“Come, my friend. Hear the glad tiding my son and his friends bring,” King Westan bellowed out laughing.
Merric was a bit taken aback by the jovial mood. The King acted as if the war were over and won.
“What is this news that seems to have everyone on the verge of celebration?” Merric asked.
“Were we in my court, the celebration would be in full swing already. Rein, inform the Headmaster what has transpired.”
“Wizard Merric, I believe you met Quin and Rena earlier today,” Rein paused as Merric looked the two over.
“I am sorry, there have been so many new faces lately that I am afraid I do not recall having met them,” Merric replied with a shake of his head. Seeing the widening smile on Prince Rein’s face, Merric frowned.
“Oh, you met them, but not personally; and I am sure you will remember them. Quin and Rena were the two dragons that took out the Weres and their ships,” Prince Rein explained.
Merric’s frown faded and a look of curiosity came over his face. Michael’s face registered something very close to awe as he looked upon the man and woman in gray robes.
Micah cleared his throat loudly as the silence lengthened. “Excuse me, King Westan. We have not been properly introduced. I am Micah,” Micah said bowing slightly from the waist to King Westan.
At mention of his name, the crowd of soldiers grew silent. Murmurs started in a wave, expanding out, as his identity was relayed.
“Lord Micah, it is an honor to finally meet you. Tales of your exploits and those of the famed Avari, in the Race Wars, are still told within our halls,” King Westan replied, bowing in turn to Micah.
Michael, watching the exchange, did not know which was more intimidating; seeing two Were-dragons or seeing the king of the High Caste Weres bowing to Micah. He assumed that kings did not bow too often. Micah’s legendary status never failed to surprise and awe him.
King Westan’s eyes left Micah’s as he saw Michael standing partially hidden behind Merric. The smile left his face as he took in the purple robe and golden sash; he went to one knee bowing his head. “Myrkron, I am honored beyond words,” King Westan breathed.
Like the wave of murmurs that flowed out with Micah’s name, so too did a wave of men kneeling. Michael was stunned beyond words. All he could do was stare at the bowed heads. Only Merric, Micah, Reek and Branik remained on their feet. Michael tried to speak, but his voice cracked so he cleared his throat.
“Please, all of you, get up. This is not necessary,” Michael croaked timidly.
“Maybe it is I who should be awed by you,” Micah said with a smile, leaning in close to Michael to whisper in his ear.
As King Westan rose to his feet the rest of his men followed suit. The King had a very satisfied smile on his face as he looked up at Michael.
“My son told me a Myrkron once again walked the land, and now that I have met him and seen some of his character, I have no doubt left in me that victory will be ours.”
“I wish I could share in your belief, your majesty, but I am newer to my powers than even the newest apprentice here at Kantwell,” Michael informed him.
King Westan seemed surprised by this statement and looked at Merric questioningly.
“It is true. Michael has been studying magic for much less than a year and, though his power is great, no one knows how or what to teach him. We have been training him in the basics, but he has already displayed powers beyond our knowledge,” Merric explained.
King Westan shrugged. “The Myrkron will prevail,” King Westan replied matter-of-factly.
Michael shook his head in disbelief.
“Have faith in yourself, Myrkron. And if you cannot, have faith in our faith in you. You are the living instrument of the Great One, sent to us to do what we cannot.”
Michael was horrified. He could not believe that King Westan thought him sent by the Great One like some messiah.
“I have been around a long time, Michael. Not as long as the Avari Lord here, but still a considerable amount of time as humans measure it. And that look on your face tells me even more about your character. That is the look of a man appalled by what he has been told; and an honest, righteous man would be appalled, even if it’s the truth. You are a true Myrkron,” King Westan explained with a small smile.
Merric cleared his throat to take the focus off a shaken Michael. “I believe you had some news to share,” Merric prompted.
“Yes, of course. Quin killed the Garolith at the beach!” King Westan exclaimed.
The dining hall erupted with another cheer.
The news took Michael’s mind immediately off King Westan’s previous statement and overcame his awe of the man in gray robes. Michael stepped around Merric and approached Quin. As he approached, Quin bowed to him.
“Is it true? Did you really kill that monster?” Michael asked in wonder.
“Aye, Myrkron. It is dead. Prince Rein witnessed the battle firsthand,” Quin confirmed.
Michael looked at the man’s face and for the first time noticed the scars and the cloudy orb of his eye. “Was this injury a result of that battle?”
“Aye, Myrkron, but it is a small price to pay to rid the world of such an evil. The slashes have almost completely healed and, in time, so will the eye. Worry not.”
“The price has been paid, but need not be endured,” Michael replied raising his right hand and cupping the left side of Quin’s face.
Quin went rigid as Michael met his eye.
“Vigoratus vulnus,” Michael said softly.
Quin flinched, but then his face transformed with a look of awe.
Michael removed his hand and the scars were gone. The eye was clear and sparkling blue, a match to the other one.
Quin raised his hand to his face and his fingers told him what his eye already had; he was healed. Quin’s awe turned to reverence and he knelt down before Michael and touched his head to the floor in front of Michael’s feet.
“Thank you, Myrkron. I have no right to ask but could you…” Quin began, but Michael interrupted him.
“You have no need to ask, and it’s Michael,” Michael told him as he moved to stand in front of Rena. As he healed Quin, he had sensed that she, too, was injured.
“Myrkron,” Rena said bowing her head.
“Michael,” he corrected her as he placed his hand on her stomach.
Micah watched Michael closely and with great interest. He had never seen a wizard heal before. He had believed, like Merric, it was impossible; but then, Michael had accomplished a lot of things thought to be impossible.
“Vigoratus vulnus.”
Rena drew in a shuddering breath, but as she exhaled, she felt the pain of her wound fade and disappear. As Michael removed his hand, Rena tried to kneel before him as Quin had, but Michael stopped her by clasping her upper arms. He looked around again and saw everyone was kneeling again. He had been so focused on the healings that he did not notice before now.
“No one should kneel before me. I am a man the same as all of you, well, oh you know what I mean,” Michael said in exasperation as he realized these men were not really the same as himself, they were Weres.
King Westan rose to his feet again and chuckled at Michael’s statement. “We understand your meaning, Myrkron,” King Westan said gesturing for the others to rise.
“Please call me Michael. All of you.”
“As you wish, Michael,” King Westan replied.
“You see. This man has proven that he can do what I could not. The Garolith was totally unaffected by my magic, but Quin was able to kill it by himself,” Michael said, gesturing to Quin as he addressed King Westan.
“No one can accomplish everything solely on his own, Myr…Michael,” King Westan said with a knowing look at Merric.
“Only the young believe it so, and we are all young once,” Merric replied with a raised eyebrow.
Micah stepped up to Michael and leaned in close. “You have some reading to do and time grows short. I would sugge
st you be about it,” Micah whispered.
“Yes, you are correct,” Michael agreed, but turned to Quin and Rena.
“I want to thank you both for what you did at the beach. You saved many lives today and most probably many more in the future.”
Michael turned to King Westan and bowed to him. “If you will excuse me, your majesty, I have something I need to attend.”
“Of course, Michael, and it's Westan,” King Westan said with a smile.
Michael managed a faint smile of his own. He began to speak the words of transport, but Micah tugged on his sleeve interrupting him.
“It has been a long day for you, Michael, and whether you can feel it or not, your body needs nourishment. Food first,” Micah told him and made it clear it was not merely a suggestion; it was an order from his Lord.
Michael sighed and nodded. He was not in the least bit hungry, but he realized he hadn't eaten all day. Michael started for the window that Tess always served everyone through. As he got close to the ring of Weres that had surrounded them, they parted before him, opening a clear path. As he passed, every single one of them bowed their heads to him. Micah, Branik and Reek followed Michael through the mass of people.
As Michael approached the window, he saw Miles standing in the opening, watching him with wide eyes. “Hello, Miles. What’s for dinner this evening?” Michael asked hoping to avoid a lengthy string of questions.
“Are you a king, Michael?” Miles asked still wide eyed.
“No, Miles. I am not a king,”
“Are you the Great One?”
Michael nearly choked. “How could you possibly think that?” Michael asked in astonishment.
“All those people bowed to you. People only bow like that to kings or when they pray, and you said you were not a king,” Miles replied seriously.
“I am just Michael, the same as I have always been since you met me. I am not a god, Miles,” Michael explained gently.
“Then…” Miles began, but Tess stepped up behind him and placed her hands on his small shoulders.
“It is late, Miles, and Michael needs to eat and has important things to do; besides you promised to help me with all those dishes, remember?” Tess said gently turning him from the window.
“Ok,” Miles replied with disappointment as he walked slowly to the wash tubs.
“Thank you, Tess. I wasn't quite sure how to handle that.”
”He is young and doesn’t understand. He has seen how quickly you have advanced in rank, and he hears how the other students talk about you. He sees you as a hero, someone he looks up to. You have taken the time to talk to him and to listen to him. You treat him as an equal instead of like a child. You are his friend, and now he wonders if he should treat you differently. Seeing important people bow to you and regard you with respect, must make him think you are far too important to be his friend,” Tess explained.
“Wow, you make it sound even more complicated than I first thought,” Michael replied perplexed.
“When you find time, sit with him and talk. Show him you are still his friend. No more, no less.”
“You should have your own office. I think you would make a great teacher,” Michael said sincerely.
“This is my office, and I have been dealing with children for more years than I dare to count. You pick up a few things along the way,” Tess said handing Michael a tray with a bowl of stew, a piece of buttered bread and a cup of water.
“Thank you again. I will try to make time to talk to him when I get a break.” Michael turned around and looked at Micah.
Micah took him by the arm and led him out of the dining hall and down the corridor to the library at the far end. At a look from Micah, Reek and Branik took up posts at the entrance.
“No one in,” Micah said softly then followed a still walking Michael. “Wise lady,” Micah commented as he caught up to Michael.
“So it would seem,” Michael said placing his tray on a nearby table and taking a seat.
Micah pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table and sat as well. Michael sat in silence for a few minutes just staring at the tray before him. Micah allowed him those few minutes of silence.
“Eat before it gets cold. Rabbit stew it terrible cold, if I remember correctly,” Micah prompted.
“I’m not sure I can stomach it right now.”
Micah sighed lightly and reached into his pocket and pulled out his silver flask. He was about to drink from it, but Michael stopped him.
“Please don’t waste it. Especially on something as trivial as my nerves,” Michael pleaded.
“Then take care of the nerves yourself. I know you know how,” Micah replied still holding the flask.
Michael nodded and exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. “Alcedonia.” Michael’s stomach grew calm, and he felt his mind clear.
Micah nodded his approval and put the flask away. “Now eat or do I need to summon Branik in here to feed you?”
“No, no. That won’t be necessary,” Michael said chuckling. He knew Micah was serious, but the sudden vision of Branik wielding a spoon like a sword popped into his head. Michael tasted the stew. It was still warm and the spices piqued his appetite.
They sat in silence while Michael finished his meal. When he was done, Michael pushed the tray to the side and looked up in shock at Micah. He began frantically patting his robe searching for the book and glasses.
Micah pulled both from inside his shirt and handed them to a very relieved Michael.
“How did you get them?” Michael asked in disbelief.
“You do not remember handing them to me as you walked passed in the dining hall?”
“No.”
“Well, you did. It was a good thing too, as you seemed to need your hands free to heal those two.”
“Micah, I just don’t know how long I can do this,” Michael told him, staring down at the book.
“As long as you need to, I suspect,” Micah replied, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.
Michael looked up at Micah with a sour look on his face. “That is one of those statements that have a tendency to aggravate more than alleviate. You have had a lot more time to become accustomed to legendary status. I’m not legendary nor am I a hero as Tess put it. I am a man far from home and frankly, I’m scared. Gods do not get scared, and you and I both know I’m no god.”
“You are wrong, Michael.”
The horrified expression came over Michael’s face once more. “Don’t tell me you now think I’m a god as well.”
Micah chuckled. “No, of course not. I was referring to your statement that God does not get scared. I know for a fact that he does. He fears all the time, for us. What you are frightened of is not living up to the reputation that everyone has attributed to you. They have their stories of the great Myrkron from long ago. Do not be afraid of that, Michael, legends are impossible to live up to. Take it from one who knows.”
“If it was just a reputation, it wouldn’t be so heavy of a burden. If I let everyone down, then we lose,” Michael said in frustration.
“You are ignoring the most important thing that King Westan told you.”
Michael looked at him questioningly.
“I understand you had a lot going through your mind, but you need to learn to be more attentive,” Micah chided. “What he said was that no one man can do everything alone. He didn’t just say that to hear himself talk. I mean, he is a king, but I do not get the impression he is a self-absorbed one. That statement applies to everyone from kings on down or in this case from a Myrkron on down. I can think of no truer statement. You are not in this alone. This war is not riding on just your shoulders,” Micah told him sternly.
“Then why does it feel like it is?” Michael asked shortly.
“Because you are making it so. I’ll admit, King Westan’s little show out there did not help matters, but he and his people seem to have strong ties to your predecessor. He only meant to honor you, not burden you furt
her.”
“I know he didn’t mean to cause me distress, but to hear out loud, from a king no less, that you are the right hand of God is very disconcerting,” Michael explained more calmly.
“Really?” Micah said with a droll grin.
Michael covered his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes. “You know, it’s extremely dissatisfying to converse with a man who knows everything,” Michael replied shaking his head.
“Oh, I wouldn’t know.”
Michael laughed, but cut it off as it sounded slightly manic to his ears.
“You should start reading that book while you have the time. Branik and Reek will make sure you are not disturbed,” Micah said rising to his feet.
“Where are you going?”
“I need to go to The Slot and check on the situation there. If I have time before sunrise, I will return. If not, you know where to find me now.” Micah pulled his silver flask out and quickly took a drink.
As Michael watched him, he noticed for the first time that a hint of color came into Micah’s usually pale face. He also thought he detected a flicker of blue surrounding the Avari Lord. He rubbed his eyes and refocused, but the blue was gone. Michael chalked it up to industrial fatigue.
“Be safe.”
“And if you cannot be safe, be more skilled than your adversary,” Micah replied with a wicked grin. He spoke the words of transport and disappeared from the library.
“Easy for you to say,” Michael called into the emptiness; then he opened the book and put on the glasses Micah lent him.
Chapter Thirty
Micah materialized in the midst of the command tents in The Slot with Colonel Bastise at his side; their sudden appearance taking several guards by surprise and raising an immediate alarm.
“Good response time,” Colonel Bastise commented.
“Be glad they were not Avari or you would already have a sword at your neck,” Micah said with a smile.
“I have seen your men drilling. I could certainly use the likes of them back in our world.”
Myrkron (Volume Two of The Chronicles of the Myrkron) Page 28
