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

by Timothy Woods

"The same one as mine. We were nearly matched in power." Merric stood looking out the window for a few heartbeats then asked.

  "You can see nine doors, can’t you Michael?"

  "I…" Michael began.

  Merric made a dismissive wave with his hand.

  "Of course you can. With that much power, you could be nothing less than a ninth key. That is why I sent Mieka away. I wanted to ask you when we were alone. I know Micah will have told you to be cautious, and not to reveal too much." Merric looked at him again and smiled when he saw by Michael’s expression he had guessed correctly.

  "You have no reason to fear or distrust me, Michael. If we all live through this war, you will very likely be Headmaster at Kantwell one day. That is, if you choose to stay in Thelona."

  "I would never dream of trying to usurp your authority! And I have no desire to be the head of anything."

  "Like it or not, Michael, those like you and me, the ones who do not want to be in control, often make the best leaders. It is just something to think about." Merric walked back to his desk and sat down.

  "So we have a ninth key among us once again. This is good news."

  "Then why don’t you seem happy?" Michael asked.

  "Well for starters, we have no one who can instruct you in the magics of the ninth key. Oh, in theory I know it, but only in theory. I would be able to tell you some things about it, but not specifically how to use it or even if you should," Merric replied frowning.

  "What do you mean if I should? What does the ninth key unlock?"

  "The ninth key is the gateway to spirit manipulation."

  "What does that mean?"

  "Well, again, in theory, it allows the wizard to bind souls or to destroy them. I have often wondered why this door even exists. It seems to be one of extremely dark magic. I have always been rather relieved that I am only an eighth key. I cannot see a use for this kind of magic other than to dominate or eliminate. We simply do not know that much about the ninth key."

  "How long has it been since there has been a ninth key around?"

  "It has been nearly nine hundred years since a ninth key has walked among us."

  "If the ninth key opens such dark magic, are all nine key wizards evil?"

  Seeing Michael’s line of thought etched clearly on his face, Merric hurriedly replied.

  "No! You only have to look at the statue in the great hall to see that. Marion was a ninth key, and she did much to aid the races of the land. Her power was so great that if she had been like Mortow, there would have been no way to stop her. Instead, she aided the dwarves. She also ran Kantwell and helped shape our most fundamental law."

  "What law would that be?" Michael asked.

  "The law that states: Magi are not to rule. We are to give aid when and where we can to anyone who seeks it. Magi are to instruct other magi in the judicious use of magic. It is this law that Mortow rebels against. He believes wizards should rule simply because we have the power to do so. He has already proven that he would kill to attain his goals. Such thinking is what is truly evil. The Great One gave us this gift so that we could make life better, not so we could dictate how life should be lived. Power does not give one the right to decide another’s fate," Merric said in agitation.

  "Conversely, having power should not commit its recipient to a life of slavery," Michael replied in a flat tone.

  "Slavery? Michael what do you mean?" Merric asked shocked.

  "It is all well and good to help people, but I have my own life, or had one, before all this began. I do not intend to spend the rest of it solving other peoples’ problems," Michael told him with a scowl.

  "We have a saying in my world. God helps those who help themselves."

  "That sounds to me like turning your back on those in need, Michael," Merric said with a frown.

  "It does not mean we don’t help others. It means we should help those who try. There are far too many on my world who will not even make an effort. They prefer to have others do all the work for them. I simply do not wish to be at the beck and call of just anyone who might have a problem."

  "You misunderstand the law, Michael. We do not run around solving every problem that pops up. We are here to solve those problems that only magic can accomplish. We are slaves to no one. We have the right to refuse aid, although it is taught that to aid those in need is what the Great One wishes. We are not forced to do this. We choose to do it. Something forced has very little value. Something freely given is worth much more."

  "I am sorry if I sound selfish, Merric, but I do not like to think of my life not being my own. I got the impression, when I was talking to Martin, that we were all here specifically to run to the aid of everyone who comes knocking. If I had wanted that kind of life, I would have joined the Peace Corps."

  "It is nothing like that. We are called on very rarely. Most of the races handle their own problems, but when neutral arbitrators or tasks requiring magic are needed, they turn to us."

  "How can we be considered neutral arbitrators to other races? I wouldn’t think the ogres or trolls would trust us to be neutral where they are concerned."

  "That is not far from reality. They still view us as humans, but we have striven to remain neutral between the races, to earn their trust. Unfortunately, this war has forced us to take sides. It will undo much of what we have worked so hard to achieve, and, if we survive, it will take many years to rebuild that tenuous rapport. However, I would have taken sides with any race that opposed Mortow. Let us leave that subject for another time. Do you still feel you are against our law? Answer me honestly, Michael. I have no wish to force you into anything, and I certainly will not require you to give aid to those you do not wish to assist."

  "I’m not certain. I guess if it is an occasional request, it wouldn’t be so bad. I just had this picture in my mind of a never ending line of people demanding that we fix all their problems."

  Merric smiled finally.

  "Ah, I can see how it must have looked to you then. Fear not, Michael. We are not called on all that often, but when we are, it is generally a very serious matter, one that can require a high level of diplomacy and finesse. Matters like this would not even be brought to you for quite a long time. You still have much to learn before you would be asked to handle issues of that nature, and maybe not even then, depending on how well you interact with others."

  "I think I can live with that," Michael replied.

  "Excellent! Now then, let us talk about that big rock," Merric said with a huge smile.

  Michael chuckled.

  "Ok, what about it?"

  "Well, you are obviously not bed ridden with fatigue after having lifted it, so I assume it was not that much of a strain."

  "No, it wasn’t. It did not feel any different to me than lifting the first one, in fact. I was expecting a much greater resistance when I moved it. That is why it shot into the air as high as it did. It was kind of like lifting a box that is labeled as heavy, only to find when you pick it up that it is empty. You lift it expecting a certain amount of weight, and nearly fall over backwards when that weight is not there," Michael said thoughtfully.

  "It took me totally by surprise."

  "You were not the only one surprised," Merric said still smiling.

  Michael heard a loud humming sound and felt a strong wind hit him. He ducked his head and turned around. He saw nothing behind him except the open window. He heard the humming, but from behind him now. He turned back around toward Merric and stared gaping at a three foot long, flying reptile, the source of the humming sound. Its wings moved so fast that all he could see of them was a blur.

  The little creature looked at him and shot a small puff of smoke out of its mouth. It turned its head to Merric and spoke.

  "Wizard Merric, big, ugly ogres are running around Branna. They are burning everything and making hunting difficult," the little creature said indignantly.

  "Greetings, Drakkin," Merric said with a bow of his head.

  "We are aware of t
he issue and have informed King Brose. He has dispatched knights to hunt them down," Merric assured him.

  "Good! They are scaring all the food."

  Merric looked over and saw the gaping expression on Michael’s face. He turned back to Drakkin.

  "Drakkin, allow me to introduce Michael. He is the newest apprentice here at Kantwell. Michael, this is Drakkin. He is a friend of mine, one of the noble Swiftclaws."

  Michael got control of himself and inclined his head slightly to the little reptile. Mimicking Merric, he greeted the small creature.

  "Greetings, Drakkin."

  The little dragon looked at Michael and narrowed its eyes. Seeing nothing about him that looked important, he puffed another tiny ball of smoke in his direction, and then looked at Merric.

  "Something must be done. They are ruining my hunting grounds."

  "Do you have a present location on them?" Merric asked.

  "I just left them. They are camped to the south, near the village of Jenlin," Drakkin told him.

  "I know the place. Drakkin, could you inform King Brose of their location? The last we knew of them, they were headed east from the village of Kell. That is where King Brose has sent his knights. If you could inform him of his error, I am sure he would be most appreciative and would dispatch his knights to the proper location," Merric informed him graciously.

  "If it will lead to their expeditious removal from my hunting grounds, then I will inform him of his error," Drakkin replied in a snit.

  "Thank you, my friend."

  Drakkin harrumphed and shot out the window causing a strong wind to tug at Merric and Michael’s robes. The loud popping sound that accompanied his departure caused Michael to jump.

  "What the hell?!" Michael exclaimed.

  "That was a Swiftclaw," Merric replied with a smile.

  "No, not the dragon, the sound. Did it just break the sound barrier?"

  "What is a sound barrier?"

  Michael walked swiftly over to the window and peered out. Seeing no sign of the little dragon, he turned back to Merric.

  "The sound barrier is the rate at which sound travels. If something can move faster than sound, it leaves a sort of vacuum behind. When the vacuum fills in, it makes a popping sound."

  "I have no knowledge of those principles. He does make that sound nearly every time he leaves though," Merric informed him.

  "Micah told me they were fast. I guess I didn’t realize he meant that fast. And what was all that about the King making an error?"

  "Come, have a seat. I will give you your first lesson in diplomacy," Merric said grinning.

  "Swiftclaws are a very proud race of dragon. They have a degree of arrogance that, while charming in such little creatures, is important to note. They are incredibly intelligent and very fierce in battle. It is much better to stroke their egos than to incur their ire…"

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Megan was impressed. The attack on the house had gone smoothly. The fifteen guards had been taken out quietly and efficiently by the Weres, and only five of their number had been killed in the process. The blond haired man was bound, gagged, and slung unconscious over the shoulder of a large, brown haired Were. Megan smiled to herself. This had been easier than she expected. She would have to revise her opinion of the Weres. This group performed flawlessly. All she had to do now was get everyone back to Thelona. Mortow would be pleased and might just forget all about her earlier failure. She gathered the Weres around her and teleported them all back to the gateway.

  Colonel Bastise stood quietly in the small, dark room, listening intently. For some odd reason, he felt safe surrounded by all the swords hanging on the walls. The naked man at his feet was still unconscious. He had knocked a wolf silly with a large, bronze bookend, only to find a man lying in its place a few moments later. Bastise called to his men over the radio, but received only silence in response. He had, therefore, cut off his last transmission with a strangled cry hoping to make the enemy, if they had been listening, think he had been killed as well. He then bound the unconscious man and gagged him, and went to Micah’s bookcase. Remembering how Micah opened the access panel, Colonel Bastise opened the hidden door to the little weapons room. He hauled the man inside with him and pulled a small lever on the side wall, closing the door. Colonel Bastise had been standing, listening, for a long time now. It had been almost an hour since he heard any movement from outside. Once, the man on the floor woke and started thrashing around, so Bastise slugged him on the jaw, sending him back to unconsciousness.

  At last, Bastise decided it was time to go out and investigate. He leaned down and jabbed the man with a needle he pulled from one of his many belt pouches, injecting him with a paralytic. He reached over and pushed the little lever back up and was relieved to see the door reopen. The colonel had not been entirely sure he would be able to get back out. Once outside the room, Bastise dragged the man over to a chair and bound him to it.

  "I’ll deal with you in a bit. You will tell Bastise all you know. I can promise you." He turned and picked up his rifle were he had dropped it before seeking the protection of the hidden room.

  Both sets of doors leading into the study had been torn apart, and he could see the body of one of his men lying naked and decapitated just inside the outer doors. He knelt by the man.

  "I am sorry, James, but it was necessary." James had died when the wolf tore out his throat. Bastise managed to stop himself short of killing the wolf and, when he had seen the change, he came up with the idea to pose James in the wolfman’s place. He had stripped James quickly and decapitated him. Then he soaked James' head in the blood to disguise the face, and turned him onto his stomach hoping that would help cover the wound. It seemed the ruse had worked well enough that the enemy had not realized one of their own had been left behind.

  Bastise went slowly and cautiously through the doors and began searching the house. He searched thoroughly for the next twenty minutes, but could find no trace of the attackers or of Joshua. He had failed Micah. The enemy managed to capture Joshua. Bastise looked around the grounds as well. His whole team was dead, not a single survivor other than himself. He found it hard to believe his men had been taken so easily. Most had never even drawn their weapons. That spoke to a high degree of skill. These creatures had taken out highly trained soldiers like they were village peasants. As accustomed as Bastise was to the sites of war, the mutilation of his men sickened him. They deserved better than to be ripped apart by animals.

  "Well, there is one animal left, and if he does not give me the information I want, I will carve all of your names into him before I skin him," Bastise swore over the bodies of two of his men.

  He returned to the study and sat down on the desk facing the unconscious man. He eyed him critically.

  "If this man can change to a wolf, these bonds may not hold him." He removed a thin wire that terminated in two wooden handles from another of his belt pouches. He wrapped it around the man’s throat and, tilting his head back, secured the wooden ends to the back of the chair.

  "That will keep you from going too far." He leaned forward and raised one of the man’s eyelids.

  "Good. The drug has just about worn off. I need you conscious and able to feel." Bastise lit a cigarette, took a couple of puffs from it, and pressed the end of it to the man’s forehead. The man’s eyes flew open as he cried out in pain.

  "It is good that you are awake. I wouldn’t want you to miss any of the excitement I have planned for you," Bastise said smiling menacingly down at the man.

  The man growled and tried to move his head forward only to find that he choked himself in the process.

  "I can see you are assessing your situation. This is good. You see, my friend, I am experienced at this type of inquiry. I know you can change your shape to that of a wolf. I have been warned about your kind; and, judging by the size of your wolf form, if you were to change, you would only choke yourself to unconsciousness again. So, what say you and I conduct ourselves as men
for the time being, hmm? I am going to remove your gag. You may think to shout, but I assure you, no one will be able to hear you." Bastise untied the gag and removed it.

  "My clan will come for me. They will tear you to shreds and feast upon your innards," the man spat contemptuously.

  "Oh, I don’t think so." Spinning the chair around, Bastise pointed to the bloody, naked man on the floor by the doors.

  "You see, your friends think you are dead. My men serve me even in death. For what you did to James, I would kill you but, alas, I have prior commitments, and vengeance will have to wait. What is your name?"

  The man glared at him. Bastise took another pull from his cigarette, making sure the man saw the tip glow brightly. He walked around the chair and stabbed the cigarette between the man’s legs. The man screamed and thrashed in the chair.

  "I told you, I am very skilled at this form of questioning. The more you resist, the more pleasure I will derive from your pain. So you see, not only will you save yourself pain if you cooperate, but you will also deprive me of my fun. You win in both ways. Now, I ask you again, what is your name?" Bastise didn’t wait for an answer. He just stabbed the cigarette at the man’s genitals again, laughing as the man screamed in agony.

  "Tammin! My name is Tammin!" The man yelled out.

  "Very good, Tammin. My name is Colonel Bastise. You and I are going to get to know one another very well, very well indeed. Now, where have they taken Joshua?"

  The man sat there panting. He closed his eyes waiting for the pain to subside. His eyes flew open suddenly, and he screamed long and loud as Bastise ground the cigarette into his naval.

  "And they say these things take years to kill you," Bastise chuckled.

  "Is it not surprising, my friend, that something so small and inconsequential as a common cigarette can bring about such pain?" Bastise asked as he held the crushed cigarette where Tammin could see it.

  "Fear not, I have many more of them," Bastise told him as he discarded the crushed butt. He pulled another one from the pack and lit it. He took a long pull from it to make it glow brightly, then exhaled the smoke in Tammin’s face, causing him to cough, which in turn caused him to choke himself on the wire.