Sky Jewel Legacy- Heritage

by Gregory Heal

  Boy—there it was again. Malcolm simply hated being called that. “I had her, but Victor—”

  “No excuses!” Draconex snapped, cutting Malcolm off. “Excuses are for the weak. Are you weak, boy?”

  Again with that name. “No,” Malcolm whispered, staring at the outer edge of the spotlight that was trained on him.

  “Did you say something?”

  “I said NO!” Malcolm screamed. His throat felt raw when he swallowed.

  He watched as the red eyes stopped in front of him and stared into his soul. “Prove it.” Draconex’s words dripped with an appetite for a challenge. He licked his lips.

  Malcolm’s vision went red and he couldn’t control himself as he flung his arms outward, throwing punches at an invisible target. Spell after spell shot forth from his hands as his only remaining ring glowed red with an intense fire that was mimicked in his eyes. He heard himself yell—but it was muffled, as though he were hearing someone else yell through a closed door—and felt the warm trickle of tears falling down his cheeks.

  Draconex’s red eyes jumped from one part of the room to the other, followed by spells that erupted from Malcolm’s fists. Praying that one of his attacks would hit its mark, he saw the eyes blink out for a single moment. Unconvinced that he had struck Draconex, Malcolm kept shooting spells left and right, hoping he would hit his master with a blind shot. He punched the ground and roared at the glaring spotlight above him, shattering it; an eruption of sparks showered over his hunkered form.

  Darkness swallowed the small amount of light in the room. Malcolm’s heavy breathing was the only sound that was heard. He didn’t know what would happen next. Malcolm waited in the silence for Draconex to do or say something . . . anything.

  A sudden wave of exhaustion rolled over his body, but he fought the urge to collapse to the ground. He could not afford to show any further weakness. Gritting his teeth, he stayed upright and strained his eyes so he could try to make out any kind of movement in the black void, but to no avail.

  “Goooooooooooood . . .” Draconex whispered, letting the word drag out until he ran out of breath. “You opened your soul to the ShadowCrystal. How did it feel?”

  Light suddenly flooded the room, and Malcolm almost lost his balance when he brought his hands up to shield his unprepared eyes. He shut them, but an after-image of Draconex was burned into his retinas and stayed there for a few seconds before disappearing.

  Malcolm slowly dropped his hands. “Invincible.” His eyes were still clamped shut. “But it took all of my strength. I’ve never been this tired before.”

  “Open your eyes.” Draconex’s voice was right next to his ear.

  Malcolm obeyed, but it took a while for his pupils to contract, so he squinted until he could see normally. In front of him on the ground were two fist-size craters that led into a deep fissure of cracked ground and rubble that zig-zagged to the wall. He looked up to see smoke still emanating from the floodlight he had shattered moments before in his fit of rage.

  “I-I did this?” Malcolm asked incredulously.

  “Yes, by surrendering to the powers of the ShadowCrystal.” Draconex was becoming more animated as he spoke. “You let your anger swallow every other emotion. You tapped into all five Mancy planes.”

  Malcolm laughed weakly, amazed at what he had done and the praise awarded him by Lord Draconex.

  “I can feel that you have no anger left inside. You’ve overextended yourself . . . and that’s why you’ve failed,” Draconex spat. Any semblance of approval he once had vanished like dew from morning grass.

  It took several seconds for Malcolm to feel the sting of his master’s words. He stopped swaying and stared into the distance, his eyebrows crinkling in surprise.

  With his dark cloak rippling on the ground, Draconex glided over to the boy and pushed him over with a slight poke to the forehead. Malcolm’s head felt slack as he pitched backward, and the sudden feeling of freefall caused him to black out. His eyes rolled into his skull and he remembered no more.

  Chapter Thirty

  There was nothing stopping Jen from beginning her training—except Victor and his empty stomach. And so, her patience clearly being tested, Jen agreed to stop at the outdoor mess hall to grab a hot meal, which they hadn’t had since their breakfast at Victor’s cottage on Azumar. Jen was so focused on beginning her training that she sucked down the soup in front of her and waited for Victor to finish his meal.

  With a bouncing leg, Jen sat there, anxious. She knew she had a long road ahead, but this was a step forward in becoming stronger, a step forward to not only stopping the Dark Watchers from finding the Halostone and releasing Lord Ferox, but also to rescuing her parents . . . wherever they were. Her throat tightened; she prayed they were both still alive and together.

  “Well, that hit the spot,” Victor said, bringing Jen out of her thoughts. “Now I can focus more on you and your instruction than my appetite. Thank you.” He retrieved his staff from where it leaned on his side of the table.

  Jen composed herself and looked up into the clear blue sky. “I’ve been noticing that, aside from the huts, every other building is roofless,” Jen commented as she stood. “What if a storm hits?”

  Victor paused, considering Jen’s question, then stood as well. “Camelore is actually twenty-eight miles above the Earth’s crust, safely in the stratosphere and above all weather activity. That’s why you’ll never see a single cloud above us. No storms, though about a hundred years ago we had to ascend a couple dozen miles to ensure Camelore wouldn’t disrupt any air traffic patterns,” he said with a wink.

  “I didn’t realize we were back on Earth,” Jen said, trying to process it all.

  “Yes, but don’t worry, our location is privileged knowledge to only current Light Seekers,” Victor reassured her as he waved her to follow. “Which reminds me—there’s one more thing we need to do before we start your training.”

  Jen moaned and rolled her eyes. “What, are we getting dessert now?”

  Victor perked up and said, “That’s what I was forgetting!” He turned around and laughed, walking away and again beckoning for her to follow. “I’m just kidding, Jenny. I need to introduce you to some people first.”

  “Oh,” Jen said with relief, catching up to Victor. She was glad that dessert wasn’t on the menu this time. The only appetite she had now was for sorcery.

  “Since I can only teach you terramancy, I’ve enlisted the help of other mystras to instruct you in the remaining four Mancy planes. Grand Mystra Cindergray wants to teach you chronomancy”—Jen’s face lit up after hearing his name—“and you already know that Mystra Étoilier has reserved the right to each you astromancy. You’ve met them, so I would like to introduce you first to your telemancy mystra.” Victor veered toward the left side of the ceremonial chamber. “His name is Mystra Cornelius Blackfire, one of my closest friends. He’ll help you grow stronger when there is no more I can teach you.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever stop learning from you. You’ve done more than anyone else has been willing to do, and I doubt that’ll stop anytime soon. I’m grateful.” Jen slid an arm around his waist as she fell into step with him. They were now headed toward one of the small huts that helped comprise the outer circle around the ceremonial chambers.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. But as much as I want to be there for you, I won’t be around forever,” Victor said solemnly.

  “That’s why you’re giving me the greatest gift: being my terramancy mystra.” Jen smiled with her eyes, still holding onto him.

  “I haven’t thought of it that way. I guess I am,” Victor realized. “Thank you for lending me a new perspective.”

  “Anytime.” She affectionately rested her head on the side of his shoulder as they walked up to one of the tallest huts in the community.

  He knocked once and heard a masculine voice enthusiastically say, “Come on in!”

  Victor flashed Jen a smile and turned the doorknob, pushing the door open.
He entered, followed closely by Jen, and said, “I hope we’re not interrupting you during meditation?”

  “You’re quite all right, old chap, I wouldn’t have let you enter if I were. Salve!” said the man, getting up from his chair as they both grasped each other’s forearms.

  Jen silently tilted her head, expecting to see them shake hands.

  Maybe it’s a secret handshake they’ve done for years.

  Blackfire was wearing leather-strapped sandals that went up to his knees, a long velvety cape that fell to just below his waistline, and armor plating akin to an Ancient Roman centurion. “And you must be Jennifer Lancaster. Salve.”

  Jen shot Victor a puzzled look.

  Holding in a chuckle, Victor whispered, “ ‘Salve’ is Latin for ‘Hello.’ ”

  Oh, mouthed Jen as she looked back at Mystra Blackfire and said, “Salve.”

  “Mystra Cornelius Blackfire, resident master of telemancy, at your service.” He bowed his head and lifted the ends of his cape up to shoulder height.

  “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Jen bowed in return.

  “I knew you were going to say that.” Blackfire raised a finger, winked, and walked over to give her the same handshake that he had given Victor.

  Jen laughed as she awkwardly took his forearm and felt the cold steel of his wrist plate on her skin. “How long have you been studying telemancy, Mystra Blackfire?”

  “Oh, a mere fifty years. A drop in the bucket, really!” His enthusiasm made his armor clink.

  “In addition to his time as a general of the Light Seeker forces,” Victor told Jen.

  “This, coming from a far more decorated Light Seeker general,” Blackfire mentioned, gesturing to Victor. “It’s truly an honor. Every day we grow stronger.” Blackfire walked over to a table and picked up a sword. He caught Jen admiring its craftsmanship, so he presented it to her on open palms. “This is a Roman gladius sword.”

  Jen gripped its hilt with her left hand and raised the tip up so the blade was vertical. She twisted her wrist and saw the smooth metal shimmer.

  Blackfire continued, “Short and nimble, very durable, and one of the best weapons in close quarters combat. I know sorcerers lean on magic to do battle, but it never hurts to learn the art of combat and weaponry, I always say.”

  “What does it say here?” Jen pointed along the center of the blade. She squinted at the dead language, hoping that would make her understand it better.

  “ ‘Sit deos libera celeri justitia,’ ” Blackfire read. “It’s Latin for ‘May the gods deliver swift justice.’ Many ancient soldiers, especially the Romans, believed their actions on the battlefield were directed by their gods, so whenever there was a victory, they attributed it to them. I believe, in a way, that is true. In battle your senses are heightened, making you sharper, stronger, and quicker . . . fueling victory. To remind me of that, I had Mystra Hephalon engrave it onto this gladius.”

  “Heph!” Jen exclaimed with great surprise, then cleared her throat after remembering where she was. “Yes, Mystra Hephalon. Great metallurgist.” She handed him back his sword.

  Blackfire chuckled, sheathing his prized weapon in the scabbard on his belt. “I’m guessing you’ve already made his acquaintance—which means he’s made you a totem! May I see it?”

  Jen smiled and lifted her right arm, letting her totem bracelet dangle on her wrist.

  “By Jupiter, this is marvelous!” Blackfire refrained from touching it, but held his hands out. “That rainbow charm is very alluring.”

  “Thank you—it’s my terramancy charm, which is the first plane I’ll learn,” Jen said, glancing appreciatively at Victor. “And I’m planning to receive a new charm every time I begin a new plane.”

  “Very wise, Jennifer. A totem bracelet with charms is quite unique and will help you stay focused. Learning all five Mancy planes is a daunting task,” Blackfire reminded her.

  “Trust me, I’m up for the challenge,” Jen said determinedly.

  “I await the time when I instruct you in the art of telemancy,” Blackfire said humbly, this time bowing a bit deeper.

  “Thank you again for agreeing to help train Jen,” Victor said gratefully.

  “You don’t have to thank me, Vic.” Blackfire straightened himself out. “It is a veritable honor to train a Lancaster.” He then asked Jen, “Have you met your other mystras?”

  “All but one.” Jen tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

  “Ah . . . which one has yet to be graced with your presence?”

  Jen shrugged, giving Victor a meaningful stare. “It’s still a surprise to me.”

  “We are going to see Mystra Wingelius next,” Victor said to Jen. Then, to Blackfire: “Do you happen to know where she is?”

  “Yes, indeed! I believe she is finishing up a lesson with one of her tenderfeet in the Pentarena.”

  Victor clasped forearms with Blackfire once more. “Thank you for your time, Cornelius.”

  Blackfire gave his arm one pump. “My pleasure, dear friend.”

  After a tight smile, Victor turned and let Jen lead the way out of the hut. But first, Jen said, “It was nice meeting you, Mystra Blackfire.”

  “Likewise, Jennifer. I hope to see you soon. Valete, omnes!” He sent them off with a wave of his hand.

  “Vale,” Victor bid his friend goodbye as he ducked under the door frame, careful not to hit his head as he exited.

  As they stepped out into the bright sunlight, Jen was reminded of how crystal-blue the sky was. Being in the stratosphere somehow made the sky even more radiant. She looked down and surveyed the verdant landscape around and behind the community of huts. “So our next stop is to see Mystra Wiggelus?”

  “Wingelius,” Victor corrected. “The first thing to know about her is that she doesn’t like her name to be mispronounced.”

  “Right. Don’t want to make a bad impression.” Jen said the name five times in a row to help remember it. “What’s her first name?”

  “Choriandallalian Wingelius,” Victor said without breaking a sweat.

  “Choridi . . . churro . . . alien,” Jen stammered as she scratched her head. Sheepishly laughing, she relented. “I’ll just stick with Mystra Wingelius.”

  Victor laughed as he spun his staff around in a circle. “Good idea. She’ll teach you animancy. Mystra Wingelius is very bold and comes off as a little rigid at first, but once you earn her respect, she’ll be a life-long friend and ally.”

  Jen nodded. “I hope I’m worthy of it.” She followed Victor to a fork in the path, near the shimmering lake with the succulent dogwood trees.

  “I have no doubt you will, Jenny. You have a lot of your parents’ qualities in you, and Mystra Wingelius was a dear friend to them both.” Victor said. Instead of taking the left path that led back to the steep bluff, he turned right, toward the Arbor Sacré and the Pentarena. “Welcome to the Pentarena.” He gestured toward the training center, holding his hands out before him.

  As Jen took in the site from a new point of view, she noticed the closest section of the pentagon was occupied. She could see two sorceresses bobbing and weaving around each other, in what appeared to be some sort of elaborate dance.

  “Would that be them?” Jen said, pointing.

  “I believe so. It looks like we’re catching the end of one of her lessons now.”

  As they walked through the Pentarena’s open pathway, Jen watched in awe as Mystra Wingelius sped around the perimeter like a cheetah and clapped her hands, sending a wall of wind toward a girl who looked to be around Jen’s age. The gust lifted the tenderfoot high into the air. She masterfully uncoiled a snakeskin whip that was clipped to her hip and spun it above her head like a helicopter, causing her to float in the air. The sound her whip made reminded Jen of a New Year’s Eve party noisemaker.

  Mystra Wingelius clapped her hands twice and said, “Well done, Mirabelle. That’s it for our lesson today.”

  Mirabelle softly landed next to her mystra and, recoiling her whip,
returned it to her belt. “Thank you, Mystra.” She bowed her head in respect.

  Wingelius bowed in return and then spotted the two visitors. “Mystra Huxley,” she said, her posture as straight as a board. “What a pleasant surprise.”

  Victor placed his right hand on the glass-like wall in front of him, and a few seconds later, a soft green glow bordered his hand and a chime sounded, bidding them to enter.

  “Come on,” Victor whispered to Jen. He stepped into the animancy arena with Jen in close tow. To Wingelius, he said, “I’m glad to have caught you before you returned to Watercress, Mystra Wingelius.”

  He led the way toward the center while Jen followed closely behind, repeating the animancy mystra’s name over and over in her head so she wouldn’t mispronounce it.

  Mystra Wingelius, graced in a robe made from bright peacock feathers, didn’t move toward them, and neither did Mirabelle, who was smiling from ear to ear, seemingly happy to meet a new friend.

  When Victor was close enough he said, “May I present Jennifer of the Lancaster Clan.”

  Jen was surprised at how he had worded her name. It did sound more official, she gave him that.

  “There has been much talk about your unexpected return. I am Mystra Choriandallalian Wingelius.” The woman took off her mirrored aviators and pretentiously bowed, making an L with her body.

  Jen bowed in return, but finished hers too quickly. Noticing that Wingelius was still in the crest of her bow, Jen tried to bow again, but by that time Wingelius had begun to rise. Not sure what to do, Jen winced in embarrassment and froze halfway down, waiting until the animancer mystra completed her bow before standing up straight again herself.

  Nervousness closed her throat and all she could do was flash a big smile and wave. Victor saw how flustered Jen had become, so he stepped in and said, “She is very excited to learn animancy from you.”

  “Oh, you’re studying to become an animancer too?” Mirabelle jumped in. She stepped closer and stuck out her hand toward Jen. “Mirabelle Amian. My friends call me Mira, and you should too!”