Sky Jewel Legacy- Heritage

by Gregory Heal

  Diaema massaged Draconex’s massive shoulders.

  “And now,” he continued, “don’t you see all that I’ve accomplished since then? Ever since I took command of the Dark Watcher forces, I’ve led us to conquer realms, vanquish sorcerers, and reach closer to the promise we have made to resurrect our rightful ruler.” Draconex was shaking with excitement and anticipation.

  “Lord Ferox,” Malcolm breathed. Every time he said that name, it scared him half to death yet sent a thrill through his body. But it wasn’t until this moment that he realized how close they were to freeing the world’s greatest evil.

  “And I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge your efforts in tracking down a Lancaster . . . a Lancaster we thought had died as an infant.”

  “Thank you, My Lord.” Malcolm bowed deeply.

  Diaema hissed, and Draconex said, “But you have nothing to show for it except a few bruises and Lancaster’s useless foster parents! I would flay the skin off your bones right now if you hadn’t courted her for as long as you did and gleaned important details of her. Pray that you show enough improvement so I don’t have to go back on my word.”

  Malcolm had wondered when the threat on his life would come. Admittedly, it came sooner than expected, but he was sure Draconex must have another Dark Watcher waiting in the wings to take his place if he failed once more.

  Do or die.

  Malcolm intended to do.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The cold and decrepit cell bay of Feralot reeked of unwashed and malnourished prisoners. No one knew how deep it went. Darkness ate up all the light, making it seem either claustrophobically cramped . . . or interminably vast. Whimpers, incoherent babbling, and shallow breathing echoed throughout the abyss, making its true size one of conjecture.

  On the cold and dingy floor, as Malcolm’s paralysis spell slowly wore off, Richard Smith began to move. His body was stiff and sore, but he could move—even if it was only an inch at first. After some time, he had enough strength to call out his wife’s name.

  “Beth . . . ?” Richard croaked. His vocal chords were still tight, like taut guitar strings. When he heard nothing in reply, he cautiously put his hands out around him to feel for his wife. Even though he didn’t hear her respond, Richard knew she was with him in the cell; she had to be. Just before he gave up, his left hand swept over a piece of fabric. It felt like his wife’s sweater.

  He followed the sweater up until he could feel her arm, then recoiled in horror; she was as stiff as a board. He slid over and enveloped her in his arms. He could feel that she was still under the spell, so he held her until her muscles contracted and she began to breathe normally again.

  “Richard,” Beth finally said to her husband.

  Weakly, she hugged him back. He wanted more than anything to make her feel safe, but he knew that was impossible; he didn’t even know where they were.

  Nothing else was said; they just held one another, comforted by each other’s presence until they heard a voice say: “Glad the spell is wearing off.”

  Richard felt Beth startle in his arms at the unexpected voice. He was already using his hearing to decipher where that voice was coming from in the black—and if it was in their cell. It sounded like a man’s voice, raspy and no louder than a whisper.

  “Don’t be alarmed. I’m not going to hurt you,” the voice said again, this time a little louder.

  “Where are you?” Richard said. His voice was getting back to normal. He tried to hide the fear from his voice for his wife’s sake.

  “In the next cell. Been here for a while,” the voice said, a tone of biting cynicism in his words. “Welcome to the neighborhood.”

  Richard didn’t pay attention to the dry humor, but instead asked, “Who are you?”

  Silence. Then: “Someone to talk to . . . a friend. There aren’t many in here with whom you can converse . . . especially after what the monsters on the other side of these bars do to them.”

  “So you’re saying we’re the lucky ones?”

  “Trust me, you could be worse off. Do you remember how you got here?”

  Richard racked his brain, but it was useless. He looked down to where Beth was and softly squeezed her, even though he couldn’t see anything. “Not one bit.”

  “I was the same way when I woke up in here, but then—”

  “I don’t really feel like talking now,” Richard said, cutting the voice off. “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat, fighting back tears. Tears for the dread that replaced his confusion; tears for not being there for Jen and Tyler; tears for being powerless and trapped in this godforsaken place. Feeling the most vulnerable he had been in decades, Richard reached out for his wife. Once he found her, he hugged her tightly as his sorrow was temporarily alleviated by a dreamless sleep.

  CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

  The sound of a guard’s rod hitting thick metal cell bars echoed throughout the prison bay as its owner made his way down the row of cells—the monotonous role of keeping an eye on the worn-out, tortured enemies of the Dark Watcher tribe.

  Richard Smith was jolted out of his sleep as the clanging got closer and louder. Ever since he’d found his wife in the pure darkness, they had never left each other’s side; she seemed to still be fast asleep.

  Good, thought Richard. His wife had been through enough. They both had.

  He had no idea how long they had been down there, just that he had eaten four meals—or what was supposed to be “meals.” The food was dense and rubbery, giving a taste of cardboard that sucked out all the moisture in his mouth. The water wasn’t much better, leaving behind a metallic taste that seemed to line his throat as he swallowed it. He only drank the water to wash down the dry bites of food.

  A raspy voice muttered, “Eat up, you slobs,” right before a cheap tray slid into their cell.

  He didn’t move or thank the guard for the food; he just sat there, holding on to his love, thinking of ways to escape.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Once back inside the Elder council chamber, Mystra Étoilier came up to Jen and said, “Ma chérie, I’m relieved that you weren’t hurt. I hope the attack doesn’t dissuade you from starting your training.”

  Jen sat in Grand Mystra Cindergray’s chair as he talked with Victor near the courtyard door. As her emotions began to settle, she said, “If anything, it has convinced me that I need to start soon to protect myself and help you stop any more attacks.”

  Étoilier smiled and nodded. “If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to be your astromancer mystra when the time comes.”

  Jen blinked away her surprise and said, “I’d like that too. Thank you, Mystra Étoilier.”

  “Avec plaisir,” he said, bowing his head and retreating to his chair farther down the row.

  Jen turned to see Cindergray ascend the stairs after ending his conversation with Victor. His hands were behind his back as he methodically stepped up to her. It looked like he was holding something.

  “I’m glad to see that your complexion is returning, my dear,” Cindergray said. “Are you feeling better? No scratches or lacerations from that spear?”

  “I’ve been better.” Jen let out a sigh, realizing just then how tired she had become. “But no. It just missed me.”

  “Your nexus protected you,” Cindergray said, nodding. “I’m very glad you’re uninjured.”

  “Thank you,” Jen said, wondering what Cindergray had behind his back.

  Cindergray brought his hands from behind his back and revealed the orb that Jen had earned. “With everything that occurred, you forgot to claim your prize.”

  Jen blinked twice, remembering why she had come to Watercress Castle in the first place. Taking the orb from Cindergray’s outstretched hand, she held it out in front of her, surprised as how light it was.

  “Congratulations, Jennifer. You have passed the Chimera Course, thus officially becoming a sorceress tenderfoot. What you now hold is the mineral you will use to forge your totem. It will help you b
etter channel and control your nexus,” Cindergray announced.

  Jen rolled the orb around in her hands, feeling the cold metal slide over her palms. Beginning to understand the meaning of her trophy, thoughts of what she would make the orb into were cast aside when she noticed that every other Elder had taken their seats except for Cindergray.

  Blushing with embarrassment, Jen stood up and bowed her head. “Thank you for the seat.” She side-stepped away respectfully.

  “My pleasure, dear child.” Cindergray chuckled as he resumed his spot at the center of the chamber. Still holding her prize, Jen started making her way to the stairs, but Cindergray stopped her with a hand gesture. “Stay here for a moment.”

  Holding the orb firmly in both hands, Jen glanced down at Victor, who simply nodded as he stood in the center of the room below.

  Cindergray was the first to address everyone. “In light of recent events, please excuse me while I congratulate Jennifer in private.” He then looked to his left and right at the other Elders. “Thank you for witnessing an impressive completion of the Chimera Course by our newest tenderfoot. I’m sure she will be a valuable addition here, but for now I’m sure you all have obligations to return to.”

  Each Elder transported from the chamber in the same fashion as they had arrived, but not before congratulating Jen on a job well done. Before Mystra Skycap left the chamber, Jen noticed that she was no longer holding Blake’s cape or spear.

  “Please come forward, my dear,” Cindergray said, beckoning.

  Silently, Jen stepped forward until she was by his side.

  “You too, Victor, since you’re her guardian.” As Jen and Victor ascended the stairs, he looked at Chen, who was still standing by the glass door that led out to the courtyard. “Mystra Chen, may you stay behind to keep an eye on the courtyard for any further suspicious activity?”

  “Of course, Grand Mystra.” Chen bowed with her hands nestled in her flowing cloak.

  When Jen and Victor reached Cindergray, he asked for their hands. Standing up, he took them and looked to the ceiling. With closed eyes he deeply inhaled . . . and the next thing Jen saw was white.

  Jen quite literally wasn’t herself. She had no feet, no arms, nor even a head; she was pure energy, along with Victor and Cindergray. As she flew through time and space, all Jen could think about was how alive she felt, and she let everything else melt away. For a split second, she forgot about her many brushes with death, the search for her parents, and the life she’d left behind when she agreed to embark on this journey to become a sorceress.

  Jen had never felt so free. She wanted that feeling to last forever, but as the light faded and she started to distinguish the forms of Victor and Cindergray in front of her, she realized with some chagrin that the ride was over.

  Before she let reality sink back in, Jen looked around in awe at the room to which she had been transported. It was hemispherical, ending with a domed point at the top of the ceiling. Ornate carvings spanned the circumference of its border. Wrought iron lanterns hung from the walls, giving off a soft, warm light. Beneath her feet, Jen saw the gleam of varnished hardwood flooring, which led up to a grand desk that looked to be made out of deep mahogany wood. Behind it rested a chair fit for the Grand Mystra of the Sorcery Guild.

  Just then her nostrils caught a familiar scent of cinnamon and leather, one that was also associated with her father’s home office. A wave of nostalgia hit Jen, which led her to think about her parents. Sadness invaded her heart and she swallowed, hoping it would go away, but she could feel it rising like the morning tide. What didn’t help was that her adrenaline was also wearing off, causing her guard to drop even further. She tightly grasped her orb with both hands as her eyes started to water. Victor noticed her change, and he gently squeezed her shoulder. Too emotionally tired to hold her fear in for any longer, she turned around and hugged Victor, nestling her face in his shoulder and trying to compose herself as best she could.

  “There, there,” Victor consoled.

  “You’ve been through quite a lot, Jennifer. It is completely appropriate to feel the way you do,” Cindergray said, walking up to his chair.

  Hello, emotions.

  Jen was wondering when they would hit. She couldn’t stop thinking about her parents and where they could be right now. So many things had happened in such a short timespan that her brain was finally beginning to fully process it. After a few more moments in Victor’s embrace, Jen started feeling better.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “I’ll always be here for you, Jenny,” he said, still holding her.

  After only knowing him for a few days, Jen was amazed at how much she trusted Victor. She couldn’t explain it, but she knew he truly cared for her—and, on top of that, she felt the same way about him.

  He rubbed her back once more before saying, “I’m just glad that you were able to dodge that spear.”

  Sniffling, Jen stepped out of Victor’s arms. “I have to give that credit to my new-found powers, I think.”

  Victor raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Your nexus?”

  “Well . . . it’s hard to explain. Before I ducked, I guess I had a vision. I didn’t know what to make of it at the time, but now I think that maybe I saw through the eyes of Blake.” She looked into Victor’s eyes. “I think he was a—”

  “A Dark Watcher,” Cindergray finished. “A Dark Watcher who was sent after you and the Ring of Lancaster. This is most disconcerting.” He pulled at his beard, withdrawing into deep thought.

  “Wait . . .” Jen said, then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Vic . . . he knows who I really am?” She tilted her head at the distinguished grand mystra.

  “Yes,” Victor responded. “He’s known for a while.”

  “Please, sit,” Cindergray said, coming out of his reverie.

  At first, the only chair that Jen could see in the entire room was Cindergray’s, but after a quick wave of his hand, two leather chairs appeared in front of his desk. Victor motioned for Jen to take one, waiting for her to sit down before following suit.

  “What you are about to learn must never leave this room, my dear. Is that clear?” Cindergray waited for confirmation.

  Jen nodded, still shocked that he knew her true identity. She could see visible strain on his body as well as hear it in his voice; his soothing tone became more curt and reserved.

  Before she could stop herself, she asked, “You know who I really am?”

  Cindergray leaned forward. “You are Jennifer Lancaster, the last surviving omnimancer.”

  Jen looked at Victor in complete bafflement.

  “The League of Light has taken a blood oath to protect you,” Cindergray went on.

  Jen’s mind started to whirl. “Wait . . . you’re a part of the League of Light too? But you didn’t believe Victor about Draconex or the Dark Watcher threat. You banished him.”

  “It needed to happen to keep his secret intact,” Victor chimed in.

  “Unfortunate, but true,” Cindergray continued. “When Victor approached me the morning after the incident in the Pit, I was as concerned as he was, so I pledged my allegiance to the League of Light and agreed to go along with his plan, which, unfortunately, included his banishment.”

  “It was the only way for me to focus all my attention to tracking Dark Watchers down and watching over you, Jen,” Victor said.

  Jen was trying to process it all, so she had to focus when Cindergray spoke again. “For the last ten years Victor has kept the League cognizant of our enemy’s movements and your safety. It took someone wholeheartedly devoted to our cause to sacrifice all that he did. I owe him more than I can say.”

  “Me too,” Jen said truthfully, putting her hand on Victor’s arm, reminded of how he came to her rescue on the night of her birthday—a night that already felt eons away. “So . . . are the other Elders also part of the League of Light?”

  “No.” Cindergray was stone serious. “We didn’t know if they were turned. We stil
l don’t know, in fact. It’s imperative that you keep this to yourself, Jennifer, especially now.”

  “I promise.”

  “Especially when someone so pure can be turned,” Victor said. “You don’t know who is working against you.” He made meaningful eye contact with Cindergray.

  The Grand Mystra looked down and let out a long breath.

  “You mean Blake?” Jen asked, noticing Cindergray’s change in attitude. “I take it he meant a lot to you.”

  Cindergray nodded gravely. “Archibald Blake was a gifted chronomancer. I teach beginning chronomancy to tenderfeet, and he was one of my star pupils years ago. Before he was old enough to start individual instruction with Mystra Cloque, I could tell he was destined to become one of the greatest chronomancers in the Sorcery Guild.”

  “He will be greatly missed,” Victor said with his head down.

  Jen straightened in her chair. “Do you think Mystra Cloque was the one who turned Blake?”

  Cindergray raised his eyebrows. “Very impressive, Jennifer. I’ve sent Mystra Étoilier to investigate him.” He was visibly torn apart, letting his shoulders drop once more. “I can’t comprehend what would make Blake betray the Guild and side with the likes of Draconex.”

  Jen was reminded of when she saw Draconex both in her nightmare and Victor’s memory frame. All Jen hoped was that she was ready by the time she crossed paths with him.

  Preferably never.

  “I noticed the ring that you have on your necklace.” The Grand Mystra pointed at Jen’s neck, taking her away from her thoughts. “At first I thought my old eyes were playing tricks on me, but after seeing the ring glow, I knew for certain that it had to be the Ring of Lancaster.” Cindergray smiled at her, showing deep crow’s feet at the edges of his eyes.