Myrkron (Volume Two of The Chronicles of the Myrkron)

by Woods, Timothy

  “Sometimes there is wisdom in youth.” A familiar voice said from behind Michael.

  Branik and Reek both folded their hands together and bowed to Micah.

  With a look of relief on his face, Michael turned fluidly and imitated Branik and Reek. Keeping his head bowed, Michael replied. “I am glad you are back, Lord Micah.”

  Micah raised an eye brow at hearing the title from Michael. “So, they have finally told you. Now stop that, all of you. You make me feel like a pretentious old fool.”

  Branik and Reek both relaxed, but Michael kept his head bowed.

  “I see no reason not to honor someone who has given me such a gift as you have,” Michael replied earnestly.

  “Then honor me by not being so damned formal. You know how I feel about all the titles and pomp, Michael.”

  “Yes, but I wanted you to know how much this means to me. I...I haven’t been this happy since Karin said yes to my wedding proposal.”

  Micah waited until Michael looked up at him. “Well, then allow me to formally welcome you to our family, Sydoj Michael,” Micah said with a slight bow.

  Michael was smiling from ear to ear as he asked the obvious question. “What does sydoj mean?”

  “Sydoj is the word for student from my native tongue. It is the title given to all Avari until they pass the tests of mastery; then they become Avar, teachers.”

  Michael turned to look at Reek and Branik. “So both of you are Avar?”

  Reek and Branik both nodded.

  “Michael, we need to talk about a few things,” Micah said, bringing an end to the long line of questions he knew Michael would ask.

  Michael looked at Micah once again, but this time the awe and happiness were gone from his eyes. Instead, they held a hint of anger. “Yes, we do. I have been trying to find you for several days now. You always seem to slip away just before I arrive. Are you avoiding me, Micah?”

  Micah looked shocked at the notion. “Of course not. What possible reason could I have for doing such a thing?”

  “I can think of two,” Michael said with finality.

  “Reek, Branik, would you two go to the kitchen and bring Michael some food? We are going to return to his room.”

  Both men bowed to Micah, turned and walked off.

  Michael started walking toward his door before Micah finished his request. He stopped and closed his eyes. He mumbled something under his breath.

  Micah’s acute hearing picked up the words, and he realized Michael must have altered the field around his room; because, the spell he cast was giving Micah access to the room. Puzzled at why Michael would alter the field to keep him out, Micah pushed the thought aside, attributing it to the stress Michael had been under the past few days. Micah walked up beside Michael and waited for him to open the door. He followed Michael in and closed the door behind him. “Ok, Michael, I am here now. What is on your mind? What two reasons do you believe I have for avoiding you?”

  “Why did you not tell me that Mortow was Merric’s son? I cannot even imagine how Merric must have felt when I told him that I plan to kill his son. A little heads up would have been nice.”

  “Ah that, well, it really was not my place to give you that information. I deferred to Merric’s discretion. Since it seems you have recently learned of it, then I assume Merric did not tell you either.”

  “No, he did not. Mortow told me.”

  “Then I assume Merric did not want to trouble you with facts that might get in the way.”

  “Get in the way? Micah, it's his son we are fighting. It is Merric’s own flesh and blood who killed my wife!” Michael vented.

  “Precisely. Merric would have wanted to spare you the gruesome details, so they would not interfere with the tasks you have ahead of you. Knowing Mortow is Merric’s son could cause you to hesitate at a time when it could be fatal.”

  “Not likely. The man is responsible for murdering my wife, and now he has kidnapped Joshua. No, even if Merric stood before Mortow protecting him, I would still kill him, no matter how I had to reach him.”

  “Merric would never do that. Mortow has hurt him as much as he has hurt you, Michael. What other reason do you think I have?”

  Michael began pacing the floor. “You know what I am, don’t you?” Michael asked not pausing in his pacing.

  “I believe so. Why would you think I'm avoiding you because of that?”

  Finally Michael stopped his pacing and looked directly at Micah. “Because I believe you are the same as I am.”

  Micah laughed. “You think I am a Myrkron? Now why would you think such a thing?”

  “For one, you know the name. Merric had never heard of it.”

  Micah held his hand up to stop Michael. “The Oakkrin told me the name. That is how I know of it.”

  “You are of the time from when the last one should have come.” Michael looked at Micah as if trying to see inside of him. “You are a nine key, Micah, though the doors are closed to you. I do not understand how that is, but I sense the magic in you. It comes and goes. When you appeared in the hall a few minutes ago, I could feel a strong presence of magic. Now it dwindles almost like a candle guttering out.”

  All mirth left Micah’s face and he took up the pacing that Michael ceased. “You can sense this? How?” Micah asked in agitation.

  “I do not know, but I can. Tell me something Micah; what do you see beyond the ninth door?”

  Micah stopped pacing abruptly and spun to face Michael. “There is nothing beyond the ninth door,” Micah practically yelled.

  “Yes, there is. What do you see?” Michael asked calmly.

  Micah’s face was instantly calm once more as he eyed Michael shrewdly. “So that is what it means. Obviously, you already know; so why don’t you tell me?”

  “It doesn't work that way, Micah. I know what I am. What do you see?” Michael reiterated.

  Micah began to pace again. “I see a golden door, but I only see it when the other nine are open. When they close, that door is gone,” Micah answered with sadness.

  “That door is called Ianua Vita. It is the door of life. It gives us the power to heal. There are two more beyond that one.”

  Micah quit pacing and faced Michael once more. “Michael, how did you learn this?” Micah asked.

  Michael walked over and picked up the purple robe and golden sash. He held them out for Micah to see. “These were given to me by the man who waited for you to come. His name was Mason. He was our predecessor. By all rights, these should have been yours. Something happened, and you never came into your power. He gave them to me along with the name of the three doors, well the names of two of them. This robe belonged to his predecessor, but the sash has been worn by every Myrkron who has walked the worlds.”

  There was a knock at the door, two sharp strikes.

  “That would be Branik,” Michael said.

  “Only he can rattle the very stones of Kantwell with a knock.”

  Micah strode purposefully to the door and opened it. He said a few words to the two Avari outside and took the tray offered. He closed the door without admitting either man and placed the tray on Michael’s table. “The man must be immortal if he waited on me and is still around to pass these on to you,” Micah commented as he stared off out the window at the night sky.

  “He was not immortal. He passed from this world after giving them to me. I thought the same thing, figuring he was like you. I was wrong.”

  Micah stiffened. “So he told you?”

  “About you? No. He said it was not his place. Much the same as you said a few moments ago.”

  Micah visibly relaxed.

  “The day we met, you told me that you had very little magic of your own, yet I know you are a ninth key. I feel your magic surge and ebb. Just as now, I can no longer sense any magic in you. I do feel a small amount coming from your pocket, though.”

  Micah nodded and drew forth the small silver flask. It gave off small wisps of frost. “Aye, a simple spell that keeps it c
old,” Micah explained.

  “Why does your magic leave you? I don’t understand. Our magic is a part of us. How can it just be gone?”

  “I suppose now is as good a time as any. What I am about to tell you, Michael, is only known by one other person outside the Avari. Since you are one of us, you deserve to know as well.”

  “I assume that other person to be Joshua.”

  “In that assumption, you are correct. No one else is to know. The shame is too great for me,” Micah said softly, his shoulders slumping slightly.

  Michael was moved by the obvious discomfort he could see in his friend. “Micah, you do not have to tell me. If it causes you this much pain, I can live with the puzzle,” Michael said walking up to stand beside Micah.

  “It is better that you know so you can decide for yourself whether you wish to remain my friend. When you hear what I have to say, you may not feel very good about holding me in such high esteem.”

  “You are my friend. Nothing can change that, Micah.”

  “Do not be so hasty with such definitive statements.” Micah handed the little flask to Michael. “Open it. Smell the contents.”

  Michael took the flask. It was extremely cold, almost painfully so. He opened it and sniffed the top. He wrinkled his nose at the briny scent.

  Without taking his eyes off the night sky, Micah continued. “Take a small amount on the tip of your finger,” Micah instructed him.

  Michael put his index finger over the mouth of the flask and tipped it up. When he took his finger away it was covered in a thick, bright red liquid.

  “Yes, it is blood, Michael. More precisely, it is Avari blood.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Yes, you do. You merely do not want to draw the conclusion your mind is presenting to you.” Micah turned slowly to face Michael, his gray eyes now burning embers. When he smiled, Michael could see the extended canines. “I am a vampire, Michael. To be honest, I was the very first. I am also the only one left in existence.”

  Michael, shocked by the visage before him, took an involuntary step backward and dropped the flask in sudden distaste.

  Micah, moving faster than Michael’s eyes could follow, was suddenly standing right before him. The little flask was in Micah’s hand, having fallen no further than a few inches. Micah capped the flask, returned it to his pocket and then stepped away from Michael. “The fluid is too precious to waste in such a way,” Micah said sadly, the glow in his eyes fading.

  “You drink the blood of your own people?” Michael asked, trying to understand.

  “I do.”

  “Why?”

  Micah turned and stared out the window once again. He took a deep breath and began. “When I told you that I have very little magic of my own, that was no lie. Magic is tied to life. Without life, there is no magic. When I take in the blood of the living, their tie to life connects me to my magic for a short time. For as long as their blood remains alive within me, the doors open to me. As the life leaves the blood, the conduit shuts down until finally, the doors close once more. As to why I drink Avari blood, they give it freely during the Solstice Festivals. All of them come forward, one at a time, and cut their right palm. They let a small amount drip into a large bowl. I preserve that blood and keep it in storage. Normally, I would have little need of it; but, with all that’s going on, I find I am consuming a substantial amount in order to accomplish the tasks that need to be done. I hate that it need be at all, but they do it out of respect and, unfortunately, necessity.” Micah turned to glance at Michael. “Believe me, I understand your revulsion. I feel the same thing every day of my existence.”

  Michael’s face slowly lost the look of horror, as Micah's explanation painted a different picture than he imagined. “Then you do not take it from them against their will? What am I saying? Of course you wouldn’t.”

  “I would never do that to them. I also do not allow the young to participate in the ritual. They must be old enough to understand what I am and what they do before they are permitted to contribute,” Micah explained.

  “How much do you require?” Michael asked hesitantly.

  “Under normal circumstances, I can survive on about a pint a month. With as much as I have needed my magic recently, I have been consuming about many times that amount.”

  “I assume any blood will work, not just Avari blood?”

  “Aye, as long as it is fresh and still full of life. I only use the Avari blood that is given freely so that I am not required to unnecessarily take a life. I did that for far too long.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Micah chuckled half-heartedly. “I was not always the charming fellow you see before you, Michael. For eight thousand years I walked our earth as evil incarnate. I was everything the worst of our legends portray and more. I have spent the last two thousand years trying to make amends for those actions. If I live another twenty thousand years, I don’t think I could alleviate the guilt that I carry.”

  “What happened to cause the change?” Michael asked.

  Micah smiled a warm smile as he turned to fully face Michael. “That is a story for another time. Suffice it to say, my eyes were opened to what I had become, and I did not like what I saw.”

  “May I ask you some questions, Lord Micah?”

  Micah’s rigid stance relaxed as he heard the title. He knew Michael had made his choice. “As long as you keep it brief,” Micah replied, with a soft laugh.

  “I have so many. Where to start? Ok, crosses, do they work like the legends say they do?”

  “No.”

  “Silver?”

  “No.”

  “Wooden stakes?”

  “No.”

  “Holy water?”

  “No.”

  “Seems the legends didn’t get anything right,” Michael said with a frown.

  “And who do you think started those legends? Hmm?”

  “I don’t really know.”

  “I did, Michael.”

  “Why?”

  “What better way to keep people from hunting you than to make them think they have killed you.”

  “I see your point. What about decapitation?”

  “I don’t know. It has never happened.”

  “Sunlight?”

  “Unfortunately, that one is true. As far as I know, that is the only thing that can kill me. That is why you can never find me during the day. Why I am always off running errands at that time.”

  “How did you become a vampire?”

  “That is a very long story, and one that I may tell you some time. For now, know that it was done with magic and by my own hand. Though, I did not know, at the time, what it was I was truly doing. If I had, I probably never would have cast the spell.”

  “Probably?”

  “I just do not know. The circumstances made for desperate actions. If I had not cast it, many would have died. But, how many died since, because of what I became? At the time, my world was smaller. Now, knowing what I do, I see it was a selfish and foolish act that cost more lives than it saved.”

  “I would like to hear that story sometime,” Michael replied.

  “Maybe one day, when things are not so hectic, I will share it with you. For now, you need food and rest. I will…” Micah paused suddenly and his eyes became unfocused.

  Michael looked at him with concern. “What is it?”

  “Joshua is near. Mael seems to have held up his end of our agreement. I must go.”

  “I’m coming with you,”

  Micah considered for a moment then nodded. “Then you can transport us.”

  “Where do we need to go?” Michael asked.

  “To the elven encampment, but let’s get Colonel Bastise first.” Micah went to the door. Before he opened it, he turned back to Michael. “Eat while we wait for him. You need the nourishment."

  “I can’t argue with that,” Michael said with a smile, as he sat hurriedly and began to eat the bread and fruit on the tray.

&
nbsp; Micah stepped out into the hall and addressed Reek. “Go with haste, and find Colonel Bastise. Bring him here.”

  Reek bowed slightly to Micah and ran down the hall without comment.

  Micah turned next to Branik. “When Reek returns with the Colonel, have him wait out here, but let us know immediately.”

  “Yes, Lord Micah,” Branik said with a nod.

  Micah entered the room once more and closed the door. Michael was stuffing the last of the bread in his mouth and washing it down with a cup of water. “I’m ready when you are,” Michael informed him once he managed to swallow.

  “We have a few minutes,” Micah informed him.

  “I have wanted to talk to Colonel Bastise since I found out he was here. I just haven’t found the time. He seems like a very interesting man.”

  Micah smiled and chuckled. “Yes, he is and a good man. You do not find too many these days, in our world, with his sense of honor.”

  “How long have you known him?”

  “Hmm, twenty odd years. He could tell you the exact time and day we met.”

  “Does he have an eidetic memory?” Michael asked with interest.

  “No, nothing like that. It so happens that I saved his life that day. He believes that places him in my debt for the rest of his life. I have tried to tell him that no such gesture is necessary, but he just laughs and says that is not for me to decide,” Micah said, with mild exasperation.

  “He is right, you know. That is his decision. You might as well accept it. There are worse things than having your very own personal mercenary squad.”

  “Oh, I do not begrudge him his belief, but it is I that am in debt to him.”

  “How so?”

  “I have a lot for which to atone, Michael. Saving Colonel Bastise was one small step along that road. I feel it does me no good if the deeds I have done are repaid.”

  “You sure you were not raised Catholic?” Michael asked with a laugh.

  “Of that, I am certain,” Micah replied smiling.