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

by Timothy Woods

  Stepping into the room, Micah flipped two switches on the wall to his left. Light came from an overhead fixture of stained glass and an exhaust fan kicked on. He looked at the small wooden desk opposite him. It was well worn. The top, tilted slightly towards him, was empty except for an old fashioned inkwell and quill pen. There was a plain, wooden stool pushed beneath it. To the right of the desk stood a crude tripod made of three tree limbs bound together at their apex with rope. Depending from the center was a large, three-footed, crudely cast, iron pot about a foot in diameter and about eight inches deep, and an iron dipper. Around the outside of the pot were strange, raised, whirling shapes and pagan symbols.

  The right wall of the room contained a small bookshelf loaded with rolled up scrolls and stacks of parchment bound with string. They looked more like stacks of parchment that had been sewn together rather than traditional bound books. On top of the bookshelf were many small glass and clay jars. The left wall held swords of every shape and size displayed on it, as well as a long staff with feathers tied to one end. Stacked neatly against this wall was a modest pile of wood.

  In the center of the room, the floor had a depression two feet in diameter and one foot deep. Micah sat the bag of herbs on the desk and went to the tripod and picked it up. He carried it to the center of the room and set it over the depression. Taking three pieces of wood from the pile, he carefully placed them in the depression in the form of a triangle. Micah removed his silver flask from his pocket and took a drink from it, feeling the familiar rush flow through him again. Micah pointed down at the wood.

  "Lux lucis a incendia."

  The wood caught fire and began to burn with a mellow, yellow flame. Next, Micah pointed at the pot and spoke again.

  "Repleo per unda."

  He watched with satisfaction as the pot filled with water. Micah put the flask away and returned to the desk. He started pulling the herbs from the bag and placing them on the desk's surface, removing them from their individual wrappings in the process. He took some dried, grayish colored leaves back to the pot and, crumbling them, added them to the water. At the desk again, Micah started plucking grains from a small, leafed bud, taking his time to make sure each was the proper size and color. He placed the acceptable grains in a pile and then began to strip the leaves, which he then placed in a separate pile. He did this with all four buds, tossing the stems into the fire. Micah inspected several odd shaped roots, tossing all but six back into the large brown bag. Hearing the water start to boil behind him, he snatched up the grains and roots and hurriedly added them to the pot. He took the dipper down and gently stirred the contents. An earthy aroma wafted up from the pot.

  Micah returned to the desk and picked up a large pack of brown leaves and removed a handful. He shredded them and threw them into the mix bubbling within the kettle. From the bookshelf, he picked up two jars, a glass one containing a red liquid, and a clay one with a black symbol painted on it. He carried them over to the pot. Opening the glass jar, he let ten drops of the red liquid fall into the pot, replaced the stopper, and pocketed the glass jar. Micah then opened the clay jar by prying off the sealed lid with a fingernail. He poured half its contents into the pot. Micah replaced its lid and put it back on the bookshelf along with the glass jar from his pocket. He went to the desk and carefully gathered up all the small leaves he had stripped off the buds and returned to the pot. He took the dipper up again and started to gently stir the contents in a counterclockwise motion. When the liquid had boiled down about halfway, it started to congeal.

  "Servo imbibo ex malum," Micah whispered over the pot and then added the small leaves. As the leaves hit the mixture, an acrid, pale green cloud formed, rising up from the pot. Micah stirred faster and, as the mixture swirled, the cloud grew darker in color until, finally, a small fork of lightening sparked from the cloud and struck the dipper in his hand, traveling through the utensil and into the mixture. The green cloud turned white and funneled down into the pot. As it disappeared, the mixture suddenly became completely liquid again. Micah hung the dipper up and waved his hand down towards the fire.

  "Incendia terminus." The fire instantly extinguished, leaving the three logs blackened and smoking.

  Micah went to the bookshelf and picked up a large clay jar. He pulled the stool out from under the desk and placed it near the iron pot, setting the clay jar on its flat surface. Opening the top desk drawer, he pulled out a large piece of coarsely woven cloth. Then he studied the heated kettle for a moment.

  "Frigus." The iron pot frosted over. Micah removed it from the ropes which suspended it and stretched the cloth over the mouth. Holding it tight at the sides, he strained the reddish brown liquid into the clay jar atop the stool, and then returned the pot to its former hanging place, placing the cloth inside with the dregs. He scooped up all the leftover herbs and placed them in the brown bag, which he also tossed into the pot. Removing the wood from the depression in the floor, Micah added it to the pot as well. He held his hand palm down over the pot.

  "Funditas incinerate." The contents of the pot turned to ash, which he then scooped out and tossed into the exhaust vent. Replacing the tripod in its original location, Micah took up the clay jar, placed the stool once again under the desk, and headed for the stairs. Micah was seated behind his desk staring at the ceiling when Joshua came back to the library.

  "Are you finished, Uncle?" Joshua asked noticing the clay jar on the desk.

  "Aye, it is done." Micah pushed the jar across the desk towards Joshua.

  "I need you to cover this and put it in the refrigerator. Keep it cold until it’s needed."

  "Ok. How much of it is taken if it’s needed?"

  "One drink will be sufficient."

  "What does it taste like?"

  "I have no idea, but I’m sure it does not taste like an afternoon tea. The smell alone is enough to send a buzzard fleeing," Micah replied smiling. Joshua crinkled his nose.

  "Why does medicine always have to taste bad?"

  "It’s like I have always told you, the worse it tastes, the better it works."

  "That does not make it go down any easier you know."

  Micah chuckled.

  "No. I suppose not. Did you get all the supplies stored?"

  "Yes. They are in the basement."

  "Did you get the house closed up like I asked?"

  "Of course. Do I look like some stateside slacker?" Joshua replied with feigned indignance. Micah raised his hands in a warding off gesture.

  "No, no, of course not. You look more like a rumpus-causing hooligan." They both laughed.

  "Now, let’s go see these new works of yours."

  Upstairs in Joshua’s studio, Micah stood looking at six new paintings. All were executed in Joshua’s distinct style. The landscapes were so real you could almost smell the fragrance of flowers and trees. One easel stood apart from the rest. It held a covered painting.

  "Excellent work, Joshua, as always," Micah said as he stood regarding a particularly stirring scene of a sunlit forest.

  "Thanks, the forest and the lake scenes are commissions," Joshua said beaming.

  "Very nice. Keep this up and you’ll be wealthy in your own right. What about the covered one over there?"

  "That’s a surprise, but it’s not finished yet."

  "Now you have piqued my interest."

  "I’ll have it done for your next visit."

  "Well then, I guess I’ll have to come back a lot sooner next time."

  "That would be my hope," Joshua said smiling at Micah.

  "You did that on purpose didn’t you?" Micah said narrowing his eyes at Joshua.

  "Of course I did. How else would I persuade you to visit more often?"

  Micah laughed and threw his arm around Joshua’s shoulders steering him towards the door.

  "Point well taken."

  Micah was sitting at his desk reading a book when he heard the jet land. That would be Bastise, he thought. He continued to read until he heard Joshua’s voic
e over the intercom.

  "Uncle, Colonel Bastise and his men are here."

  "Great. Show the Colonel in, please."

  Micah heard the clicking of the locks again, and the doors opened. Joshua stood aside and let the colonel enter.

  "Joshua, show the Colonel’s men to the guest house and see that they have everything they need."

  "You got it," Joshua said as he closed the doors.

  Micah stood and came around from behind his desk. He faced a man a few inches taller than himself dressed in military fatigues. Colonel Bastise was a very dark skinned African man in his mid-fifties, massively built, with a very wide nose, and widely spaced, narrow eyes. He carried a rifle slung over his shoulder, a pistol at his left hip, and two in holsters strapped across his barrel chest. Micah moved forward to greet him. Smiling, Micah shook the man's hand.

  "Colonel, it is so good to see you again."

  Bastise’s face split in a huge grin that transformed it from that of a stoic drill sergeant to one of warm delight.

  "Micah, it does my soul good to see you once again, my friend."

  Micah offered the Colonel a chair with a casual wave of his hand.

  "Would you like something to drink, Colonel?"

  "No thank you," Bastise replied moving in front of the chair. He remained standing until Micah took his own seat behind the desk.

  "Colonel, I can’t begin to tell you how relieved I am to have you here."

  "When Micah, calls, Bastise is always there."

  "And I appreciate that more than you can know. I don’t know what I would do without you."

  "Micah would survive without Bastise, but Bastise would not be here if it was not for Micah."

  "You owe me nothing for the past, Colonel, except maybe your friendship."

  "It is not a matter of owe, it is a matter of honor."

  "Well put, Colonel, well put."

  "So you need us to guard again, yes?"

  "It may come to more than just guarding this time I’m afraid," Micah told him.

  Colonel Bastise’s eyes narrowed until they were almost closed.

  "If it needs doing, you can count on Bastise to get it done."

  "Colonel, the situation is…different this time. My nephew’s life could be in great danger. Not only that, but I will also be placing you and your men at great risk," Micah frowned.

  "A soldier is always in danger. That is his job."

  "Not like this. If they come for my nephew, they will be many and not entirely...normal."

  "What is your definition of not normal?"

  "Colonel, as crazy as this sounds, believe me when I say you will be fighting the stuff of legends. They are known as Weres."

  "Wheres? What are Wheres?"

  "Weres as in werewolves."

  Bastise slapped his knee and roared with laughter. Wiping his eyes with his hand, the big man looked up at Micah and the laughter choked off. Micah was neither laughing nor smiling.

  "You are serious?!" Bastise said in astonishment.

  "Deadly serious, my friend. This is no joke. Werewolves exist. But not only wolves, there are also were-tigers, were-bears, were-panthers, were-eagles, and any number of others."

  One of Bastise’s eyebrows went up in obvious skepticism.

  "My friend, are you well? Where would you get such ideas?" Bastise asked with concern in his voice.

  "Quite well, I assure you. There are more species in the world than you have seen. What I tell you and show you must never go beyond you and your men. I must have your word on that before I continue, Colonel."

  Bastise sat forward in his chair.

  "Micah, you know Bastise. I would give my life before giving any information I held in confidence. You have my word, as a man and as your friend."

  Micah sighed heavily.

  "I know your word is as sacred to you as mine is to me. I do not doubt you, but what I have to tell you and the secrets I will reveal are not for this world." Micah stood up and came around the desk again. Leaning back on it, he put his hand on Colonel Bastise’s shoulder.

  "In order to convince you of the truth of what I tell you, I must first show you something. Do not be frightened by what you see. Remember, I am still Micah."

  Bastise looked up into Micah’s face and frowned.

  "Of course, Micah."

  "Watch, and know that what you see is no parlor trick or illusion."

  Micah moved away from his desk and stood to the side of it in full view of Colonel Bastise. In the blink of an eye, Micah was gone, and a huge black wolf with glowing green eyes stood in his place. Bastise jumped to his feet, almost knocking his chair over backwards as he moved behind it, putting it between himself and the wolf. The wolf just stood there looking at him. Then it sat down. Bastise straightened up behind the chair and stared with his mouth hanging open.

  "Micah, is that you?"

  Instantly, the wolf disappeared, and Micah stood in its place.

  "Yes, Colonel, it is I."

  Bastise’s shoulders slumped and he sighed explosively. Coming around the chair, he fell heavily into it.

  "I believe I will have that drink now."

  "So you see, Colonel, events could get really nasty this time."

  "Micah, of course we will help you, but you paint a very grim picture," Bastise said as he stared into his empty glass.

  "It’s not as bad as all that. Come, I have a present for you," Micah said rising from his chair.

  Bastise put his empty glass on the edge of the desk and followed Micah. They headed to the bookcase on the far left. Micah stopped in front of it and, reaching under one of the shelves, pressed a hidden button. The section of bookcase started to slide down into the floor. When the top of it was level with the floor, Micah stepped forward motioning Bastise to follow him. They stood in a small closet, the walls covered with weapons. Micah reached up and pulled down a sheathed sword and handed it to Bastise.

  "I made this sword long ago. It has been used in many battles."

  Bastise pulled the sword from its scabbard and held it up looking at its blade. The hilt was made from a dark wood, scalloped for a solid grip. The cross guard was round and slightly cupped towards the hilt. The blade was made from shining steel two and a half feet long, an inch wide, and slightly curved.

  "Micah, this is beautiful. I never knew you were such a craftsman. I cannot accept such a gift. It must be worth a fortune," Bastise said sheathing the sword and holding it out to Micah.

  Micah clasped his hand over Bastise’s larger one on the sword.

  "Please, my friend, take it. Use it to protect my nephew. Since I will be unable to be here, it will serve in my stead."

  Bastise inclined his head.

  "I understand, Micah. I am honored by your gift. I will keep it at my side always."

  Micah smiled and bowed his head, still clasping Bastise’s hand.

  "Now you honor me."

  Micah closed the bookcase as they exited the small closet and returned to their seats.

  "Remember, bullets can bring the Weres down, but will not kill them. They must be beheaded to truly kill them," Micah continued.

  "I will have all the men carry machetes and will instruct them to remove the heads from all hostiles."

  "After you have removed the heads, burn the remains."

  "It shall be done as you say. How long will you need us to stay?"

  "Of that, I’m not quite sure. It could be a long time. I have to leave tomorrow morning. Joshua will be flying me out. Could I borrow one of your pilots to help out?"

  "Certainly. I will send Romis with you. He is the best I have."

  "Thank you, Colonel. We should be back sometime on Sunday. Then I will be departing again, leaving you and your men to protect Joshua."

  "We will take care of him, Micah. I promise you."

  "I have no doubts, Colonel."

  "What time will you leave tomorrow?"

  "We will be leaving around 4:00am. If you need anything in our absence,
the house is at your disposal."

  Bastise nodded and rose.

  "I must go check on my men and have Romis get some sleep before your departure. I will see you off in the morning. Good night, Micah."

  "'Till the morning. Good night, Colonel."

  Micah stood and let Bastise out of the secured hallway, closing both sets of doors behind him. He returned to his desk and pressed the intercom button on the phone. Thirty seconds later Joshua responded.

  "Yes, Uncle?"

  "Are Colonel Bastise’s men settled in?"

  "Yes, and I believe they have already set up a perimeter guard."

  "Good. Get some sleep. We leave at four in the morning. Colonel Bastise’s man Romis is coming with us as copilot."

  "Oh cool. I was talking to him a little while ago. He was admiring our jet. Did you know he flew fighter jets?"

  "No, but it doesn’t surprise me. Colonel Bastise only surrounds himself with the best."

  "Well good night, Uncle."

  "Good night, Joshua."

  4:00am found everyone in the hangar preparing to leave. Joshua came in to find Micah, Colonel Bastise, and Romis standing around talking.

  "I guess I’m late for the party," Joshua said with a grin as he walked up to them.

  "Actually, you are right on time. I was just giving the Colonel some last minute instructions. Are you ready to go?" Micah asked.

  "Yes. It has been a while, and I’m anxious to get back in the air," Joshua replied.

  Colonel Bastise and Romis both smiled at his enthusiasm.

  "Let’s get to it then. We have a long flight ahead of us," Micah said.

  He shook hands with Colonel Bastise, and then he and Joshua headed to the jet, followed by Romis. They boarded and Micah, after giving Joshua their destination, went immediately to the cabin at the rear of the jet. He entered and closed the door behind him.