Star Legion Read online

  Star Legion

  Galaxy’s Mage Book One

  Tripp Ellis

  Tripp Ellis

  Copyright © 2017 by Tripp Ellis

  All rights reserved. Worldwide.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents, except for incidental references to public figures, products, or services, are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental, and not intended to refer to any living person or to disparage any company’s products or services.

  No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, uploaded, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter devised, without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Thank You!

  Max Mars

  The Galactic Wars Series

  The Tarvaax War Series

  Connect With Me

  Prologue

  In the time after the fall of the Tryvak Dynasty, and before the birth of Nuvedor, existed a savage age where tyranny ruled the galaxy. The magic of the new universe was still accessible to a select few mages, persecuted into extinction. A warrior rose from the ranks of the oppressed and stood against injustice. This is his story.

  1

  Was there something in the underbrush? Nolan's concerned eyes snapped in the direction of the sound. The crack of a twig under a heavy paw, perhaps?

  Nolan froze in his tracks. The crisp air of the forest fogged his breath. He could hear his heart pulse. There was an eerie stillness about the woods. Nolan put a hand on Elijah's shoulder, stopping him before he could take another step.

  The hunters had become the hunted.

  Nolan's blue eyes surveyed the snow covered landscape—barren trees dusted with powder. A blanket of gray clouds covered the mountain. The minty smell of the forest filled Nolan's nostrils. He sniffed a few times, trying to pick up the scent of the beast. They had been tracking a vygar for a half-mile, but Nolan was beginning to think they had been led into an ambush.

  Vygars were cunning creatures. Highly intelligent. Six-hundred pounds of ferocious muscle. They were like sabertooth tigers crossed with ankylosaurs. They had scaly body armor on their backs, with spikes and boney plates. Claws as sharp as razors that could slice through flesh and bone with the ease of a plasma sword. Like a chameleon, their skin could change color to match their surroundings. You could look right at one and almost not see it until it moved. It made them incredibly effective predators. With the visual acuity of a hawk, nothing escaped their gaze. It was the last thing in the world you wanted hunting you.

  Despite their thick, sinewy muscle, vygars were tender and tasty. One beast could feed a family for half the winter. But they had been encroaching on Nolan's village with greater frequency. One had recently mauled a small child, dragging the Legione into the forest for a meal. The incident had left the village on edge, and the family devastated. Hunters had descended upon the forest looking to collect the bounty offered if the offending vygar was killed. The one who had taken the boy was missing an ear, according to Philibus—but Philibus was nearsighted, and prone to indulge in the occasional libation, or two, or ten. Still, he was the only witness to the horrid event.

  Nolan raised his crossbow into the firing position. He had a quiver of enchanted arrows which packed a punch that could rival any plasma rifle. His spell sword was sharp and deadly, and Nolan knew how to wield it.

  Natural predators weren't the only thing you had to worry about when living on Sargol. There were many dangers in colonial life, and settlers learned to live with the elements. Pirates and marauders were common. Rival villages would often raid, attempting to take food, supplies, or reluctant concubines. In Nolan's 18 years, he had defended his village on many occasions. But the biggest fight lay ahead of him.

  “I don’t see anything,” Elijah whispered.

  “Be still,” Nolan hissed, his intense eyes glued to the forest. He peered through his shoulder length brown hair which exposed a sliver of his square jaw and stubbled face.

  The peace and serenity of the woods only lasted another brief moment, then it erupted into chaos.

  The guttural roar of a vygar filled the air.

  The beast leapt from behind. Nolan spun around to face the creature. A flash of sharp fangs and claws were all he could see as the heavy beast catapulted toward him. Nolan's heart pounded in his chest. Despite the cold, he felt his skin mist over with sweat.

  The beast launched through the air, slashing his claws. It's soulless eyes glimmered.

  Nolan aimed his crossbow at the monster’s skull and squeezed the trigger. An enchanted arrow launched from the track, propelled by the taut string. It took flight, turning into a blazing blue energy bolt. It slammed into the creature’s face, vaporizing it’s skull. The massive carcass crashed to the ground beside Nolan with a thud, splattering the snow with crimson blood. Steam rose from the beast’s gaping wound. The creature’s lungs gurgled as the last breath escaped its chest.

  There was no time to relax or rejoice in surviving the encounter. Three more vygars attacked, seemingly coming out of nowhere.

  More fangs and ferocious snarls. Brilliant white teeth and obsidian black claws. Spine chilling snarls.

  Nolan reached in his quiver and drew another arrow. He loaded it into the track and gripped the string. He put his foot into the stirrup and pressed it against the ground as he cocked the string back until it latched. He had the process down—he had done it thousands of times before. He moved as fast as humanly possible. But it still took a long time, especially when a vygar was charging. Nolan felt like it was taking forever. The cold had numbed his fingers, making him feel clumsy.

  The beast vaulted toward him, eyeing its next meal.

  Nolan swung the weapon up, trying to take aim. But he wasn’t fast enough. The beast was almost on top of him.

  Elijah had a tough choice to make. His crossbow was loaded and ready to fire. He could take aim at the vygar that was charging him, or he could shoot the one about to maul his best friend.

  2

  The dreadnought brought nothing but misfortune. It lumbered through the inky blackness of space toward the remote planet of Sargol on a deadly mission.

  The warship was a behemoth. Heavily fortified and virtually indestructible. It looked like it had
been forged by hand from iron and steel during the Middle Ages. It was bulky and imposing. It's composite armor hull was the strongest ever created. At over 300 meters in length, it was a floating fortress the size of a small city. Roughly 10,000 lived and worked aboard the vessel. Spell cannons lined the port and starboard sides. The dreadnought was a hulking tank, capable of interstellar travel.

  The grand civilization of the Tryvak Dynasty had long since been destroyed—reduced to ashes in an epic conflict that nearly destroyed all humanity. The technology of the old world became a distant dream. The history of the galaxy passed from generation to generation through lore and legend. Fluid and evolving. A dark age fell over the cosmos. Evil flourished. Magic ruled the day. Truth gave way to myth, propaganda, and fear mongering. One thing was for certain—those who controlled the war machines controlled the galaxy.

  Two factions emerged, vying for control of the galaxy. The Republic of Xenedor and the Imperial Realm, lead by the Dark Lord, Valdovar.

  Bands of humans clung to life in small colonies, scattered throughout the expanse—seeded eons ago in an attempt to preserve humanity. The settlements were at various stages of development, some little more than primitive outposts, while others achieved industrialization. One by one, the self proclaimed Emperor Valdovar was conquering them.

  The Dark Lord stood in the CIC of the dreadnought, surveying the unsuspecting planet of Sargol—the image was plastered on the display screen. Dressed in ornate battle armor, with long dark hair, red eyes, and pale skin, Valdovar was as fierce as any beast. Years of dark magic had consumed him, transforming him into a demon-like figure. He was once human, but his soul was now as black as tar.

  “If I may be so bold, Lord Valdovar, Sargol is not worth your time,” Arkma, the executive officer, stammered. “There is nothing there. A few settlements.”

  Valdovar glared at him.

  Arkma cowered under Valdovar’s fierce gaze, rethinking his position. "You're right. We shall leave no stone unturned."

  Valdovar was looking for something. Searching the galaxy for it. He was going to shake every proverbial tree until he found it. No settlement was too small. No clue to insignificant.

  Arkma gave the command to the rest of the crew, “Prepare for a ground assault."

  Valdovar marched out of the CIC and weaved his way through the labyrinth of corridors.

  Arkma followed after him. It was clear that Arkma preferred the comfort and security of the dreadnought. He had no love for battle. Valdovar seemed to relish in it. He may have been a tyrant, but Valdovar led from the front. He was fearless, and with good reason.

  The dreadnought was alive with activity. Sailors scurried about, racing down the corridors, climbing up and down the ladderwells, preparing for battle. The constant drone of the engines rumbled through the ship. On the flight deck, an array of dropships waited to ferry troops down to the surface. Platoons of armor clad Imperial Soturi—the warrior elite—scurried into formation and loaded aboard the transports. They were bulky, armor plated vehicles, with spell cannons mounted on sub-wing pylons. Heavy steel fortresses—part magic, part machine. The Soturi climbed the ramps and took their seats in the cargo bays. Each dropship held 16 troops, plus a copilot and pilot.

  Pilots flipped switches and pressed buttons. Gages and displays came to life. Engines spun up. The dropships, as did most all space vehicles, harnessed the power of Vorcite crystals. They channeled the mystical energy that flowed through the universe and served to focus and amplify it. The crystals were rare, and in high demand.

  Blue flame spit from the thrusters, and the high-pitched whine of the engines filled the flight deck. Flight crews scurried about the deck, attending to the devastating assault vehicles.

  Valdovar loaded into the Royal dropship along with a cadre of elite Praetorian guards. They were armed with spell guns and swords. Perched on Valdovar’s shoulder was his ever faithful companion, Takaar—a miniature Lyra Dragon, no larger than a parrot. Despite its small stature it could still breathe fire, and its talons were razor-sharp. It wasn't to be trifled with.

  The Praetorian guards buckled into their safety harnesses. Valdovar sat in the copilot’s seat. The pilot flicked switches and pressed buttons, powering up the craft. He went through a series of pre-flight checks, then throttled up the engines and lifted from the deck. The armored beast glided forward crossing the threshold of the flight deck into space. A swarm of dropships followed. They were going to bring death and destruction to Sargol.

  3

  The vygar leapt through the air about to shred Nolan with its wicked claws. Nolan could feel the rumble of the beast’s snarls vibrating through his chest.

  Elijah whipped his crossbow around, taking aim at the creature. He squeezed the trigger and let an arrow fly. It blazed through the air slamming into the torso of the beast. The magical projectile burned a hole through the vicious animal.

  The vygar tackled Nolan to the ground, but the beast was dead on impact. Still, the weight of a 600 pound vygar was crushing. All of the wind had been knocked from Nolan's lungs, and he felt like his ribs were going to snap. He heaved the beast aside with all his might. The heavy carcass tumbled away, staining the white snow with blood. Pulverized organs oozed from the creature’s wounds.

  Elijah's choice to save his friend had made him vulnerable. Before he could reload, another vygar tackled him. The beast swiped with unimaginable power, its claws ripping through Elijah's flesh with ease. Crimson blood blossomed from the wounds, staining his shirt. The creature’s pearly fangs glistened with saliva. The beast snarled, and fog billowed from its mouth. The demon’s horrid breath smacked Elijah in the face like a wet rag. The creature was about to bite into Elijah's neck and rip out his jugular. Elijah could see the delight in the vygar’s eyes as it anticipated the tasty flesh of man.

  Nolan cocked his crossbow and took aim. He squeezed the trigger, sending a blistering arrow through the air. The glowing bolt slammed into the beast, severing its carotid artery. The creature toppled aside, dripping blood over Elijah. A moment’s delay and Elijah would have been shredded.

  Nolan could hear the crunch of snow as another vygar barreled toward him from behind. Nolan fumbled for another arrow from his quiver. His panicked hands loaded it into the track and cocked the crossbow. Nolan spun around and brought the weapon into the firing position, taking aim at the approaching beast. Without a second to spare, Nolan squeezed the trigger.

  The arrow rocketed into the beast's sternum, skewering its insides, exiting through the backend. The beast's momentum carried him forward another few steps, then the vygar tumbled into the snow—a bag of bones. Blood and entrails seeped from the wounds.

  That was the last of the creatures, for now.

  Nolan raced to his friend and knelt down beside him.

  Elijah winced with pain as he tried to sit up. He didn't get very far before he had to lay back down. "I'm okay. It's just a scratch,” he said, lightheartedly. Elijah tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace.

  The wound was more than just a scratch. The claws had raked across his chest, cutting through his clothing, slicing his muscles down to his rib cage. The white bone was exposed through layers of muscle, fascia, and skin. The sight was enough to make anyone a little queasy.

  Nolan put pressure on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

  “Ow! That hurts!”

  “Would you rather bleed to death?"

  Elijah grumbled to himself. “Not particularly.”

  Nolan kept applying pressure. “You’re not going to like this. I need to disinfect the wound.” Nolan reached in his pack for a flask. He opened the lid and poured the alcohol into the wounds.

  Elijah grimaced with pain. He tried to stifle a groan.

  Nolan kept a first-aid kit in his backpack. He had needles, thread, gauze pads, and a tube of healing ointment that had been made by an old sorcerer. The tube was almost empty, and the sorcerer had long since perished. Nolan hoped it was going to be enough
to cover Elijah’s wounds.

  Nolan slathered the gel over the gashes in Elijah's chest. The creature had raked him under the armpit and across his lower pectoral. Nolan squeezed last drops out of the tube and was barely able to cover the wound. He took a needle and thread and began to stitch up the gaping chasms. “Try to think happy thoughts.”

  Nolan pierced the needle through Elijah's flesh, passing it through the gnarled gash, puncturing the opposite flap of skin and drawing the two together.

  Elijah winced. “Happy thoughts aren’t quite cutting it.”

  “The gel should numb it a bit.”

  “Well it's not numbing it enough!”

  “Just think, when we get back to town, you're going to be a hero.”

  “I don’t feel like a hero,” Elijah groaned.

  “You saved my life."

  “That's only because I didn't want to walk back through the forest alone,” Elijah said, dryly.

  “Maybe Jessica will feel sorry for you. She’ll tend to your wounds.”

  “Now that would make it all worthwhile.” Elijah's eyes lit up. He was clearly a man smitten. Jessica was a cute redhead with creamy skin and green eyes. Elijah had been pining away for her for what felt like an eternity. Though he seemed to be having a problem gaining her attention.