The Tides of Xanthia (The Realm of Xanthia #1)

Prologue

The air around Rionan crackled with an invisible energy that made the hair on his arms stand on end.

Behind him, he could hear the cries of his men as they rallied together in a desperate attempt to hold the line against the forces of the East. A burst of flame exploded overhead as he cast his eyes around him, peering up at the night sky.

Storm clouds were gathering, and the distant rumbles of thunder filled the air.

The trees surrounding the clearing in which he stood swayed violently in the harsh wind.

The ground seemed to vibrate with the forces of the explosions of light that echoed in the skies above. He stepped across downed troops, scanning his eyes over them for the faces of his commanders. To his mild relief, he could not see any. Not here, at least.

Bodies. So many bodies littered the ground.

Bodies of his friends, his forces, his men. The men of the West. Blood leaked from arrow wounds in their chests. These were some of the first men to go down. The glazed eyes of his former comrades told him they were long gone from this realm.

Rionan grabbed an arrow from the nearest soldier’s body and pulled it free with a sickening crunch.

He sniffed at the tip of the arrow, as he felt a burst of energy shudder against the shield he had thrown around himself.

A shield he could feel struggling to hold, with so much of his power cast out to try and protect his own army.

The invisible energy of the shield buzzed in the air around him, like a bubble threatening to burst.

The smell coming from the liquid that coated the tip of the arrow burned his nostrils and singed his throat. A harsh chemical smell, mixed with the tang of metal. Of blood.

Poison.

His shield wouldn’t hold for long. He knew that now.

His powers had been weakening since the Southern Lord had died, and the balance of power had shifted against him.

The land was struggling. The power of the four Lords, which usually brought a sense of life to the very ground underneath his feet, felt wrong.

The enemy forces tainted it with every inch of land that they conquered.

Rionan pushed back against them and fought to hang on, but he could not do it indefinitely.

He could feel the strain of maintaining his shield now, the force of the effort dizzying.

A bodiless voice spoke into Rionan’s mind.

They come. They come. They come.

“My Lord,” came a hoarse voice from behind him, “their numbers are great. They’ve hammered the left flank, and they move swiftly on the western walls.”

Rionan looked over his shoulder into the gloomy night, alighted by bright flashes, at the source of that voice.

His general, Thallax, stood behind him, covered in dust, dirt, and blood.

Thallax panted heavily, his voice tired from shouting over the clangs and booms of battle.

His dark hair was damp with sweat, his fringe hanging in front of his pale grey eyes.

Eyes which were full of concern that Rionan had not seen for a long, long time.

Thallax was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield.

Rionan had seen him cut through hordes of enemies in their decades together.

Not just his general, but his friend and a close ally.

He trusted Thallax. Seeing that worry across his battle-worn face, Rionan felt the remaining hope he had that they could turn this around leave his body in a motion that made his heart drop.

Rionan knew what was happening. He could hear it in the air around him. In the feeling of the ground beneath his feet. In the number of his men who were going down.

There was no way they would win this.

Lightning shot down from the skies in quick, powerful bursts. Not near them. Ahead of the western walls of his castle.

Ulreah, their Stormbringer, was using everything he had to hold the enemy lines back. Ulreah had insisted on positioning himself near the western walls, for the best vantage point over the oncoming enemy forces, and to deal the most damage when the time came.

Rionan turned his pastel blue eyes to the distance, to the source of that lightning, as he whispered to Thallax.

“Any other ideas?”

Thallax didn’t answer immediately. He sighed, casting his eyes around, just as Rionan had.

“No.”

“The Well. They’ll be upon it soon if we don’t do something.”

“I know,” Thallax replied, his voice grave, “they have gained a vast amount of power since taking the South. If they take your power - ”

“I won’t let that happen.” Rionan didn’t want to have to say the words that they both knew were coming.

They needed to retreat. Not retreat – flee.

Rionan needed to take the power that the Eastern lord sought far, far away, whilst Thallax and the other commanders got as many of their men to safety as they could.

The Well would be empty, and although he could not leave it that way for long, it would buy them time.

A large portion of their women and children had already been hidden away in the wilds of the land, knowing that this battle was coming. If they acted now, they could save some of their army.

Rionan rubbed his face and stared towards the silhouettes of the mountains in the distance, the sky illuminating with bursts of red, purple, and gold. “How many can you take away from here?”

“I don’t know,” Thallax whispered, “the others are ready to receive the order. We will do what we can, My Lord.”

“Thallax,” Rionan huffed. “I am your friend. Will you please call me by my name?”

Thallax’s face twisted into a sad smile, knowing it may be the last time they saw each other. “Sorry. Old battlefield habits. I’ll do everything I can, Rionan.”

Rionan gave a short nod to Thallax. “Tell them to go. Send a party North for help. I’ll do what I can, from where I can. For now, the Well needs to remain empty, so that there is no power for Rannirr to access here.”

“As you will it, My Lord. Rionan.” Thallax corrected himself. With a flash of yellow light, he was gone. Rionan felt the collective message being sent out from Thallax across his commanders, to go, to take as many men as they could and retreat to safety.

The wind continued to whoosh past Rionan in mighty gusts as Ulreah’s storm clouds swirled above, cracks of lightning filling the air with sharp electrical pulses that called to the power readying itself beneath Rionan’s skin.

Ulreah wouldn’t go. He was stubborn. Stubborn, brave, and courageous.

Ulreah would hold that line. Rionan looked up through the flashes and saw the crowd of battling warriors, impossible to tell his own men from the enemies, with the mud that was splattered on everyone’s armour.

Stepping forward, Rionan closed his eyes and drew a slow, steady breath.

Reaching out his arms on either side of him and flexing the tips of his fingers down towards the ground.

As he inhaled, he felt the land beneath his feet respond, and power flooding inwards.

The wind lost some of its ferocity. The night air lost some of its edge as every bit of Rionan’s power that dwelled within this land and made it what it was poured back into him.

Rionan heard distant cries to retreat as his body filled with an energy that he had shared with his land for centuries.

He looked up, his body trembling with the strain of absorbing every bit of magic.

It felt familiar and warm, but there was also resistance there. Like, it didn’t really want to leave.

Stripping Xanthia of his power – of some of its lifeforce - it was almost as wrong as the corruption the Eastern Lord had inflicted on his own territory, and now poured into the South.

Rionan had no other choice.

This had to be done.

Rionan. Rionan. Rionan.

The voice echoed through Rionan’s mind, conveying a sense of conflict and dread. It knew he needed to go, but it tried to pull him back, to urge him to send his power back into the land once more.

Rionan. Rionan. Rionan.

He exhaled slowly, forcing his power to seal itself within him.

Return to us. Return to us. Return to us.

Rionan lifted his head and lowered his arms. With a grim determination, he snapped down his invisible shield of energy that had kept him safe until now.

Immediately, spears of red and purple light darted toward him from the distance.

With his sensitive hearing, he could hear the shouts of the opposing soldiers, telling each other his shields were down, and he was vulnerable.

They were coming for him. Rionan breathed in this familiar air one last time and brought his arms together in front of him in a swift motion.

One of his hands, clasped into a fist, met the palm of his other hand, and he closed his eyes.

With a bright yellow flash of light, he was gone.

***************

Rionan awoke to the sound of gulls calling, and the smell of the sea.

He was lying face down in sand, which now coated the inside of his nose.

He could feel water gently lapping against his legs as he rolled onto his side and spluttered.

Rionan gently opened his eyes, squinting, the bright sun blinding him.

Such a stark contrast to where he had been moments ago.

Had it been moments? Why had he been unconscious?

He lifted his arm, scanning his surroundings.

His vision was blurry, and he could make out his own hand in front of his face.

His skin was changing colour rapidly, shifting from its warm silvery hue to a much more flushed colour.

He swept his tongue over his teeth, feeling his canines retracting.

He touched his pointed ears, which were now not pointed at all, but sat in delicate curves on either side of his head.

Rionan recalled that when he had done this before, his appearance was always the first thing to change. To help him blend in with the realm in which he found himself. Everything else caught up later.

He rolled onto his front and put his palms flat against the sand, pushing up in an effort to raise himself off the ground.

His arms trembled with an invisible power that lay underneath his skin, that wrestled with him to return to his own realm.

To Xanthia. He cursed quietly as he fought with his own power and tried to push it down inside himself – far away from the surface.

An overwhelming feeling of sickness washed over him, and he collapsed back onto his front, fighting the urge to vomit.

Rionan felt himself fading in and out of consciousness, exhaustion passing over his body as he continued to tremble.

He shut his eyes, breathing in deeply, as the crisp, salty air overwhelmed his heightened senses.

He rested his forehead in the sand and gave himself over to the darkness that beckoned him.