Victor Deus (Heritage of the Blood Book 1)

by Brent Lee Markee

  There were many somber faces in that room at that time, and slowly people started saying that it was late, and that they should be getting home. Every one of them said their goodbyes to the old bard who had opened another world for their eyes to see. It took the most effort to get the boy that had listened to the story to stop asking questions. Finally, the only people in the bar were the bard, the bartender and the cloaked figure. The bard knowing that the figure had finally listened to his story with a bit of interest decided to go over to see what they thought of it.

  “Excuse me, but may I sit here?” The old bard asked this question cautiously, and he moved towards chair at the opposite end of the table when the cloaked figure nodded. “Tell me, what do you think about what you heard tonight?”

  A throaty laugh came from within the cloak that was a surprisingly high pitch to the bards ears. When the figure pulled back her hood, he had to struggle to keep his mouth closed. The woman in front of him was strikingly beautiful even though she appeared to be in the later years of her life. Her hair was still a vibrant red, and her eyes reminded him of the open sea. “I think that you yourself are a man from Terroval, because no one on this continent has heard that story so thoroughly before. I also think that you can drop your disguise, I know you are not an old man.”

  The man looked at her cautiously before whispering only one word. “Tyrdra?” When she nodded, he had to remind himself to take a breath. When he exhaled he let the magic he had woven around him fall, and he was a man in his prime, with dark hair and a striking figure, but that wasn't what stood out. His eyes were those that a snake might have, and aqua in color.

  “That is better Nim, now the watchers have work for you back home. The child will be born shortly, and you shall be one of his teachers.” The only thing he could do was nod dumbfounded while she continued.

  Prologue

  Year 3035 AGD

  Month: New Year

  Early Morning of the First Firstday

  Continent of Terroval

  City of Safeharbor

  Civilian Sector

  This night seemed exceptionally dark to the man who was dodging in and out of the shadows of the buildings in the Civilian Sector of Safeharbor. He was not the average citizen one would normally find in this part of town, nor was his mission the usual type that involved swiftly and silently traversing these streets. In fact, one could go so far as to say that these streets had never seen a man such as this with so important an objective.

  Anyone skilled enough to notice this man would notice he was tall and lithe, and his steps seemed to not even disturb the dirt that inhabited many of the shadows. Those rare few gifted enough to catch a glimpse inside the man's cowl would notice the sharp angular lines of the man's face that were usually a sure indication of Elven blood. Whether it was the confident manner in which he moved through the shadows, or the determined look upon his face, the seedier elements of the city steered clear this night. That decision saved many lives.

  For Lagelion Daystar was not just any Elf. He was a member of the High Elven Guard, and reputed to be the best warrior their ranks had ever produced. Unfortunately, as happens to many a man, his life was changed when he met a woman. Now that, in and of itself, is usually no cause for concern, however this woman was human. The people of Terroval all knew how the High Elven Court looks down upon the other races, a large portion going so far as to say the other races are inferior. Which brings us to the crux of the problem, a problem that often arises when a man meets a woman and falls in love; They brought a new life into the world.

  Half Elves are not shunned by the people of the Protectorate, however the High Elven Court has a kill on sight policy towards what many of them refer to as half-breeds. A member of the High Elven Guard having such a child is tantamount to treason in many Elven eyes. It did not matter that the mother of the child was Analya Theromvore, niece to the human's King. If anything this simply raised the danger level for the child. Not only would he have to be wary of Elven Assassins, but he would have to beware those of the humans and Dracair. The only way he could keep his beloved wife and son alive would be to find a place for his son to be raised hidden from those that would do him harm. All must believe that the boy had died at birth for any of them to have any peace.

  As morning steadily approached, heralding the time he would be expected to be seen with his grieving wife, Lagelion's mind raced through all of the options available to him. Perhaps the boy could be taken farther out, maybe to the country? He could be raised a farmer or a woodsman. He would be safer with some poor farmer and his wife. They might not find the boy... my boy... Victor.

  “No!” His aggravation and helplessness at the situation he found himself in broke through his usually stoic demeanor. He wrapped himself and his precious bundle a little tighter into his cloak as if it could protect both of them from what was to come. Any that heard the outburst were startled long enough to lose track of the Elf as he bolted around a corner and lost himself in the shadows of the streets and his own dark thoughts.

  There is no time for any of that! I cannot leave her alone long enough to reach such a place. There is no telling what they might do to her if I'm not there to protect her. The only chance for this to work is if I can find that Mystic! He once again wondered about anyone of power who chose to live in the rat infested poor quarter of Safeharbor that was the Civilian Sector. The large part of the Civilian Sector was fairly nice, however the closer you came to the Docks District, the worse the conditions became. The person he was looking for was said to live in the ramshackle buildings just inside the place where the Civilian Sector met the Docks District. Over the past ten months he had held so much hope for his unborn child, but as the time of his birth came closer it became apparent that the High Elven Court would never allow such a child to exist.

  He had spoken to his unborn son about his hopes and dreams, much as he whispered them to the baby boy he cradled in his arms as he raced through the streets. No matter how many times he apologized to the boy for not being able to be there to see him grow the pain would not relent. He would never be there to see his first steps, or hear his first word. He might never know if Victor would take after himself and become a warrior, or if he would take after his mother and use his will to shape the world around him as a Mage. Perhaps he will forge his own path. As he said this to himself he knew that the boy would, if he could survive long enough to find it.

  Lagelion noticed the quality of the craftsmanship put into the buildings around him was getting worse and he knew he was getting close to the part of town he was looking for. There were no nice houses with carriages in front of them here. The City Watch was not present in the same numbers as they were in the more influential neighborhoods either. That meant that there were drunks and others who had not found a roof for the night curled up wherever they could best keep out the cool night air.

  Is this the kind of place that I am to leave my son? There is nothing but poverty and violence to be found on these streets. It's amazing that King Theromvore allows this to happen. He looked down to the sleeping child in his arms and was suddenly oddly optimistic. You are the son of a former Captain of the High Elven Court, if anyone can survive, or even thrive in such a place it will be you. Who would look for our son in such a place? This is one of the few places that you will be safe from those that would do you harm or use you in their own evil schemes.

  As he turned another corner he noticed the horizon was beginning to fight back the dark of night, and knew he did not have much longer. If he didn't find the Mystic quickly he would have to find some young couple to take care of his boy. Thieves and scoundrels made up the majority of the people in this part of town, but he knew there were those who were simply down on their luck out here as well. I may have to abandon you my son, but I would die before I left you with some common criminal.

  As he looked about himself he knew that finding an honest couple in this part of town would be like trying to find an honest man in a m
erchant's guild. They were there, but you were more than likely to lose quite a bit of coin before you found them. He could sense more people becoming aware of his presence, and knew it would become even more dangerous the closer it came to morning.

  Everyone knew about the Mystic that helped out the people that lived near the Docks Ward, but no one knew exactly where they lived. If you had sick and your need was great enough they would show up and heal them if it was within their power. The elite of the city referred to the Mystic as “A Sheppard amongst a flock of sheep that should have been put down from sickness a long time ago.” He had heard more than one of the City Watch say how they would like to know who the Mystic was so they could buy the man a drink for saving their ass. Some in the Mages guild or amongst the Clergy of the city called the Mystic a rogue. The most interesting thing that he had heard and what had given him the most hope was the speculation among the people that the Mystic was a Half-Elf.

  As the seconds began to tick loudly through his head his mind once again turned to the matter at hand. How do you find someone powerful that seems not to want to be found? Of course, this question has been asked a thousand times in every generation by every sentient race since the beginning of time. It was all unfolding like some fireside tale, one of those stories where the orphan is raised by the cranky old whatever and becomes the hero of the land. He knew that some of those stories were based on things that had actually happened, so it was not unheard of, however unlikely it was. Lagelion also knew how cruel and dangerous of a place the world could be, so the only thing he expected was for his son to survive.

  Again his mind turned to the fact that he wouldn't be there to tell his son these types of stories, and to watch the wonder in his eyes as he discovered men like Alexander Dalton and Tyrdra the Red. All of his hope rested in the hands of a Mystic he had never met, and who very well might not exist. It would not be the first time the downtrodden had created a bright shining hero of the people to raise their spirits. Someone to give them the hope that if things got really bad there was hope for a hand to come out of the darkness to set them back on the right path.

  The rays of the sun were starting to break through the horizon, and he could feel his hope begin to drain. Ok, since this is unfolding like a folk legend or a traveler's tale I should think like a story teller. Usually in these types of stories the wise man knows more about the traveler who is coming to them for help than the person who is doing the seeking even knows. So, thinking along those lines the Mystic would know that I am seeking him. If that is the case, he's probably looking through some magic device or hiding in some dark corner waiting for the most dramatic moment to show himself. He turned right at the next corner and ran through a set of alley's trying to get away from any of the people who were starting to wake up to start their work for the day.

  “Hello?” Yelling like this in the middle of an alley made him feel like a fool, but he had been around enough mages to know the games they could play. “Please, I don't have much time. If you are watching Mystic, please help me and my son.” He knew it was nothing more than a desperate plea from a desperate man. The effort it took to say it aloud seemed to drain all of the energy he had seemed so full of just moments before and he fell to his knees defeated. The silence deepened around him and he felt his skin prickle, as if the universe had been awaiting his plea for uncounted millennia.

  “Your son does not ask for my help guardsman, it is you and the human female that you call wife that seek my aid.”

  The voice that spoke held none of the arrogance he was used to hearing from the Magi of his own race. Instead it reminded him of his wife, strong, assured, and yet compassionate. The power and wisdom of age was apparent to anyone who had lived long enough to recognize such things. He had not expected to the Mystic to be a woman, but he was not surprised by such a thing either.

  “Please, I implore you on behalf of myself and my wife. Our son will die if I do not give him to someone who can watch over him as he needs.” There was a catch in his throat as he spoke the last words, and he knew he was approaching his breaking point emotionally.

  “What you say is true, but why is it that you and your wife cannot give this child the love and attention that he deserves? You could both run away somewhere and take the boy out of reach of those who would do him harm. Not only this, but you come to me, a person you have never met before, and presume to ask me if I will do what you are unwilling or unable to do. What if this is a burden that I have never taken on myself? What would make you think that I would want that responsibility thrust upon me by some stranger?” The last came out as a whisper tinged with just a touch of annoyance.

  “We could not run far enough to get away from those who would do him harm. If I felt that we could keep him safe I would take Victor and Analya and run, but even with my prowess, and her strength of will we would never be able to protect him from a concerted effort by those that wish him dead. We just want what is best for our boy, and right now the best thing is for him to stay alive long enough to be able to defend himself from those that would do him harm or use his gifts. Will you help us or shall I leave the boy with one of these vagabonds so that he may be raised a criminal?” Anger broke through with his last statement before he was able to bite it off, and tears began to fall down cheeks that had not seen the like in over three hundred years.

  “You say you do not want him to be abused for his gifts? This boy has been marked! Not once, but thrice! His future will hold danger no matter what direction it goes from here. He may be beyond all mortal protection. Yet fear not noble warrior, I agree with you that the safest place for him for now will be with me. Think not however that I take on this responsibility simply because you have asked, and I require no recompense. This has been something in development for longer than you or I have been alive. The gods are taking the first steps to all out war, and the year of the shadow approaches. I will now do my part to fulfill an agreement made when man took their first steps upon his world.”

  He looked up as she approached and felt like he had seen this beautiful woman somewhere before. As the thought went through his mind however, he found himself nearly back to the Castle Ward as the sun rose fully over the horizon. He could not remember what had happened, but he knew deep down that his son was safe, and the sun shining down onto the sea gave him the memory of sea green eyes that promised hope. His wife needed him now though. She was still weak from her delivery, and they would have to play the part of grieving parents. As he took one last look towards the Docks District, he knew that it wouldn't be a difficult role to play . He said a prayer to whatever god would listen to look over his family and protect them from harm.

  *****

  The Mystic, who now went by the name of Shaylyn Arasmé stood in the alley that the Elven Warrior had left moments before through one of her portals. In her arms she held a baby boy, who had just moments before seen his first sunrise. He was also the only one to hear her say, “You have the power to do great things one day Victor, great and terrible things. Life will be hard, but if you live through all that will come, you will have the power to change the face of this world, and many others. I do not envy you.”

  *****

  Much farther away on another plane of existence, three figures were watching the nights events transpire. Two of the figures stood over a large well, and discussed the course of things, while the third listened from the shadows.

  “Shaylyn Arasmé has him now dearest sister. It is unfolding just as the dragons foretold.”

  “Yes my brother, but remember we are not allowed to interfere anymore, it was only because of the actions taken by Thom that we even dared to do what we did. He must use the gifts we have given him to survive into his adult years before we can be of aid to him again, and he of aid to us.”

  “Yes, of course Cypheria, I know, I know… but the dragons did say this would be the age of heroes.”

  “Yes Ragnós, and there wouldn't be a need for so many heroes if there wasn't s
o much evil loose upon the world. War may be your domain, and you may be happy to wage it, but I cannot help but feel sorry for those that will fall, and who is to say that this one boy will be enough to tip the scale in justice's favor, or even that he won't tip it the other way.”

  “I do not enjoy death either, that is Thom's domain, and he can keep it, but war is a useful tool, not only does it make people stronger, but it keeps populations in check. If it wasn't for war there would be more people than there is food.”

  “I know brother, you do not need to explain it to me again, but it doesn't mean I have to like it.” “Of course you don't Cypheria only a mad person would like war, but it is a necessity for the development of culture and sometimes the only way to achieve peace is to go to war, paradox as it may be. All we can do is sit back and watch the boy as he is pushed in one direction and pulled in another.”

  “You are right Ragnós of course, and what do we have, but time…”

  The voices trailed off into an uneasy laughter as the sun heralded a new day, and perhaps more importantly to most, a new year.

  The third entity watching the events unfold was not laughing however. The shadows disappeared unnoticed as he moved his attention away from the two fools laughing as if they had pulled off something special. Thom was pleased with himself for taking the initiative with the boy to ensure that the lad was equipped for what he wanted him to do. He was however not pleased in the least that Cypheria and Ragnos had found out about his plan and taken measures to lessen his hold on the boy. They would learn that no one interferes with the god of death when he is choosing his champion… no one.