The Seven Kings

Prologue

"Incoming!"

The sound of an iron battering ram clashing with metal gates followed immediately, forcing the armored men pressing their beaten, sweaty bodies against it backward. The force from the impact sent the ones in front off their feet and down to the ground, but others surged forward, pressing their palms against the surface of the dented gate. The fallen, moaning from their aching shoulders and arms, got back on their two feet and supported those that had taken their places.

Above them, atop the city walls, several archers yelled at them encouragingly, while plucking off those holding the large cylinder. The majority of them had flocked towards the gates, ignoring the incoming arrows and stones, focusing their fire on the enemies that were attempting to break down their gates. Although they were under heavy siege, the twenty men that held the only entrance to the city gave the others hope.

They were lucky to have been informed of the attack ahead of time, and even luckier to have received countless able-bodied men that were out for revenge. Their city was the last known mage settlement that hadn't been overrun. Many had come to them for aid and shelter when the conflict had first broken out, entrusting the king of the city with their lives.

The inhabitants before then had voiced their disproval, resulting in a bloody revolt that had quickly been curbed. Following that, the king gladly took in anyone who had escaped the clutches of the vile beasts outside the walls.

It had taken nearly ten months before they were finally attacked. They had sent scouts ahead, watching the slow progress of the massive army that conquered several cities, enslaving the mages they could gather while slaughtering the rest.

When they had caught wind the conquerors were coming their way, they reported back to the city, awaiting their fate. The women, or rather, the women that chose not to fight had retreated into an underground city they had managed to construct, with the elderly and the children. Even if the city fell, those below would survive for years, the entrance cleverly concealed by the best mage among them. Unless if the invaders had a means of weeding out mages, those above could fight, knowing no matter the outcome, their loved ones were safe.

It had already been a full seven days since the attack had begun. They had been attacked relentlessly but held their ground. Because there was only one entrance to the city, ladders had been used in an attempt to storm the stronghold. The mages had handled that easily, losing a few warriors compared to their opponent's hundreds. The only problem they faced was that they were tiring out. And the enemy knew it.

"Hold the gates!" an archer from above called, releasing his arrow from the string.

"Hold!" the men repeated, pressing their bodies against the gates again.

Once again they were forced back, the latch on the gate bending slightly as they were thrown backward. More men leaped over them, filling their roles almost immediately. The city had held over ten thousand men, but no more could be spared to hold the gates. Many had ventured outside the walls when the army had first appeared, combatting them in an attempt to reduce their forces before they reached the gates. It had not been as successful as they would have wished, but they died knowing they contributed greatly to holding back the powerful force. The other men had opted to remain on the walls, knocking off the invaders before they could overwhelm them, and crushing the massive rocks that flew over the walls from the catapults below.

"Relentless fuckers," the man who had given them the warning swore, nocking an arrow onto his bow.

Squeezing one eye shut, he looked below, aiming for one of the armored men that were holding the battering ram, readying themselves to pound the gates once more. He ogled the ones at the back, pulling back his bow. Shutting his eyes, he focused his aura on the metal tip of his arrow, hardening it, before releasing it. It whistled downwards, piercing his target's pitch black armor, instantly killing him. A few men below stared up at him angrily, lifeless eyes annoyed over the notion of replacing one of their men. He winked at them and reached for another arrow.

"Dammit," he grunted, his hand feeling inside his empty quiver. Turning to his left, he yelled at one of the archers that stood beside him, firing away. "Find me a fucking spear or more arrows!"

"Yes, my liege," the dark-haired man replied, straightening up and making his way down the wall through a small passageway with steps leading down into the camp they had set by the gates.

"Preferably Admonium Steel!" he added, crouching as an arrow flew over his head.

The man disappeared out of sight, off to fulfill his kings' wish. Iapetus moved toward the edge of the wall and peered over it, careful not to be spotted. Gritting his teeth, he scowled at the demons below that had stepped backward, preparing to ram the gates once more.

"Hold!"

"Hold!" the men repeated after him, swarming forward. The battering ram slammed the gates, but this time it didn't budge. The men had resisted the force from the gate-shattering tool.

"My doing," a voice said from behind him.

Spinning around, he grinned, recognizing the voice immediately. The man behind him wore armor similar to his, made from the strongest metal found on Ceros. The dull grey Admonium steel breastplate he wore had suffered no grievous hit, or a blow strong enough to put a dent in it. His entire armor looked clean, unlike Iapetus, who had blood smeared across his gauntlets.

"Krios," he chirped, embracing his comrade uncomfortably. "As glad as I am to see you here, I hope your men can hold the other ends of the city?"

Shaking his head with a smile on his face, Krios tucked the strands of long, brown hair that escaped his gorget back inside. Stroking his short, boxed beard, he stared down at the men he had just assisted. "They have Hyperion and Koios with them. I'm wasted over there."

"They could still use the help."

"The help of Krios the Immovable? You need me more than they do."

Iapetus turned to risk a glance over the wall. The men with the battering ram had regrouped and were prepared to slam it into the gates yet again. Krios held up his hand as Iapetus quickly jerked his head downwards to issue the warning to his troops. He vaulted over the wall, daring a height of nearly twenty feet, and landed on his two feet with ease, surprising the men. Planting his palms on the gate, he shut his eyes as a thick, brownish aura shrouded him. Iapetus smirked in amusement, watching on as the demons rammed the ram into the gate, only to be flung backward.

"You see?" he yelled up at the king on the wall. "My heka surpasses their strength!"

Rolling his eyes, Iapetus turned to his men, who were staring at their commander in awe. "Spread yourselves out across the wall," he ordered, drawing their attention. "Stop them from climbing over."

"Yes sir!" they chorused, scampering away as fast as they could.

Krios, still encased in his brown aura, winked at Iapetus. As long as he was at the gates, the demons would have a rough time getting through. Although he would have preferred Koios and Hyperion to have joined them here, he knew their current positions shared the same importance as the gates did. He would have to back Krios alone and lessen his load. The last time the four had been in the same place was a little over a week ago when they volunteered to go to the demon camp and make peace with their leader. But the man that led them, the frightening beast that they had met, refused their request and attempted killing them on the spot. Luckily, Hyperion had managed to whisk them all out before anything happened. But after that, they had gone their separate ways, paranoid about the outcome of the battle they failed to prevent.

Sighing, Iapetus picked an arrow the enemies below had fired up. They had to defend the city at all costs. The future of Ceros was in their hands.