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

by Timothy Woods

  Dain smiled back at him.

  "Yes, he did."

  "Then tell me, do you favor stone or steel. Answer honestly now."

  Dain looked down at the ground between them and was quiet for the length of a few heartbeats. Finally he raised his eyes back to Bran’s.

  "Stone, Axethane," he said quietly.

  Bran placed his hands on the boy’s shoulders.

  "Steel is the strength of the edge that protects. Stone is the strength of the earth that heals. Follow your heart, lad, and you will never let your people down."

  "Truly, Axethane?" Dain asked tightly.

  "You have my word, lad." Bran nodded.

  Dain seemed to think about that for a few seconds then nodded at Bran with a resolute look in his eyes.

  "Axethane, may I ask a favor?"

  "You may, but I cannot guarantee I will be able to grant it," Bran told him.

  "Oh, this is something only you can grant, Axethane," Dain said earnestly.

  "Then ask, lad."

  Dain stepped back a pace and went to one knee placing his right hand over his heart and bowing his head.

  "May I join your company?" Dain asked tentatively.

  Bran stood looking down at the boy's head.

  "Dain, that is a favor I would grant readily if not for your age. My company will be fighting on the front lines. You belong here at Vale Watch where you can learn."

  Dain looked up with pleading eyes.

  "Please, Axethane, you have been the first to show me that I can follow my heart and not be ashamed. I would be at your side to aid you and your men in any way I can."

  Bran looked at him for a few heartbeats then called out.

  "Commander Hild, Kale, would you join us please?"

  Both dwarves strolled up to Bran and noticed Dain kneeling.

  "Yes, Axethane?" Commander Hild inquired.

  "Commander, young Dain here has asked to join my company. Were it not for his age, I would grant his request. I ask you then, would you allow this?" Bran asked softly.

  "Dain is young, Axethane, but if he feels he is called to follow you, I would certainly grant him leave to do so," Commander Hild assured him.

  "Kale, what think you?" Bran asked.

  "I would not dream of interfering with a call such as he seems to have. Of course, the choice is yours, Axethane," Kale replied smiling down at the boy.

  "Well lad, it seems I can grant that favor after all. Rise lad, and join your fellow dwarves in my company."

  Dain’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he stood up.

  "Thank you, Axethane. I will serve you unto death."

  "I truly hope that will not be the case, lad. Now run along and gather your pack. We must be leaving soon."

  As Dain sprinted off, Bran had a flash of a young dwarf kneeling over an obviously dying warrior. The warrior’s left arm was almost severed at the elbow, and he had multiple rents in his armor. His coif had been torn from his head and blood covered most of his face. As the young dwarf knelt beside him, his hands cupped, palms down over the fallen form, he saw the wounds begin to close and the arm knit back into its proper place. Then Bran heard a voice speak to him.

  Balis was as Dain. Guard him well, for he will be a great healer, a pride to our people.

  Bran shook his head and glanced over at Kale. Kale was talking with Commander Hild, and neither of them seemed to have heard the voice. Bran closed his eyes and mentally replied to the voice, I only hope I made the right choice. When he realized there was to be no further response, he opened his eyes and gestured for Kale and Commander Hild to follow him back to the fire. He sat and ate the rest of his soup, not caring that it was cold, and now, somehow tasteless.

  Bran allowed the men to rest for another hour. He spoke with the dwarves around him, telling them of the battles fought at Marsh Watch, and listening to their stories as well. Dain had returned with his gear and was sitting across the fire listening attentively. When Bran decided it was time to go, he stood and addressed Commander Hild.

  "Commander, thank you for the hospitality and the comradery, but we must leave now and continue on to Valehold. I want to reach the city tonight."

  As he was conversing with Commander Hild, two other dwarves approached, but held back, out of deference to their commander and the Axethane. Bran waited for Commander Hild to acknowledge them. It was getting pretty dark so Bran could not see them clearly from where he stood. Commander Hild excused himself and walked over to the pair. He heard them converse in low voices, but couldn’t actually catch any of the words. When the exchange was over, Commander Hild walked back over to Bran, followed by the two dwarves. As they neared, he could see one was older than the other though they favored each other greatly. Both had green eyes and brownish red hair and beards, the older one’s shot through with silver.

  "Axethane, this is Frost and his son Nade. They have something to ask you."

  Both dwarves inclined their heads to Bran then Frost spoke.

  "Axethane, my son and I would be honored if you would allow us to join your company."

  Now Bran knew what had been discussed between the pair and Commander Hild. They had asked his leave to join Bran's company. Bran smiled at them.

  "It is I who would be honored to have you and your son join my company."

  Both dwarves bowed deeply to him then turned to shake hands with Commander Hild. Bran glanced around, looking for Kale, and found that he was standing behind him, a bit off to the left, looking at him strangely.

  "Kale, would you gather the men and get them ready to move out?"

  "Aye, Axethane," Kale replied smiling at him shaking his head slightly.

  "What is it Kale?" Bran asked in a low voice taking him aside.

  "Nothing. I was just thinking how much you have changed in so short a time. Only two days ago you were a soldier like me. Now you are a leader who men are drawn to serve."

  "I am still Bran. I’m still the same man that you grew up with," Bran told him earnestly.

  "That’s just it. You are not the same man I grew up with. That man would have run from all this. Oh, I don’t mean the fighting and such, but the attention this has caused to be focused on you would have made you uncomfortable enough to chew iron stock. Now you speak with the men and guide them as only a true leader could. No. You are not the same man at all," Kale said with a small smile.

  "Already, I think of you as Axethane and not Bran."

  Bran’s eyes had taken on a pained look as Kale continued to speak, and he bowed his head slightly.

  "I will always be Bran to you," he said quietly.

  Kale shook his head.

  "Maybe after this war, if we both survive, I could think of you as Bran again, but not now, and maybe not even then. Now, you must be Axethane for all. You must lead, and we must follow." Kale clasped him on the shoulder.

  "You know I’ll always be your friend, but it can never be the way it used to be. At least, it cannot be for me."

  "I am sorry, Kale. I didn’t ask for this, but it was given to me anyway. I will not stop you if you wish to transfer to another company," Bran said dejectedly.

  "Transfer, and miss out on all the fun? I should think not. Besides, someone has to watch your back," Kale said grinning broadly.

  "And I have been doing that for as long as I can remember."

  Bran looked up to see Kale grinning and, at last, gave a half smile.

  "I am sure I will sleep better knowing you are at my back," Bran told him, the smile slipping from his face.

  "I told you these things not to hurt you, though I see I have anyway, but so you will know how I feel. I had to be honest with you. I felt I owed you that." At that, Kale turned and walked off to gather the men.

  Bran watched him go, feeling lower than he had ever felt in his life. The loneliness that Axethane Ralk spoke of, now no longer just a conversation in a hallowed room, had become a reality that Bran felt would break his spirit. From inside, the voice came again.

 
Know that it was not my intention to hurt you either. We try to choose those with no family of their own because we know the danger into which we place those we select. Give him time, Bran. The awe and mystery surrounding you as Axethane may yet wane for him, but you must be prepared for the possibility that he may hold you in such reverence for the rest of his days.

  Bran bowed his head.

  "I never wanted any of this. All I wanted was to help defend my people. I did not want to be a leader."

  Yes, I know. You will come to know, as well, that the best leaders often start out as the most reluctant. If someone seeks leadership, then they are most likely unworthy of it. You are young still and many revelations yet await you.

  Bran turned, sensing someone near. Dain was standing there looking at him with a pained look on his face. Bran cleared his throat and tried to banish the emptiness he felt.

  "What can I do for you, Dain?"

  Dain looked down at his feet and didn’t reply for several heartbeats.

  "Axethane, I…I just felt you might need someone to be near. I apologize if I have intruded on your thoughts."

  Bran smiled at the boy.

  "Now what makes you think I might need someone, lad?"

  "Well, your light faded to a gray haze. That usually indicates grief, and you were standing here all by yourself. I’m sorry, Axethane. I will leave you alone." Dain said turning to leave.

  "Wait."

  Dain turned again towards Bran still looking at the ground.

  "I thought you had no training. How could you know if I was grieving?"

  "I have been able to see a person’s light since I was very small. A gray haze has always accompanied deep sadness or grief, just as blue means happiness, and red relates to anger."

  "I see. When we first spoke, you said I was glowing, bright white. What does that mean?"

  "I do not know, Axethane. I have never seen that happen before."

  "Am I truly the first Axethane you have met?" Bran inquired.

  "Yes, Axethane."

  "Well, you are correct, lad. I am grieving, but I feel that this is something I have to handle on my own. Do you have all your gear packed and ready to go?" Bran asked changing the subject.

  "Yes, Axethane, I am ready."

  "Good," Bran said smiling again, "let’s go get the men and be on our way."

  He reached out and clasped Dain on the shoulder intending to lead him back, but the boy gave a startled cry and fell to his knees when Bran touched him. Bran immediately grabbed his axe and began scanning around for signs of a threat. He could hear dwarves running towards him and Dain. He looked the boy over to see where he was wounded, but found nothing. Dain was on his knees with his face buried in his hands. The dwarves, having reached them, looked at Bran in inquiry. He shrugged and put his axe away motioning for them to withdraw a short distance. He knelt at Dain’s side placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder again. Dain winced, but did not cry out this time.

  "What is it Dain, where are you hurt?" He asked anxiously.

  Dain looked up at him with tears streaming from his eyes.

  "I am not injured, Axethane, at least, not on the outside."

  "What happened then?"

  "When you touched my shoulder, I felt your pain. It made me feel as if I had lost someone dear to me," Dain explained haltingly.

  Bran quickly snatched his hand back not wanting to cause the boy any further pain.

  "I am sorry, lad. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I had no idea my touch would cause you harm."

  "You have no reason to apologize, Axethane. It was not your touch that caused it," Dain said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve and regaining his feet.

  "It was me. I wasn’t prepared for the level of grief I would be taking on," Dain explained.

  "I don’t understand," Bran said in confusion.

  By the Great One’s forge! He’s an empath as well as a healer!

  Dain gave him a rather strained smiled.

  "I could tell that you were suffering, so I decided to try to take away some of your pain. It is an ability I have always had, just like being able to see a person’s light. When I concentrate on doing it and touch someone, I can take on their pain, whether it’s a physical wound or a mental one. I feel the pain as if it was my own, but I am usually able to channel it off. I simply wasn’t prepared for its intensity." Dain looked into Bran’s eyes.

  "I am sorry, Axethane."

  "Whatever for, lad?" Bran asked.

  "For whatever has caused you that much grief."

  Bran started to reach out and pat him on the shoulder, but drew back, afraid of hurting the boy further. Dropping his hands to his sides, Bran turned inward. The sorrow of losing his best friend was still present, yet it was greatly diminished, as if time had worn the edges of it smooth, leaving only a dull ache. He nodded to Dain.

  "Thank you, Dain. Are you fit to travel?"

  "Aye, Axethane, I am fine now," Dain said standing up straighter and squaring his shoulders.

  "Good. Let’s get moving then. We still have a long march ahead of us."

  Turning, they both walked back to the gathered dwarves. Bran shook hands with Commander Hild and thanked him again for the meal. As he walked through the gathered dwarves with Dain a step behind him, he saw the admiration for his station shining in their faces. When Bran reached his own men, he turned around and unslung his axe. Holding it near the bladed head, he crossed it over his heart in salute and then thumped its haft to the ground. All of the dwarves answered the salute in kind. Then Bran spun around and started off towards Valehold, his men falling in step behind him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Lying on her left side in the dew soaked grass, Megan gasped in pain as she reached back and felt an arrow protruding from her right shoulder. She could hear movement now in the forest behind her, as well as the screams of battle in front of her. Knowing that she was in trouble, Megan spoke the words of a transport spell and felt another arrow slam into her thigh as she ported out. Sitting up, she looked dazedly around her room. At least she was safely away from the danger of additional arrows, but she knew she would have to answer to Mortow for her failure, not to mention the smug looks she would get from Maklin.

  Her right arm hung useless at her side, but the arrow in her thigh seemed to have missed the bone and simply passed through the muscle, the point visible through the front of her robe. She tried to stand up and fell heavily onto her bed. Megan cried out as the arrow in her shoulder was jarred by the sudden movement. Lying on her side gasping for breath, Megan didn’t hear the door open. She was biting back tears as a huge hand came to rest on her wounded arm. She flinched at the unexpected touch and snapped her head around to see Mortow bending over her.

  "Ah, Megan. It seems the elves have chosen a side after all." Mortow remarked as he eyed the arrow in her shoulder critically.

  "Lie still now. We need to remove this arrow from your back,"

  The deep resonance of his voice was soothing to her. She didn’t know why, but his voice always had a calming effect on her. It didn’t occur to her to wonder at his sudden appearance in her room. He always seemed to know exactly where his students were and what they were doing.

  "Master, I’m sorry. I have failed. The elves must have taken out the Weres we had posted in the forest around the portal. I didn’t even know they were there until I was hit."

  "Not entirely unforeseen," Mortow assured her.

  "Sleep now, and let the surgeon do his work." At his command, Megan's eyes fluttered closed, and her rigid body went lax. Mortow stepped aside to allow a slightly stooped, middle aged man with brown hair, dressed in brown robes make his way over to her. He watched with only mild interest as the surgeon cut away the upper portion of Megan’s robe and then went to work cleaning the area around the wound in her shoulder.

  "So the elves have decided to aid Merric. I knew I should have ripped their sniveling hearts out. Oh well, I guess I can let Maklin have some fun with them. Rydon will have
to be disciplined for his lack of control over his people. Nothing too harsh just yet, but it must be a memorable lesson, something that will remind him of his promise and his place." Mortow continued to mull over the situation as the surgeon diligently worked on Megan's injuries. Finally, the surgeon pushed back from the bed and stood.

  "My Lord, it is finished. She’ll be wanting to sleep a while and will need plenty of water and food to replenish the blood she lost. I would also recommend a sling for the arm for a few weeks. The damage was not too severe, but the arrow hit the bone fairly hard. The wound in the leg was less problematic, but it was the major source of blood loss. I will keep her under observation for the next day or so."

  Mortow nodded his understanding.

  "Keep me apprised of any change in her health. That will be all then, Master Siles." Acknowledging the dismissal, the surgeon bowed and left the room quietly. Mortow looked down at the sleeping form on the bed. Megan’s robe had been cut away from her right shoulder and slit all the way down the right sleeve. Siles had rolled her onto her back while he worked on her leg covering her right shoulder and breast with the remains of the robe’s sleeve. Siles had only slit her robe up to mid-thigh, no further than necessary to reach the leg wound. He also recovered her leg when he was finished working on it. Modesty was wasted on Megan, but Siles was a professional and took his work very seriously. Mortow looked her over and assured himself that her breathing was even and strong then pulled a blanket up from the foot of the bed covering Megan up to her shoulders. He spoke a few words and was gone from the room.

  Mortow materialized at the entrance to the common library, his gaze scanning its empty chairs and barren tables. All of the books were safely and precisely ensconced on the many shelves throughout the room. It still seemed odd to him that a common library should be so empty. In all the years of his residence at Kantwell, the common library was always bustling with activity. Now with the magi decimated, he knew Kantwell’s common library would be almost as empty as this one. Mortow looked to the northernmost corner and saw the one he sought sitting in a cushioned, high back chair at one of the small side tables, pouring over a volume which lay open before him. Mortow walked casually up to him.