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

by Timothy Woods

  "Where have your friends taken Joshua?" Bastise asked again, holding the cigarette about an inch from Tammin’s right eye.

  "They took him back to Thelona!"

  "And where is this Thelona? Hmm," Bastise queried, returning the cigarette to his mouth.

  "It is through the gateway," Tammin replied shivering.

  "And where is this gateway?" Seeing Tammin close his eyes again, he continued.

  "Come, my friend, the hard part is over. Tell me where this gateway is and what it is."

  "I do not know where it is. I was brought here by magic. The gateway could be anywhere on your world."

  Bastise laughed heartily.

  "By magic, you say. I think maybe my drugs have rattled your brain. Magic!"

  Tammin opened his eyes and looked up at Bastise.

  "Magic is real. My world is rife with it. Can you not believe the evidence of your own eyes? Have you ever seen my kind before? No. Where then did we come from, and how did we come into existence? Ask yourself those questions, human."

  "Let us say, for the moment, that I believe what you are saying. Why have we never found this gateway? Surely someone would have come across it."

  "The gateway was closed from the other side centuries ago. It would have been nothing more than a large ring of stones. Your people did not even care for it properly. It has fallen into ruin."

  "You say it is a large ring of stones that is in ruin now. Stonehenge is such a place, and it is not far from here. How do you use this gateway?"

  "If you think I am going to tell you that, then you are as stupid as you look. Do you think I want my world overrun by your kind?"

  "I can assure you, my friend, you will tell me. You can spare yourself the pain by doing so voluntarily. If not, then I can continue my fun. Either way, I win, eh?" Bastise said, moving his cigarette close to Tammin’s left ear.

  "Just kill me. I will tell you no more," Tammin replied with resolve in his eyes.

  Bastise regarded him for a few seconds.

  "I think you actually believe that, but I have ways to make you talk. If pain will not coax the information from you, maybe some pleasure will." Bastise spun the chair around to face the desk once more. He picked up his pack from the floor beside the desk and opened it. He took out a small, black, leather bag and unzipped it. Removing a syringe and two vials, Bastise placed the little bag on the desk. He turned around to face Tammin.

  "Do you see this?" he asked, holding up a vial with a clear liquid inside.

  "This will loosen that stubborn tongue of yours. And this," he held up another with an amber colored liquid in it, "will assure that you happily do so."

  Bastise took the syringe and inserted it into the vial containing the clear liquid. He pulled the plunger and measured out the dosage. Next, he inserted it into the vial with the amber liquid and pulled the plunger out some more. He gave an assessing look at Tammin.

  "Maybe a bit more. I want this to be…enjoyable," he said pulling the plunger out a little further.

  Tammin eyed the needle suspiciously, but said nothing. Bastise flicked his finger against the syringe a few times and pressed the plunder a bit to remove the tiny air bubble in it. He then jabbed it into a prominent vein in Tammin’s arm, pushing the plunger in slowly.

  "Relax and enjoy, my friend. We have a special journey ahead of us." Removing the needle, Bastise replaced it and the vials in his bag.

  Tammin felt the sharp bite of the needle just before a rush of warmth began to flow through him. The ceiling above him started to make funny, waving undulations and vivid colors assaulted his eyes. He heard Bastise, as from a great distance, laughing.

  Chapter Thirty

  Micah appeared on a white sand beach. He could hear the waves rushing the shore and night birds calling out. The village was only a mile inland, and he preferred to walk this night. He knew that what he was about to do would cost the lives of many of his people, but they were needed. If it were only the Weres, ogres, and trolls they had to deal with, he was confident that the Avari would come through with minimal losses. But this time, there would be magic involved. For all their skill in battle, the Avari had no recourse against magic. Micah walked up the beach and entered the forest, walking a path that he himself had blazed many ages ago.

  In those days he had not been Lord Micah. He had simply been Micah, the man who saved a small village from a large pack of Weres. He had almost not gone to their aid. He generally did not get involved with the struggles between the races, but he heard the cry of a woman, and it triggered a painful memory. A memory he had not wanted to think about. The cry came again, and Micah felt something in his mind snap. He drew his swords and rushed into the nearby village with a speed that saw him in the middle of the little village before the marauders even knew he was among them.

  The carnage he witnessed awakened a bloodlust in Micah that he believed to be well under control. He roared, a loud echoing sound, not unlike a large hunting cat. The roar made the ground tremble under his feet and surprised the Weres, causing them to pause in their slaughter. Micah lit into the attackers with wild abandon. Minutes later, he stood, covered in blood, in the village center. Dead bodies surrounded him. Micah raised his face to the sky and roared, again it sounded like the growl of a predatory cat venting a primal call of challenge. His blood-dimmed vision started to clear, and he spun his swords with a flourish, slinging blood from them.

  The villagers who survived the attack moved cautiously towards him. A young, dark haired woman approached him tentatively. They had all seen the speed with which he dispatched their enemies, the skill he displayed with his swords, and they knew that if he chose to turn on them, they would all die. The woman moved hesitantly forward and lifted her hands in an offering, keeping her eyes on the ground. Micah looked at her face in shock.

  "Dainy?"

  The woman glanced up at him.

  "No, Great Lord, my name is Shane. We thank you for saving us. We do not have much to offer, but we give it freely."

  Micah looked at her outstretched hands. She was holding a loaf of bread. Micah smiled and replied.

  "Thank you for the gracious offer, but I require nothing. I heard a woman cry out and came to offer my assistance."

  "Are you searching for this Dainy? What does she look like? Perhaps we can help you find her," Shane inquired, lowering her hands, seeing this as a possible way to repay this stranger for his aid.

  The question felt like a physical blow to Micah. He looked Shane in the eyes.

  "I am afraid you cannot aid me in finding her," Micah’s voice dropped to a whisper.

  "No one can."

  Shane saw the hurt in his eyes and surmised that Dainy had died.

  "Forgive me, Great Lord, I did not mean to cause you pain."

  The resolve came back to Micah’s eyes.

  "You are not the source of the pain. There is nothing to forgive, and I am not a Great Lord. My name is Micah."

  Micah broke out of his reminiscing when he heard the clash of steel up ahead. He smiled. He could tell by the ringing sound that it was children. The strikes were not quite as fast or as loud as that of the adults. The tone was not yet as confident. He would sit in on this training exercise before he got down to the real reason for his visit. Micah stopped at the edge of the forest and looked out on the village. It was not the same one nor in the same place as that village long ago, but it was built with the same style. Single level, stone houses with clay tile roofs set in orderly rows. The open square in the center was now a training area instead of just a well.

  He could almost see Shane walking up to him offering that small loaf of bread. She had been dead now for over sixteen hundred years. Micah had buried her, years later, beside her husband and first born son, who had both died that night in the village. Their two youngest sons survived, and Micah had gone on to train them to be warriors, the very first Avari. Her line still existed to this day in Branik, though it could end with him as well. He had yet to marry.
>
  Micah thought about how strangely life unfolds sometimes. Long ago, these people had called him Avar, which meant teacher in his people’s language. After a few generations, they had taken the name as their own out of respect for him. They had become the Avari. They were the teachers, and he was their Lord. The word had taken on another meaning to the world around them, warrior.

  Micah waited for a break in the lesson and walked into the torchlight surrounding the training area. All of the people turned as one and bowed to him. He bowed low in return.

  "I do not wish to interrupt your lesson, Avar Nide. Please continue," Micah spoke to the silver haired man walking among the children who were paired off, sparring. They were using real swords, but the blades were blunt tipped and had rounded edges to prevent serious damage. All were dressed in the simple, white, knee length tunics they preferred, drawn at the waist with a plain black cord.

  Avar Nide nodded to Micah.

  "Again!"

  The children were paired by size. They ranged from about four years of age up to about ten. They began going through the form they were practicing again. The adults sat around the training area watching and occasionally calling out advice to those nearby. The children would respond to that advice at once, correcting what they were doing. Micah stood and watched until the lesson was over. A sense of pride came over him. If he had done nothing else good in his life, he at least could look upon these people and know that this one deed had been pure and noble. Micah walked into the center of the training area. All of the people gathered around him and sat on the ground cross legged, some holding children on their laps.

  Micah looked at all the people, his people, congregated around him and spoke.

  "I have come from the mainland. The races are again at war. The Wizard Mortow has rallied the ogre and troll nations to his standard. The lower caste Weres have joined them. He seeks to destroy Wizard Merric and all those who side with him. He has sent ogres and Weres against the dwarves and the men of Branna. The dwarves have offered what aid they can to Branna, but their homeland is under attack as well, and they have to guard their own borders. The elves have split. The Forest Guard, under the leadership of Ataum, Rydon’s son, have left their forest and joined with Kantwell. Ataum’s wife, Alissa, has recruited some druids to their cause. My friends, our skills are desperately needed. We must aid Kantwell against Mortow or all could fall under his rule. So I ask you, will you fight with me?"

  All of the people rose to their feet, placed their right hands over their hearts, and went down on one knee. Micah smiled as he saw some of the littler ones mimic the adults. There were a few smiles from the adults as well. Micah raised his hand, gesturing for them to rise.

  "I knew the hearts and minds of my people before I asked, but the choice had to be yours. I will take only five hundred with me. I will leave it to you to decide who will come. Remember, we will not only be fighting tooth and steel, but magic as well. Those who would accompany me, meet on the beach in an hour. We will make our way to the mainland from there." Having said that, Micah walked from the village back into the forest.

  The Avari dispersed to their homes to gather their equipment. The decision process was easy. Those with no family or those with grown children would go. The rest would be filled out by the ones feeling the greatest call. In fifteen minutes time, five hundred men and women stood before Avar Nide.

  "You undertake this journey for our Lord and for the people of this land. Know that the spirit of all Avari go with you. May we each meet again in this life," Avar Nide said and bowed to them.

  They returned the bow, turned, and ran off into the forest, following the path Micah had taken. A few minutes later, the beach was in sight, and those in the front could see the solitary figure of Micah standing down by the shoreline, gazing out over the sea. Hearing them approach, Micah turned and walked up the beach to join them.

  "My friends, we go first to Kantwell. From there, we will break off into groups and carry the fight to the enemy. Gather tightly around me, everyone touching. I do not know if I have enough power to transport us all, but I am going to try. If some of you get left behind, just wait here, and I will return for you," Micah told them.

  The Avari crowded close around him in silence. Micah spoke the words of transport and, suddenly, he and about a third of those who gathered around him were standing just outside Kantwell’s rock garden. Micah staggered and, immediately, there were many hands supporting him.

  "Too much too quickly," Micah muttered. He got his feet under him and stood. The hands holding him withdrew, and the Avari moved back to give him some room. Almost as quickly, there were two robed figures standing in front of him. Micah heard the slither of steel against leather and yelled out.

  "Hold!" The two figures in front of him raised their hands in a gesture of friendship. The Avari closed ranks on them and held them at sword point. Micah heard Merric’s voice.

  "Maybe that was not such a good idea." He saw Merric and Mieka standing before him and smiled at them.

  "I am afraid they are very protective." Micah said turning to the Avari.

  "This is Headmaster Merric and Wizard Mieka. Merric, Mieka, these are some of the volunteers who chose to join us. There are about three hundred or so still waiting for me to come back for them."

  "Micah, how did you bring all these people here?" Merric asked.

  "I teleported them from Avari Isle. I tried to get them all at once, but could not do it in a single trip."

  "You teleported all these people, at the same time?" Merric said in astonishment. Merric leaned close to him.

  "We really must have a talk sometime soon."

  Micah smiled.

  "There is a lot you do not know about me, old friend," Micah said softly. He heard a voice from behind him and recognized it as Michael. He turned and saw the Avari part to allow three men to approach. Reek and Branik stepped forward and bowed to Micah. They moved aside, and Michael stepped forward from behind them.

  "Micah! Am I ever glad to see you! I was beginning to worry. You have been gone for almost a week. These two you left me with seem determined to kill me with exercise." He eyed Reek and Branik with mock sternness. Branik grinned wickedly back at him, and Reek chuckled.

  "I have been very busy, Michael. You look no worse for the wear. In fact, you look like you have slimmed down some," Micah said regaining some of his composure.

  "Aye, I have lost a few pounds. It seems it's enough of a pain in the ass to be good for me."

  Micah turned back to Merric.

  "Mind if I borrow Michael for a few minutes?"

  Merric gestured to Michael.

  "You needn’t ask my permission."

  Micah took Michael’s arm and led him through the Avari, back into the rock garden.

  "I need your help transporting the rest of the Avari from the isle to here. Will you help me? I brought as many as I could, but there are still many more waiting for my return."

  "Sure Micah, whatever you need. I must say that was quite impressive, bringing all those people through at once like that. Take me wherever you need me to go. I’m ready."

  Micah reached into his pocket and pulled out the little, silver flask. Making sure his back was turned to the others, Micah took a quick drink and replaced it in his pocket. Michael noticed that whatever it was, it brought some of the color back to Micah’s face. Micah sighed.

  "That’s better. I certainly pushed my limits bringing as many as I did. I have never tried to take that many with me before. I will take us back to the island, and we can each bring a group back. We will have to make a couple of trips," Micah informed him.

  "Maybe, maybe not," Michael said looking at him seriously.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You once told me that you have very little magic," Michael paused waiting for a reply.

  Micah nodded.

  "Go on."

  "Well, obviously you can teleport. That requires that you be at least a fifth key, and you have a
sufficient amount of power to be able to bring a significant number of people along with you."

  "Actually, what I said was that I have very little magic of my own. I never said I wasn’t powerful, Michael, but what are you trying to ask?" Micah asked.

  Michael turned and looked at the huge boulder, the largest in the rock garden.

  "Could you lift that rock with magic?"

  "I fail to see the relevance."

  "It is important to me, Micah. I need to know. Could you lift it?"

  Never taking his eyes off Michael he signed.

  "Yes, I could lift it, but it would take a great deal of my strength to do so."

  "Merric said there was only one other he knew of who had ever lifted that rock, and that one was not you. Now he knows of two, and I now know of three."

  Micah’s eyes narrowed.

  "You were able to lift it?"

  "Aye," Michael replied, looking straight into Micah’s eyes.

  "And it required almost no effort. It was no different than lifting the smallest stone here in the rock garden."

  Micah pondered this for a few minutes, and in his mind he heard the Oakrin saying again ‘Myrkron. Only one is born every ten thousand years’. He shook his head and smiled.

  "I have a few friends I would like you to meet, but first we really must get the Avari transported." Micah started to speak the words of transport, but Michael interrupted him.

  "There is one other thing," Michael told him.

  "What is it, Michael?" Micah asked checking a sigh.

  "Merric guessed that I could see nine doors. He said one as powerful as myself could only be a ninth key. I swear I did not tell him. He just knew," Michael said apologetically.

  "He is a very shrewd man. I did not think we could hide it forever. I was just hoping to keep it under wraps until we could figure out some more details about you and the nature of your powers. Oh well, what’s done is done. Does anyone else know?"