Prologue

Malachi stared over the balcony his dark brown eyes lit in triumph as he surveyed his new kingdom. He took in the jeweled streets, the elaborate houses, and everything else inside his 20-foot high walls as well as everything going on outside of them. Workers harvested the fields and his army trained in the barracks. All of it was his. Utopia was his. His father had died not an hour ago and now he was the king. “Took him long enough”, he said looking at Metaphas, one of his advisors. “Who your majesty?” he said staring at Malachi in bewilderment. “My father Gilgamesh.” he replied, “Took him long enough to die didn’t it. The people always did say he was 2/3 god and 1/3 man, but 2,537 years was really pushing it.” “ Your majesty, please show some respect! He was your father and a great king,” The advisor said, staring at Malachi in horror, but Malachi just sneered and said, “He wasn’t my father. The great Gilgamesh, always off fighting some unbeatable monster or taking on some impossible feat and then the son no one knew he had, and as for being a great king he never was truly sane after that friend of his, Enkidu got killed. But all that does not matter now anymore. He is dead now and I am king and ruler of all Mankind. I’m the ruler now!” “What do you plan to do now?” Metaphas asked, a feeling of premonition creeping into his heart. “I plan to change things around here. Starting with the entertainment”, Malachi replied with a sly grin then told Metaphas of his plan.

“You can’t your majesty! We cannot risk war with King Cerunnos! We can’t risk war against the Forest!” Metaphas exclaimed. “Let me remind you Metaphas that I’m the king around here and my word is law. Anyone that disagrees or thinks otherwise can and will be dealt with severely”, he warned in low dangerous tones. “ First of all Cerunnos will never know anything about it or dismiss it a as troll raid of some sort. No civilians will survive long enough to relay our little hunting night. Now as I was saying, I plan to go hunting for some bigger game round here. I am sick of measly pheasants and hares and occasional goat or beef and I am sick of the same things that happen around here. Nature was born to be ruled by Men and I just plan to show Cerunnos and his subjects who is in charge.  

The following night a small contingent of soldiers secretly came out of Utopia. Numbering around 30 all were cloaked in black and rode upon horses. Leading them was a small figure in black with a crown on his head and a torch in his hand. Armed with swords, bows, maces, and spears the contingent of soldiers and their king headed towards a small village that bordered the forest called Alfheim

Elves were renown for their legendary fighting skills throughout the world or Middle Earth as some, especially the Norse men preferred to call it so he expected a bit of a challenge. But he didn’t plan to take any chances so, as he and his soldiers neared the village he gave the signal to increase speed and motioned his archers to take out the sentries hidden in the trees. One survived long enough to blow a warning on his horn before two arrows lodged themselves in his chest. People then slowly started getting out of their elaborately decorated houses only to run when they saw the charging soldiers “Pompous vermin”, he muttered to himself as he unsheathed his own weapon and motioned for the rest of the contingent to as well. Then yelling a war cry, he plunged his sword into the back of a fleeing civilian then grabbed his bow from the horse’s side and shot something that had attempted to fly away, a sprite probably which turned to black dust and swirled to the ground. Putting his bow back he unsheathed his sword once more and ran through the village slashing his blade back and forth killing Elves, Sprites, Dwarves, and Animals, talking beasts such as stag and boar which he and his men would gather up later and take to Utopia to make a feast from. He knew if he had not taken the elves by surprise they would have dispatched him and his soldiers with ease but he still wished they would actually fight back. He looked around him and saw his soldiers doing their work well. They had gotten torches somehow and were now burning the beautifully crafted homes, but not before pillaging the inside first. He looked around when he heard a cry from one of his soldiers and saw an elf standing over a pile of bodies, brandishing 2 swords, cutting down any soldiers that challenged him, and cutting any projectiles they shot at him out of the air. Bringing his horse around he charged towards the elf and swung his sword into it hoping to catch him by surprise and expecting to feel the vibration of a sword going into flesh, but instead met resistance as one of the elf’s swords clanged against his as he charged past. Looking back he saw the dark-haired elf with the 2 swords hanging at his sides in a relaxed but wary position. He brought the horse around, charged, and swung again but the elf just deflected it with ease. Looking back again he saw the elf in the same position but with an almost taunting look in his emerald colored eyes. So dismounting he dropped the long cavalry sword unsheathed the scimitar at his side and yelled his frustration as he ran at the smiling elf. Still smiling the elf engaged him in combat swinging the 2 swords as gracefully and as easily as if it were brandishing a pair of willow sticks. In moments, Malachi found himself on the defensive trying to protect himself from the lightning strikes of the elf. It wasn’t even breathing hard whereas he himself was already panting from exertion. The elf suddenly knocked the sword from his hand and slashed at his calf making him fall to the ground. His arms lay limp at his sides from fatigue and his right calf burned with pain. His crown had fallen off his head and had rolled a small distance away but he was too exhausted to reach for it. The elf then stood over him with sword in hand and declared, “Human king, know that you died by the hand of Natulcien, ruler of this village and a son of King Cerunnos” he then sheathed one sword and raised the other to deliver the killing stroke. He gripped it tightly and Malachi was surprised to see tears in his eyes. Malachi saw the sword begin to descend when a barbed arrow thudded into its chest followed closely by 2 more. The elf with a surprised look on his face dropped the sword, collapsed on his knees, then fell on his chest as his life left him. Shaken by his ordeal he 3 soldiers run up to him and help him up “Your majesty are you okay?” one asked. “What took you so long?” Malachi asked in an attempt to regain some composure then limped past them without bothering to hear their answers and looked around him. Every building was burning and the ground was littered with corpses. He slowly straightened and when he looked up he saw a mounted elf looking at him who as soon as he was spotted rode away on a sleek and fast stallion. Without a word, he quickly grabbed a bow from one of his soldiers and shot at the fleeing figure. The arrow quickly sped toward its target and buried itself into the rider’s back. Keeping his eyes on the figure, he gave back the bow and stared as the rider concaved its back in pain and fell off his saddle. He dismissed the figure as dead and reverted his attention as one of the soldiers asked, “What are your orders your majesty?” “ Take all the treasure you can carry and burn the dead, including ours. We leave in a few moments”, he commanded them then turned around to address his 19 remaining men, “We have won a great victory tonight! Today we showed those pompous scum that Men were meant to rule and that Men were meant to have dominion. And you, my brave and loyal soldiers showed yourselves worthy of the name of Men. This battle shall be talked about for eons to come and our very names will be carved into history and if they’re not then we’ll carve them ourselves!!!”, he yelled and was rewarded by savage cheers, “Take all the treasure you an find and burn what’s left of the village, we leave once we have left nothing but ash behind us “He went back to the elf, Natulcien’s corpse and took from him one of his beautifully crafted swords and a delicate necklace with a single leaf green emerald in its center that had hung around his neck. He watched as his men slung the carcasses of the animals that had inhabited Alfheim over their saddles and grabbed screaming she-elves to take home, spoils of the battle. Once his warriors had finished burning the last of the houses and pillaging the last of the elves’ beautiful treasure and belongings they all mounted their horses, but before he did he had a bizarre premonition and for no special reason he stared at the spot where he had shot the fleeing rider down. The horse had disappeared which was expected but to his shock so had the rider’s body. Troubled, he flicked the reins and led his group back to the city. He just convinced himself that one of his warriors had already taken it to the burning corpse pile in the center of the village but the lifeless body had been set off at the edge of the village and only 3 of his soldiers and him had seen where it lay. Had the horseback rider escaped? Even if he did he was mortally wounded, no human or humanoid race that he knew of could survive a wound like that for a few days at most but he could make it to the capital, Yggdrasil before he died since it was no more than a 3 days ride south. He felt his breathing grow ragged as he pondered the possibility of Cerunnos discovering that it was he who had slaughtered the village’s inhabitants and burned the village itself, an open declaration of war against Cerunnos and his mighty kingdom. To no help at all an ominous groaning of sadness filled the village as the few trees surrounding the village mourned the loss of Alfheim. He did not worry about the trees telling Cerunnos. They had lived so long they forgot most tragedies in less than a day or two. He put a sneer on his face to cover his true emotions a he usually did but felt a cold hand grip his heart and a chill run down his spine as he and his 19 men rode back to the safety of Utopia.

The wounded elf quickly raced towards the forest capital of Yggdrasil fully knowing that time was against him. He had been riding for 2 days without pause, save to rest his horse. He was close now but his horse was exhausted and he could feel the wound in his back beginning to take its toll. The arrow’s head had been made of iron, which was poisonous to his race. He had been able to stall its effects by using his reserves of magic for the first day or so but he was no warlock or healer. His reserves had run out an hour ago and now the iron’s poison blazed through his veins again. Fever from infection had his body burning and the iron head in his back had his body wracked with pain, but he had to get to Cerunnos. He had to warn him of the slaughter and burning of his village and warn him of Malachi’s treachery.

He was sure that the mounted figure that shot him and led the attack on Alfheim had been          Malachi. There were no dark creatures he knew of that could handle iron except dwarves and the man who had shot him had worn a crown on his head. Remembering the faces of his children and his beautiful wife he felt tears run down his face and a sob build up in his chest. All were dead. His friends, his beautiful family, and the soldiers had been too cowardly to even face them. The only person who had had time enough to fight back was their ruler Natulcien, and he was so dangerous he had to be killed from a distance so he did not massacre most of the contingent. At least he went down fighting, the rest were slaughtered in their own homes and not just elves. Alfheim had been home to Cyclops, a few dwarves, talking beasts, and many more. All were dead now and he had one more task to fulfill before he joined them.

When he reached Yggdrasil he didn’t bother to admire its diverse inhabitants nor their bizarrely shaped houses nor the gigantic tree, that gave the capital its name sprouting from the center of the city which showed the location of Cerunnos throne room. No he couldn’t stop to admire it all, he had precious few minutes left and he was still a relatively long way from the palace. He urged his horse to go faster in his native tongue and focused on getting to the palace in time.

Once the elf reached the palace’s gates, he quickly told the guards that he had a message for the king. Sensing their reluctance he quickly showed them his wound. Both nodded and solemnly uncrossed their spears and opened the intricately carved gates showing a brief history of Yggdrasil. The determined elf then walked towards the figure on the throne, aided by the guards. The elf tried to stand up on his own but promptly collapsed on the marble floor, the thin green rug not doing much to cushion his fall. Concerned, the figure got off his throne, ran towards the elf kneeling in front of him, and cradled the elf’s head against his side with a firm but gentle hands. King Cerunnos looked like nothing the elf had pictured him as. He had expected a muscled man with a sword hanging at his back and a deep and booming commanding voice or at least that’s how Natulcien had described him. Instead, he got an old man. An antlered old man but an old man nonetheless, but the elf found he liked this version better. With emerald green eyes, white long hair falling down his back, a crown of emeralds and sapphires, and a full rack of majestic antlers, Cerunnos was a picture of majesty. But next to those attributes Cerunnos was old and wrinkled, had next to no muscle form, and looked like he had been young 1,000 years ago. But he seemed kind and gentle as he cradled the rider’s head. “ What messenger do you bring noble elf?” Cerunnos asked in a kind melodious voice. The elf, knowing he had but moments left feverishly told Cerunnos about the fate of Alfheim and his suspicions of Malachi. Glancing at Cerunnos he saw that the kind old man had disappeared leaving an angry looking crowned figure rippling with muscle and a rack of very dangerous, sharp looking antlers. “That treacherous excuse for a king dares attack a village of the Fair Folk! How did he survive?” asked Cerunnos “They were taken by surprise. Malachi attacked at night”, the elf said. Roaring in anger Cerunnos raised the fist not holding the elf and brought his fist down on the ground cracking the marble floor where his fist had landed. Then before the elf’s eyes, the figure became smaller, not as muscled, and calmer. He stood in that position staring at the floor for what seemed like an eternity and then looking back at the elf, Cerunnos rasped, “What is your name noble elf?” “Marathon”, the elf replied faintly then his eyes glazed over and his body dissolved into dust. Which was picked up by the wind and carried out by the wind only leaving behind an iron arrowhead, confirming Cerunnos’s doubts. The antlered king slowly got up and seemed to lean more on his staff than usual as he walked back to his throne. “Arrange a meeting with Malachi” he told the griffin sitting on a branch above him with a voice laced with steel. Having seen what had happened the griffin replied, “Yes your majesty” before unfurling his wings, flying out of the throne room towards the city of Utopia.

Malachi paced his room trying to reassure himself that no one had survived long enough to relay a message. It had been almost a week after all and there had been no inquiries on who had been responsible. It hadn’t taken long for nearby creatures and villages to learn of Alfheim. It had been a popular trading site where many creatures had visited often and the smoke and groaning of the trees had only quickened its discovery. He had pretended to have heard of the slaughter at Alfheim a day after it had occurred and had journeyed there to “mourn” for Alfheim’s inhabitants. No one had suspected him and had just assumed I had been the work of dark creatures. Even though there had been some confusion on how dark creatures could have annihilated an entire population of one of the most skilled fighters in Middle Earth. He had encouraged the rumors by implying that the elves could have been taken by surprise, which had seemed to satisfy the crowd. No one could prove otherwise and he was convinced no one had survived the massacre save a few she-elves he and his men had seized for a bit of entertainment. However, he could not shake off the feeling that he was wrong.

The following day he was sitting on his throne listening to some tiresome reports on how the fields and mines were faring and what the villagers wanted and so forth. Bored out of his mind he half listened to the reports while he wished that something, anything exciting would happen so he could stop listening to them. Then out of nowhere a griffin landed just outside his gates. “I bring a message from King Cerunnos”, the griffin announced. He didn’t want to let the stupid bird in, but its badge was authentic and the Law stated that he had to hear another king’s messenger out. Fidgeting nervously with his cloak, he lounged on his throne in an attempt to relax and motioned the griffin to proceed. “King Cerunnos, ruler of Yggdrasil asks his majesty, Malachi, successor of Gilgamesh if he would allow him to visit your majesty and ask him some questions on the massacre at Alfheim. Malachi knew that the notion of him having any other option but agree was a complete load load of hobgoblin excrement. The Law demanded that he allow another king his hospitality if it was asked during times of peace. So as much as every fiber in his body wanted to scream “no!” he had no choice on the matter. “Tell his majesty Cerunnos that he is welcome into Utopia”, he croaked out. “Then in that case I take my leave your majesty”, the griffin said, bowing once before walking out the gates and taking off. Remembering his wish of hoping that something would happen that would distract him from listening to the reports he mentally kicked himself and muttered, “I should have kept my stupid mouth shut”

6 days later Cerunnos arrived at Malachi’s gates, and he did not look happy. Even though he seemed 100 years old and he leaned on a staff the grim look on his face and the steely look in his eyes scared him more than the two hulking lumbering Minotaurs at his side. Walking with determination and purpose, he did not even seem to need the staff. He looked like an old man until he got past the palace gates then he seemed to grow before his very eyes. His muscles seemed to inflate, his antlers tapered into points, and his silver staff became a huge claymore, which Cerunnos seemed to hold with ease. Stopping just a few feet from him, Cerunnos sheathed the sword at a sheath in his back and barely bowing his head he announced, “Greetings Malachi, king of Men and successor of Gilgamesh. I have come to ask you why you attacked Alfheim and hear out your explanation.

The soldiers and advisors gasped at Cerunnos’s accusation and looked at Malachi to see their king’s reaction. Straining to keep his composure together, he managed to keep a straight face but felt a bead of sweat run down his forehead. “What makes you claim this false statement”, he managed to stutter out, but even he heard the weakness in it. “I found this in an elf messenger”, Cerunnos said as he donned a silver glove, then opened a pouch at his side and took out an iron arrowhead, which he then threw at Malachi’s feet. “Only humans can handle iron and no man would would be rash enough to dare attack an entire village of elves unless they were ordered by their superior which in this case is you, your majesty”, Cerunnos mocked. Malachi knowing he had been discovered covered his nervousness with a sneer and said, “So what? So what if I did do it?” which he instantly regretted as Cerunnos roared out, “You killed women and children, you weren’t even brave enough to take the men head on, and I doubt you lost any sleep over it. You are not a king, you are a coward, and a depressing excuse for one!” Stumbling back as if he had been dealt a blow Cerunnos shrunk before his eyes becoming an old man once again but not any less dangerous. That steely look was still there. He seemed to get himself under control until he saw the emerald brooch around Malachi’s neck, which set him off again. “Natulcien”, Cerunnos whispered, unsheathed his sword and then snarled an angry primal sound that made Malachi want to go hide under a rock. Looking at his guards, he expected to see them unsheathing their weapons but instead saw them as scared as he was. Walking closer to Malachi, Cerunnos raised the sword and as he seemed to be about to bring the sword down on Malachi’s neck, he seemed to stop himself and slowly lowered his sword then sheathed it. He walked up to Malachi and snapped the brooch off his neck then turning around he addressed the Minotaurs who until now had just been observing the ordeal with interest. “Search the palace for any prisoners. I'm sure King Malachi won’t refuse” Cerunnos said, looking back at Malachi with a threat in his eyes as if daring him to object.

A few minutes passed and the Minotaurs arrived with 6 elves slung over their shoulders unconscious and battered. “We found this one in the king’s own bedchambers”, a minotaur bellowed out leading a very beautiful elf who at looking at Cerunnos fell at his feet sobbing and cringing from Malachi. Cerunnos helped her up and putting an arm around her shoulders led her still sobbing figure to the Minotaurs. Turning around Cerunnos looked at Malachi with loathing and said, “Since you are a young king of a young race, I shall pardon this offense but should you try anything like this again, you will find yourself at war with Nature” Then turning around he walked to join his escort and left the palace.

After Cerunnos had left and Malachi had regained some of his composure, he discussed with Metaphas, his advisor to see what he should do next. He had been humiliated in front of his own soldiers by that pompous old fool! He had to find someway to regain some dignity, but how? Another raid? He told Metaphas his ideas but was rewarded by a sigh of exasperation. “My king Malachi we cannot afford to go to war with Cerunnos! We must not!” Malachi sneered but in secret was glad that he had objected and just said, “Fine Metaphas, I will heed your advice…for now”