Fall of Centuria Read online

  Fall of Centuria

  James A. Harris

  Fall of Centuria

  by James A. Harris

  Copyright © 2017 James A. Harris

  Smashwords edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This story is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and events depicted within this novel are fictitious.

  For my wife, Jen, and friends, Sue, Harry, Ro, Dave, Destinee, John, Alice, and Lauren who inspired and motivated me to keep moving forward.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  About the Author

  Fall of Centuria

  Chapter One

  Mother was very upset. She raised her voice at her son, Ptolemy, and slapped him across the face. He cried as his cheeks burned and flushed. His eyes filled with tears, and he put his head down in shame. Maybe he deserved to be hit but he felt so unloved at that moment. He ran to his room and started packing the few clothes he had to teach his mother a lesson. Two pairs of pants, three shirts, a couple of undergarments, one sweater, and his favorite cloak were packed into a small sack. The time had come for him to be a man, to stick to his principles, or so he thought. Tears continued to drip down his face and off his chin as he packed a few more items. His mother continued to yell at him as he loaded the sack and prepared to set off. She didn’t understand what he wanted. It was as if she didn’t even notice he was about to leave.

  He flung the sack over his shoulder and stepped out the front door, leaving it open behind him. She continued to yell. Her voice became faint as he walked briskly toward the barn. His favorite horse, a leopard Appaloosa named Beth, awaited him inside. The horse had lovely white hair with a hint of yellow and a black and silky tail. A streak of the same black hair crossed her head. He stepped into the barn and she whinnied. She could sense that the boy was troubled.

  He grabbed a leather saddle made from the skin of a rare spotted albino croc off a hanger and laid it across her back. Then he buckled the straps firmly under her belly. To keep her calm, he whispered to her, “Everything will be all right.” over and over again. No matter how many times he said it he had difficulty believing it himself.

  With the saddle in place Ptolemy tied his lightweight sack of clothes and supplies to it. His own weight did not seem to bother the horse and many times it felt as if she preferred to have him riding her. He walked her outside and closed the barn doors so the other animals wouldn’t get out. His mother was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed. The boy felt a cold chill run through his body from seeing his mother’s grim stare, and he shivered. He leaned over and whispered one last time, “Everything will be all right.” to Beth as he saddled up. Then he kicked her gently and they galloped across the courtyard and were outside the gates of Centuria in seconds. He wasn’t sure where they were heading but he knew he had to get away. He rode Beth far from the city and found himself following a path lightly beaten. Fear started to creep in his mind. “Where was he heading? Where was he now? Could he survive out here on his own? What if a wild animal attacks?” He fought back the disturbing thoughts and convinced himself that it had to be done.

  Ptolemy set up camp as the bright yellow sun settled over the horizon. He came across a lightly used fire pit and decided to stay there. He tied Beth to the low hanging branches of a sturdy tree. After picking out some dried firewood to last him the night, he set up little traps to catch a critter or two for supper. He lit the fire by striking two pieces of flint over the kindling he had gathered. Beth stood still watching him with anxious eyes. He pulled out a juicy red apple from his sack for her. Then he shared some of the water in his canteen. He knew that a running stream could not be too far away for him to refill his canteen, and he could go hours without a drink. Besides, Beth had worked hard to get him this far. She needed the water. The trees around them creaked and whispered to each other. They listened to the light breathing of the boy and his horse. The sun was setting lower, and the woods started to become dark. The shadows of the trees grew longer. A cold breeze came through. Ptolemy shivered again. He moved closer to the fire, hoping the warmth would bring him some comfort.

  Ptolemy heard a snap. What was it? A small creature was caught in a trap. The critter was similar to that of a rabbit and it had antlers on its head. The trap had taken its life instantly. He carefully removed the creature from the trap and considered himself lucky to have caught it. He roasted it over the open fire and enjoyed the juicy meat before preparing to sleep. The air was becoming cool, even by the fire, so he put on his sweater. The wool fabric kept him warm against the chill of the approaching night and he fell asleep on the soft earth.

  Ptolemy rose in the morning to the sound of Beth trotting her feet and neighing. She was anxious to get moving. He took a bite of some of the leftover meat from the night before, and then he saddled up on Beth. They rode for about an hour before reaching the end of the forest. The air became dry, and a strange odor like burnt hair floated around. Beth refused to go any further despite the boy’s command. He dismounted.

  Several figures appeared over the horizon. They were coming straight for the boy and his horse. He tried to make out who they were. He squinted and stared in their direction. Dressed in dark armor and appearing to be warriors, they were a lot taller than the average man. There was a particular strangeness to their gait too. They moved with incredible speed regardless of their awkward movement and size. The figures did not slow down as they drew closer. One of them raised an arm up into the air and swiped down at the boy’s legs as he ran by. Ptolemy fell to the ground and wondered why the warrior attacked him. “Were they enemies to Centuria?” he wondered. Centuria had been at peace with the surrounding cities for many years.

  The other figures arrived shortly after the first strike. Beth tried to run away but the fully armored warrior chased her down and caught her, roughly leading her away into the forest. Ptolemy looked up at the warrior with saddened eyes. He thought back to his home, his family, the life he had back in the city. He quickly realized that the warriors were not friendly. The way they handled Beth and striking him down revealed that to him. The warrior that had swiped at him turned his gaze back at him. Two red eyes glowed through the helm. The boy pulled out his ax from the sack and took off running. He couldn’t save his horse from the red-eyed warriors, and he knew it. He had to get away. These warriors were inhuman.

  His legs felt like heavy boulders. He wanted to run faster but nothing happened. The warriors laughed at his attempt to escape and allowed him a brief moment to get a head start.

  He tripped over a fallen limb in his path when he took a moment to look back at his pursuers. They chased him at a steady pace. It was obvious that they were not using their full potential in catching up to him
. The speed they showed when chasing Beth was incredibly fast compared to what they were doing now. Did they enjoy watching him struggle to escape? There was a strong sense of evil in their movements, their actions, and their laughter.

  Ptolemy wondered what they were going to do with Beth. He thought horrible thoughts, so horrible that his insides knotted and his chest ached. He was trying to run as they continued to pursue him with a fast steady walk, but they had no need to run. They knew he was getting nowhere fast. He kept tripping over his own feet and an occasional tree limb or shrub.

  Then it hit him. A terrible pain shot up through the back of his right leg. He could no longer run. The back of his leg felt warm and wet. He looked down to see an ax stuck through the back of his thigh. He let out a cry and fell to the ground. The demon warriors surrounded him speaking in a foreign tongue. The pain in Ptolemy’s leg became very intense and his world turned black.

  Chapter Two

  “You shouldn’t have done that!” she cried. Angela was preparing a hearty supper for her family when the Centurian warrior casually walked into their home and knocked over the pot. The soup spilled out all over the wood floor. She had spent the entire day preparing the meal chopping vegetables, mixing herbs and squeezing juices out of lemons and oranges. Her husband, Gathar, a general of the Centurian army, had requested the special soup for their dinner that evening. The Centurian warrior stumbled in his next few steps and fell to the floor. Fluid sprayed from his mouth when he hit the ground.

  She ran over to him and rolled him over to his side. His breath smelled of liquor and his eyes were closed. He had passed out in their kitchen. She was alone and couldn’t move the warrior by herself. “What would her husband think of such an improper act?” she wondered. He was expected to be home before nightfall.

  She left the warrior where he lay and went to clean up the spilled soup. All her hard work was soaking into the wooden floor. She was distraught. Gathar would be even more upset than she if she wasn’t able to prepare the meal he requested. It was a special meal to celebrate their twenty-first year of marriage.

  Angela’s tears dropped to the floor as she soaked up the soup with scrap linens. It didn’t take anything these days for her to cry. It was her fault, although Gathar told her many times when he was a boy he ran away from home too. She swiped at another tear, blew her nose and cleaned up the mess that almost made her forget her pain. She took a deep breath, looked around the kitchen, and started to prepare a second pot of the chicken soup. She was grateful that she hadn’t put the chicken in the first pot before the accident. It was still roasting over the open fire in the cooking fireplace. The home had two fireplaces, one for cooking and one for heating. It was summertime, so the heating one did not get much use except on the occasional cool night. The smell of roasted chicken filled the small house as it cooked over the midsize fire. She walked over to the handcrafted counter made by Gathar himself and started chopping fresh carrots, ripe tomatoes, and yellow onions. The room was getting warm and she wiped the sweat from her brow with her sleeve. Chopping the onions made her eyes tear up even more.

  The man on the floor heavily snored. Angela found herself more irritated by the intruder as the minutes went by, and she no longer felt sympathy for his drunkenness. She had to repeat all the work that she spent an entire day on in a matter of hours. The frustration only fueled her more. She rigorously mixed the herbs. Then she cut up more oranges and lemons and squeezed the juices out of them. She squeezed so hard that her hands began to cramp. It was then that she realized she may have been overreacting. The warrior on the floor would be disciplined for his behavior, and she had to accept the fact that the first pot of soup being ruined was an accident. Soon, the dinner she was preparing would have little meaning.

  * * *

  Centuria Castle was a magnificent fortress surrounded by 40 foot walls all around its perimeter. Made of stone and cement, it was laid by the most gifted of masons. The sturdy front gate made from mahogany spread twenty feet wide and the entire height of the wall. The chains holding the gate were just as durable. White rooftops and spires sparkled in the sky.

  Under the reign of King Katimi, Centuria thrived in all its glory. The market stayed busy day and night. Crops flourished with a wide variety of vegetables and wheat. Inns were always stocked with beer, ale and the finest wines made by grapes from the local vineyards. There were also many imported goods in the city, although King Katimi made it possible for them not to be needed. He had wanted Centuria to be self-sufficient. He strolled about in the market place shopping for fresh fruits and talking among his people.

  It was a beautiful summer day, the sky was blue, birds were chirping, a pleasant breeze passed the commons. People were bartering, and children were playing games. There was a tattooed man offering six silver coins for a vase worth ten silver coins. The tradesman would not settle for anything less than ten pieces, so the tattooed buyer offered six silver coins and an evening with his wife. The tradesman pondered the proposal.

  Nearby, a pair of boys struck at each other with masterly handcrafted wooden swords. Another pair was gathering leather armor and trying it on. Boys will be boys. Of course they wanted to spar. An older group of boys, one tall and the other of average height, mounted horses and were about to joust.

  The ladies had picked fresh flowers from the main garden and were spreading their sweet scents all around the town. They collected tailoring supplies and new linens to fix their men’s tattered clothes. Occasionally, they would glance up at the boys on horseback with eyes fluttering. A young damsel with sparkling ruby red hair handed the tall boy on horseback a white rose. He straightened his posture, stuck out his chest, and gingerly accepted the rose, “Thank you, my fair lady.”

  She blushed and all the girls within hearing distance started to chuckle. He pressed the rose next to his heart and bowed his head. “I am Drake Redhorn. I’m afraid to ask your name for it may not be as beautiful as you.” Her blush now turned as bright red as her hair, and she giggled. The ladies “awed” and stared with wide open and curious eyes to see what would happen next. A horn blew and Drake quickly covered his face with armor and darted toward his opponent. Their lances struck one another in the massive armor covering their chests. Neither rider fell off their mount. They reset positions and went after each other again. Drake pressed his lance into his foe’s chest plate and sent him into a back flip off the horse. The dismounted rider carried the lance all the way to the ground until the thudding impact jerked his grip loose.

  Drake led his mount over to his opponent’s side and said, “That will be enough for the day, Simon.” He offered a hand and Simon accepted it.

  Once standing, Simon said, “One more go.”

  Drake eyed him up and down and asked, “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Yes, I am sure. One more time.”

  Both boys mounted their horses and went to opposite ends. The horn blew and the mounts charged. Drake’s lance dipped a little low and missed Simon altogether while Simon’s struck Drake centered in the chest and threw him clear off the rear of the steed. Simon dismounted, walked over to Drake and repeated, “Yes. Yes, I am sure!” Both boys laughed and walked off the field.

  A roaring thunder sounded in the distance from the castle. The guards looked at one another and shrugged. None of them could see anything from their watch posts so they assumed it was the skies. The thunder clapped again and, this time, it was much louder. There were storm clouds to the north; yet, the clouds were too far to be making thunder audible from their posts. The thundering noises became louder and more frequent, and the ground started to rumble. They pointed at a stream line of upturned dirt heading straight for the castle walls. Several feet before the walls, a giant green worm popped out of the ground and swayed toward one of the watchtowers. The two guards inside had been knocked clear out before they could even ready their weapons. Their bodies thumped against the cobblestone street below. The worm swayed toward the adjacent watchtower, whipping i
nto its side, and forcing the tower to crumble. The guards had already abandoned post after seeing what had happened to the other. They sounded the alarm, unsheathed their great swords, and attacked the slithering beast.

  Another explosion sounded nearby. A giant round stone had crashed into the castle’s wall, chunks of rock flew through the air, and dust clouded the surroundings.

  The guards parried the vicious worm’s attacks and the falling debris. They skittered across the ground and spread out. Each of them positioned on opposite sides now, they charged in at full speed hoping to get a clean kill. The worm whipped around sending one guard into the air while the other guard slashed through its body. A greenish brown fluid oozed from the wound and it continued to sway.

  Another giant stone hit the north wall. More debris and dust flew up, filling the air and making it near impossible to see through. The stones weren’t any ordinary stones either. They were a transparent black with a mysterious glow, almost as if they were burning with fire from within.

  The streets of Centuria filled with people. Drake and Simon heard the battle calls and the wall crashing down. Drake looked to the ladies and then to Simon. He said, “Get them to safety. The city is under attack!” Simon listened to Drake and escorted the ladies away from the north wall where the attack was taking place. Drake took a long look at the redheaded damsel before she went away. He mounted and proceeded to the front gate.

  A worm longer than the height of the watchtower was attacking the walls and the men. Drake pulled back his lance and tossed it like a javelin piercing all the way through the worm. He did not have another weapon with him, so he caught up to Simon and escorted the girls to a safer place. Drake and Simon guided them to a small house on the far side of the city. While waiting for orders from the army, Simon and Drake gathered their swords from their own homes. The ladies stayed in the house far from the battle ready to flee at any moment.