dark grey skin nearly made him gag.
“I don’t want war,” Seeker replied, and the Yama slowly shook his head. The movement was so strange, it was if he was bobbing his head back and forth to music, unheard by no one but him.
“And neither do I. War only brings sorrow.”
“So does invasion.”
“There are none in Allay at the moment but me.”
“I get the feeling that that could quickly change.”
“I bring no threats to your feet,” the Yama bowed again. “Despite what you may have heard about us, I assure you that we are not the ruthless monsters that we appear to be. I have come for peace. Now that Lakrymos and Orchid are dead, I can speak to a man who understands that some solutions, while controversial, are the right ones.”
“Orchid is dead?” Seeker asked in concern. Iliad did not respond with body language.
“In a sense, I did you a favor. She wouldn’t stand idly by while you ruled Allay. The moment my people would have shown their faces, she would have executed you, taken control of the throne and forced the people to wage war against us. Again, war is something that neither of us desire, and I am sure you are quite fond of your head.”
“If you come for peace, then you must be looking for an alliance.”
“That would be beneficial to both of us.”
“How so?” Seeker asked, very intrigued. He stepped down the stairs leading up to the throne stage slowly, making sure that he didn’t make any threatening and sudden movements himself. He wrapped his royal fur robes tightly around his waist and adjusted his crown. He still kept his distance, but showing that he was willing to get close was a gesture of good faith. The Yama’s tense shoulders relaxed.
“We are conquerors, you and I. Pioneers. Our thoughts are not like those of others. We see the bigger picture and we seek to preserve this planet, even if that means using blood to water the seed.”
“I agree,” Seeker said, trying not to smile. It seemed like the Yama understood him, but he wasn’t sure if it was because the creature knew the type of person he was, and just saying what he wanted to hear, or if he truly believed it himself. He hoped for the latter. For it was would be refreshing to meet someone who was likeminded in his lifetime.
When he was in the Allayan Order, he loathed the teachings of his Master, but he kept his peace, for he knew that making waves wouldn’t give him the promotions he sought for. The way he saw it, there were only a few positions of power available for someone born in the village. Either it was the Allayan Order, or becoming a Sage. He had to be royalty to sit on the throne at that point, and going to another Kingdom was out of the question. Even if they trusted him after years of servitude, they would never give him the accolades he deserved.
In the end, he chose the Order, for he was no warrior. He had only been in a fight once, as a child, and it had not gone in his favor. The Order was adequate at first, for he was able to tower over the other villagers, and he finally had authority in the minds of the people. For once, he had a voice. But he was still an underling. And that just would not do.
“Tell me of our vision,” Seeker said, “and I will know in the end if I should align with you.”
“Certainly,” Iliad said. “I believe that together, we will overpower the other Kingdoms. Prattle and Languor will fall at our feet. The Quietus will be our assassins, which, I might add, was a brilliant move on your part—using the displaced Quietus as your own personal scouts, despite the history between them and Allay.”
“History is of the past,” Seeker said. “And that’s where it should stay. As long as they prove their allegiance to me, I am fine with their presence. Now, please continue.”
“I believe that Allay will claim its rightful place as ruler over these lands, and as for me and my people, we would no longer have to worry about being invaded. You do understand why we were anxious about the Sages. Lakrymos and Orchid were seeking to destroy us and we knew that you had a good chance of performing such a feat.”
“Which brings up an interesting notion,” Seeker mused. “If we could have destroyed you then, what has changed now? What strength have we lost?”
“I do not take offense to this line of reasoning,” the Yama smiled. “So I will answer. The fact of the matter is that Lakrymos, Orchid, and a good number of your best warriors are dead. Any general knows that everyone of their soldiers is important, down to the very last pawn. In this case, you have too many pawns and not enough lieutenants. You are considerably weaker. Not to mention that we have resources you know nothing about, while we know everything there is to know about you. You might win, but it would weaken us both greatly in the end, and for what?”
“I understand,” Seeker said, mulling over the Yama’s words. “So…by joining together, we both get peace. Two powerful factions, shaping this world to our will.”
“Removing all enemies, all threats. Then, we can split the world in two, as it was before Lakrymos and Orchid tried to upset the balance. We can rule as Kings, and perform feats that this world has never seen before.”
“I would like to learn some of your secrets,” Seeker replied. “Only me. No one else. And in exchange, I will lend you any resources at my disposal.”
“I would like that. And I agree to your terms. Who knows? Perhaps together we can discover the secrets that alluded Thorn. We may be immortal when this is through.”
“That would be wonderful,” Seeker said with a straight face. “But first things first. Who are the enemies that you want targeted? Who needs to die first?”
“The Sages,” the Yama said coldly. “All that threaten you and me. The obedient ones can serve you, but all others must die. We will go after Catherine and her group for they must be cut down quickly. We have already made preparations for Languor and Prattle so we will need your assistance when it’s time.”
“And of Bastion?” Seeker asked, his jaw clenching tight. “I’ve heard whispers of what has happened in Languor. The boy is unstable and untamed. Yet, he is powerful.”
“Already taken care of,” Iliad replied confidently.
“You will begin teaching me a technique tonight,” Seeker ordered. “And until I can trust you, you will serve me. Do you agree to my terms?”
“I do,” the Yama replied, as he glanced behind him. A dozen men had been slowly creeping into the throne room from the entrance behind them, covered in great pieces of armor and carrying large maces and steel swords in their hands. The Yama turned back to face Seeker directly. “That is fine,” he confirmed again. Seeker gave him a smug smile.
“Then you have a deal,” he said.
They shook hands.
* * *
“Have you ever seen one before?” Lily asked under the moonlight as she laid on her stomach next to Bastion. Before asking him the question again, she scratched her shoulders. Her skin itched whenever it rubbed against the bark they laid on. The tree branches beneath their bodies were thin and brittle but in the Quietus forest, the branches twisted and intertwined with one another at the top, creating a thick blanket for them to lie on. Sure it enflamed their skin after an hour and he wasn’t sure what the bark was made of, even when his eidolon was out, but Bastion figured that they at least had a vantage point for any food that came strolling along the forest floor. Bastion poked the branches in front of him, testing them. It didn’t even budge, even with his impressive strength behind the poke. There had to be thousands of tiny branches interlocking with each other.
An army can do what one powerful being can,
he thought, thinking of the books he used to read on the infantry back in Allay. The infantry had been a front for the recruitment of Sages, but the concept was still a topic in the heart of the village. The thought that the ordinary could come together and accomplish greatness, even if they couldn’t unsheathe their eidolons.
“Have you seen one before?” Lily asked again, pushing him lightly.
He nearly went flying out the trees.
“You’re too strong to be doing that,” Bastion whispered harshly.
“It’s the only way I can get your attention.”
“You could try other ways.”
“What did you have in mind?” she said, leaning her face in closer to his. Any comeback he had at the ready was immediately thrown to the ground and obliterated. All he could do was stare into her chocolate brown eyes over the lacy white dress that hung off her shoulders. The contrast of light and dark made her eyes stand out, and he found himself trying to gain his composure. With barely a gesture, she had defeated him.
“I hate it when you do that,” he said finally, turning away from her. The moment he did, he regretted it. He longed to see her again, and it was strange how gazing upon her didn’t lose its appeal. Her luster was as strong as the day she appeared before him.
“Do what?” she said innocently. He scoffed.
You know what you did.
“You’re doing it on purpose,” he said, turning back to her. Having gotten a moment of reprieve, he was feeling stronger now. She was still beautiful and elegant. That couldn’t change even if he wanted it to, but at least he could talk to her without sounding stupid.