by Mark Shane
The orb screamed toward Michael and the world stopped before his eyes. Time had no meaning to him; the people at the edges of the courtyard nonexistent. It was only himself, his enemy, and the ball of writhing death. The gut-wrenching screams of a thousand souls in pure torment wailed from the orb as is rushed toward him.
He acted by instinct. All those who had wielded the Sword before him, their knowledge and ability drove him forward. It was not only his experience and skill as a swordsman, but theirs meshed as one that coursed through him. He met the orb mid-stride. The blade, enveloped in shimmering blue, sliced through it like water, silencing the horrid screams.
Michael lunged at Aleister, propelling himself on a wave of Air. Covering the ten-foot space between them in a blur, he impaled Aleister and slammed him into the granite plinth.
Aleister stared at the Eye glowing blue against his chest.
“How?” he asked, blood dribbling from his mouth.
The image of the three children clutching their mother swept through Michael’s mind and Jorgen’s words came back to him.
“Justice is mercy,” Michael replied.
Aleister cackled, a crazed sound that matched the look on his face. “Not from where I stand.”
Michael looked away from the madness running rampant in Aleister’s eyes. The crowd lining the courtyard stood motionless, shocked and stricken with fear.
“Justice for you is mercy for them.”
Words emanated from Aleister in that sinister, unearthly voice not his own. “I will have you, Keeper of the Eye.”
A chill ran down Michael’s spine as he recalled a prophecy.
He will shed his blood on the hills of sorrow. He will give himself to the shadow to end the shadow.
Aleister heaved as Michael pulled the Sword from his body.
“Perhaps,” Michael said, “but not today.”
Grasping the Sword with both hands, Michael spun around, the blade an arc of blue light. The Sword met with little resistance as is cut through granite and bone, flesh and stone. The upper half of the plinth and the fake sword slid away, falling to the ground. Aleister’s body separated and fell in a pool of blood and gore.
Michael looked up at the people in the balcony and on the fringes of the courtyard. Horror had replaced fear. They had just witnessed the end of a tyrant. Why weren’t they celebrating? Many glanced between him and the fake sword resting in the severed plinth.
The words of the prophecy came back to him. He will betray their hope. He will destroy that which they place their hope for life in.
Betrayer of Hope.
They had spent so many years hoping and praying for someone to pull the sword from the plinth that they still saw the fake blade as the true Sword. In their eyes he was not their savior, he was their executioner.
“People of Shaladon, hear me. I am Michael, son of Tobias.” He held up the Sword. “Behold the true Sword of Kings. Behold the Eye.”
“You lie!” someone roared. “You destroyed the Eye! We are doomed!” The crowd joined in, pandemonium threatened to break loose.
“No!” Michael shouted, fear ringing through his voice. He beat it down. He had not defeated Aleister only to lose these people to an illusion.
“No!” he shouted again with the force of his position, the expectation to be heard and not questioned. He was their king and they would listen.
He walked over to the granite plinth lying on the ground. “What you see before you,” he said, grasping the hilt of the common sword and pulling it free, “is an illusion.”
The crowd stood transfixed as the icon of their hope transformed into the top half of a common sword. Several women fainted, their fall to the ground noticed only by those they fell against.
Michael dropped the common sword, clanging when it hit the granite plinth. He noticed the radiant purple hue emanating from the Eye and raised the Sword above his head. “Behold, the Eye lives!”
“The Eye lives!” someone shouted, pointing at the Eye.
Many feel to their knees, others wept. Some were too stunned to move, transfixed on the man bathed in purple light from the Eye. They had a king again, they were whole again.
A voice Michael thought he would never hear again boomed through the courtyard, authoritative and regal.
“People of Shaladon, behold, the Keeper of the Eye!”
Max, Garen, and Dalan stood on the balcony of the courtyard.
A smile split Michael’s face. They were alive, they were truly alive.
“Behold, Shaladon,” Max proclaimed again, pointing at Michael, “your king, Michael Ashguard, son of Tobias, Lion of Righteousness, Keeper of the Eye.”
Anyone in the crowd still standing knelt, bowing their head.
Michael looked around the courtyard at all the people kneeling before him and felt so small and stupid. Who was he that they should bow at his feet? He only did what he was forced to do. Granted, he had done what no one else could do, but the bowing and scraping would have to stop. He was a carpenter at heart after all. Still, just like Jorgen back at the inn, none of them would stop this nonsense until he said something.
“People of Shaladon,” he began, groping for something profound to say. What could he possibly tell them that would erase the misery they had endured? His words in the village where he had killed the brigands had produced some hope. Images of the ghostly apparitions in the Heart appeared in his mind’s eye and he could faintly hear their final farewell, long live the king.
“People of Shaladon, a great injustice was done to us all. I lost my family and you lost your freedom. Hear me now; we will restore order. We will return to the greatness we once had. Rise, Shaladon, you have knelt before me long enough. I am your king, but I also ask to be your son.”
The courtyard erupted in applause. Cheers of “long live the king!” and “Keeper of the Eye!” reverberated off the walls.
Falon reached Michael and fell into his arms, burying her face in his chest. She looked up at him and his heart melted. Her full, red lips curved into a smile. He could lose himself in her beautiful brown eyes.
Tears streamed down her face. “I love you, Michael.”
Conflict raged in Michael for an eternal instant. Desire to love Falon won out over his desire to be a magichae or even Keeper of the Eye. His need for magic was over. He leaned down and kissed her, conveying his love, conveying his need for her.
Realization struck Michael. No prickle along his skin, no gut-wrenching shock he expected to accompany his power being ripped from him. He held her at arm’s length and looked at her questioningly. “What happened?”
She grinned. “I don’t know. When I was trapped in the tower, I saw you fighting and I...there was this orb of light in my mind. I touched it and something in me exploded. I was transformed, Michael.” She laughed and kissed him again.
Michael lost himself in her soft lips, her hands on his face.
When their lips parted, he glanced up at the jagged remains of the tower. An orb of light? Like he saw when he touched the Eye? “Exploded might be an understatement,” he said.
Max, Garen, Dalan and a middle-aged man with shaggy brown hair pushed their way past people in the throng of joyous celebration. Max’s face showed a mixture of fear and rage as he saw them holding each other.
“Get away from him,” he barked at Falon. “Are you both mad?”
Michael looked at him with a smile, which only fueled Max’s anger even more.
“Stupid, love sick kids! Get away from each other!”
Tears streamed down Michael’s face and he grabbed Max in a bear hug. “You’re alive.”
“Of course I’m alive,” Max replied when they separated. “I didn’t spend all these years planning to die on the way.”
Garen and Michael embraced. “Where’s Darela,” Michael asked Dalan.
“Recovering,” Dalan said.
Garen snorted. “That’s a word for it. He almost killed himself saving all our hides.”
Dala
n leveled a finger at Garen and Michael. “You two just watch yourself till he’s well. I can’t be everywhere to keep you alive by myself.”
Michael smiled and bowed his head to Dalan. “We shall do our best, sesur Dalan.”
Dalan’s face split in a wide, toothy grin.
Max introduced Jerrod as Alex slipped through the crowd calling Falon’s name.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I betrayed you,” Alex sobbed, hugging Falon.
Falon made soothing sounds. “I’ll hear none of that,” she said, pushing his hair out of his eyes and wiping tears away. “It wasn’t your fault.” A sly grin crept on her face. “Besides, what are pesky brothers for?”
“Brother?” Michael asked.
“Falon hugged Alex tight. “And an annoying one at that.”
“Any other items you might want to tell me?” Michael asked, looking at them.
Falon’s cheeks turned red. “Um...did I mention I’m the heir to the throne of Cintaur?”
Michael eyed her suspiciously. “I think I would have remembered that.”
“I believe we all have stories to tell,” Max said, placing his arm around Michael’s shoulder.
“Preferably over a very large mug of ale,” Garen added.
The company broke into laughter. Such a sweet sound they had not shared in so long.
Max turned Michael to face the Cathedral of Light. “So tell me, my boy, what do you think of Dalarhan?”
Michael snorted. “It’s big.”
Max laughed. “That it is. That it is.”
“It’s in dire need of repairs, though,” Michael added.
“Is that so?” Max replied, a knowing smile sliding across his face.
Michael set out for the city, a glint of an idea in his eye.
“Where are you going?” Falon asked.
“To have tools made. The city could us a good carpenter.”
Max began to laugh. “The Creator help us, he still thinks he’s a carpenter.”
“And he will lead his people from a throne built by his own hands,” Falon quoted a prophecy. A smile broke out on her face. “A carpenter king. How ironic.”
EPILOGUE
Change in Plans
A lone figure on horseback overlooked Dalarhan from a hilltop just inside the tree line. His pitch-black, hooded cloak was bright compared to his mood. His jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. The pealing bells and noise of celebration galled him.
Yet again he had underestimated the Eye. He should have learned his lesson at the Heart of the forest. He should have destroyed that red carriage. The idea of using Treylan as a false Keeper sounded quite stupid to him now. He had been overconfident back then, certain he could have the barriers broken quickly–a year at the longest. He could not have been more wrong.
He had been ignorant, too, thinking the veil to Theran Gull could be ripped open using only the well under Dalarhan. He had learned much since then. It would be a long, difficult process. The prison holding the Great Lord of the Night had three focal points and only by piercing the well at all three could he be released. With the focal point under Dalarhan in his control, he had been close.
The ruins of Glestier would soon be in his hands and the one in Manthadore...well, that was a difficult place to infiltrate, but he had made progress. He’d brought Elowe to the brink of civil war and he was stoking the flames of animosity in several others. Much of the world was on the brink. With wars breaking out to keep people distracted, he intended to create rifts large enough to bring forth a demonic army and storm the Seran’tu and claim the well. Then the Keeper surfaced.
He glared at the Wizard’s Keep standing high above the city walls like a sentinel. Aleister had broken through all but the final barrier. They might as well all still exist. Regardless, there were still some in Dalarhan that were loyal to him. The Keeper had won a battle, nothing more.
“Fool,” he spat as he turned his horse west, “now I will have to change my plans.”
His black cloak flowed as he rode west leaving the pealing bells behind.
END OF BOOK ONE
About the Author
Technology geek by day, Fantasy writer by night, Mark Shane saves bits and bytes for “the man” then unwinds with fire wielding wizards and jaded dragons. He grew up on video games, Star Wars, King Arthur and Lord of the Rings (long before the movies came out). After traipsing through enough fantastically colorful worlds he decided to create his own. And when his creations wouldn’t stop talking, he put pen to paper.
Table of Contents
Map
Prologue: Endings and Beginnings
1. Paths and Propositions
2. Strangers and Familiar Faces
3. House Calls
4. Nightmares Come Alive
5. Secrets
6. Destinies
7. Leaving Home
8. Dark Plans
9. Defining Moments
10. A Warm Bed
11. Life is a Gamble
12. Treasures Found
13. From the Shadows
14. Running from the Night
15. Last Ditch Effort
16. Desperate Measures
17. Rhalmadia
18. Chance Encounters
19. And One Makes Five
20. Trust Broken
21. The Comfort of Dreams
22. Vorn Eyre Forest
23. The Witches of the Forest
24. Valiant Efforts
25. On Their Own
26. Lyndham
27. Breakthrough
28. Finery’s Way
29. The Price of Love
30. The Mason’s Daughter
31. Blacksmith’s Puzzle
32. To Heed a Calling
33. A Fit of Rage
34. Directions
35. Extra Muscle
36. Reunions and Pardons
37. No Alternatives
38. Great Bear
39. Living Headstone
40. Between Worlds
41. Thunder and Lightning
42. Moving Up the Ranks
43. The Ruins of Desid
44. The Perfect Number
45. A New Direction
46. A Lone Journey
47. In the Heart
48. The Perfect Job
49. The Keep at Mistenthar
50. To Have Meaning
51. Dalarhan
52. Justice is Mercy
Epilogue: Change in Plans