The Chronicles of the Myrkron: Book 01 - The Nine Keys of Magic

by Timothy Woods

  "Greetings, Old One, I have been expecting you." The man on the porch rose to his feet placing the book on a small table beside his chair. He walked off the porch and down the three steps to the cobblestone path and stood waiting.

  "Greetings, Micah. It has been a long time. And who are you calling old? I’m a spring chicken compared to you." Merric saw Micah bow, a very courtly gesture performed with fluid grace.

  "I stand corrected by the Headmaster," Micah replied as he rose from his bow, a faint smile on his lips. He was dressed in black pants tucked into black, knee length boots, and a billowing, long sleeved, silver shirt. The shirt was adorned with flared cuffs and a raised collar. Micah's eyes were gray and his dark brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail that flowed down to the middle of his back. He was nearly a head shorter than Merric. If Merric had to guess, he would estimate the man's age to be thirty five years old; but looks, with this one, were highly deceiving.

  "I wondered when you would come calling again. I trust all is well at Kantwell?"

  "Yes, all is well at the school. We are finally starting to get an influx of new students. Since the Purging, students have been few," Merric admitted

  "Yes, the Purging. What has it been now, five, six years?" Micah asked.

  "Aye, five years. Yet we have endured and are starting to grow again."

  "You know there was nothing I could have done to change the outcome," Micah said gently.

  "I know my friend, I know, but I still wish you had been by my side. Maybe we could have saved a few more," Merric said, his shoulders sagging.

  "You know better, Merric. When we are called, we are called. Nothing can change that, no matter how much we wish it otherwise," Micah replied.

  "Damn it, Micah, I do not share the fatalistic view of you and your damned Avari. Nothing is fixed, and I will fight until I can fight no more," said Merric vehemently.

  "You just admitted to the very same ideals as me and the Avari. We will fight until we fall, but we know the time will come when it will not be enough. He will call us home. If we stood with you five years ago, what do you think would have happened? Most of the Avari would have perished, just as the magi did. Then we would not have the resources that we now need. It would take decades to train up another generation of Avari. Your magi gave as good as they got. Both sides of magic were weakened, but the Avari still stand strong. Now, Mortow has only himself, Maklin, Mael, and Megan; whereas you have already said you have a new line of students."

  "Magicians are no match for wizards, and who’s to say Mortow hasn’t drawn students to himself as well? There are always those willing to listen to lies and to have someone else think for them. No, we cannot count on him to be sitting idly by, waiting for us to regroup."

  "He has not been idle, but he only has one new recruit, a sniveling little magician." Micah grimaced with distaste.

  "The ogres and trolls, as well as some of the Weres, have flocked to his standard. The strength of the Avari will be needed to combat these, not the magi," Micah explained.

  "How can you know this, Micah?" asked Merric.

  "I have my ways, old friend. I have my ways. I know, like you, Mortow has been searching for any he could train. He bears a deep hatred for you, since you very nearly killed him in your last meeting."

  "Would that I had, but he was able to escape. Mieka was in trouble. She was pressed by too many for her to handle. She was not yet a wizard, and I had to divert my power to aid her, else I would have lost her as well."

  Coming back as if from a great distance Merric continued.

  "I need your help Micah. We have located a sorcerer on the other world."

  Micah frowned.

  "I know you detest the other world, but he seems to be very strong. Six doors opened for him when his woman was killed. He burned the attacker to dust without ever having trained in magic. That loss must have been contrived by Mortow, which means the enemy already knows about him. I need you to go to this sorcerer and see him safely brought to us at the school. If Mortow gets a hold of him before us, he could have a very powerful force to use against us."

  "An innate sixth key; newly born with the ability to use his powers." Micah raised his hand and placed his first two fingers on his lips, rubbing them back and forth as he pondered.

  "As much as I hate Earth, I see that I must go, as you suggest. And who better to greet this new sorcerer than one from his own world? Yes, it might bring me some comfort to see home again. Don’t worry; I’ll bring him back, even if it’s draped over my shoulder."

  Merric sighed in relief.

  "Thank you, Micah. I have Mieka and a fourth key named Martin manning the scrying basin, watching him. Please hurry though. I won’t be able to think straight until he is safely in our care or yours, as the case may be."

  "I will depart as soon as I gather some items I will require for the trip," Micah assured Merric.

  "How long has it been since you crossed back over?" Merric asked.

  Micah looked at Merric, considering how much he wanted him to know.

  "It’s been about three years," Micah finally said.

  Merric’s face registered such shock that Micah smiled.

  That look was worth the price of telling him, Micah thought to himself.

  "Surprised? I'm aware that no one would approve, but my comings and goings are no one's business, not even yours, old friend. Besides, do you honestly believe Mortow is staying on this side? He is obviously reaching through to influence events in his favor or else you would not have detected our young sorcerer so easily. Now, I must get ready, and you must return to Kantwell."

  "Be careful, Micah. If Mortow is not there himself, he will most assuredly have agents on the other side. It will be extremely dangerous trying to get this man away from them."

  Micah threw his head back and laughed heartily.

  "You have spent too much time among magi, Merric. You have forgotten whom you address. Fear not. I will find him and bring him back."

  With that, Micah spun on his heel and walked up the steps, across the porch, and into the house. Merric stood looking after Micah. No. I have not forgotten who you are, not by any measure. Safe journey, Merric said to himself then whispered the words that would return him to his study at the school.

  Opening his eyes to see the desk in front of him, Merric knew Mieka would still be down at the basin.

  "She should be fine for another few hours. I’ll try to catch a few hours sleep before I go relieve her." He moved around his desk and seated himself in the big leather chair. The ample padding of the chair felt good, so Merric laid his head down on his crossed arms on the desktop and closed his eyes. He whispered Alcedonia and drifted off to sleep.

  Micah walked through the living room to a large stone door along the back wall. He pressed a series of carvings on the door frame, and it slid open silently. Revealed beyond the door was a large, well appointed, windowless bedroom. He went to an oak nightstand carved with runes on all of its surfaces, and opened a drawer twelve inches wide and six inches deep. Micah reached his arm inside. He had to lean over as the arm disappeared to the elbow. When he withdrew his arm, Micah held a small, flat, silver flask that gave off wisps of frost. Micah pocketed the little flask and closed the drawer.

  Next, Micah reached up over the head of the bed and pulled down a wide, black leather weapons belt with three blades attached. Unwinding the bundle, Micah began strapping the belt around his waist and extending a strap upward over his left shoulder. The belt itself held a short, slightly curved blade and a dagger that rested at his right hip. The strap over his shoulder secured a longer blade down his back, the handle of which extended above his left shoulder. Micah shrugged the swords into their long familiar positions and walked once again to the door. He turned back to look at the room. Sighing lightly, Micah thought to himself, Yes, I much prefer my home here over the one to which I travel. Upon leaving the room, the door closed of its own volition behind him.

  Micah walked o
ut of the house and down the cobbled walkway to the grove. Once in the middle of the grove, he stopped and raised his head to the trees.

  "I must go away for a few days," he said quietly.

  The trees swayed gently, as if stirred by a breeze, and offered a rustling reply.

  "Have a care in the other world, Micah. Events unfold, and we feel change approaching. War and fires come. The land will be in turmoil, and we will need thy aid."

  "I will be here to honor our pact. I keep my promises," Micah replied.

  "We do not doubt thee, Micah, but be warned. The time approaches when thou will be tested again."

  Micah frowned.

  "I will return in a few days." He moved north toward the trees and approached one that would have taken over a hundred men to join hands around.

  "Henge Isle, if you please." Saying these words, Micah walked right into the tree and vanished to the sound of leaves rustling in the wind. He emerged from the trunk of a much smaller tree in a sparse wood many hundreds of miles to the east. The tree he came through was on the edge of a circular clearing. Looking up to the sky, Micah saw the half moon and a multitude of stars staring back at him. The night was clear and bright. He felt invigorated now that he was on the hunt again.

  "If I am to be tested, I might as well have some fun." Micah smiled and, in the moonlight, his face took on a sinister cast.

  "Let the game begin, again." Micah strode from the woods, stalked across flat grassland, and headed north, watching the knee high grass bend in the night wind. He could see the stone monuments ahead. They were giants standing over twenty feet tall. A ring of stone pillars with stone caps spanned the spaces between them. The completed circle of pillars was nearly one hundred and ten feet in diameter.

  Micah knew the elves who tended the great ring would have left before the sunset to return to their homes. He thought about the elves, a quiet and gentle race with an affinity for the land and its creatures. The caretakers of this place would all be druids. Just as the Forest Guard watched over the elven homeland, so too did the druids keep vigil over this place. The elves were the only race to still have druids among them, but their numbers were few. Micah doubted that there were even three thousand elves left. They used to have healers among them, but that line waned long ago. To the best of Micah’s knowledge, the only remaining healers in the land were dwarven, and it had been over a century since Micah had seen a member of either race. He merely assumed the dwarves were still healers.

  Micah knew the elves continued to care for the land, as evidenced by the stone monuments in front of him. All the ancient stones’ lines were sharp and clean, unlike the one to which he traveled. It saddened him to think what had become of this great place’s mirror back on earth. The dwarves built both gateways a very long time ago. Micah was probably the only one left who knew that little piece of lore.

  "What a shame they are all doomed to forget," Micah sighed out loud.

  As Micah passed between two of the giant pillars, he noticed a dark robed figure standing near the center of the ring of stones. The figure was facing him, blocking his path to the altar stone.

  Micah looked up at the sky.

  "When I said let the game begin, I didn’t think you would work so quickly."

  "What brings you to this sacred place, deathless one? I would have thought you would be busy polishing your sword," the robed figure sneered at him.

  "Oh, I don’t know. It is such a pleasant night. I thought I might take a walk and see where my feet led me," Micah replied, with an edge of sarcasm, noting the outlines of at least eight green clad figures lying unmoving on the surrounding ground. They must have been the elven caretakers.

  "My Master has forbidden anyone from using the portal, and that includes you."

  "Oh? And how could that possibly include me? I am not one of Mortow’s simpering little sycophants. He should know better, even if you do not," Micah replied chuckling.

  "Your master’s ego has outgrown his common sense if he thinks to command me. No one commands me, boy." All the humor left Micah's voice with that last statement.

  The face of the robed figure twisted with rage, and Micah could sense three others approaching to surround him. One, he could tell, was a wizard. The others had the distinct reek of troll about them. Without taking his eyes off the robed figure, Micah spoke.

  "That you, Maklin? Is Mortow sending his prize dog into the hunt?"

  "Aye Micah, it is I. Since when did the mighty Lord of the Avari stoop to casting insults in the night? I thought you were above such pettiness."

  "Since the moment Mortow deluded himself into thinking he can give orders to me," Micah replied savagely.

  "Now, now Micah! Don’t lose your temper. Remember your own rule: Anger is the enemy’s ally," Maklin said in a mocking voice.

  Micah watched as the robed figure in front of him reached inside his robes and drew forth an object. The figure started striding towards him, holding the object before him like a talisman. Micah threw his hand up to cover his eyes and backed up a step. The robed one laughed.

  "See the mighty Avari Lord tremble."

  Micah kept his arm before his eyes and watched the ground, waiting for the robed one to come within range. Then he saw the hem of a robe and a booted foot enter his field of view. Reacting faster than thought, Micah lunged passed the robed figure, grabbing him by the neck from behind. Micah lifted him off the ground with one hand, having the satisfaction of hearing him gasp in surprise. Micah’s laughter rang out through the night.

  "You are right Maklin. Anger is the enemy’s ally, but then again, so is arrogance." Micah twisted his hand, feeling exhilaration when the neck of the robed figure snapped like a rotten piece of wood. He was moving again as Maklin began to chant. Micah flew straight at the nearest troll, a lumbering beast about ten feet tall. He grasped the troll by the face. Hanging suspended in midair, Micah started to squeeze the warty, mottled flesh, feeling it split apart under the pressure of his grip. The troll roared in pain. Micah turned his head towards Maklin and extended his free arm outward at the precise moment that a streak of lightning left Maklin’s hand and shot towards him.

  The bolt struck Micah’s outstretched hand and channeled through his body to erupt in the face of the troll. The troll’s face blackened and exploded. Micah came to rest on the ground with feline grace as the troll’s lifeless corpse crashed to the ground. As Maklin started to chant again, Micah’s whole body shimmered and changed. Where Micah had been standing, there was nothing except a small, dense cloud of vapor that shot towards the altar stone faster than Maklin could follow with his eyes. The cloud reached the stone and vanished.

  Micah resumed human form and looked around at the circle of stones, no longer clean and complete. Many of the pillars were missing or had fallen, and most of the cap stones were gone. The altar stone was lying on its side where it had fallen many ages ago.

  "Thus man does forget his past." Micah’s form shimmered again, and a great hawk took flight, winging its way east with increasing speed.

  Not too far now. It will be good to see Joshua again, Micah thought. He sighted the house nestled in a forest a few miles south of Ashampstead. He banked and landed at the edge of the clearing, returning to human form as his feet hit the ground.

  "Would that I could fly forever," Micah said with a sigh.

  He stood looking at the manor house. There were lights on in the foyer and the living room. Walking across the damp, manicured lawn to the front door, Micah pushed the latch down and opened the door. Light spilled out onto the marble porch, illuminating it with a soft yellow glow. The cherry, wood floor of the foyer sprouted a small fountain in the center. It depicted a dryad peering from behind her tree, pouring water from an urn. It flowed to the base of the tree and then over the roots, finally collecting in the pool surrounding it.

  "Joshua, I’m home," Micah called out. He heard someone approaching from the living room to his left.

  "Ah! Uncle Micah, I’m so gla
d to see you. It has been so long."

  "Aye, too long." Micah could not help smiling as he regarded the man before him. Joshua was about two inches shorter than himself with a much leaner frame. He had dusty blonde hair and brown eyes. Joshua was dressed in jeans and a green polo shirt. "Unfortunately, this is not a social visit. I may need your services as a pilot."

  "Something has happened?" Joshua asked as the smile slid from his face.

  "Yes, something has happened," Micah replied.

  "When will you need to leave?"

  "We must leave as soon as I locate someone and take care of a few matters around here. I am here to escort someone safely back to Thelona before Mortow can get a hold of him."

  "Let me grab my shoes, and we’ll drive down to the hangar. What destination should I list on the flight plan?"

  "Give me a little while on that. Just get the jet topped off and prepped for now. I need to find our friend first."

  "Ok, Uncle. I’ll have everything ready to go when you are."

  Micah stepped forward and grasped Joshua by the shoulder.

  "I know how much you want to come back with me. Now don’t look at me like that. I have not forgotten my promise to take you to Thelona, but today is not the day. There is still too much turmoil, and you would be caught in the middle of it. They would use you to get to me and, right now, I cannot spare the time it would take to protect you. As it is, I’m going to call our friends from South Africa. When we land, I want you to find a hotel and wait for me. No site-seeing this time, Joshua. Promise me."

  "Ok, Uncle, if that’s what you want. I’ve trusted you all my life. I’m not going to stop now," Joshua replied, hanging his head. He looked up to see Micah smiling proudly at him and smiled himself.

  "I know you will take me with you one day. It just hurts to think that someone you don’t even know gets to go with you, and I have to stay behind again."

  "I know, Joshua, but with the trouble escalating, you would not be able to see the people and places I want to show you anyway. I will reiterate my promise though. When all is safe, we will walk the forests, plains, and mountains of Thelona together. You will meet the Avari, the elves, and the dwarves. You will be able to stay there as long as you like. Hell...for the rest of your life if that is what you choose."