Chapter 1

Men, women, and children traveled the Manahem Road north from the town of Delaton, weeping and stumbling towards me and the line of soldiers standing on the plains. The refugees carried very little.

The three moons in the sky had aligned a few nights ago, causing storms and shaking the earth. Tonight, black clouds swept across them.

While the refugees struggled forward, I glanced to my left and right at the five hundred soldiers in a defensive position just south of Roseborough, the last town before the Manahem Road reached the capital, Ketan. The soldiers wore light armor and swords and carried spears.

Stones and wooden boards pried from buildings in the town had been constructed into a makeshift wall. The barrier wouldn’t do much against what destroyed the south, but soldiers needed something to do.

There were no other defenses.

An old woman tottered at the edge of the road, her white hair floating in the breeze. A young girl, maybe ten years old, tried to catch the old woman but failed. Both went down, swallowed by tall grass. None of the other refugees noticed.

With a sigh, I darted from the line of soldiers.

General Cassia called after me, “Prince Judai! Stay here.”

I was prince and technically in command, but I was only nineteen years old. My father had left General Cassia because she was a veteran of battles, and as my mentor and tutor, he figured I would listen to her.

As usual, he figured wrong. Those mysterious creatures from the south killed everything in their path and could be racing right behind the refugees. We needed to get these people to safety.

Reaching the old woman, the child wrestled with the thin, bruised arms of the woman.

Skidding to a halt, I placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Let me help.”

“I can do it,” the girl snapped. When she saw me, however, her jaw dropped. “Prince Judai.” She bowed, releasing the old woman, who tumbled back to the ground. Her voice was a breath. “Forgive me.”

“Nothing to forgive.” I grinned. “Except perhaps leaving a woman of Manahem on her arse in the grass.”

I hooked my right arm around the old woman’s waist and lifted her, almost too easy, and the girl spun desperately to the other side, scrambling to help.

“What is your name?” I said to the girl.

“Anna. This is my Grana.”

“Well met.”

“Thank you, my prince,” the old woman said.

I chuckled. “Let’s make a deal. You can call me Judai if I can call you Grana.”

Grana squinted. “Very well, my ... Judai.”

“Good.” We made our way towards the defenses, and Grana began to move better. I scanned the road. “Do you have any belongings?”

Grana shook her head. “There wasn’t time. They came so fast.”

I lifted a brow. “The monsters?”

The old woman nodded. “We barely made it. My son...”

Anna lowered her head. “My da, he stay behind to fight so we could get away.”

“With the king,” Grana said.

A rumble of thunder sounded off to the west. I shifted my grip. “My father is a great warrior. If your son, your da, is with him, King Titus will protect him.”

The old woman winced, straightening enough to meet my gaze. “Sorry to say, Judai, but these creatures, I don’t know if anyone can stop those things.”

There were four towns to the south along the Manahem Road – Campton, Pontus, Delaton, and Roseborough. The legion of creatures had come from the mountains south of Campton, and once attacked, Campton had sounded the alarm and sent four message pigeons, one to each of the other towns and one to Ketan.

That single act had saved a thousand lives.

The creatures only moved at night for some reason, so by the time my father mobilized the 1^st Army, Campton and Pontus were gone, and our soldiers encountered the monsters at Delaton. People had evacuated, though, and Cassia and I were tasked to get the last refugees to safety.

My father called the creatures demics from the Underland, all ideas from the old ways of El, the Creator god. King Titus was a warrior for El, a Sohan-el, and clung to that ancient religion. A handful of those warriors remained, all human except for one odd elfess in the east, each with an unforged sword, a weapon they claimed was supernatural.

Piff and crit. Legitimate intellectuals had proven the ancient religion as false long ago. Myths stood in the way of progress.

My father and I had these discussions, or arguments, often. He had me read the books of El, but once my education broadened to the greater scholars, his way was too closed minded.

In battle, however? I wouldn’t want anyone else but my father in a fight.

“We must have faith,” I tried to reassure Anna and Grana. “The walls of Ketan will protect us.”

Grana hesitated. “Yes, my prince.”

I grunted while we reached the line of soldiers, the final defense against the demics while the refugees from the towns made their way to the capital.

Anna and Grana said their thanks, and others assisted them into the town to finish the evacuation.