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

by Timothy Woods

  The King glanced at the seal and, seeing it was indeed from Merric, he broke the wax and unrolled the scroll. His eyes scanned the page.

  Brose, King of Branna:

  I regret to inform you that Mortow seems to be active again. I have been notified that the trolls, ogres and some of the Weres have joined with him. The dwarves report that they have been engaged in several skirmishes with the Weres already. This places the Weres within the Glimmen Marsh and only a short distance from The Slot and unto Branna itself. I would council your majesty to man The Slot with more than a token force. If this is Mortow’s push, then we will need The Slot guarded now more than ever.

  The dwarves have already pledged their support, but the elves still withhold. Your majesty, I apologize if you feel I have overstepped my bounds by asking the dwarves and elves for aid without first speaking with you, but events have progressed much faster than I foresaw. I have had to move quickly to try to block Mortow. As I pen this letter to you, I plan a trip to the elves to attempt to get them to reconsider their position in this matter. I will let you know how that trip goes.

  Yours in fealty,

  Merric, Headmaster of Kantwell

  The King frowned.

  "This is dire news indeed. You have my thanks for delivering this message, Sir Drakkin, although the contents of the message are unwelcome."

  The tiny dragon made a slight bow in mid-air.

  "I must return to my hunt. This business has delayed me long enough."

  "Of course. Please know that you are welcome in my court anytime, Sir Drakkin." The King bowed to the little dragon. Prince Faden waved at him. The little dragon did a back flip and darted from the hall to the accompaniment of flying papers and a loud popping sound. The scribe grumbled as he started collecting his scattered papers once again.

  The King called out to his guard.

  "Galton!"

  In ran a man dressed in a silver chain coat with a white tabard over it. Emblazoned on the tabard was the royal crest of Branna, which depicted a scale balancing a sword in the left pan and a book in the right to symbolize the balancing of might with wisdom. Galton wore a shining silver helm on his head with a white crest down its middle, and he carried a long sword at his side. He strode to the king and bent to one knee in front of him.

  "Sire."

  "Galton, ready a battalion and send them into The Slot. I want at least a thousand men manning that pass at all times. The Weres have moved against the dwarves, and we need to make sure they don’t get through The Slot and into our lands. Have five hundred hold the east side near the Glimmen Marsh and the other five hundred will stand as backup on this end."

  Galton thumped his right fist over his heart.

  "It shall be done, Sire. I will see to it at once." Galton rose and hurried from the hall.

  The young Prince came down the steps and took his father’s hand in his. Startled, the King turned to see his son looking up at him.

  "Father, does this mean we are at war?"

  "Now don’t you worry, son, we are not at war just yet. This is merely a precautionary measure."

  "But the dwarves are already fighting. Aren’t the dwarves our friends?"

  "Yes, they are. If they call for aid, we will be there to help them, but no call has come yet. The dwarves are fierce warriors and can hold their own in battle."

  "I don’t want you to go to war, Father. You could be killed," the young prince said with tears in his eyes.

  "That is always a possibility, but your ol’ dad can hold his own as well," the king said smiling and tousling the boy’s blonde hair. The King picked the boy up.

  "Let’s go see your mum, shall we?"

  The boy threw his arms around his father’s neck and hugged him fiercely.

  "Yes, let’s go see mum. She’ll make everything better."

  The King smiled at his son as they left the hall. I only wish it were that simple, he thought.

  Merric opened his eyes to a serene garden. There were flowering plants of all types, but the burst of colors was muted by the lush shrubs and trees growing all around. He stood on an earthen path which wended its way maze-like throughout the garden.

  Merric's sudden appearance drew the attention of several fair beings standing around in discourse. All were dressed in colors of the earth, greens and browns of varying hues, and all had shades of blonde to white hair. From these, a small woman, five feet tall with sunlight tinted blonde hair and eyes the color of aspen leaves, approached him. She was wearing a pale green dress that brushed the ground as she walked. She inclined her head in greeting.

  "Master Merric, it is good to see you again."

  Merric bowed to her.

  "It is good to see you, too, Alissa."

  Taking his arm, she turned about and started walking to the edge of the garden.

  "Since I know you so well, I gather you are not here to simply stroll through our garden on this fine day."

  "You know, it is not exactly a compliment for a lovely, young lady such as yourself to tell an old man he is predictable," Merric replied, smiling as they walked.

  "Nay, never predictable, dear Merric, merely consistent. You have not come for a visit in a long time. Ataum misses your visits."

  "Ataum is a good man. I’m not sure he deserves you, but he is a good man nonetheless."

  Alissa’s laughter sparkled forth and, as she laughed, Merric noted how the flowers turned and swayed toward her, as if wishing to touch her.

  "Ataum has been trying to council his father about heeding your warnings regarding Mortow. I’m afraid, as with the ways of old men in power, Rydon has become headstrong."

  Merric stopped abruptly and turned to face her.

  "My dear, I do believe you have now called me not only predictable, but stubborn as well. I take it back. Ataum does deserve you."

  She laughed again.

  "Is it not your own stubbornness that keeps you trying to convince Rydon that he is wrong to keep the borders of Trelom closed?"

  "No, it is not stubbornness, my dear. It's fear. Even with the elves’ help, Mortow may still defeat us. If that happens, even this peaceful place will fall. That is what Rydon fails to see. Mortow may be human, but he will not be content to rule only the humans. He will subjugate all those he can, and those he can’t will be destroyed. Mortow has already rallied great numbers of trolls and ogres to his standard, even Weres flock to him. He has had over five years to plot and gather, and in that time, I have been unable to make any headway with Rydon."

  "Come now, Merric, surely our small forest can hardly be worth his time. The world is a vast place, and we are merely a tiny part of it. We no longer leave our lands. We are no threat to Mortow. Besides, the borders are still closed."

  "Your very existence is a threat to him as long as you remain free. Your borders will not stop him. They could not keep me out. Only Rydon’s Ban has done that, until now, and then only because I chose to honor it."

  Alissa looked up at his face and a slight frown creased her brow.

  "Then you were not invited?"

  "No, my dear. I am here against the Ban," Merric replied with a sigh.

  Alissa stepped back from him, fire flashing in her green eyes.

  "How can you be here uninvited? The Ban should prevent anyone from entering, even you."

  "My dear, that is what I have been trying to tell you all along. You druids may be powerful in your own right, but against a wizard…you simply have no concept of what Mortow is capable of doing. I come here alone, in peace, wanting to talk. Mortow will come in force, demanding your obedience or your blood," Merric said sadly.

  As they stood there regarding one another, two men approached from the south. One was dressed in leather breeks and boots and a pale green shirt, his golden blonde hair bound at the back of his neck. His blue eyes were dark with anger. The other was dressed on a flowing white robe with his white hair blending into it so well it almost made it look like a hood. He was frowning, and his pale blue eyes
were locked on Merric. Both men were of the same height, slightly under six feet, and they were striding purposefully towards him. Merric turned to face the elder in the white robe. As the two men came to a halt, Merric bowed deeply.

  "May the sunlight ever shine upon you, Elder Rydon." Merric gave the formal elven greeting. Rydon’s face twisted with rage.

  "By what trick have you come here, human?"

  "By no trick, Elder Rydon, by magic," Merric sighed.

  "That’s impossible. The Ban prevents anyone from entering," Rydon said haughtily.

  "Your druidic powers work with the laws of nature. You have no power over the laws of magic."

  "Bah! All of creation is encompassed in nature and, therefore, falls under my purview."

  Merric was stunned.

  "Why you arrogant old fool. The only difference between you and Mortow is that he seeks to control the world, whereas you believe you already do. I thought you much wiser than that, Rydon."

  "How dare you address me common, human!" Rydon spat vehemently.

  "I address you common for you are common, a common fool," Merric retorted. Turning to the other man he said.

  "Ataum, talk some sense into his thick head."

  Snarling, Rydon made a pass in the air with his hand and two of the nearby trees reached out their branches and grabbed Merric’s arms. Alissa moved quickly to Ataum’s side.

  "Father, don’t do this. Merric is my friend. He was once yours as well," Ataum pleaded.

  "Rydon, you make a mistake if you think I will stand idle under this attack upon my person," Merric said dangerously.

  "You dare to threaten me in my own land?" Rydon yelled. Making another gesture with his hand, the trees started to lift Merric off the ground by his arms and to pull in opposite directions.

  As Merric’s feet left the ground, he spoke in quiet calm.

  "Solvo mihi." The tree branches around his arms slid away, and Merric came to rest gently upon the ground once again. Merric looked at Rydon with his eyebrows drawn together.

  "Are you quite through with your tantrum?"

  Ataum grabbed his Father’s shoulder and spun him around.

  "Father, you must stop this. Merric has made no hostile gesture. He came in peace, to talk."

  Rydon shoved his son away.

  "Made no hostile gesture? He has come into my land without an invitation. He has insulted and threatened me."

  "Merric did not threaten you, Father. He merely told you he would defend himself after you attacked him."

  "Yes Elden, Merric came to talk. He brings news of Mortow," Alissa said with her eyes downcast.

  "It’s not bad enough I have to listen to Ataum’s sniveling; now I have to hear it from you as well. You forget your place, Alissa," Rydon said condescendingly.

  "I have heard about enough of your ranting, Rydon. Until you learn to speak to others with the respect you demand from them, you shall not speak," Merric declared.

  Rydon spun back on Merric.

  "How dare you speak to me about respect?!"

  "Silentium suus lingua," Merric barked the words of the spell loudly and harshly.

  Rydon opened his mouth to scream at Merric again, but nothing came out. He grabbed at his throat. His mouth open, his eyes frantic, Rydon tried to talk and yell, but not a sound crossed his lips. His eyes locked on Merric’s, and Merric could see the hatred in them. With his mouth wide open, Rydon rushed at Merric.

  Merric looked down upon Rydon with disdain.

  "Sto in locus," and Rydon froze in place.

  "Now, little man, you will listen whether you want to or not, and we will not have to tolerate any more of your venomous tongue wagging." Merric turned to Ataum.

  "I am sorry about this, my friend, but I thought Rydon would have at least listened before he tried to expel me from Trelom."

  "It is I who am sorry, Merric. I apologize for the way my Father has treated you. He has not been the same since my mother’s death. His mind has turned inward, and he will not let himself be counseled by anyone."

  "A leader who will not listen to the counsel of his friends and advisors is no longer a leader, but a tyrant. You need to take your Father’s place as head of Trelom."

  "You know as well as I do, that cannot be. As long as he lives, he is head of the council. Only by abdication or death may I ascend to his place. He will never step down for me when he knows I feel as you do. The elves cannot stand alone against what is coming. Your very actions here today should have convinced him of that. Instead, he would rather ignore the truth until it kills him."

  "You must convince the council that he is unfit to rule. You would be allowed to rule in absentia the same as you would were your Father on his sickbed and unable to perform the duties of his office. Make no mistake, Ataum, he is sick. It is not a sickness of the body, but it is just as easy to see. You have the support of your wife and the backing of your people," Merric bowed to Alissa, and she smiled at him.

  "Not all of them agree with me, Merric. Not all have been able to put aside the past long enough to see what the future holds."

  "Aye, I know. War and killing are difficult to forget, especially when the future may reflect the past so clearly. Yet you must try, Ataum, or your future and the future of your people may never come to pass. Mortow has been gathering a great horde. He has most of the troll and ogre nations siding with him and a large number of Weres as well. They already press the dwarves in Glimmen Marsh. I have sent word to King Brose that he must send troops to ward The Slot. The dwarves have already pledged us their support. We need the elves if we are to have any chance at defeating Mortow."

  At the mention of Weres, Rydon’s eyes flew wide and his lips moved, but still no sound came forth. Merric looked at him with sadness in his eyes.

  "Elder Rydon, I did not come here to fight with you or to anger you. I came to beg for your help. You have now heard what I came to say. I will release you from the spells binding you if you will consider my words. I came here easily and with as much ease, I was able to subdue you," Merric tried to explain. At this, Rydon’s brows drew down above his nose.

  "Now, now don’t go getting ruffled all over again. I merely point out these instances as facts, not as a boast. If I can accomplish these magics, imagine the danger your people face from Mortow. I know you think this is a human matter, but after he is finished with us humans and has ground the dwarves beneath his heel, Mortow will turn towards you. You will represent the last pocket of resistance. Do not doubt that he will come; and if you stand alone against him and his legions, you will fall. Those Mortow does not kill, he will enslave." Merric looked closely at Rydon’s eyes, and at last the old druid blinked and nodded. Merric smiled at him.

  "Solvo." With that, Rydon could move and speak once again.

  "Merric, you have given me much to consider. That the Weres have joined with Mortow is disturbing. If he were to come against us, the same unpleasantness could happen all over again."

  "Nay, Elder Rydon. If Mortow comes against you here, it means we are already defeated. It will not be a war like last time. It will be a slaughter." Merric tentatively reached out and touched Rydon’s shoulder. Seeing that he did not pull away, Merric stepped closer and looked sadly into Rydon’s eyes.

  "We need to be of one mind in this, Elder Rydon; else none of us may survive. No longer can I stay in my school, and no longer can the elves stay hidden in their forest. We must unite to oppose Mortow. Only then do we have a chance."

  Rydon looked long into Merric’s gray eyes then reached out with his own hand and placed it on Merric’s shoulder.

  "My friend, I am sorry. Wars have taken more from us than I can tolerate. We have both lost our wives in this manner, but I see that you have accepted your loss whereas I cannot. Perhaps you are right in that Ataum should lead us now. I am old and can no longer see a future worth living, but if Weres march with your enemy, he has become my enemy as well. We will discuss this further amongst the council. For now, I would ask that
you honor the Ban as before. I will send Ataum to you at Kantwell with our decision."

  "As you wish Elder Rydon, but do not deliberate over long, else the choice will be taken from us all," Merric said.

  "I understand your meaning. You shall have our answer within a week’s time."

  Bowing to Rydon, Merric turned to Ataum and Alissa.

  "I will await you in Kantwell." Merric spoke the words of transport and vanished.

  "Should I gather the council members Father?" Ataum asked.

  "Yes," Rydon said as he turned and headed back to his manor.

  "There is much planning to do," Ataum said to Alissa as he watched his father walk away.

  "I never thought to see the day when Father would change his mind." Ataum smiled.

  "I was more surprised at how well he took the defeat at Merric’s hand. Perhaps now he sees how much power the magi really wield. I would never have guessed it would be that easy for a wizard to defeat one of us," Alissa said thoughtfully.

  "I must gather the council." Ataum kissed her on the forehead and followed Rydon.

  Chapter Ten

  Michael sat talking to Micah for a while before there was another knock on the door. Micah glanced up at the door.

  "Come on in, Joshua."

  The door opened, and Michael saw a slim man, with dusty blonde hair and brown eyes, enter the cabin. He was a bit shorter than Michael, dressed in jeans, a green t-shirt, and white tennis shoes.

  "Michael, this is Joshua, my nephew. Joshua, this is Michael, confused new sorcerer," Micah introduced them. Joshua stepped forward and extended his hand to Michael. Michael stood and shook hands with him.

  "I’m afraid confused is a bit of an understatement," Michael said.

  Joshua laughed.

  "Get used to it. Confusion will be your normal state of mind for a long time to come. Trust me, I know. I’ve had a lifetime of indoctrination into this stuff, and some of it still amazes me. But don’t worry. Uncle Micah knows more than everyone else, in both worlds combined, about magic and all the other matters you’ll need to know. You couldn’t be in better care."