Myrkron (Volume Two of The Chronicles of the Myrkron)

by Woods, Timothy

  “You are not seeing things,” Branik said from right behind him.

  Michael stopped and turned to look at the big Avari.

  “The elves are positioned up there. They are quite adept at not being seen when they choose,” Branik explained.

  Michael turned to the wall again and looked more closely. He still didn't see anything even knowing what he was looking for.

  One of the elves stood and nodded down at him.

  Michael had to do a double take. It seemed one second there was nothing but blank rock and the next the elf just appeared. “Could you see them?” Michael asked Branik.

  “Not unless they move, but I could sense someone was nearby,” Branik replied.

  “Fateor,” Michael whispered as he scanned the rock walls once more. He was surprised to suddenly see dozens of the elves perched all over the walls. The places where they stood or knelt seemed barely big enough for birds to lite on, but the elves seemed relaxed and steady. Michael released the spell and watched in fascination as the elves disappeared from view once again. He chuckled faintly and continued walking into the pass.

  Though the guards on duty did not know Michael, they did recognize two Avari flanking him, and they stepped apart, allowing the threesome to pass. They had gone only about a hundred feet into the pass when, rounding a corner, Michael almost ran straight into Commander Salic and Captain Hamil. Stopping suddenly, Michael bowed his head to Commander Salic. “Pardon me, Commander,” Michael said, in embarrassment.

  Commander Salic looked Michael up and down without recognition until Captain Hamil spoke.

  “Wizard Michael, we did not recognize you without your robe. I had thought wizards wore them at all times?” Captain Hamil inquired.

  “Wizards of this world may very well, but I find they are not very practical for fighting,” Michael explained.

  Commander Salic looked closer at Michael’s face. “I am sorry I did not recognize you, Wizard Michael. Captain Hamil is correct. We rarely, if ever, see a wizard out of robes and never one dressed for battle,” Commander Salic admitted.

  “Sydoj Michael is trained in the use of the blade. His training is far from complete, but he has shown a level of skill most would envy,” Branik said a bit defiantly.

  Michael was as stunned as Commander Salic and Captain Hamil looked. Branik had never said anything about his skill before, and Michael just assumed he was passing fair. To hear Branik’s praise made Michael smile broadly.

  “Michael has been allowed to train with the Avari?” Captain Hamil asked in shock, looking back and forth between the Avari and Michael.

  “Sydoj Michael is Avari,” Branik stated.

  Commander Salic looked at Michael with a new found respect. Not only had this young wizard saved countless of his men’s lives, he was Avari as well, which probably meant he was better with his sword than any of the men fighting under his command.

  “If you are half as good with your swords as you are with your magic, then I thank the Great One you are on our side,” Commander Salic said sincerely

  “Commander, could you tell me where I might find the young dwarf healer, Dain?” Michael asked feeling a bit embarrassed.

  “Certainly. He is in the center of the camp. His tent is setup near the wounded. If he is not there just ask anyone in camp. They all know Dain,” Salic told him.

  “Thank you, Commander,” Michael replied and stepped around the pair heading further into the pass.

  Stepping around Captain Hamil, Michael was struck by the man's size. He was a couple inches taller than Branik and built along the same lines. If it wasn’t for Branik’s Avari training, he wasn’t sure who he would give odds to in a sparring match. As they continued on, they saw Colonel Bastise walking toward them. There was another cut from the same cloth, Michael thought to himself. Until all this began, Michael had never seen men as big those three except on television. He would hate to be on the receiving end of any of them.

  Colonel Bastise saw them and smiled hugely. “Ah, my friends it is good to see you here. Is Micah with you?”

  “No, sorry Colonel. Micah had something to attend to. He said he would try to be here by this evening,” Michael told him.

  “Ah, that is good. I find myself looking forward to fighting with him once again. It has been a long time since we went into battle together. I have missed having him at my side,” Bastise said smiling.

  “While I do not share your enthusiasm for the coming fight, I do understand your feeling. I could think of no other I would want at my side during this time than Micah. Present company excluded, of course,” Michael said nodding to Branik and Reek.

  “We take no offense, Michael. We are poor substitutes for Lord Micah,” Reek replied sincerely.

  “You two are not poor substitutes for anything. You are obviously the best or Lord Micah would not have assigned you to me.”

  “Aye, young Michael is correct. Micah would not have entrusted his safety to just anyone. Well, I must to speak to Commander Salic, perhaps I will see you later,” Bastise said with a slight bow of his head and continued on his way.

  Michael finally made it to the area designated for the wounded and saw Dain’s small tent. Sitting on the ground outside the tent was a giant ogre with two red feathers depending from a red leather headband, directly in front of him sat Dain. The two were conversing in serious tones and, as Michael got close enough to listen, he realized the ogre was instructing Dain on the uses of various plants as healing agents. Dain’s expression was one of rapt attention until he caught sight of Michael.

  As Dain saw the three approaching, he jumped to his feet and a big smile lit his face. “Wizard Michael, I had no idea I would be seeing you so soon,” Dain exclaimed in excitement.

  The ogre turned his body to see who was there, but remained seated. He had already determined that the humans were more intimidated by him if he stood. As he was eye level with all but the tallest of the humans when seated, Mardak preferred to remain that way. “I heard Dain address you as Wizard and, as the two with you are obviously Avari, I assume you are the Michael that Dain has told me about. I am Mardak, Shaman of the tribes under my brother’s leadership,” Mardak said inclining his head in greeting.

  “I am pleased to meet you. Yes, I am Michael,” he said extending his hand.

  Mardak took Michael’s hand carefully and shook it. “I sense you are a wizard and a powerful one at that; but you dress more like a nobleman.”

  “The clothes were given to me by Lord Micah and are much more fitting to fight in than a robe,” Michael explained.

  “Have you come for that talk, Wizard Michael?” Dain asked excitedly.

  “I have. Please Dain, it’s just Michael, and my two Avari brethren are Reek and Branik,” Michael said introducing the pair who each nodded in turn.

  “As you wish, Michael. I cannot offer you chairs, but you are welcome to sit here with Mardak and me. It is not very comfortable, but the conversation more than makes up for it,” Dain offered.

  “If you like hearing about healing roots and herbs, that is,” Mardak said, chuckling.

  “I would very much like to hear about such things. In fact, healing is what I came to speak about with Dain,” Michael replied taking a seat on the ground and crossing his legs.

  “Do you require healing?” Mardak asked with concern.

  “No. Dain took care of that earlier. My interest is more in the practices and procedures. I am new to healing and was hoping Dain could teach me more about it.”

  Mardak’s eyebrows drew down, and he looked more closely at Michael. “Wizards cannot heal,” Mardak stated flatly.

  The look on the big ogres face caused Reek and Branik to move closer to Michael.

  “That is what I have been told, but then, I am not a wizard. I am a Myrkron.”

  Mardak’s eyes went wide, and he stood up suddenly.

  Reek and Branik both drew their swords and interposed themselves between Michael and Mardak.

  Marda
k ignored the two Avari and went to his knees. Bowing forward, he touched his forehead to the ground in front of Michael. “Myrkron, please forgive my ignorance. I had no way of knowing it was you,” Mardak blurted out in embarrassment.

  Michael stood up and touched both Reek and Branik on the shoulders, gesturing for them to put their swords away. Both Avari complied without hesitation. Michael studied the prostrate ogre for a few seconds before kneeling down in front of him. He sighed lightly and placed his hand on the back of Mardak’s head noticing that the ogre began to shake slightly at his touch.

  “There is nothing to forgive, Shaman Mardak. Please get up. It seems I have questions for you as well,” Michael said quietly removing his hand.

  Mardak hesitantly glanced up. His yellowish complexion turned an ugly red at seeing the Myrkron kneeling before him. Seeing the tired expression on Michael’s face instead of anger, Mardak raised himself up into a kneeling position, but diverted his eyes from Michael’s as they met.

  “You obviously know what a Myrkron is, my question is how you know.”

  “You do not know the histories, Myrkron?” Mardak asked in surprise, still refusing to meet Michael’s gaze.

  “I am new to this world and am far from all-knowing.”

  “Then I fear to tell them to you, Myrkron,” Mardak said with a quiver in his voice.

  Dain kept looking from Michael to Mardak not knowing what had transformed the confident shaman he had come to know into the shaking giant he saw before him. “Mardak, you have no reason to fear Michael. He is not going to hurt you,” Dain said noting the blue aura around Michael.

  “Young Dain is correct, Mardak. I am not going to hurt you,” Michael told the ogre, dropping his title so as not to sound so formal.

  “If you knew the histories you would not make such promises. Please, Myrkron, do not kneel before me,” Mardak begged, the fear growing in his voice.

  “As you wish,” Michael said, rising to his feet.

  Dain went to Mardak and placed his hand on the big ogres arm. “I don’t know why you would think Michael would harm you. He is a friend,” Dain explained trying to ease Mardak's worry, as his aura clearly showed genuine fear.

  “You do not understand,” Mardak said in desperation, pulling at his coarse hair.

  “None of us will, unless you explain it,” Michael replied softly.

  Mardak, still pulling at his hair, slumped forward as if in resignation. “The Myrkron came to my people many ages ago. He urged us to seek peace with the trolls as both of our races were in danger of dying out; but generations of hate are hard to overcome and we ignored him, continuing to fight. Both of our races gathered what we had left of our warriors and met on the Steppes. It is told that there were over one hundred thousand warriors on that field and the fighting was savage, with no quarter given by either side. As the battle wore on into its second day, more than half of the warriors lay dead upon the ground. Suddenly, a great fireball exploded in the center of the field turning hundreds to ash instantly. Everyone stopped fighting and gaped at the lone figure standing in the midst of the scorched ring. He was slim and small with a purple robe and gold sash, and the look on his face was said to be one of great sorrow. He pronounced our fates there on the battlefield,” Mardak recited.

  “That must have been Mason,” Michael prompted, but Mardak seemed not to hear.

  “He offered those who chose not to fight a chance to leave the battle, but to do so would have been considered an act of cowardice, so not one single warrior moved. The Myrkron grew angry and said that our races would be doomed to fight until another Myrkron came to destroy us completely. He then clapped his hands together and a great rush of energy flowed from him, destroying all those around him except two ogres and two trolls. It is told that as the energy touch the warriors they burst into a red mist staining everything with the tint of blood. He allowed those four to live; to return and tell what he had foretold. Now you have come, and we are doomed,” Mardak cried out.

  Dain looked at Michael with a touch of fear. He had seen Michael destroy all the weres in the last battle in the exact same way. Dain stepped in front of the sullen Mardak and tried to interpose himself between Michael and his friend.

  “You have not come to destroy them have you, Michael?” Dain asked now uncertain.

  “No, Dain. This is the first I have heard such a tale; and, though I believe it has some truth to it, these things have a way of getting embellished with each retelling. Besides, why would I hurt anyone willing to help us in this war? Michael asked feeling hurt that Dain would think that of him.

  Dain studied Michael watching for any shifts in his aura, but it remained blue and only grew a deeper blue after his question. He turned his head and spoke Mardak's name. The distraught ogre had not realized Dain had stepped in front of him. When he saw the tiny dwarf standing between himself and the Myrkron, he panicked and snatched Dain up in one massive hand.

  Dain let out a high pitched yelp in surprise, but before he could draw another breath, Mardak set him down behind his back.

  “Please Myrkron do not be offended by Dain’s questions. He is young and does not always know the consequences of his words or actions,” Mardak pleaded.

  Michael kept his facial expression bland as he stepped right up to Mardak. Mardak remained still, but Michael could see how he shook with fear.

  “As I have already said, I have no intention of harming you or the ones with you. You have just demonstrated to me that you care more for the life of a friend than you do for you own. That tells me all I need to know about the character of the man before me, and I want you to know that I would never harm Dain either,” Michael told Mardak.

  Reek and Branik remained alert just behind Michael, watching for any signs of danger from the distraught ogre.

  Seeing that he was going to get nowhere with Mardak as long as he was upset, Michael struck out quickly with his right hand placing it against the ogres chest. So fast did he move even Reek and Branik were taken by surprise. Mardak froze in obvious terror at the hand touching him.

  Michael merely spoke a single word. “Alcedonia.” He felt the power build and flow from himself into Mardak.

  The expression on Mardak’s face changed slowly and his eyes lost the glassy crazed look they had contained. Mardak shuddered and let out a massive sigh.

  “Feel better now?” Michael asked removing his hand and taking a step back.

  Mardak bowed his head and nodded once. He found it surprising that he was still alive, so he touched his forehead to the ground at Michael’s feet again.

  “Oh, would you please stop that!” Michael said in exasperation.

  Mardak raised himself up into a sitting position once again and cautiously studied Michael. He was unsure if he had somehow offended him, but seeing Michael smiling, he tentatively grinned back.

  “That’s better. Dain, tell your big friend here that if he doesn’t stop treating me like some avenging deity, I’m going to eat him,” Michael joked, turning to sit back down.

  Mardak’s face drained of color then flushed an ugly red until he realized Dain and the two Avari were laughing.

  “Come Shaman Mardak, let us talk some with Dain of the art of healing,” Michael said, chuckling at the ogre’s response to his jest.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The sun was setting; Micah could tell even though he could not see it. He knelt silently next to the slain body of Rafe, his right hand resting lightly on the great wolf’s shoulder. He had been there since Michael left, recounting aloud the times he and Rafe had played and hunted. The sorrow of the loss cut deeper than any sword ever could. All that remained now was to give Rafe over to the Oakkrin. Micah heard the soft padding of feet behind him and knew the others had come.

  Micah bowed his head one final time over his fallen friend and then rose to his feet. Turning, he beheld a sight no other living being on Thelona, save the Oakkrin, had ever witnessed. His small clearing was filled with dozens of Grove Wolv
es. Even Roam and Jewl’s pups were there, and Micah could see the glowing eyes of hundreds more gathered in the forest around him. As one, they all sat facing Micah and Rafe.

  From directly in front of Micah, a wolf came walking through the group. He was bigger by almost a head than any of the other wolves and a muzzle frosted with white marked his age. The big male walked up to Micah and stood before him, looking down on the Avari Lord.

  “Ugan, I am sorry. I was too late to save him. He has been avenged. I saw to it that the one responsible for his death would never harm another,” Micah told the big wolf with bowed head. Micah felt Ugan touch his head with his nose, and he looked up once more. “He died protecting me. Would you allow me to deliver him to the Oakkrin?” Micah asked.

  Ugan sat down, raised his head to the canopy above, and released a mournful, almost haunting howl. As his howl echoed off into the night, the other wolves joined in, bidding farewell to one of their own.

  Micah turned and gently picked up Rafe, draping the giant wolf over his shoulders. The weight was no problem for Micah, but the sheer size of the Grove Wolf made it awkward for one of Micah’s height to carry. Micah steadied the sad bundle on his shoulders and turned. He began walking toward the grove. Ugan fell into step right behind Micah and, as they passed through the gathered wolves, one by one, they all laid down until Rafe had been carried passed, then they followed Ugan.

  When Micah entered the grove, he heard the voice of the Oakkrin singing. He was never able to catch the words, but the music was always beautiful to his ears. He hated that it took the death of one of the Grove Wolves for him to be able to hear it again. It was an ancient melody that sounded similar to a tune Dainy used to hum to their sons. Thus, it was doubly painful to hear, but was more beautiful perhaps because of that.

  Walking over to one of the great trees, Micah gently set Rafe down in the cradle of two massive roots, then stepped back and transformed into a wolf. Raising his head to the stars above, he began to howl softly. All of the Grove Wolves followed suit. As the howl died away into the night, leaves began to fall from the ancient trees. They drifted with an obvious purpose, coming to rest on the body of Rafe. When the last one had fallen, the valiant wolf was covered completely, and the singing of the Oakkrin ended. The grove fell silent. No insects chirped; no birds sang; and no wind rustled the leaves to disturb the sanctity of the moment.