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THE DARK WAR CHRONICLES....
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A DARK TIDE RISING....
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BOOK THREE: -....
A RISEN WARLORD....
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By....
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M.A.D.HAY....
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Words = 88.757....
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With Prologue to Book 4 = 89.928....
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PROLOGUE.....
The slaughter was unimaginable. The Dream Weaver looked across the valley
from his scorched and burnt stand of trees.
The dead and dying were everywhere and in the middle of all of this the
fighting still continued.....
The Humans were fighting valiantly but were slowly
giving ground as the Fallen Ones attacked them with sword and claw and
elemental magic.....
Magic flashed as a Dream Weaver and one of the
mighty Fallen came together in battle arcane.
Each Dream Weaver had a unit of warriors sworn to defend them to the
death and this Dream Weavers warriors were trying their best to distract the
beast long enough for their sacred one to hurt or kill the beast so it could no
longer be a threat but they were taking severe losses, of the fifty warriors
only twelve were still on their feet and though most bore wounds that would
eventually kill them they kept throwing themselves at the beast with weapons of
club and spear and pure courage.....
The eight foot tall Fallen one laughed maddened with
battle lust ignoring the wounds that peppered his body he grabbed another human
by the throat lifted him from the ground and tore his head from his body, he
cast the useless broken toy away. ....
The Dream Weaver knew he was running out of time so
he gathered all of his powers and cast them with desperation that would either
succeed or fail miserably. Emptied of
his life the Dream Weavers body collapsed to lie amongst those of his
warriors. The fallen one simply
deflected the power away back across the battlefield towards another unit of
warriors and decimated them.....
From his stand of trees the young Dream Weaver
watched the battle and knew humanity in its many forms was on the brink of
extinction. He was the last Dream
Weaver between the advancing Tremaine and their intended target the High
Council of Dream Weavers. Behind him
they stood from the seven races of mankind gathering their powers into one
mighty spell that when cast should wipe the Tremaine from the face of the
earth. No one quite knew if this was
going to work but they had run out of options since the war of the Fallen Ones
has started three years before. ....
Seeing his death advancing the young Dream Weaver
stepped forward surrounded by his fifty warriors of the oath shield and spread
his power to protect them from the first surge of power that the Fallen One
would attack them with, when this had been deflected they would then charge the
beast for even though these beasts were strong and powerful even they would
eventually fall to the blade if enough damage was inflicted.....
The Fallen One was not interested in this youngster
who stood before him he would kill him when he was ready but he had his eyes
upon the High Council who were nearly ready to unleash their attack. He closed his eyes and pulled strength from
others of his clan and when he felt the power coursing through his veins the Fallen
One opened his eyes grinned at the feeble force that stood in his way and
directed his magic at the High Council.....
The young Dream Weaver gasped in shock as he
realised the beast was ignoring him and his warriors and turned his head in
time to see the council wiped out as the magic hit them and exploded their
bodies in a hail of blood and flesh gut and bone.....
Realising that if he did not act all was lost the
young Dream Weaver ordered his warriors to attack and as they obeyed him he
turned and ran to where the High Council had been obliterated, he found what he
was looking for and picked up Izzapas wand, turned to face the beast who had
just slain the last of his warriors and without the protection spells to keep
him safe he unleashed the wands power, the power of every member of the High
Council joined together for this one purpose. ....
A ring of power erupted from the young Dream Weaver
and spread out around the whole world. ....
The Tremaine staggered as one and fell to their
knees, taloned hands holding heads they screamed in pain. Most of the Tremaine were destroyed where
they stood but those that survived were lessened, their powers were mostly
destroyed and they found them selves bound to the trees that had once served
them, prisoners of their own creation.....
The Young Dream Weaver felt the power surge through
him and knew no one human could hold such power and live, he waited to die
satisfied that he had beaten the enemy but he did not die. His body was surrounded by a halo of multi
coloured magic’s that had nowhere else to go but into his body. He sighed and changed and felt himself
collapsing to the ground knowing he was no longer human and realised he had the
knowledge and spells of the High Council and could never use them himself.....
***....
She opened her eyes and surged to he feet. Not sure if it was memories or dreams that
so haunted her. She knew the history
that had been passed down through the generations but this was the first time
she had dreamed of the fall of her kind.....
One of the Wardens on guard duty had seen her awake
and rise satisfied that is was nothing of importance but dreams and he knew
what they felt like he turned back to his silent duty.....
Sister Agata of the
much-diminished Tremaine knew the ancient magic that had once before defeated
her kind was abroad in the land again.
She well knew the history of what the humans called the War of the
Fallen ones when the only survivors of her race where those still within the
six birthing glades and she knew that during the War of the Races the Dark-Lord
had arisen though she had no idea what race he was from he had dared to try and
conquer or destroy all that stood in his path to power and glory and when he
was defeated the Tremaine of the birthing glade that had supported him had been
destroyed and now there was the possibilities that only five small communities
of her once mighty and dominant race still existed though she was no longer
sure of this as there had been no contact with the rest for hundreds of
years. Her people had gone to ground
and hid their face and their powers from the world waiting for the prophesied
child to be born who would restore them to their rightful place as Gods.....