Joshua sighed.
"In fact, I envy you. Not only do you get to see Thelona first hand, but you also get to see it with him."
"What’s it like there?" Michael inquired.
"I have never been," Joshua replied.
Michael looked at Joshua with amazement.
"You have never been to the other world?"
"Never," Joshua confirmed.
"I assumed that since Micah is from there, you would be, too."
"I am not from Thelona. I was born and raised on this world, the same as you and Joshua," Micah corrected him.
"But I thought you were Avari. Aren’t the Avari from Thelona?" Michael asked.
"Yes, I am Avari, and the Avari are Thelonian."
Joshua laughed and turned to leave.
"Get ready for more of that confusion, Michael. It was nice meeting you, but I have to get back to the cockpit and relieve Romis, our copilot, for a bit."
"It was nice meeting you, too, Joshua," Michael said still standing. Joshua left the cabin and closed the door behind him.
"Ok, now I am really confused." Michael sat down on the bed and looked Micah in the eyes.
"If you were born and raised here on Earth, how did you become Avari?"
Micah leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of him.
"Ok, let’s start with a question of my own. How old do you think I am?" Micah asked.
"I would say mid-thirties or so," Michael replied.
"Alright, we’ll come back to that. Michael, I did not become Avari. I founded and trained the very first Avari over fourteen hundred years ago. I am the Avari Lord. When I told you that Merric sent the best, it was not just bravado. I have trained with sword and hand for many millennia." Micah locked eyes with Michael.
"I am immortal."
Michael's jaw fell open.
"You’re…imm…umm…immortal? As in live forever?"
The corners of Micah's mouth turned up slightly.
"Yes, immortal, as in live forever."
"So how old are you?"
"I was born in the year 8017 BC. I am over ten thousand years old."
"You’re kidding, right?" Michael laughed stiffly, but Micah’s expression hardened.
"No, this is no jest. I have been alive since long before recorded history. I have seen empires come and go, nations rise and fall, and the very land itself change, while I remain the same."
Michael swallowed to clear his throat, which had suddenly gone dry.
"You’re serious. You were actually alive before the great pyramids were built, before the Roman Empire was established? Wow! What was it like back then?" Michael sat forward on the edge of the bed.
Now Micah did smile.
"Trust me, in many ways, society is much better today. You have medicines and technology and, while we had herb lore that in some situations is still far superior, modern medicine has given man many cures, not to mention modern surgery. Why, just as recently as the early twentieth century, most major accident injuries required amputations. Today, doctors can readily fix most such wounds. The pace of events today leaves much to be desired though. For every innovative step that man takes forward, the pace of his life seems to speed up a little more. The world seemed to move much slower back then, and a person had time to stop and marvel at the wonders around him."
"Is Thelona like that? Slower paced?"
"In times of peace, Thelona is a paradise for the weary. There is no technology to speak of there. Over there, it is as it once was here. It is an unspoiled land filled with wondrous sights. Now don’t get me wrong, there are creatures there more dangerous than anything you will find here on Earth, but, to Thelona, they are natural. Here, there is pollution and mass colonization. On Thelona, the air and water are pure, and the populations are not out of control. Survival of the fittest still holds sway in Thelona. Oh, not in the sense that the strong conquer the weak, as sometimes does happen, even here. It is more a matter of natural selection. That is one respect where modern science and medicine have hurt the Earth. Those that nature selects to die by being born early or weak or deformed are saved by science and medicine, thus weakening future generations. That may sound harsh, but all beings must eventually bow to nature. By saving those poor souls, you condemn future generations to the same fate." Micah stared far off into the distance as he continued.
"I reside primarily on Thelona because life here is just too hectic, over complicated, and over populated."
"So does that mean it was better or worse back then?" Michael asked in confusion.
Micah laughed at the perplexed look on Michael’s face.
"It was better, and it was worse. It is the same as in all things. Besides, you have to take into account ten thousand years of cynicism. Never ask an old man if things were better back in his day. The answer will always be yes, and you will have wasted your breath."
"I suppose the fact that you are immortal shouldn’t really surprise me, all things considered. You know, this is all so cool," Michael said with growing excitement.
"Magic, werewolves, wizards, dwarves…I always loved reading about those things. Now, I am actually going to see them."
Micah looked at him with concern.
"I understand your excitement, Michael, but this is not some fantasy convention. This is real and, as such, it can be very dangerous, if not lethal. I don’t mean to take away the wonder of what is ahead of you, but I want you to understand that this is not a sightseeing tour. We may very well crossover into a battle or fall prey to an ambush. Don’t let the novelty cloud your common sense."
"Yea, I kinda get your point. I imagine I look like a starry eyed tourist to you."
"Yes, you do. I want you to keep that enthusiasm, but I want you to remember something else as well."
"What’s that?"
"He who looks to the sky trips over the root."
"I understand." Michael sighed and smiled again.
"So, where in England is your estate?"
"It is south of Ashampstead. Joshua maintains it while I am away. When we get there, don’t be frightened by the commandos. An old friend of mine is watching the place with his men. I called them in to protect Joshua while I see you to Kantwell."
"Commandos? You have a team of mercenaries guarding your house?"
"Aye, I fear that Joshua has become a target now that Mortow knows I am in the game," Micah said with a dour expression.
"You think they would come after your nephew on this world?"
"I am an unknown factor to Mortow. He knows the Avari are the finest warriors in Thelona. He knows I am the Lord of the Avari. However, Mortow does not know all of which I am capable. Mortow is no fool. He will seek out any advantage, any piece of leverage he can obtain to help neutralize the threat I represent. Unfortunately, Joshua is the weak spot in my armor. I’m not fool enough to think that Mortow has not been scrying me since I left Thelona. I’m sure he knows about Joshua, and I’m certain he knows I have found you."
"You paint a rather bleak picture. If Mortow knows everything we do, how can we hope to defeat him?" Michael asked.
"Joshua is the artist, not I. I merely state the facts. Mortow is not omnipotent and just because he can scry something does not mean he will understand all that he sees. Scrying can only show you the present as it unfolds. You cannot scry into the past or the future. You can see past events through another’s eyes, if they have witnessed the event, but you cannot directly scry the past. It is a highly focused discipline, and you can miss much by being too centered on your subject. There are ways to guard against scrying as well. That is one reason Mortow cannot scry on events within Kantwell and why we cannot scry him in Gratton. My estate in England and my house in Thelona are also shielded. Just because you can scry someone, does not mean you can know their mind. It is good for light intelligence gathering and can be a useful tool, but it is not a cause for despair."
"So you think Mortow will make a move to capture Joshua to hold aga
inst your participation in the coming war?"
"I think that is a likely scenario. That is why Colonel Bastise, my mercenary friend, and his men are at the estate. They will ward the place against any intrusion. I have briefed Bastise on what he might expect."
"So he knows about Thelona as well?" Michael inquired.
"No. He knows only that which he needs to do his job. I had to convince him of the existence of Weres because I feel that is what Mortow will send."
"Why do you think he will send Weres?"
"Because Weres can blend in here in their human form. Trolls and ogres would be too conspicuous."
"I see your point." Michael smiled to himself.
"How did you convince the good Colonel that Weres actually exist?"
"I had to change into a wolf in front of him to show him it was a reality, not just me losing my mind."
Michael looked at Micah with wide eyes.
"You are a Were as well?"
"No. I am something altogether different. I do have limited shape changing abilities. A wolf is one form I can take. Weres have only one animal form and their human form. I, on the other hand, have several forms I can assume, and not all of them are animal."
"What other forms can you take?"
"For one, I can change into a hawk."
"That is truly amazing. All the solid foundations of logic I have been taught are removed one by one the more I talk to you."
"I told you, you would never again view the world the same way. Those things that most here say are impossible do exist in some shape or form. To say something is impossible is merely a mantra against fear of the unknown."
"You said not all your forms were animals. What else can you change into?"
"That’s enough about me for now. It is late, and you need to get some rest. We are still many hours from our destination, and then we will have to prepare to cross into Thelona. Why don’t you sleep for a while? I have given you enough to think about. I know your questions are without number right now, but that number will only grow in the days ahead."
"I don’t think I could sleep if I tried. My mind is spinning with questions, and this is all so interesting. I feel like I am already dreaming. If I am, I’m not sure I want to wake up," Michael replied.
Micah laughed again.
"Trust me, this is no dream, but I’m sure there will be times when you wish it was so that you could wake up." Micah locked eyes with Michael, and Michael felt as if he were suddenly falling towards his new friend.
"Sleep now," Micah murmured softly, and Michael’s eyes fluttered as he slumped over onto the bed with a sigh, asleep before his head touched the covers.
Micah stood and walked over to Michael. He picked Michael up as easily as if he were a small child and pulled the covers from beneath him. He placed Michael in the bed and covered him. Standing upright again, he regarded Michael’s peaceful expression.
"I am truly sorry you had to be dragged into all this. In some instances, fate intervenes, and we can do naught but walk the path before us." Micah pulled out his small, silver flask and took a large drink from it. He replaced it in his pocket and leaning over, placed his hand on Michael’s forehead.
"It’s not divine intervention, but it will have to do. Ostendo sum semita."
Michael stirred restlessly under Micah’s hand, and his eyes flew open. He stared sightlessly at the ceiling and his lips moved as if in speech, but no sound came forth.
"I cannot reveal everything to you, my young friend, but I can make some of the initial work much easier." Micah stood there with his hand on Michael’s head for a long while, and Michael stared oblivious at the ceiling mouthing words without sound. Finally, Micah removed his hand, and Michael’s eyes slid closed once again.
"Sleep deeply now and remember." Micah returned to his chair and sat down. He sighed and leaned back closing his eyes.
"Forgive me, Merric, but if he is to have a chance to survive the trials ahead, it was necessary."
Chapter Eleven
A dark form walked among the shadows of the cavern, black robe swirling about his feet as he moved farther and farther down the natural path. The stone was worn smooth by the countless eons of water passing along its surface. Stalactites and stalagmites as big around as barrels were all around him. The only light in the tunnel was a small, red flame about the size of a fist hovering over his right shoulder. The light it gave off turned the cavern into a semblance of what he thought Hell must look like. He smiled, thinking how appropriate that image was for what he sought here.
He had been walking this path for well over four hours, always descending. The presence he felt had grown stronger over the last thirty minutes, so he knew he was on the right path. Up ahead, the chamber ended at a stone wall. There was no room under the wall for water to flow, so he knew it could not be natural. As he reached the wall, the robed man placed his hand on the stone and could feel power emanating from beyond. Keeping his hand on the wall he spoke two words
"Funditus incinerate."
Heat waves flowed out from his hand, and the stone started to melt. But, just as quickly, it reformed and was solid again. The man frowned within the depths of his hood.
"It is protected against physical damage. That only makes sense." He considered the problem for a moment then tried a different approach.
"Solvo signum." Lines of force radiated out from under his palm until they described the outline of a large door. As the lines of force bled into the outline, there was a great sighing sound as of pressure being released from a massive vacuum, and the feeling of power emanating from behind the door increased tenfold. He pushed on the door with his hand, and it swung open silently. The gaping entrance was as black as his robe. The man straightened the red sash at his waist and strode forward. He had taken only three steps when he heard a hollow voice ring out in the darkness.
"Who are you to intrude upon us, mortal?"
"I am Mortow, High Wizard of the Ninth Key. I come seeking your aid."
"Why should we aid you? It was your kind who imprisoned us here." The hollow voice had a grating note to it, and Mortow could hear the movement of large bodies sliding against stone.
"Not my kind. Those of Kantwell imprisoned you long ages ago. I am here to free you and to ask that you join with me against those who imprisoned you."
There was a roaring that shook the cavern, and Mortow could see a huge form loom up out of the darkness directly in front of him.
"So Kantwell still survives, and our enemies with it. What is it you wish from us Nine Key?"
"I wish to destroy Kantwell and all who reside there, but the Avari have joined forces against us. I need aid from such as you to eliminate the Avari so the rest of my army can deal with Kantwell and its allies."
"We are not familiar with this term, Avari. What are they?"
"The Avari are a warrior race of humans who excel at martial affairs. They fight with blade and hand. Even the troll race fears their blades."
"Human warriors are nothing to us. What do you offer in return for our aid?"
"I offer you freedom, Kantwell, and all who reside there so that you may be revenged upon your ancient enemies. Kantwell and all its magi will be yours to do with as you wish."
"An enticing offer to be sure mortal, but what is to keep us from simply killing you and taking Kantwell ourselves?" The hollow voice hissed at him.
Mortow smiled and laughed loudly causing many of the stalactites nearby to vibrate with the resonance.
"Why, I would stop you, of course. You think I would stroll into your prison if I were in any danger from you? You may be powerful, yet I am not moved. There is the matter of an entire troll nation outside and in the main caverns above, ready to slay you if you betray me." Mortow’s rumbling voice rose with threat.
The hollow voice laughed, and he could hear several others join in.
"Little mortal, I think your arrogance has made you foolish. We no more fear you than we do trolls."
Mortow reached under his robe and pulled out a large mace crafted from what looked like bone. He brandished it at the monster before him.
"I know your weaknesses, and so do the trolls."
There were roars of anger from around the cavern, and Mortow could see that the eyes of the beast before him began to glow red like hot coals that had been fanned.
"Mortal, you tread dangerous ground."
Mortow let the mace fall to the floor.
"So be it. It seems I must teach you all a lesson that you have forgotten during your internment."
As Mortow dropped the mace, the creature took a sidling step towards him, and Mortow moved forward to meet it. A large scythe became visible in its hands as it slashed downward. Mortow darted forward and threw his hand upward. He caught the haft of the scythe a foot below the blade. Mortow felt the impact of the crushing blow reverberate throughout his body, but he did not buckle under the force. He reached out and clasped one of the hands holding the scythe and was nearly repulsed by what he felt. The hand was fleshless, nothing but bone. He held the hand and, in a booming roar, yelled out.
"Ego vindicatum vestri phasmatis!"
The beast roared so loudly it hurt Mortow's ears. It tried to pull away, but was only able to lift Mortow a foot off the ground before the fire in its eyes flickered and went out. The creature crumbled to the floor and shriveled to nothingness. All that was left on the floor was a ragged black robe. Mortow hefted the scythe, which was over ten foot long, and spoke again.
"Lux lucis semita."
The cavern lit with a white brilliance. Looking around the cave, Mortow saw eleven of the great creatures arrayed before him. In the light, he could clearly discern their appearance. Each was about fifteen feet in height. Their upper bodies were clothed in tattered, black, hooded robes and, where the robes ended, the body of a snake began. As tall as they were, there was at least half again that in length trailing behind them. Their faces were gleaming skulls with glowing red eyes. The hands and parts of their torsos visible through the tattered robes were skeletal.
The Chronicles of the Myrkron: Book 01 - The Nine Keys of Magic Page 12