Myrkron (Volume Two of The Chronicles of the Myrkron)

by Woods, Timothy

  "Micah would never kill two of his own," Merric protested.

  Branik merely shook his head and walked off to allow himself some time to calm down. When Branik was up the stairs and down the corridor that led to Michael’s room, Reek’s eyes came to rest on Merric.

  "No, Wizard Merric, Lord Micah would never harm either of us. Branik and I do not fear death in any case. Failure brings on the sentence of The Avarus Muer, The Fatal Lesson. The other Avari would carry it out, not Lord Micah."

  Merric’s frown deepened. "And just what is the Fatal Lesson?"

  "It's a gauntlet of sorts. We would have to face the entire Avari nation in lethal combat, after we had faced one another. Both of us would die, but not before a great many Avari perished. This is what Branik fears. He knows he would kill many Avari before they slew him."

  "If that is his concern, then why not allow himself to be killed?" Merric asked dumbfounded.

  "It is not permitted. If we were to allow ourselves to be killed without resisting, then the Avarus Muer would fall upon our families. Since Branik has no family and because we are like brothers, then, even though he killed me in our battle, the Avarus Muer would fall on my family," Reek explained.

  "That's just crazy. Why would your people enforce such a barbaric concept? I cannot believe Micah would allow such a thing to take place."

  "Lord Micah allows us to govern ourselves. It is the old way. It ensures that the pact is not taken lightly and that, once taken, the individual is fully committed to it. There has only ever been one to fail the Blood Pact. He chose exile instead of facing the Avarus Muer. He knew his wife and son would die in his stead, but he felt that those two deaths were preferable to the many he would cause, if he chose to fight." Reek looked with pain in his eyes to the stairs Branik had taken.

  "You're talking about Barque aren’t you?"

  "Aye. Barque was a great Avari, almost without equal in his abilities. He chose to give up the life of his wife and son so that many Avari would not face a similar fate. He never returned to the isle. It is not known what happened to him. Branik is like his great grandsire in many ways."

  "You are saying that Branik is Barque’s great grandson? I thought you just said Barque’s wife and son were killed. How could he have any descendants?" Merric asked in astonishment.

  "Barque’s wife was with child at the time. This was unknown to him. The Avari let her give birth before carrying out the Avarus Muer. She gave birth to another boy, Jale. That boy was given into the care of my family. He was treated as a brother by my grandfather, Taris. Both of their sons were raised as brothers, Branik’s and my father. We, in turn, were raised as brothers. Branik’s mother died in his birth. His father died many years ago in battle. He feels his family is cursed for what his great grandsire did. He has never married and has vowed that his line will end with him."

  "And if he chooses as Barque did, then you and your family would suffer."

  "Aye. My wife, son, and daughter would have to face the Avarus Muer in his place. So his choices, if we fail, are to kill me and then many Avari or kill me and let my family perish. I know my brother. He would never let anything happen to my family. Because of that, he would have to kill me and a lot of Avari. He knows I would willingly give my life for them, but I am not allowed to do so. A battle between us would be long and fierce, but I have no doubts as to who would win; neither does Branik. So maybe now you can understand his anger. If Michael was not under our protection, Branik would kill him for what he has done."

  "This is madness. Let us find the boy before Branik tears the castle apart. We will get him, and then go to the scrying chamber. I'll locate Michael, and then we will all sit down and have a talk," Merric said frowning.

  Reek stopped Merric with a hand on his arm. "Michael is not to be told. I only tell you this so you will understand. The object of the Blood Pact is never to be told. It is our way."

  Merric looked into Reek’s eyes. He saw there both resolve and pain. "If that is your wish, then so be it. That doesn't prevent me from lecturing the boy on breaking promises. Let’s go."

  Chapter Three

  Michael felt his legs start to give way as his vision tunneled to a narrow point of light. He gripped the edge of the table to steady himself as a wind ripped through his mind. Standing before the three golden doors was an old man in dark purple robes. He appeared small. His long gray hair hung loose over his shoulders down to mid-chest. His bright green eyes sparkled as he grinned benignly.

  The old man looked over his shoulder at the doors behind him and then turned back to Michael. He laughed. Leaning forward slightly, he tapped his right temple with his index finger, then turned to the first golden door. He placed his hand against it with fingers spread. The door began to glow. The glow spread to encompass the old man in a sublime golden light. As the light faded, the door and the old man disappeared. Michael heard a single bell toll like the ring of a huge cathedral bell. It was startling and comforting at the same time. A mellow golden light poured forth from the now opened doorway. Michael heard another peel of laughter.

  "Come visit me, Myrkron. I await you."

  Michael saw a flash of a calm lake surrounded by tall pine trees, ringed with huge mountain peaks.

  The golden light seemed to swell in his mind. He felt strength return to his legs and his vision suddenly snapped back into focus. He saw Mortow standing in the doorway looking like a monolith of power, a slight smile on his face. He appeared to be waiting for Michael to say something. Mieka now stood beside Mortow. The look on her face almost appeared concerned…almost. Michael stood up straight and looked Mortow in the eyes.

  "I assume you have come to kill me, as you did my wife."

  Mortow chuckled, a deep resonant sound that vibrated the stone under Michael’s feet. Mortow turned to Mieka, gesturing with a nod of his head, for her to leave the room.

  Mieka nodded and then glanced back at Michael with a pleading look before walking from the room.

  Mortow moved forward a step and placed his hands inside his sleeves before him. "Now, Michael, why would I wish to kill a fellow wizard; and why would I provoke you by killing your wife? Not exactly the actions of a man trying to gain your aid."

  "Are you actually saying you had nothing to do with Karin’s death?" Michael asked incredulously.

  Mortow sighed. "I am truly sorry for what you have suffered, Michael. I know you have no reason to believe me, but I sincerely regret what has transpired. I am here before you, as devoid of my magic as you are. I felt it best if we could talk before it came down to a contest of magics. I felt that here," Mortow gestured to the room around them, "we could be on equal terms. I would be protected from your magic, and you would be protected from mine. Having Mieka bring you here was meant as a truce."

  "I think you mean ruse," Michael sneered.

  "I wished to be able to tell my side of the matter. So, to answer your question, no. I will not lie to you and say I had nothing to do with your wife’s death. I did not order her death. I am, however, responsible for it. Everything does not always go as planned. The mugging was never meant to harm either of you. It was merely meant to be a means of awakening your abilities; a shock to light the fire of your dormant power. I did not handle the specifics," Mortow’s face turned angry and his deep voice became impossibly deeper, "but I assure you, the one responsible has been punished." Mortow's voice lost its heat and his arms fell to his sides as his head bowed. "Making an enemy of you was the last thing I wanted to do."

  Michael stared heatedly at Mortow. "Why should I believe you? Even if what you say is true, and you had no intention of harming Karin, your actions cost her life. By those same actions, you have cost me mine as well. You've caused to be taken from me the very thing that made life worth living. That one of your lackeys was responsible makes you guilty by proxy. Without your quest for dominance in this world, she would still be alive today. You believe a few placating statements, and the shuffling of the blame, makes everything all
right?" Michael's voice rose in volume with the strength of his emotions.

  Mortow held his hands up in a gesture for forbearance. "No, Michael, I'm not trying to shuffle the blame as you put it. I accept responsibility for the actions of those who work for me. I knew the moment I heard your wife had been killed that you would very likely seek my blood in retribution. Let me tell you, Michael, I feel the threat inherent in your voice. Know that I don’t take that threat lightly. Mieka has told me some of what you have accomplished. I know I am powerful however a battle between us is in no way assured in my favor. I would much prefer to talk this out and then, if you still wish it, we can have a wizard’s duel that will, in all likelihood, end in the death of one of us. I could accept death if I knew I had done everything I could to prevent it. I want only for you to listen. Is that too much to ask?"

  Michael started to reply, but a sudden wave of dizziness overcame him. He closed his eyes as he gripped the table edge once again. With his eyes closed, he saw again the old man standing before the golden doors, still laughing.

  "From the tongue that lies, words flow smoothly. Narro verum."

  Michael opened his eyes again to see that Mortow had not moved, but was looking at him as if he was trying to judge what he was up to. Michael straightened and sighed. "I guess it wouldn't hurt me to listen, since neither of us can use magic here."

  Michael heard his words as he spoke them, but in his mind he heard something slightly different. "I guess it could hurt me to listen, since we can both use magic in here."

  Mortow smiled at last. "Aye, you have nothing to fear from me in this place."

  Again Michael heard the words with his ears, but the echo of them in his mind was different. "Aye, you have everything to fear from me in this place."

  Michael smiled slightly and moved to the chair he'd occupied when Mortow first entered the room. He stood behind it as Mortow moved around to the chair in which Mieka had been sitting. Mortow sat down in the vacant chair and gestured for Michael to take the other one.

  Michael pulled the chair back as far from the table as he could and sat down. "Well, I'm listening."

  Mortow clasped his hands before him on the table. He looked Michael in the eye and began. "Let us start at the beginning , shall we? Some five years ago, I decided that it was time to try to change things in Thelona. I had grown discontent with endless research into the distant past. You see, I had been trying to determine if things had always been as they are now; wizards hiding away within the walls of Kantwell, occasionally venturing out to help settle one dispute or another; the races living separate from one another and only coming together to wage wars. I felt that if someone could rise above it all and join the races under one rule, then we could have a more lasting peace."

  "And, naturally, you thought you should be that one," Michael’s voice was heavy with loathing.

  Mortow frowned slightly. "Not at first. I took my ideas to my father initially. I knew that I was more feared than liked. My mere physical appearance intimidates others, even were I not wearing these robes, announcing to all that I am magi."

  To Michael’s surprise, the voice in his head remained silent. There had been no contradicting statements. "And who was your father?" Michael asked, grudgingly curious.

  Mortow smiled then. It was not the smug smile Michael expected, rather more of a smile of acceptance. "I knew they wouldn't have told you. Why complicate matters? They have been honing you as a tool to do what he could not. Don’t get me wrong, he came damn close. It's just not in his nature to kill his own son, even a son of whom he is ashamed. Look at my face, Michael. See my father in my features. Can you not guess the answer to your own question?" Mortow smiled a bright cheerful smile.

  His face transformed with that smile. It seemed to erase all the hard edges and to warm the ice cold blue eyes. Michael suddenly saw the resemblance, and his jaw fell open.

  Mortow’s smile faded, the hard predatory look slid back into place. "I see you now understand. Headmaster Merric, Wizard of the Eighth Key, is my father."

  Chapter Four

  Bran walked along the pass. Lanterns had been lit an hour ago as the sun slid down behind the mountain. He heard the mutterings of the men around him and could understand their astonishment. He felt the same way. For so long, the ogres had been their enemies; now one walked just at his back. Mardak had asked to come along when Bran decided to check on Dain. Bran granted his request. Now they both walked among the men; some helping the wounded, some cooking, some repairing gear, most just sitting, staring at nothing.

  Bran knew the grief that gripped the hearts of these men. He had lost twelve of his own. This battle had been so overwhelming that the wounded were surprisingly few. There had been few Dain could save. Bran suddenly realized that Mardak was no longer right behind him. So lost in thought was he that he failed to realize the absence of Mardak’s heavy footsteps. He looked back and saw the massive ogre down on one knee. He was beside a man who was working furiously to staunch the flow of blood from a ragged belly wound on one of his fellows, who was obviously in agony. Bran saw Mardak hand the man a small pouch and give instructions in a low voice. The man nodded and immediately opened the pouch and looked in then looked back at Mardak. Bran saw Mardak smile and nod, then pat the man gently on the shoulder as he rose.

  Mardak walked over to Bran. At Bran’s questioning look, he explained. "I gave your surgeon an ointment to use on those more severely wounded. It will slow their heart rates and take away their pain. They will sleep peacefully. It has a healing property that will help a little, but I fear wounds such as that man’s are beyond its abilities. The ointment will give him relief and make his last hours more tolerable. No one should have to suffer the pain of such a wound before passing. If it wasn’t for helping me, then maybe Dain could have saved that one."

  Bran saw genuine sorrow in the ogre’s big black eyes. He studied Mardak’s face for a few moments. "You are not to blame. You did not inflict this wound. In war, men die. It does not matter what we wish to be, but what is. We, none of us, can save them all. Dain has done his part. By healing you, he has brought you and your men to us as allies. By that act, he may have saved the lives of countless others."

  Mardak looked down on the small dwarf before him. He smiled as if seeing Bran for the first time. "Wise words, Axethane, however words alone do not heal the heart; though I take your meaning and agree. Come. Let us go check on Dain. My heart will lighten knowing he is well."

  Bran nodded, turned, and started walking again. Pace would have taken Dain to the rear, as far from the mouth of the pass as he could. They came to a place where the pass opened enough to setup a few small tents. Bran headed for the small gray one. He recognized it as dwarven, not only because of its stone color, but by its rounded shape, a vastly different style than the peaked roof, hide and canvas tents of the humans. By the presence of Pace standing guard outside the small tent, Bran knew Dain to be within.

  Pace nodded to Bran as he came up to the tent. He looked up at Mardak as the big ogre went to one knee so as not to tower over the smaller dwarves.

  "How is he?" Bran inquired.

  "Resting, Axethane. He was so exhausted that he didn’t even stir when I set him down to setup the tent or when I moved him inside. I've checked on him a number of times. He has not yet moved."

  "Let the lad rest then. We only came to check on him. Karg and his men are watching the mouth of the pass along with Captain Hamil and some of his archers. They have reported no movement out in the marsh. Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll watch over Dain for a bit."

  Pace smiled and Bran saw his shoulders slump slightly. It had been a hard morning for all of them. "Thank you, Axethane. I could use a bite to eat."

  "Go on then. I’ll get Captain Kallen to assign someone to watch over Dain until you've had some rest," Bran assured him.

  After Pace set off to find the nearest cooking fire, Bran sat down next to the tent opening. He let out a small sigh of pleasure at b
eing able to get off his feet. They had fought for many hours and the forced retreat into the pass had taken another hour. Then he had to see to his men, what was left of them. It was nearly suppertime now. The sounds his stomach was making reminded him that he had not eaten since about this time yesterday. As hungry as he was, Bran thought he would give up food for the next week for a dip in a nice cool mountain lake right about now. The heat in these lower lands was taxing and made him feel grimy all the time.

  Mardak studied Bran as he sat in front of the tent. He seated himself facing the dwarf and crossed his legs. "So Axethane Bran, tell me about Dain."

  Bran opened his eyes and peered up. "What is it you would like to hear?"

  "Anything that would give me insight into why he would go through what he did to help one of my kind."

  Bran sighed again and sat forward with his elbows on his knees. "Dain is unlike most of our race. His father is a Forger, and his mother is a Delver. To say it is uncommon for such a union to take place would be an understatement."

  "The Forgers are your warriors are they not?" Mardak inquired.

  "Aye. We are the warriors and smiths of our people. The Delvers are the stone crafters among us. From them also come the healers. The two clans hardly ever intermarry. Dain is from such a union. He was attached to a group guarding one of the passes into our land when I met him."

  "Is he not young for one of your race to be in a fighting unit?"