Victor Deus (Heritage of the Blood Book 1)

by Brent Lee Markee

  With the yell raised, the hundreds of Orcs still in their beds awoke. From that point on it had been a life or death struggle every step of the way. He came out of his thoughts as a blade came whirring around the corner, and he ducked just in time, but he was sure that he had gotten an impromptu haircut. A bright flash beside him from Zander, and his attacker went flying.

  Nim was ready for the rest that came around the corner, and parried the first blow making a riposte to the creatures arm. His other blade came up to strike the Orcs companion, and the battle was on in full once more. There was not much room for maneuvering in these tight quarters, so the rest of the squad behind him could do nothing but watch. Every once in awhile, an arrow would whiz past his head and strike one of the brutes coming up the tunnel, or running back down it.

  He wasn't sure how many had fallen earlier in the day, nor how many were behind him. He was sure that some had been lost, there were always losses. They came to a point however where the defense seemed to have run out. The lower levels seemed to have been drained of the blood thirsty Orcs. It was only when they ran across the first room full of bodies that they realized they weren't alone.

  Nim was poised to attack when he heard many footsteps around the corner, but as he rounded the corner he realized that it was Ashur and Dunnagan, along with two large fellows, and some ragged looking humans.

  “Nim!” Ashur said surprised. “What are you doing here!?”

  “We came to get you.” Nim said, his nerves calming. “Victor insisted.”

  “Victor is here?” The big man behind Ashur said in an odd voice that squeaked at the end of the question. Noticing Nim's lack of recognition Shawnrik sighed. “It's me Nim, Shawnrik.”

  After a moment of Examination Nim's eyes widened in astonishment.

  “By the gods! It is you!” Nim looked at Ashur seriously. “What have you been feeding him?”

  “Whole cows mostly.” Ashur said with a shrug. Which made the area erupt in soft laughter to Shawnrik's chagrin.

  “Where is Victor?” Shawnrik asked again.

  “He is here somewhere.” Nim assured him, while turning to the people behind him. “Victor!” Nim yelled, and when there was no response, he raised his voice. “Victor? Has anyone seen Victor.” There were a great many no's and not since we came in's to fit Nim's taste. “He's got to be around here somewhere.”

  “What about the Dracair Assassins?” Zander asked Dunnagan. “Have you seen any of them?”

  “Aye, the Dracairei left a few hours ago. 'e didn't say why, but he just came along with a key and gave it to us. 'e said they were leaving.” Dunnagan responded.

  “Well we need to get out of here no matter what is going on. He is probably waiting for us outside. He's a smart kid, he'd know better than to wander around down here by himself.” Ashur assured everyone. With nods of accession the party turned and started their trek back out the tunnels.

  *****

  Year 3043 AGD

  Month of Ragnós

  Thirty First Day

  Continent of Terroval

  Southwest of Asylum

  Near the Blood Orc Ravine

  “You see, your friends are safe.” Yandarian said to Victor as they stood over the basin watching the morning unfold before them.

  Victor nodded, happy that his friends were making it out safely. Some had been lost he knew. A handful from Zander's squad had been lost, and from Nim's, Drake the human scout and Bredwin the Dwarven Cleric were staring up at the sky hollowly. It would have been much worse however, and Victor knew it. He had done what he thought was best, and now he would accept whatever was to come.

  “What now?” Victor asked.

  “Now,” Temendri said. “We hand you over to those of a different art.” He watched as Victor stared into the pool absorbing every image, and smiled at Yandarian.

  “Do not fear Victor,” Yandarian said coming over to the boy. Victor looked up at him in confusion. “You will not worry about them, nor fear for their safety. In the morning, they will be nothing more than a fleeting thought.”

  *****

  They had spent two days searching through the caves, and in the area around the ravine to no avail. The arcane and divine sights revealed nothing. Victor Deus had vanished, no body, and no trace. It was with a heavy heart that Nim cancelled the search. Shawnrik had been adamant about continuing, but when Zander had explained to him about the war his protests had lessened. Nim knew that Shawnrik still wanted to look for Victor, because he did too, but they also knew that there were other more pressing matters to take care of.

  So it was that last night in the ravine that Nim had found the notes. He had been packing his gear and checking his supplies when he happened upon them. They were at the bottom of his saddle bags, tucked into the very corner, and folded into tight squares. Slowly he reached into the bag, and pulled them out. He recognized the fold, because it was the one he used when passing messages, and the one he had taught Victor.

  Nim walked towards the campfire to get a better look at the papers. Coming into the light he knew by the writing that it was Victor who had left the notes there. Examining the paper, he realized that Victor had taken them from the sheaf of papers that he kept in his bags.

  “What's wrong Nim, you look like you just saw a wraith.”

  Nim looked up from his thoughts, and saw his long time friend sitting at the other end of the campfire. Next to Ashur sat the young man Shawnrik, and another long time companion Dunnagan. No matter how good it was to see these strong allies, and even better friends, Nim couldn't help but feel like he had failed. He had come here with the hopes of freeing his friends from their confinement, and in the process six men had been lost. Every one of them had known the risks involved, but it was still a high price to pay. A price, Nim mused, that he would probably pay again if he had the option. These men were important to Nim, but they were also important to the Protectorate.

  Nim held up his hands showing the notes, two of them. The first note had his name on it, and the second had Shawnrik's name on it. The three men across the fire from him stood quickly. They knew Nim, and they knew what those notes must mean for him to be so out of sorts over them.

  “Are those…?” Ashur asked quietly.

  “Yes.” Nim said nodding. “There is one for me, and one for Shawnrik.”

  Shawnrik came around the fire quickly, and almost fell for his effort. He was still not used to his larger form, and it would take time for him to be completely familiar with it. Nim handed Shawnrik the note with his name on it, and watched as he stood in front of the fire holding the paper reverently, much as Nim was holding his own. Nim turned his note over, and began unfolding the paper. Nim saw the others looking at him as he began to read the note to himself.

  Nim,

  If you are reading this, then it means that my leaving was not in vain.

  I cannot tell you why I left, only that it was for a good reason. I will see you all later in life, I am sure of it. For now, there are more important things going on. You must go to Asylum, I have a bad feeling about what is going to happen. Gather as many allies as you can on your way. Shawnrik will have to leave you On the way. He must go, or all is lost. I have known this day was coming for awhile now, and I do not fear it. Shaylyn told me that it would come, and so far, nothing she has told me has been wrong. Tell Ashur to be careful, and Dunnagan that I'm sorry I never got the chance to meet him. Tell them both that they need to finish the important parts of Shawnrik's training this week. I know you had hoped to shape me into a tool for your spying, and to follow in your footsteps, but that cannot Be. I will learn many things, and I do not think I will be the same person when next we meet. Know that I am grateful for your generosity, training, and most of all, your friendship. Take care of everyone, and find Lia, I'm afraid she might be doing something dangerous. When Cantel makes you an offer, do not refuse it. It may not be what you want, but it is what you need to do to keep the Protectorate whole. Most importantly though, fo
rget about me, not completely of course, but do not bother to search, you will not find me. When the time is right, we shall meet again, but until then you all need to focus on the things that you can change.

  Your friend, Your Student, Your Son,

  Victor Deus

  P.S. Do not read this part aloud. You may wonder how I know these things, and I do not know myself. My dreams are of people that are not myself, and yet are a part of me.

  Last night I was contacted while we slept, and it is with them that I now reside. I knew that someone would contact me, I just did not know when. There is a long road ahead of all of us, take care of everyone. Shawnrik must leave with those you meet that want him. Make him go, by force if you need to, if you don't, he will die.

  May Cypheria give you strength, and Ragnós guide your blade.

  When Zander entered the circle, the firelight licking across their stark frames, Nim read the first part of the letter aloud. He left out the parts that had to do with himself, and instead of the very personal ending, he added the one at the end of the post script. “May Cypheria give you strength, and Ragnós guide your blades.” Slowly he lowered the note, and began folding it again. He noticed the far away looks in his companions eyes, and he nodded to himself. Looking over, he saw that Shawnrik was still staring down at his unopened. “Aren't you going to read your note?” Nim asked him, which seemed to bring the young man back to his senses.

  “Wha…?” He said looking at Nim. “Oh, yes, but you see.” Holding up the back side of his note, Nim saw that it said in clear letters, Do not open for eight days after you leave the ravine.

  “Oh,” Nim said as he slid the note into his coat pocket.

  “Well, the boy has a point.” Dunnagan said slowly. “If 'e is right about the other things, 'e is probably right about the war. Which means we need allies.”

  “All of our troops are there, we can't pull any more away from the city.” Zander said hopelessly.

  “Ah, but yer forgetin' the Wardens.” Dunnagan held up his finger. “Also, an even better ally, though I hate to admit it, being a warden meself ye know, is the Order of the Griffon.” He added ruefully.

  “You trained with the order for awhile didn't you Zander?” Ashur said looking at his friend.

  “Yes,” Zander nodded. “But they don't interfere in wars often. They do not like to fight Orcs and goblins, they think that it is too easy. The Grandmaster is very old, and he may be wary of a fight.”

  “Bah, monks!” Dunnagan snorted. “They train fourteen hours a day every day of their lives, and they are to afraid to fight.”

  “Nay, my friend.” Zander said sharply. “They are not afraid, but it takes a long time to train members of the order, and though there are many more now than there ever has been, a loss would be wasteful for when they are needed. Should a full scale invasion occur, they would be our major line of defense. Every member above initiate can kill three Dracairei with their bare hands without taking a mark.”

  “Nim and Ashur can do that too, and they are still fighting.” Dunnagan added, but he was running out of steam.

  “Yes, but we fight because it is what we do. They are all servants of Cypheria like you Dunnagan. Their precept states that they are to only engage in conflicts the level of the Dracair or greater.” Nim interjected, and Zander nodded in appreciation. “Not that I agree.” Nim added quickly, which turned Zander's nod into a sigh.

  “Yeah,” Ashur said surprising everyone. “I heard that one of 'em took part in killing a goddess awhile back. Goddess of torture and betrayal I believe, one of the old ones. Only followers were some dark priests, and a few blood mages.”

  “That would be Cypherious.” Zander said. “The order found him on their doorstep when he was a baby. They named him after the goddess Cypheria, and they have trained him since he could walk. He is only nineteen, and he has gone through all four schools of training.” He held up a finger for each as he named them off. He was far enough away from the fire that he was nearly one with the night, his fingers nearly indistinguishable from the shadows that fought against the light of the fire. “Martial, Metaphysical, Spiritual, and Assassination. Each school, men have devoted most of their lives to perfecting. Like many of us however, he has not mastered any except the Martial, but he has excelled in the rest.”

  “Jack of all trades,” Nim said. “My kind of guy.”

  Everyone at the fire snickered at that comment. They were all from backgrounds that started out on one path, and branched out to many. None of them were a master of their crafts, but they were skilled in many. That seemed to be the secret to survival in these harsh lands. One either learned to adapt to any situation, or they would soon find themselves dead.

  Shawnrik had moved away from the rest of the group, and Nim had noted his slow departure. The rest of those around the fire noted his line of sight, and when he looked back to them, each nodded to him in understanding. Nim wasn't quite sure why it had to be him, Ashur had spent the most time with the lad, but he didn't think twice about it as he walked in the direction Shawnrik had headed.

  Shawnrik only half listened to the fading voices around the fire as he walked farther into the deep recesses of night. So much had changed since he had left Safeharbor in tow behind Ashur and Dunnagan, and he had so much he wanted to tell his friend. He knew there were other things to do, and that they had searched for Victor, but he still didn't like it. Why am I going to have to leave on the trip to Asylum? He fingered the note in his pocket wondering at it's contents. He would not open it until eight days from tomorrow however. Victor trusted enough to know that he would not, and Shawnrik would not break that trust whether Victor would know of it or not. “Where have you gone Victor?” He asked the night, hoping it's vast expanse could tell him.

  “That I'm afraid, is a question that only a few, including the gods themselves, can answer.” Shawnrik nearly drew the axe he now wore strapped across his back, before he recognized the voice.

  “Nim, where do you think he is?” Shawnrik watched as Nim lost his coalescence with the darkness around him. “Do you really think he is safe?”

  Shawnrik could see Nim shrug. The twin moons made no show this night, and that only re-affirmed Shawnrik's ill mood. The night around him suited his mood. Stars winked at him from the dark recesses that they inhabited, but their light this night was not enough to hold back the shroud that enveloped the land. He walked until his feet felt the coolness from the small brook that ran to the west across the valley. Something about the water trickling past was calming. When he had lived in the city, the only flowing waters had been the ocean, and the river that flowed from the base of the cliff into the that ocean. That water had never calmed him though. The Dock's District had been the toughest in the city, and the harbor was no safer than the city. For the most part, the creatures of the ocean that surrounded Terroval, stayed out of the harbor. The ocean was not called death's gate for no reason however, and Shawnrik had seen once, as one of those monstrous beasts tore apart a ship as it was sailing towards the exit of the harbor. No, that water had not been comforting.

  “I am sure that whoever has him, will not harm him… much.” Nim's glance told him that he wasn't going to lie, and sugar coating things was nonsense. “The truth is, I think the Siniquitans have him, which means the Blood Mages, or the Dracair. I am not sure what they will do to him, but we must stand strong. We will get him back, but not I'm afraid, until whatever needs to happen their happens.” Nim tossed a small stone into the shallow brook, and the plunk it made as it hit the water was the only sound heard. Shawnrik was getting ready to turn back to the camp, but Nim spoke a moment before he turned. “You know, it was only a few weeks ago that I sat next to a stream talking to Victor like this.”

  “Really?” Shawnrik wanted to know what Nim and Victor had done during their time apart.

  “Yeah, it was only a few hours after he rather precisely removed the head of a Magnus Dracani.” Nim said with a laugh.

  “A drea
dnaught! What in the light was he doing that for?”

  As the fire crackled to a low burn, those around it could hear Nim talking about something excitedly, and then the sound of laughter. Each of them eyed the other, and nodded. Everything would be alright, they would survive, and life would go on. They always had, and it always would. Each of them took to their bed rolls as Nim and Shawnrik talked on into the night.

  Epilogue

  So it was, that while others all around the world of Terrazil celebrated the Festival of the sun, twenty men road horseback with all the speed their mounts could give them, headed towards the city of Stalwart. In time they would turn off of the road, and head back into the hills, but for now they made sure their was nothing on the roads for the wagons that had fallen farther and farther behind every hour. Their horses gave them all that they could, and in a week they covered a distance that should have been covered in three.

  As the party neared the foothills where the Order of the Griffon maintained it's base of operation, and winter home, they were met by a large party. There were not many of them, but the giants made up for numbers in size. They were often called cloud, and storm giants, because of the powers they harnessed, and the moods, which could go from a soft bank of clouds to a roaring torrential storm in moments. Nim Mithriannil met with the leader of the giant party, and the stares that all of the giants were giving towards one of the members of his party was information enough.

  The argument lasted all of two sentences, and was cut short when Nim yelled a name which had no significance to the Giants, so they ignored it. With his shoulders sagging, Shawnrik Larston went into the hills with the ancient blood which ran through his veins. In moments, the party led by Nim was speeding across the hills.