The Legacy of the Ten: Book 01 - Eyes of the Keep

by Scott D. Muller

  “I think we have to. Now is our time.” Dra’kor emphasized.

  “It’s our time ….” he repeated, his voice trailing off.

  Suddenly, reality set in. They just sat quietly at the table, numb as winter-toes, as the daunting task that was before them hung over their heads and weighed heavy on their hearts.

  Grit swore that he could hear both Dra’kor’s and Men’ak’s hearts beat. He looked at his friends; both of their eyes were cast down, and he knew exactly what they thought. Bloody halla!

  Dra’kor finally reached across the table, grabbed one of the pies from the plate and nibbled around the edges.

  They knew that what they were about to tackle was most likely going to be far more dangerous and difficult than they imagined. After all, how could they even conceive what they might run into in the realms? Their imaginations ran wild with stories they had heard and studies. None of them had even walked the world, at least, not in eight hundred plus years. Men’ak could hardly even remember where he had grown up; let alone recall what it was like. They had lived a sheltered and isolated existence.

  Men’ak was sure they were as good as dead, but was afraid to speak up. He knew he would be ridiculed and probably chastised by Dra’kor if he didn’t willfully participate. Truth was, he wanted to pull his weight, but damn, he was scared. Dra’kor had been patient with him over the years, but there was only so much patience a man could have. He knew Dra’kor well enough to know that this adventure was not negotiable. He swallowed hard, and turned to look into Grit’s eyes. Those black orbs spoke volumes. Grit was as worried as he was, and that was saying something! Bloody hell, he thought. Ticks and slugs in their beds, they were heading for disaster.

  And for once, they all understood the weight of responsibility.

  Off in the opposite corner of the same room under a long table sat a small halfling, listening in on the conversation. Tax sat quietly, his legs drawn up tight to his chest. He nodded to himself as his ears twitched. The debt was about to be paid. At long last, the ‘Time of Reckoning’ had come. He sat very, very quietly. He couldn’t wait to tell the others later tonight.

  The Mage’ses had better be worryin’, he thought to himself shaking a crooked finger in their direction. You have been foolishes and careless with your gifts —

  He had seen what had become of Tar’ac. He knew what was coming. He shuddered and clung hard to the table’s support post. Only one creature had that kind of power and he only knew of a single demon that had enough power to force that creature to do his bidding. They would need their strength, yes they would. The prophecy wasn’t clear at this point, but what was written was enough to make a grown man cry.

  Tax sat grinning.

  Naan

  It had been a pleasant day in the mountain town of Balder nestled in a sheltered valley near the border of Naan. The sun was just starting to set after a fine late fall day and only a light grey haze was in the air from the chimney smoke, which was settling among the evergreen trees. It shrouded the small valley in a pine scent as the smoky tendrils wove their way up the valley.

  To’paz nodded to a farmer working his wagon down the well-rutted road. The old plow horse plodded along, oblivious to the farmer’s sense of urgency or his whip.

  It was getting cool quickly now as the heat from the day dissipated and the crickets and frogs were already singing their evening songs. The days were getting shorter. Summer was gone and soon fall would be turning to winter. To’paz pulled her shawl tight around her small frame.

  A gentle breeze made the changing aspen leaves rustle and every now and then, one would give up and drop, slowly fluttering to the dirt where it would rest and eventually become part of the soil again. That was the way is was in the world, each living thing had its time and returned to the earth, except for wizards.

  To’paz liked winter. Oh, sure, it was mostly bleak, and she didn’t like having to stay inside all the time, but the demons didn’t like the icy cold winter and they tended to stay deep in their mountain lairs. As she saw it, anything that kept demons and dark mages at bay was a bonus. Besides, it gave her time to knit and lace.

  Of course, the seasons were backwards here, it was early spring at the Keep, her home, far to the north across the I’jean Sea. Here, winter was yet to come. It was confusing, but as long as you didn’t travel back and forth, you got used to it.

  She often wished that winter lasted longer here, two short months hardly seemed sufficient. Back home at the Keep, winter lasted a full half-year. Here, winter was short. However, that being said, it hit hard, with biting-cold, windswept storms and snow measured in feet. Once it settled in, you were not going anywhere until it decided to leave.

  To’paz walked slowly down the deeply rutted dirt street, carefully avoiding the fresh horse droppings. She moved out of the way of farmers coming in from the fields in their carts after a hard day’s work harvesting the fruits of their labor. The carts stacked high with hay and fruit twisted and creaked as they carried their heavy loads. She could smell the juicy ripe apples as the cart slowly passed.

  She was returning from one of her last foraging trips of the season to the high mountain meadows and upper forests. She was taking advantage of the mild weather to have a last chance at gathering the plethora of herbs, leaves, roots, mushrooms and bugs she used as the local medicine woman. Her basket was chock full and weighed heavily on her left arm.

  To’paz was very well known and respected as a great healer and people traveled for many days to have their sick treated by her remedies.

  They came with almost every imaginable affliction, some of which were well beyond her ability to treat, but at least, she could offer up some herbs and potions to take away or dull the pain. For this, they were always grateful. It didn’t hurt that she could tweak the recipe using her gift when needed.

  She had been extremely careful in setting up her trade and had worked diligently to earn her reputation. It had taken her years after her arrival to gain the trust of the locals. She finally settled on a profession that she could use to blend in while she oversaw the realm for the Guild. She had spent the last six hundred years trying to master her craft in her spare time, as if that were even possible! Managing the realm required far more time than she had thought it would. She sighed heavily; it seemed that there was always something that required her attention.

  The worst part of being a traveler was having to move every few years. Since she didn’t age, she was forced to relocate around the realm every ten to fifteen years. It was inconvenient. When she had moved back to Balder, she had bumped into Nelly Krachet who was now well over sixty years old. To’paz had not recognized her and had been startled when the poor woman’s jaw dropped to the ground when they met and she had called her by name. Nelly had aged and was now frail, mostly gray and had well worn wrinkles about her eyes and jaw. She had been suspicion of To’paz and grumbled incessantly that she looked the spitting image as she had those forty-plus years ago.

  She had missed Nelly, who had been one of her best friends, but couldn’t renew the friendship, lest her secret be revealed. She did let her talk about her mother and they shared tea and laughter many times before she passed away. Eventually, she convinced the woman that she had been named after her mother and was the daughter of her friend from years ago.

  To’paz promised to write to her mother about Nelly and held her hand, weeping as she died. It had been a stark reminder that she needed to be more careful. Although few of the Naan residents made it to sixty, she discovered that some do, and that forced her to change her plans, vowing never to return to an area until at least eighty years had passed.

  She looked up at the trees and noticed that they looked a little worse for wear this year than in the past, a bad early frost had done some damage and some sort of blight had gained a foothold in late summer causing the leaves to mottle. She would keep an eye on the trees over winter and fix them in the spring if the need arose.

  She hadn’t really
planned on doing anything special after her foraging; mostly she was just in the mood to wander so she slowly walked toward the small town enjoying the crisp air, colorful leaves and the smell of fall.

  It wasn’t safe for a lady to wander too far as night approached. Although she was well equipped to handle whatever might happen, doing so would bring about questions and rumors she would just as soon avoid. When the path forked, she took the path to the local village instead of the one toward the next town Cratchet’s Hollow.

  Walking helped her think and it helped center her. She could feel the magic of the earth and hear the voice of the trees. When she walked, she could tune out all the distractions that the day had presented and lose herself in nature. She could talk to the Mother and hear all she had to offer.

  She noticed a gray squirrel chattering as it skittered on a tree branch, struggling to get another nut stored in its leaf nest before winter. By casual observation, everything seemed normal, and all seemed calm. Truth be told, that was very inaccurate as far as she was concerned. Things were not in balance and the forest knew it; the Mother knew too. The forest critters knew. Moreover she could hear their guarded whispers…look out…what was that? Is it safe to come out?

  She was pondering how the situation had gotten this chaotic. She thought she had successfully orchestrated order after the insurgency of the dark magi and had them well in hand. Now of course she didn’t mean ‘dark magi’ in the sense of ancient dark magi that caused the collapse of the realms, forced the Great Separation and culminated with the final battle at Ror. Oh, no, her magi were weak meddling spell charlatans, thank you very much. Self-interested cretins, doing everything in their power to cheat, rob and or take advantage of the hard working people of Naan. Every time she grasped what to do, things changed and blindsided her. Damn this dark magic. Damn this realm! She thought to herself.

  She was most worried about her battle the previous day with a demon lord. At least she thought it was a demon lord, all gaudy, dressed up in gold, jewels and spun metal armor. By the Ten, they thought highly of themselves!

  The gods know she hadn’t seen or fought a demon lord for centuries, she wondered why now. It seemed to be directed at her, of all the damn things. It made no sense at all as far as she was concerned. Demon lords just didn’t go out looking for a fight. She scowled. They had a huge self-preservation instinct and knew that taking on a Second Order Mage was suicide.

  She had nearly perished trying to bring down the winged dark one when he out-foxed her and managed to let off a nearly fatal spell. Had the demon’s ball of Hell Fire been more accurately thrown, she could well be a charred heap in the boulder field where they did battle. Still, she had survived, although she believed they had come dangerously close to cutting off magic to the realm! She swore. She really needed more time to keep up her skills.

  They played a deadly game of cat and mouse, using spells carefully woven and skillfully executed that just threaded the needle of what was permissible. She recognized that the demons were upping their game. Each attack came so much closer to destroying them all. None of it made sense, but then again, one had to be a few fingers short of a full hand to try to make sense of demons anyway.

  She didn’t mind the risk. Not that she had a death wish or anything, but she knew the dangers involved when she volunteered to be a traveler. What she hadn’t counted on was all the death that seemed to follow her.

  This time nearly an entire small village had been murdered. She had heard their screams with her gift, but by the time she arrived at the location of the town, all she saw was the burnt and charred remains of the terrorized citizens who never stood a chance against the demon. Each fell where they stood with a single small black hole burnt into their foreheads and the back of their skulls. The demon had perfectly executed a spider spell, a hideous spell cast out from the demon in multi directions simultaneously. It threaded its way from body to body, boring holes in each person, collecting the souls as it went. Few had survived, only a couple who were out hunting and some children who were out gathering berries when the attack happened. She shook her head in sadness.

  She didn’t always have the sight to see things in advance, although she had been able to see people’s futures since she was nine. It was more difficult when you were scanning for random noise mixed in with all the dreams and desires that clouded the air. Whether she could pick out the nits from the hair sadly depended too much on the skill level of the foe she faced. Many of the lesser demons projected their plans and gloated over their impending victory often enough and loud enough that she could see the event long before it happened.

  This one did not. However, he couldn’t mask his blood lust to feed when tempted with the carnage his spell caused. Unfortunately, she had been too late to prevent the destruction of the village, but in the end, she had sent the demon back to the underworld. She should take solace in the fact that had she not succeeded, things could be a whole lot worse. There seemed to be a never-ending number of demons wandering the realm these days. She yanked on her Dzomat braid that dangled at the side of her face. She fiddled with the two cerulean beads, twirling them between her fingers.

  She contemplated the undeniable fact that attacks were more frequent and the competence of the evil lords was improving. They were getting to be more formidable each and every year. She feared that soon, they would be too much for her to handle on her own, at least not without a high probability of the realm being closed.

  She would report this to the watcher when he came to audit her. She had a lot of explaining to do when they met. She needed help and she really had nowhere else to turn but the Guild. At this time, the local mages had not proved to be competent enough to help her eradicate the threat. There was this one named Merl, but he was hesitant to deal with demons — that left her on her own. Without any help, the best she could do was attempt to mitigate the damage.

  She spotted a nice cluster of dark brown wrinkled morel mushrooms under a tree along the path and stopped to pick them. She bent over, plucking them cleanly at the base of the stems and placed them one by one into her basket along with the other herbs and flowers. She would dry them once she got home. Then in the winter, she could have mushrooms in her stew. That would be a treat. She stood up and brushed the leaves and dirt from her dress before she continued toward town.

  The more she thought about it, the more she realized that she wanted to go home. She missed the Keep, her friends, and most of all, her brother and father. She wondered why she hadn’t been audited; it seemed that it had been a very long time, hundreds of years even. She expected to be audited every twenty-five years. The Guild was supposed to use the audit to understand the individual realm’s needs and to provide assistance and support. This was especially urgent when it came to maintaining the realm’s order.

  She had been living on the other side of the realm in Pharsis at the time of the last review. What had it been, two-fifty, three hundred years ago? She couldn’t figure out why they hadn’t contacted her in so long. So much had happened since those days. So much bloody killing and useless destruction! The lack of contact had her worried. She wondered if they had forgotten about her, after all she was beyond the edge of the Wild.

  She looked up, sensing a familiar feeling. Speak of the demon! The watcher was here. She could feel the contact. It’s about time, she thought to herself, placing her empty hand on her hip. She would have to give him a piece of her mind when she had the chance.

  Suddenly, out of nowhere, the sky to the north lit up white and a deafening thunderclap forced her to cover her ears. Just as she felt safe enough to let go of her ears, the pain hit. It jabbed at her like a white-hot knife as she fell to the ground, spilling her basket’s contents as she lost grip of its handle. Her knees hit first, she rolled to her back and the convulsions began, each worse than the previous.

  She was only vaguely aware that she was drawing a crowd. The farmers and merchants watched her as she writhed in pain, they walked around her, a
nd some walked practically right over her. All of them stared, but none stopped to help. Damn this place.

  Another spasm hit her and her eyes rolled back in her head. To the outside world, it appeared as if she were touched and having a seizure. She choked as she foamed at the mouth. Her body’s spasms finally started to subside. Slowly the pain was easing and she was regaining consciousness and control of her body. She was vaguely aware of a shadow next to her. She was disorientated and wasn’t sure where she was.

  “My Lady? My Lady … are you all right?” asked a man wearing ragged baggy pants.

  At first, she couldn’t distinguish the words, but she gradually became aware that there was a man kneeling beside her, shaking her shoulder. She took her first deep breath and almost retched. She could smell the sour ale on his breath and his clothes reeked from his failure to wash either them or himself in a long time.

  She fully opened her eyes and stared into a shaggy, unkempt face. Everything was blurry and her stomach yearned for her equilibrium to return. Unable to regain her balance, she rolled over and emptied the contents of her stomach. Her eyes were slow to focus and although her head throbbed, she was starting to feel a bit better. The man was young, perhaps in his twenties, but he looked old and weary. She guessed that he was either vagrant or a street rat. She tried to force a smile as her lips quivered.

  “You sure gave us a scare! What with your shaking and twitching like that, we thought the devil had you. I seen people like that before, all curled up, tongue a wagging and spitting up.”

  The man looked at To’paz. She knew he was actually concerned and trying to help. She was grateful for that. It was uncommon these days for anyone to help anybody, regardless of the circumstances unless they knew you very well. Even though she had lived in this village for nearly a full lifetime, they still treated her as an outsider; after all, she wasn’t born in town.