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

by Scott D. Muller

  “That beast you control, they summoned or created it to train raw mages and it seemed to be playing a bigger part of the Keep. We was guessing that they no longer taught real magic, but had no idea how they made all the Keep forget their heritage. We suspect that Druxell had a good deal to do with that.”

  Hagra stood up and paced in front of the fireplace, warming her old bones. She took a big sip of her tea and continued.

  “I remember when they erected the totems and for a while things seemed as if they would return to normal, but over time, the Keep pulled back from the Guild and after a few decades we never heard from them again. The Guild was effectively dissolved, although the other races still maintain contact with each other. You know, Ja’tar and I were a bit of a couple back in the day. He was young, and charming. I was — younger then, and I looked a lot like Sheila.”

  Dra’kor couldn’t keep his brows from arching as she told her yarn. “Let me get this straight. The Ten created the totems?”

  “Yep, sure did.”

  “Does Ja’tar know, ‘cause that’s not what he told us.”

  “I suppose he does on some level, but it sounds like he’s not remembering things straight anymore.”

  “You can say that again!”

  “We don’t know exactly what happened. We don’t know where the Ten went; we don’t know what happened inside the Keep. Wizards just stopped coming around and helping. The only contact we ever had was from the occasional traveler. The one thing we were sure of was that the travelers we met didn’t know how to control real magic. We rarely saw the same traveler twice. The rest of the story, you probably lived —”

  When Hagra finished, Dra’kor sat very still. He didn’t know what to say and he had a hundred questions.

  “I have so many questions,” Dra’kor mumbled. “This is quite a bit to absorb.”

  “I’m sorry,” Hagra said. “Truth is truth. Best you know where yer from.”

  “I think we should get back to your lessons,” Sheila said. “We’ve had enough of a break.”

  “— guess my questions can wait,” said Dra’kor quietly.

  “I think we should work on your ability to juggle two spells. We should try to make two water balls and hold them in the air,” Sheila quietly suggested.

  She knew that Dra’kor’s world had been shattered. All in all, she felt he was handling it fairly well. A lot better than she handled finding out whom her father was.

  Dra’kor made his first water ball, about the size of a fat nut and floated it in the air.

  “Got the first one —”

  He tried to make another, “I think I got it … almost there …”

  The first ball wobbled erratically and he fought to keep it in the air as he tried to create the second. The ball collapsed, splattering on the floor.

  “Damn!” Dra’kor exclaimed, wiping his wet hands on his pants.

  Dra’kor apologized, “Sorry, I just couldn’t hold it.”

  “That’s okay,” Sheila said. “This isn’t easy. Ready to try again.”

  Dra’kor nodded and got his first ball up in the air rather quickly.

  “Now, pump a lot of energy into the ball to hold it together. As soon as you do that, make the other ball, you can work on mirroring the spell to hold them together,” Sheila explained.

  “I’m trying, I’m trying. Give me a second — to just … get …”

  “Focus!” Sheila instructed sharply.

  “I am focusing,” Dra’kor growled back. “You don’t have to keep telling me.”

  Dra’kor tried to do as she said, and almost succeeded.

  “If I could just … get the —”

  He tried again and this time, he managed to form a small second ball that was sitting on the table.

  “There. Wait! I’m … loosing con…trol.”

  The two balls oscillated and undulated, but he finally managed to gain control over both of their shapes. He broke into a grin.

  “By the Ten …!”

  Sheila looked over his handiwork, “Now, do the same thing with the energy you weave to keep the ball up, send some to the second ball. Try to slowly lift it up by alternating between the two balls.”

  Dra’kor fed a bit more magic into the first ball and quickly sent a small burst into the second. The second ball bounced up a couple inches before falling back to the table. He concentrated harder, trying to make the switch faster.

  Sheila startled, “Easy! Work it gently.”

  “It’s harder than it looks. Got to …,” Dra’kor stammered.

  He slowly worked both balls. The first ball was going up and down about three feet in the air and the second was now about a foot off the table. His brow was damp from the exertion.

  “Can’t … move the weaves fast enough —”

  Dra’kor kept at it, and slowly mastered his weaves. Both small balls were now holding steady in the air in front of his face.

  “You did it! Good job,” said Sheila gleefully. “Mom, he did it! Two weaves.”

  Hagra nodded her approval.

  Sheila was eager to move on, “Now you need to learn to move them independently, but first you should try to recreate this until you become quicker at it.”

  Dra’kor let the two balls fall apart and splash to the floor. “It’s harder than it looks,” he said, catching Sheila’s eye.

  Sheila smiled and gave him a hug. “Yes, it is. But you managed it. It takes a lot of concentration to learn to juggle multiple weaves in your head.”

  Dra’kor repeated the lesson again, and again. Each time it became easier for him to make and maintain control. He was learning little secrets to his control. He found that he could squeeze the magic into two parts and add to it, bringing both balls up at the same time. That worked fairly well, but he felt like he was cheating because you didn’t always need two identical spells to do something.

  What he eventually determined was that if he treated the first spell like a master and fed it lots of extra magic, it gave him plenty of time to work on the second while the magic of the first was being consumed.

  “That is enough of that lesson,” Sheila said. “Let’s learn how to move one of the balls around.”

  Dra’kor nodded, however he wasn’t as sure of this as she seemed.

  “The first thing I want you to do is to move the first ball left and right about three feet.”

  Dra’kor concentrated on the first ball and moved it a little to the left before he had to stop and regain control. The balls were bobbing up and down until he steadied them.

  He moved the ball a little further and then, a little further still. He found it was becoming more difficult because he had to keep moving his head back and forth to see what he was doing.

  Sheila was grinning to herself because she had made the exact same mistake when she was just learning. “Dra’kor, you don’t need to watch the balls, you need to feel them and just know they are where you put them.”

  Dra’kor nodded shallowly because he was concentrating so hard, “Uh-huh.”

  He didn’t even notice that Sheila had gotten out of her chair and went to grab a scarf. When she returned, she stepped behind Dra’kor and put the scarf over his head.

  A moment of panic hit him as he realized what she was doing and he lost sight of the first ball.

  “Relax. Feel where you put the ball. You can think and control far faster when you don’t rely on your eyes. Believe me!” Sheila said, as she wrapped the cloth around his head.

  At first, the balls went crazy, moving about and wobbling out of shape, but as Dra’kor relaxed, the balls began to behave themselves. Soon, he had both under control and was only listening and responding to what Sheila was asking him to do.

  Dra’kor imagined the balls in his mind and made them move as Sheila instructed. He grinned to himself. Sheila was right. It was easier to control the objects when he didn’t rely on what his senses told him. He made his demands and wove the magic. He just knew that the magic did what he as
ked.

  After several hours of practice, Sheila removed her scarf. Dra’kor found that he was now able to easily move the two balls around independently.

  “You feel up to trying three balls?” Sheila asked.

  “I guess. I’m getting a little tired, can we break after that?”

  “Sure, we can break now if you want.”

  “Might as well give three a try, at least a time or two.”

  “You sure?”

  Dra’kor nodded.

  To Dra’kor’s surprise, he managed to get all three balls up his first try. By the time they finished, it was time for him to take another short break because his head was beginning to throb. Dra’kor went outside and sat down on the grass, leaning up against the cottage. The late afternoon sun felt good on his face.

  Sheila sat down across from Dra’kor, “You should feel good about the day.”

  Dra’kor squinted, “I do. It was a lot easier once you covered my eyes. How did you know?”

  “I had the same problem when I was learning,” she sheepishly admitted. “That was how I learned to do multiple spells.

  “I think I can do more than three …,” said Dra’kor as his voice trailed off. “At least I’m making progress.”

  “You’re making great progress. I think you are being too hard on yourself.”

  “It seems so slow,” Dra’kor mumbled as he dragged a small stick through the grass.

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, I think you are ready to start learning the aging spell.”

  Dra’kor’s head shot up when she mentioned the spell. “You think so?”

  “I do, but you need to have a good rest before the next lesson. Would you like to go hunting with me?”

  Dra’kor nodded as Sheila grinned, stood up and brushed off the dead grass from her pants. “Let’s hunt!”

  The two entered the cottage and grabbed their swords and spears. Sheila slipped on her leathers. In a matter of minutes, they were sneaking out the back of the town behind the cottage through a hidden exit that Sheila had fashioned. She stood in front of the hidden door and cast her spell, while Dra’kor was on the lookout. The wooden barricade twisted back and the two quietly squeezed out and left running into the forest.

  Skree

  They had gone out hunting nearly every day and had bagged several wolven and even a couple catomen. They burned the catomen on the spot so that they couldn’t return right after skinning them. Sheila found that their pelts made excellent leather and warm boots. She had even fashioned a fine winter coat from the luxurious black fur. She had made Dra’kor a new pair of pants with several of the hides, a gift that had not gone unnoticed by Men’ak.

  They spread out and swept the forest, stopping every few yards to listen and feel with their magic for any prey. Lately, they had to go farther out from the town to find any of beasts. Their regular trips had whittled down the numbers of the beasts, reduced the number of alarms rung in the town and even allowed a few of the men to go out hunting for venison, which greatly aided the townsfolk who were doing poorly from the hard winter and failure of the spring crops.

  Dra’kor and Sheila slowly crept along a narrow valley trail deep in the forest. The ancient trees filtered the sunlight and dappled the ferns and low growing shrubs with golden light. Sheila raised her hand and motioned for Dra’kor to stop. They heard an unearthly growl and hissing coming from in front of them.

  Sheila crouched very low and slowly inched forward, her spear at the ready. Every nerve and fiber of her being was focused, listening, ready to respond to her command. Dra’kor held back, waiting, watching her move. He could see every muscle in her body flex under the thin leather. It was intoxicating to watch. He followed her as she motioned for him to keep up. The smile on her face told the whole story. She lived for the hunt.

  They paused at the edge of a small clearing and peered out from their forest hiding-place. Sheila slowly moved the oversized deep-green leaves out of the way and peered into the opening. There in front of them was a great upright animal looming over the top of a deer, feasting on the recent kill. Its head tore at the deer’s neck as it ripped large chunks of flesh free and swallowed it without chewing. Dra’kor could see steam rising off the recently dead carcass and could hear the systematic slurping and chomping as the beast’s lengthy fangs rubbed each other as it gnawed on the animal.

  The beast had its back to them. It was leathery, with small spines along its spine and bony battle plates lined its skull and back, protecting its neck. Dra’kor looked on in horror for he had never seen a beast such as this. He heard the clicking of its teeth and the low guttural sound the creature made as it fed. The ground was damp with the spilled blood of the fallen deer, drained from the long three-pronged gash that had slit its throat, the head lay awkwardly off to one side, its eyes vacant, tongue draped from the side of its mouth. Dra’kor assumed that the beast had broken its neck as well, although the carcass still twitched involuntarily with each ripping bite of the demon.

  Sheila caught his eye and motioned to him that she was going to circle around to the west and that she would let him know when she was going to attack. Dra’kor nodded and watched her as she silently retreated and moved off into the forest, quickly disappearing from sight.

  Sheila carefully set her foot to the ground; each step purposefully placed to assure no sound was made. She ducked under branches and moved them slowly to the side; all while quietly and meticulously moving into position.

  She could smell the beast now. Its putrid stench was being carried downwind from where it was still feasting. It ripped at the doe’s carcass with long fangs and wolfed down mouth-sized chucks of gut and meat without chewing simply by throwing back its maw and swallowing.

  Something made the beast stop and its head shot up as it gazed directly at where Dra’kor was hiding. Dra’kor could see its festered face and outsized jaw. Blood and gore dripped from jaws, which were still filled with the last piece of venison that it had torn off the fallen deer. Bloodshot black lifeless eyes scanned the forest where Dra’kor stood cowering, fighting back the bile rising in his throat.

  Fear consumed Dra’kor, he stood there frozen, eyes wide, sweating and weak. He could feel his heart racing and he tried to summon some magic to quell his beating heart in case the beast had extraordinary hearing. The beast sniffed at the air and scanned the horizon again before it turned its attention back to the kill.

  Dra’kor never saw or heard Sheila let loose the spear. The first thing he heard was her thrashing through the brush, next he saw her sword flashing, as she pounced at the beast that was howling in angst as the spear had plunged deep into its side. The beast yanked the spear free with its left claw, cracked it into pieces throwing them on the ground and turned to face its attacker as if the spear were but an annoyance to be tolerated.

  It threw open its claws, grunting a string of guttural unintelligible sounds and let loose a spell bolt that Sheila narrowly avoided by tucking into a ball and diving to the side behind a tree. The bolt hit where she had been standing laying the ground open with a mighty explosion.

  “Magic?” Dra’kor said, as his jaw dropped open. He hadn’t expected that.

  “Stay back,” he yelled. Sheila made no indication that she had heard his plea.

  Twice more the beast sent magic her way. Each time, she bounded out of the way in the nick of time. Each time frustration grew in the beast and it began to carelessly stomp and thrash around trying to corner the insignificant woman who was disturbing its meal.

  Sheila stood, waving the sword in front of her, looking for an opening. She balanced on the balls of her feet and wove back and forth shifting her balance between her two legs.

  By now, Dra’kor had recovered from his surprise and was charging in to meet the beast.

  “I’m almost there …,” he cried out, just before a root caught his foot and sent him tumbling.

  He hit the ground hard, “Uuumph. Damn!”

  He grimaced at the pain in
his knee, which had hit a protruding rock on the way down, slicing through his pants and leaving a bloody gash on his kneecap. He stood up, favoring his leg, but charged on as best he could.

  The beast turned to see him running and cast another spell of some kind of fine mist that settled like a web on the trees and shrubs in front of Dra’kor. Dra’kor cast his own spells of protection as he ran, but once he entered the fine threads, he was bound in place barely able to move.

  “What the —?” he mumbled looking down at his tangled feet and arms.

  They were sticky beyond belief and made the branches cling to him. Every time he moved, it held him tighter. He knew he shouldn’t struggle, but panic gripped him.

  Dra’kor grunted, “Ugh. This stuff is … so … uh, sticky.”

  Soon, his legs were bound and his arms were stuck to his sides as he struggled to get free.

  He felt himself wobble, “Oh, damn!”

  The last thing he saw before he toppled over was Sheila rushing in to meet the beast with her sword held high.

  Dra’kor could hear the battle, but the low-lying shrubs and weeds were blocking his view. He tried to roll over and sit up, but couldn’t. He heard the beast grunt and moan and the sound of sword on bone, or was it metal, he wasn’t sure.

  He wiggled his fingers and cast a spell to burn off the sticky mess. The fine threads that bound him burst into flame, as the magic coursed up the thin, but steely threads. The heat from the flames scorched his cloak and leggings. Dra’kor bared his teeth and growled as the flames burnt his exposed skin, leaving scorch marks and the smell of burnt flesh and hair hanging in the air.

  He pulled at the burnt mess, “I’m coming … hold on!”

  He regained his feet just in time to see the beast catch Sheila with a wicked backhand across the face that spun her around, lifting her up off the ground and tumbling her onto the rocks several feet away. Dra’kor watched in horror as he saw her eyes roll back in her head.