The Legacy of the Ten: Book 01 - Eyes of the Keep

by Scott D. Muller

  “I think you have a taint in your soil,” said Dra’kor. “I think I can fix this.”

  A hopeful Brag looked down with unfocused eyes at Dra’kor, “You really think you can figure this out?”

  “I should be able to. I need a couple barrels and a few things from the local store, but I should be able to get your crops growing,” Dra’kor said, appearing to be deep in thought about how to solve the issue.

  Dra’kor hid his one hand under his robe and cast the spell to clear the dark magic from the garden and his hand. He focused on watching the magic work and jerked back as he saw the disfigured shadow beasts, called ululates umbra, crawl across the ground toward a different patch of dirt. The shadow beasts were poison mist-like creatures fabricated from lost souls. Slowly, but surely they sucked the life out of whatever they were bound to. Their twisted features, hollow, empty eyes, barely visible in the ether, were like thin smoke flowing across the soil. Their wailing mouths moaned a unperceivable howl, unless you had the gift and knew how to see and listen. Dra’kor used the magic to direct the creatures out of the town. After he finished, he felt to see if any traces remained. Satisfied, he stood up and asked to see the other inside gardens. The dark magic had been subtle, lightly cast with finesse.

  After Dra’kor confirmed that each garden had the same problem, they went to collect the barrels, some sugar and herbs. Dra’kor mixed them in the barrel and added an herb from his pouch, making a big deal about the properties of this special herb. By that time, a large following of towns’ people had gathered. Dra’kor handed them all watering cans and told them to soak the plants.

  Dra’kor watched as the townsfolk carefully watered each individual plant or row of plants. Dra’kor knew that the problem had been solved and that in a matter of days, new growth would be apparent. The bigger question was; who or what had cast the spell to poison the soil in the first place. Shadow beasts weren’t uncommon, but they stuck to the forests, hating bright sunlight. He knew he would have to investigate further before he could draw a reasonable conclusion.

  The town’s people put the lids on the big barrels and fastened the strap before rolling them to the next garden. By now, the whole town had showed up and everyone was excitedly talking and working together. Dra’kor marveled at how well they worked together, all pitching in to complete the job.

  For now, he was just happy that he could fix the issue. He would further increase the magical protection of the gardens later tonight when he could work with less scrutiny, making sure the town was cleared of the taint. He wanted to make sure that it could not be removed without extraordinary measures. In that case, he would know that he was not dealing with any normal magic caster, but one vastly more accomplished than he is.

  “Thank ye sir!” an older lady said, as she grabbed his hand. “You be saving our lives, ye are. Don’t rightly know how to repay you for your services.”

  Dra’kor grabbed her hand and gave it a little kiss. “There’s no reason to repay me. The service I offer is free as a good neighbor,” he said, touched by the tears of gladness in the old woman’s eyes.

  She hugged him and hobbled off leaning heavily on her cane mumbling as she went, “— been tough with the men folk gone … heaven knows what they’re facing ….”

  Dra’kor called after her. “Madam! Excuse me?”

  The old woman stopped and turned ever so slowly around.

  “What pray is the matter with your leg?” Dra’kor asked.

  “I had an accident a few years back falling off an ox cart. Doc says the bone didn’t heal quiet right. Why are you asking?” she said with a smile on her lips. No hint of pity, what was, just was.

  Dra’kor smiled, “I dabble in the arts of healing a bit and I think I may be able to help you.”

  Dra’kor pulled out his small satchel of teas and spices, took some of the herbs, and put them in a small poultice bag that he sometimes used for tea. He handed it to the old woman and said, “Madam, I want you to carry this in your pocket and wipe your leg with it every day for a week. It should help your bones heal. It won’t help anyone else, but it should be enough for you.”

  She thanked him profusely and while she was tucking away the bag, he cast a very weak healing spell on her leg that would slowly correct the bone over the course of time. He doubted she would notice the change, but after a few days, she most likely wouldn’t need the cane any more. He glowed with pride on the inside. Helping these people felt good. A kind of good he had never really experienced before. This was what magic was all about. This was his purpose.

  Dra’kor watched the towns’ people finish watering all the gardens. They stood around waiting. But Dra’kor couldn’t figure out what they were waiting on. Finally, Brag came over, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Is that it? Nothin’ else?”

  “— That’s it,” Dra’kor echoed. “Crops should start growing tomorrow or the day after at the latest.”

  Brag seemed a little leery of the proclamation, “Are you sure?”

  Dra’kor looked him in the eye, “I’m sure, why do you keep asking me that, Brag?”

  Brag scratched his head and hung his eyes low, “Well, you ain’t the first one to tell us everything will be okay. The last guy said the same bloody thing and nothing happened, things just got worse.”

  “Someone else tried to fix your gardens?” Dra’kor asked gap-mouthed.

  “A man in a dark red robe came by about a month ago, said he noticed the fields weren’t doing so good and asked about the gardens. We showed him, he felt the dirt just like you and said that nothing was wrong and that the weather was just too cold yet. Nothing’s grown since.”

  Dra’kor had to concentrate to keep his mouth from hanging open. He didn’t know who the visitor was, but he was quite sure that he had tainted their gardens once he got access through the gate. He knew he had to tell Ja’tar. Dra’kor was actually excited. This was the first thing he could actually report to Ja’tar about their trip that made any sense.

  “Well, I’m sure that I fixed the problem,” Dra’kor said, trying to console Brag. “I’ll stick around an extra day if I have to just to make sure I’m right. Can we look at the fields outside?”

  Brag scratched his head and wasn’t too eager to leave the safety of the gates, “I’d just as soon stay inside if you don’t mind. It’s getting late in the day … they come out in the night.”

  Dra’kor understood his fear. “That’s all right by me, we can take a look tomorrow,” he nodded.

  Dra’kor walked back to the inn and was greeted at the door by D’Arron. She stepped inside the inn and tried to close the door after Dra’kor entered.

  “Can we leave the door open for a bit? I like the fresh air and would really like to see the sunset?”

  D’Arron nervously agreed, “I suppose it will be okay, but only until the sun sets.”

  “Thanks,” said Dra’kor, as he continued to stand in the open door and stare out across the pines.

  “I hear you know what is wrong with the gardens,” she said excitedly. “You really think you fixed the problem?”

  “Dang! News really does travel fast,” he mumbled, shaking his head as he placed his hands on his hips.

  D’Arron laughed, “Well, there is only one main street, and from what I’ve heard, the whole town was giving you a hand.”

  The sun was starting to set and you could hear the bay of wolves in the distance. Dra’kor stepped to the door and listened. The sound made his spine chill. He didn’t notice D’Arron watching him from inside the common room. He was too distracted staring out the door.

  The last of the sun’s rays were turning the tops of the pines golden and the purple and plum colored peaks were already shrouded in shadow. The fires in the homes and buildings had filled the valley with a light blue haze that reflected the last rays of yellow and orange from the sun. Dra’kor loved the way the soft breeze pulled the smoke into fine layers that swirled as little gusts of wind caught them.

  The e
ncroaching darkness danced across the street as the tall trees cast their shadows over the small enclave. The branches undulated as the wind scurried about and he could feel the wind tracing patterns across his face.

  Dra’kor stood in the door and watched as the sun dropped down behind the mountains and the last touches of silver lined the clouds. It was magical, but only for a few moments. The sky soon grayed and twilight arrived. The air smelled of pine and spring, clean and clear. Already the cold was setting in and Dra’kor could swear that he could hear the waterfall in the distance.

  “You best come in so I can bar the door,” D’Arron said, setting her hand on his shoulder.

  “What? Oh, sure!” he said, stepping into the inn and getting out of her way.

  He stared appreciatively as D’Arron closed the door and put a plank across the metal brackets and checked to make sure everything was secure. She also closed the shutters and latched them securely before closing the heavy curtains to keep out the cold.

  D’Arron caught him staring out of the corner of her eye and grinned to herself. She flipped her hair from her face, sure that her cheeks were red.

  “I thought we were safe inside the walls?”

  D’Arron smiled back at him, “I’m pretty sure we are, there’s never been an attack in town, but there’s no sense in taking any chances. Why don’t you go up to your room and I’ll bring you a warm wash basin so you can clean up from this afternoon.”

  Dra’kor nodded and mumbled thanks as he climbed the stairs, holding tight to the rail. He found Men’ak in the room still sound asleep, laying face down on the bed, his mouth open. Dra’kor shook his shoulder to wake him. “Come on man, time to wake up.”

  “Huh?” he grumbled, still half asleep. “Oh, are you done already?”

  Men’ak stretched and sat up.

  “Already? Men’ak, it’s after sunset, you’ve slept all day,” Dra’kor laughed as he pushed Men’ak’s shoulder again. Men’ak fell over backwards, his head landing gently on his pillow.

  “Is it dinner time yet? I’m starving!”

  “You and your stomach! You’d think you would starve to death if you missed a meal,” Dra’kor joked.

  “— ain’t nothin’ funny about being hungry,” Men’ak grumbled back, still trying to wake up fully.

  D’Arron was true to her word and delivered a clay washbasin to the room and after the two magi cleaned up, they went downstairs for a fine dinner of roasted fowl and potatoes. Men’ak tore into the chicken as if he hadn’t eaten in a week. Even D’Arron got in on the teasing, causing Men’ak to blush profusely. It had been a long time since the men had enjoyed the company of a younger woman. They had forgotten how pleasant it could be.

  After dinner, they helped clear the dishes and spent the rest of the night sitting in front of the fire, sharing yarns. Men’ak made a pot of tea and D’Arron had some. Dra’kor watched her face light up when she tasted the brew for the first time. D’Arron had told them that she never had tea before. Men’ak could tell that she absolutely loved it. Men’ak explained how to make tea from dried herbs and flowers.

  The magi spent most of the night listening, as D’Arron was in a very talkative mood. The teacher in her came out and she lectured the two, giving them a brief history lesson on the Three Rivers area.

  “Of course, the Three Rivers area was named after the falls. According to legend, this was once the site of a sprawling city, several thousand lived there I hear, but you can’t find any ruins or signs of it, except for the ruins by the falls. Some folks think it used to be a bridge, but who ever heard of a bridge of stone, besides, it’s just too big. The stones are too big to be moved by horse, so it’s got to be something else.”

  Dra’kor hid a smile. “What happened to it, the town?”

  “Nobody knows for sure, but there are a few scrolls in Toulereau that were written back in the time called Ror that say the town was wiped from the ground with a single blast. I never heard of a time called Ror have you?”

  Dra’kor lied, shook his head no, “Blast?”

  “That’s all that was written, it just said, ‘Some kind of magic blast.’ Well, I’ve seen magic before! Like at the festival, but I don’t believe no magic could be strong enough to destroy a whole town. That’s just silly talk!” she said, waving her arm.

  Men’ak stared at her. “Where did you get the scroll?”

  “They have a library there, filled with books from around the realms. Since I taught when we first moved here, the Lord gave me access to the books. I found the scroll lying in a basket on a high shelf.”

  “Were there others?”

  “You know, Dra’kor — there sure were, but they were all written in some scratching. I figure it was a story or something. I mean, seriously, a blast big enough to lay waste to a town, Ha!”

  “That seems unlikely,” Men’ak said, as he exchanged glances with Dra’kor.

  “That’s what I think. So the scroll I was talking about … well — half was in the word, the rest of it was in a strange language that I couldn’t read,” she said quietly.

  “Strange? How so?” Men’ak asked.

  “Real strange, not even real letters. More like shapes — and I’m guessing it’s elf talk, but I can’t confirm it. There’s no such thing as elves, right?” she smirked.

  Dra’kor shook his head, “I suppose not. I’ve never seen one. Why do you think it is elf writing?”

  “Rumors mostly, rumors about Toulereau — but I’ll get to that later,” she said as she crossed her legs.

  Men’ak stuck out his lower lip. “Rumors —?”

  She set her hand on his arm and laughed, “Be patient!”

  Men’ak nodded and leaned forward.

  She continued, “Anyway, the whole valley was said to be barren for decades, although I don’t believe it. They say that forest eventually grew back after this battle of some kind and the soil healed itself and this place was pretty empty except for a bunch of farmers here in the valley. There’s this bard song, called Three Rivers that kind of talks to it.”

  “Can you sing it?” Dra’kor asked.

  She blushed, “I don’t sing very well. More like a frog croaking in the night.”

  Men’ak nodded. “Please? We’d really like to hear it.”

  “I can try I guess … but no laughing!” she said, clearing her throat.

  Light and dark they fought

  Power’s what they sought

  Three Rivers laid bare of all that’s green

  Such a sight you’ve never seen

  Battles won at what a cost

  Three Rivers valley has been lost.

  “Interesting song,” Dra’kor replied.

  “There’s more, but I can’t remember it,” she said with a sigh.

  “Thanks. You were about to say,” said Men’ak.

  “Oh, yes! After that, the trolls came. It was a horrible slaughter. They wiped out every settlement in three realms; here, Five Peaks and Stonegate.”

  “Huh!” Men’ak exclaimed, “did you say Stonegate?”

  “I did. They’re farther from the King. I heard that they didn’t fare as well. Still don’t know if they’ve recovered. We don’t get many visitors from thatta way.”

  “So why did the trolls attack?” Dra’kor wondered.

  “No one could ever figure out exactly why, just one day they went on a bender and that was that. Some thought that it was because of the castle. We had a visit from a druid once. He said they built the castle over their home, but I can’t say that what he said was true. They didn’t find any caves when they were building the castle.”

  “Druids, here?”

  “Well, that’s what they say, but I’ve never seen a druid, nor heard of anyone who’s ever seen one. I think they’re the same as elves and mages, figments of stories to scare small children!”

  “You got that right,” Men’ak laughed, seeing the irony.

  Dra’kor forced a chuckle, but he didn’t find any of the conversa
tion amusing. If the realms had forgotten about them and all the others, what chance did they have in fighting this new threat?

  “Did you know that trolls eat people?” she asked aghast.

  “Were you here?” Dra’kor asked.

  D’Arron looked at Dra’kor as she spoke. “When?”

  “When the Trolls came,” said Dra’kor.

  “Oh, my no! We moved here after the war. But we saw the piles of bones from the fires when we first arrived. Them bones was too big to be from people, so I suppose that trolls are real. I can’t say much about the rest!”

  “So what happened?”

  She paused to take another sip of tea, “Well, seems the farmers all got together and built a stone fort and defended the area against the trolls for four years. Did you know that trolls are afraid of fire? Anyway, eventually, the King gathered enough troops and swept the area. They killed trolls by the score, burnt them right in the fields. They said the stacks were high as a house.”

  Men’ak leaned forward, “And the war ended?”

  “Not exactly. It turns out the trolls had holed up in caves in these parts that nobody knew about and kept raiding the towns. A farmer named Glynn followed a troll back to their hideout one day after a raid and discovered the caves. He watched them come and go for a bit and then sure that he had found their lair, he skedaddled back and told the Lord. The Lord told the King about it and the King’s men mounted an attack and burned out the caves. That was the end of it.”

  “No kidding?” Men’ak grinned, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Pretty much, that’s the honest truth of the matter. The King and Toulereau gave the land by title to the farmers who defended it in the war and they started building the new town. And things were going pretty good until the beasts started showing up.”