Son of the Keeper: Book 1: Principles of Magic

by R. S. Merritt

  “What will be done with my dad’s body now?” Chris was worried also about Glenda seeing what had happened and having to see the desecrated corpse of the man she had loved most of her adult life.

  “With your permission we’ll setup a funeral pyre and burn him now that the magic was worked on his body. It will purify the body and you can rest assured it will not happen again that way. Now that we know a necromancer is at play a lot more people will be requesting a pyre versus a crypt.”

  “You have my permission. What kind of beast or demon was that giant spider looking monster?”

  “We call those things giant spiders. We assume the horde gathers them from some demonic planet where they rule and then trains them up to follow orders and throws them at their enemies. They’re not that hard to kill once you get over the fear of them. I’ve never seen one dispatched quite the way you did it though.”

  They sat in silence for a while. The silence broken only by periodic updates on the search and once on news around Glenda being taken to the airport to be flown out to the island per the king’s orders. She’d be given her own rooms and staff and protected around the clock. Chris was idly thinking he was lucky he did not have a large extended family to protect when something popped into this head.

  “Omasa! Do you think Brent is safe?” Brent had been the only person outside of his family whom Chris had been close too. He didn’t see a way the horde would have found out about Brent but he needed to be sure. Omasa whispered some directions to the knight in the front seat and the man got out and left.

  “We’ll find out sire. I’m sending a team of knights now to check on him. Any orders on what we should do with him? Would you like him brought to the island with his family? They’d be sworn to secrecy and have to live their lives out on the island or get their memories wiped and modified and sent to live somewhere else. We could also just watch them from a distance and make sure they stay safe but doing that poses the risk the horde will somehow catch on and wonder why we’re guarding that particular family. That’s happened to us before. It didn’t end well for the guards or for the family.”

  “For now just get a team in place to make sure he doesn’t come to any harm. Let me know once we’ve verified he’s ok and we’ll figure out our next move from there.” Omasa nodded then spoke to the driver who had been monitoring the reports coming in from the knights and wizards searching the castle. They indicated it seemed pretty deserted so they all got out of the hummer and began looking around.

  The first thing that hit Chris was the smell. The coppery scent of stale blood was mixed with an undercurrent of rot. Bodies were everywhere. The horde had fielded a sizable force to take this place and had paid a heavy price doing so. The wolf demons and spiders were lying dead along the walls of every street they walked down. Weapons littered the cobblestone paths around the castle. Directly across from the castle was a large cathedral looking building. The doors to the building were about twenty feet high and constructed of a solid white stone. They were blasted black with the efforts of someone to get through them.

  A knight came over and bowed to the king before giving his report. “The doors appear to still be in place and secured. It doesn’t look like they were able to get in this time.”

  Once the knight had left Omasa explained to Chris that the building protected the site of one of the prime portal locations for the planet. The building had been built around it and sealed so that only a powerful royal could open it. The building hadn’t been opened for a few centuries at this point and that is the way they planned on keeping it. There were the bodies of two knights found near the entrance to the portals. They belonged to the portal guard. A subset of the high protectors who were oath bound to defend the portal locations. Each body had been desecrated. It was obvious the knights had fought to their last as they were surrounded by the lifeless bodies of the enemy.

  The necromancer would have had the power to overwhelm their magical defensive charms and throw up illusions in front of them. It may have only had taken a second or two but that tiny instance of distraction may have been all that it took. The bodies were loaded onto stretchers and covered with blankets and carried to the western end of the castle outside the wall overlooking the cliffs. Funeral pyres were being put together to cremate all the bodies from the massacre. They had asked the surviving family members and they had agreed it was better than burial with the necromancer lurking around.

  The majority of the bodies had been found on the castle walls and in the main hall of the castle. A few survivors had been pulled out of the panic rooms but there evidently had not been time to get everyone there who should have been. These were rooms that were magically sealed similar to the portal building. The ones in the rooms were overwhelmingly children and servants. The nobility and knights had gone out to meet the enemy and fight to defend what was theirs. They’d known the importance of protecting the portal. There were signs everywhere of the magical forces that had been used in the battles. Impossibly heavy doors were ripped off hinges and lying on the ground. Bodies were smashed until it was impossible to tell if they had been an enemy or one of the defenders.

  Chris was looking up where he could see a leg in the great hall dangling down from one of the edifices in the corners. He was surrounded by his honor guard and several members of the council. The council was making decisions but running them by the king and deferring to him as need be. The family members who remained listened intently as they were told they would get the assistance of other families to rebuild and defend the walls. Chris had not told anyone yet about the message the necromancer had passed along to him or his response to it.

  It took the majority of the day to get the hall cleaned out and the bodies moved to the pyres and placed in their respective positions of honor. The enemy was just thrown into a large pile to be dowsed with kerosene and lit up with no ceremony other than everyone who walked by taking the opportunity to spit on them. The defenders of the castle were to be afforded full honors and that had required massive pyres to be built and supplies to be brought in for a funeral feast. New comers had been taxied in from the airport all day long. Chris learned that so many had come to help in the fight that they had run out of vehicles and many of the knights and wizards had to run to join in the battle.

  By dusk all was ready. The traditional time for the pyres to be lit was sunset. By the time Chris walked out to the pyres there were over a thousand Xandians lined up by the bluffs. Chris walked towards the pyres to light them and the fealty pledges reached his ears from the mouths of hundreds more of his vassals swearing their oath to him as king. It suddenly struck him he had no idea what the actual words were all these people were using to swear their loyalty to him. Something else to add to the list of things he didn’t know or understand about his new normal. After Chris had waved for them to rise a rhythmic chant accompanied by the thumping of spear and sword on shield sprang up.

  Chris stepped forward and put the torch to the wood. Flames roared into the night sky on the giant pyres that had been constructed. Penny was casting a spell around Chris so that he could stand calmly in the flames as the fire spread and consumed the honorable dead. Chris stood with his head bowed in respect for their sacrifice. He did not move until the flames had begun to die down and night had settled over the funeral party. He turned and faced the crowd as the flames died. They made a huge glowing backdrop behind him.

  “Xandians! I am your king!” Chris meant to continue but there was no way he could speak over the roar of the crowd. He was already magically amplifying his voice in order to be heard. A trick Wessel had taught him that basically required seeing your voice waves and bumping them with force to amplify them. He waited while moving his hands to try and get the audience to settle down. They eventually did.

  “This battle was fought in part to lure me to this island. Someone from the horde wanted to try and make a deal with me. The necromancer wanted me to agree to support the horde and guide them through a portal in retu
rn for placing me in charge of all of earth. If I didn’t agree he said they would come and take it and destroy the entire planet in the process. They seek to make an example out of us to make the universe bow to them.”

  Dead silence reigned across the crowd as they all let this sink in. Chris wondered If he should have broached this with the council first then decided to just keep going with it. In for a penny, in for a pound and all of that.

  “I didn’t agree. We will be made an example of but not in the way the horde wants. We will fight. We will drive them off this planet and pursue them across the universes. The honorable defenders of this castle laid down their lives without hesitation to protect our secrets and glorify our defiance. We can do no less as we seek to honor their memory. We will fight! We will win!”

  This time the bloodthirsty war cries and chants from the crowd weren’t going to die out anytime soon. Chris let them roll over him before walking through the crowd with his guards to the hummer. They settled into their seats and headed for the airport. Chris looking forward to seeing his mom and making sure she was really ok.

  Chapter 15: Guard Duty

  Randall waited patiently while the black town car pulled to a stop in front of him and his squire. Omasa had asked him to fly over the ocean and check in on one of the king’s friends. The king was worried that the horde would set out to kidnap all of his old friends and family and parade them around to draw him out. Randall had been one of the knights on the plane that took the young king from the island over to Ireland. He’d seen the conviction in the boy’s face and later he’d seen the boy make use of some powerful battle magic in a creative way. Embedding oneself in a giant spider wasn’t something Randall ever planned to emulate but he admired the spirit of the boy king who had done so without flinching. It was made even more remarkable having happened minutes after the boy had faced down a powerful necromancer’s zombie.

  Randall grinned internally as his squire carried all their armor and weapons to the back of the car and started loading it in with the help of the chauffer. The chauffer being a highly paid employee of a company owned by another company that was owned by yet another company that eventually was all controlled by Randall’s family. The chauffer didn’t ask questions. Randall settled into the car while the squire struggled to get their gear situated in the trunk. The squire was Randall’s nephew and only a few months away from the trials that would allow him to be knighted. He’d been blooded in the battle to retake the Ireland castle.

  In a few months Randall would take great pride in seeing him knighted. Even though he’d either have to lug his own gear or start training another squire afterwards. Everything situated the squire got into the car and the chauffer started driving to the address that Randall had provided him. On the flight over Randall had made several phone calls and a house in the neighborhood where Brent lived was now in the process of being purchased. The house was being paid for via a marketing firm that was in no way associated with Randall’s family. That would help alleviate any red flags since the horde may be paying people to keep an eye on the area.

  Randall had also activated the security company that was a joint venture owned by all the families. This was a worldwide network of security personnel who provided services such as bodyguards, property protection and investigation services. They’d be using this company to assist in setting up surveillance on the boy’s family. This would keep them at arm’s length from the boy so as to once again alleviate any suspicions on the side of the horde. The detectives and agents who were part of the security company were all screened on at least an annual basis by witches who specialized in mind reading. This way they knew if an agent or entire branch had been compromised.

  The town car pulled into a parking lot on the edge of town. This time Randall helped the squire transfer their gear from the large trunk of the town car into the back of the used Nissan Titan pickup they’d be using to get around moving forward. They were both already dressed casually and planned on telling everyone that Randall was Steven’s father. Steven being the name of the squire. They got their stuff loaded transferred to the Titan and Randall reminded the driver of the town car not to mention the pickup and drop-off to anyone. He nodded at Steven who handed the driver a few hundred dollar bills he had peeled off from a thick money clip.

  Dressed in jeans and T-shirts with all their gear loaded into boxes with U-Haul written all over them they started driving towards their new home. A moving company would be dropping off couches and beds and boxes full of equipment and weapons mixed with boxes full of pots and pans within the week. If all went well then Brent and his family never needed to know all of this had happened to protect them. If all did not go well then they may need to get Brent and his family out of town in a hurry. Once they were in position and started gathering more intelligence they’d make that call.

  They pulled into the driveway of their new home. It was in a small middle-class neighborhood full of cookie cutter homes and trees. The charm of the place was in the way the children were out playing in the brisk Rhode Island afternoon. They drove slowly past Brent’s home and saw nothing out of the ordinary. A car in the driveway and a closed garage that may be holding another car. The window shades were all drawn. It appeared the grass had been cut recently. They looked for signs of disrepair or neglect to validate the mental health of the family.

  An older woman in a gray business suit with a light blue jacket on was busy hanging a sold sign on the for-sale sign of the home they pulled into. She smiled and waved as they pulled in. She quickly finished adjusting the sold sign and walked over to shake Randall’s hand as he got out of the Titan.

  “You must be Mr. Jones?” The realtor said as Randall took the proffered hand and gave it a solid shake.

  “Guilty as charged I’m afraid. This is my son Steven. The broker said all the paperwork was completed and the sale was final. I know the title agent faxed me so much stuff to sign that I ran out of toner twice! All good to go now though I believe.”

  The realtor agreed with him and after a little more chit chat she got into an older Range Rover that was parked on the curb and drove away. Randall and Steven got busy playing the part of people moving into a new home. They walked around the house and dragged all of the stuff out of the back of the pickup into the garage. Doing it all without magic was a test of their patience. Work they could have done in seconds took them way too long to do by hand but they both worked at it until it was done. Randall was used to working in this environment as he was frequently sent out on assignments in the field such as this.

  They were sitting inside the house on a couple of folding chairs when the doorbell rang. Randall went and answered it. A man was standing there with a couple of pizza boxes. There was a Honda Accord parked on the curb with the name of a local pizza place on the top of it. Randall handed the man a couple of twenty-dollar bills and shut the door. He took the pizza boxes inside. Opening them up he found a Manilla folder with the files that had been started on Brent and his family. It detailed some facts as far as ages of Brent and the parents, how much they owed on their mortgage, Brent’s latest report card and his teacher assignments and room assignments for the school year. There were also newspaper reports that told the story of some tourists who had been killed by a rogue wave at the point the year before. The deaths were all listed as accidental and a study had been conducted to try and prevent it from happening again. The historical society had ended up having to pay for some extra-large boulders to be put around on both side of the chokepoint on the peninsula.

  More interesting was the story around how the family living in the local lighthouse had disappeared along with the tenant in the upstairs apartment. A policeman was reported to have been attacked and tied up the same day as the rogue wave had hit and the families had disappeared. There were some follow-up stories but as no new evidence came to light the stories had faded into the background and life went on. Local legend would grow up about what had happened the day of the rogue wave bu
t so far no one had been able to build a cohesive story around all of the strange events.

  On the top of the pile of printouts in the second box was a story where one line had been circled in red. In the story it was mentioned that the best friend of the missing boy from the lighthouse had started a campaign to put up a picture of Chris in every store in all the towns around here. That was the only place Brent was mentioned but he was mentioned by his full name and the town he lived in. The article even said a little bit about the school he went to and how Brent had been Chris’s best friend.

  That did it. This operation had just turned into a kidnap and displace. If his firm had found this information out so quickly then the horde would not be far behind. They also didn’t lack for resources although their nature made them have issues maintaining the same resources for long periods of time. The horde mentality favored chaos over order. They would figure out Brent was a valid target for them to go after and they’d probably snag him sooner or later. If for no other reason than to animate his corpse and have it stand in front of their armies the next time the king faced them. They’d take Brent and his family and massacre all of them. Necromancers liked their victims as fresh as possible so often would start the process of reanimation while a person was still breathing.