Myrkron (Volume Two of The Chronicles of the Myrkron) (30 page)

“No, Michael, but it is very old.  I have had to copy and recopy all of my books and journals down through the years.  What you hold in your hand you would never have been able to read in its original format.  Our writing back then was very crude.  As it is
, you will still find it difficult to read.  The language is a form of the Latin you have come to know, but it is in the original dialect.  As you know, languages change over time and what we write and speak today is different from even a mere one hundred years ago. Therefore, some of what you read may not make sense to you.  When you get to those parts, if you need me to, I will translate for you,” Micah explained.

Michael nodded his understanding and once again turned his attention to the book.  His initial excitement had been crushed when Micah told him it was not as old as he had thought
, but the contents were even more intriguing now.  He looked at the edge. It could not be more than a hundred pages long.  Michael gently opened the cover and cringed when he heard it crack.

Micah saw him cringe and jump slightly at the sound.
  “It’s ok, Michael.  There is not a word there,” Micah said pointing to the book, “that is not up here,” he continued, tapping his right temple.  “As I said, I have written and rewritten them many times."

Michael’s excitement turned to frustration when he glanced at the first page and saw it was written in an archaic form of Latin
and the handwriting, though flowing and neat, was difficult to read.  “Micah, there is no way I can read this.  I have gotten markedly better with my Latin since I've been studying at Kantwell, but I don’t know half these words,” Michael complained.

Micah opened his middle desk drawer and withdrew a small wooden box.  He placed it on the desk in front of him and opened the lid.  Pulling a delicate pair of glasses from the case
, he handed them to Michael.

Michael noted the silver wire frames and small oval lenses.  He looked up at Micah with a questioning expression.

“They are a special set that were made a
very
long time ago.  I used to use them when I ran across obscure languages.  Go on, put them on then look at the book again,” Micah prompted.

Michael did as Micah suggested and hooked the thin silver wires behind his ears.  He glance
d at the page again and swayed a bit as the page swam dizzily before his eyes.

“Easy.  Don’t try to focus your eyes just keep looking at the script.”

Michael steadied himself and opened his eyes again.  The page wavered in his vision, though not nearly as bad as before.  Slowly, the text came into focus and what he saw through the lenses appeared to be written in English.  He blinked several times in astonishment.  “Micah, these are amazing.  They have changed the text to English,” Michael exclaimed.

“No, they merely allow you to see the writing in a language you can understand.  They have been very useful in the past,” Micah explained
, smiling at Michael’s excitement.

“I don’t suppose there is a language you can’t read after all the time you have been around,” Michael commented not looking up from the book.

“Oh, I am sure there are some very obscure ancient languages out there, somewhere, that I have never come across; but I would imagine they are few.  You are welcome to borrow both the book and the glasses as long as you need; just don’t put the glasses into a drawer or any type of concealing place.  Keep them in their case when you are not using them and on a table or desk.”

“Why not put them in a drawer?”  Michael asked, looking up in confusion.

“The magic on them will return them to me if they are placed in such concealment.  It is a way to make sure they are never stolen.  And they have been several times in the past.  Every time, the thief would hide them away in some drawer and the magic would trigger, bringing them back to me.  It's a safeguard one learns when you have lived as long as I have.  Many of my items have similar enchantments on them,” Micah explained as he pulled the little silver flask from his pocket.  “Here, place this in a pocket,” Micah instructed, handing the flask to Michael.

Michael gingerly took the flask, remembering how cold it was, and placed it in his right pocket.  He could feel the coldness of the flask against his leg even through the fabric.  He was about to remove it because it was becoming uncomfortable when he felt the weight of it lift.  He quickly stuck his hand in his pocket only to find it was empty.  He looked up at Micah with a smile on his face.

Micah reached into his pocket where he kept the flask and withdrew his hand.  The little flask was once again in his hand.  “See.  Safe and sound right where it belongs,” Micah said as he once again pocketed the flask.

“You are going to have to teach me that spell one of these days.
  Wait a minute.  If they cannot be placed in a drawer, how then can you keep them in one?”

“
They belong to me and I cast the spell.  I can put them anywhere I wish. It is only an issue for others.  And, if we make it through to the other side of this war, I’ll teach you anything you want to know.  You are one of mine now, Michael, just as every other Avari.  Whatever knowledge I have is yours.”  Micah cocked his head and looked up at the ceiling.

Michael followed his gaze
, but could see nothing except the rafters above.  “That means more to me than you could ever know, Micah.  You know, when I came here with you, I had nothing to live for except the prospect of revenge.  I didn't care whether I lived or died as long as I saw those responsible for Karin’s death destroyed.  You and the Avari have given me back my life.  I now care about more than revenge and I count you, Reek and Branik as family.  They are my brothers and, much like Joshua, I consider you to be as a father to me.  It is strange though, since you don't look that much older than me; but that is how I feel,” Michael said with feeling.

Micah smiled a rare warm smile that lit his eyes from within.
  “I always seem to pick up strays,” Micah laughed as he watched Michael smile.  “It will be dark soon.  We should get back to Kantwell.  With a Garolith on the loose in Branna, that will be its target,” Micah said rising to his feet.

“We have to go back to the grove first.
The Oakkrin wanted me to bring Reek and Branik back to them before I left,” Michael told him.

Micah looked at him puzzled
, but motioned for him to exit the study.  As they walked out the front door, Reek and Branik fell in behind them.  Micah motioned for the Avari to precede him and they bowed their heads in acknowledgement.

“Branik, we will have to get you another set of swords.  When we return to Kantwell, I will travel to the Avari Isle and bring back a pair,” Micah commented.

“Thank you, my lord.  I have been feeling a bit naked without them,” Branik replied.

“If you had studied more on the unarmed combat lessons, that m
ight not be the case,” Micah gently rebuked.

“Aye, my lord,” Branik nodded his head in resignation.

Reek chuckled and elbowed him in the ribs.
  “Without those swords of yours, I have a better than fair chance against you,” Reek commented.

“I will not even pretend that my hand to hand skills match yours
, but give me a pair of swords, and I’ll take on anyone short of Lord Micah,” Branik said, clenching his fists in frustration as they entered the grove.

“A set of swords
, Avari?  Well, perhaps we can assist you,” the Oakkrin’s rustling voice called out.  “Step forward.”

Branik looked to Micah
, who shrugged and shook his head.  “I have no idea what they are up to, but I have found that it is better to go along with their requests when presented,” Micah told him.

Branik tugged his tunic down and tightened his rope belt before stepping forward to the middle of the grove.

“Kneel down, Avari, and place your hands upon our ground,” the Oakkrin commanded.

Without delay, Branik knelt and placed his hands palms down on the soft grass.  He felt the earth under them grow warm and start to shift.  Suddenly he felt a hard object press against the palms of both hands.  The pressing was forceful enough that it lifted his hands off the ground; when they were a half a foot from the ground the motion ceased.  Branik withdrew his hands and saw by the moonlight streaming down on the grove, a set of white hilts protruding from the earth.  He grasped both and pulled.  They slid free of the earth as if it were merely a sheath
in which they had been stored.  They came out clean and free of rust as if newly forged.

“Avari Branik, your lord Micah has spoken to us a great deal about you.  You instill in him a great pride that only a teacher can have
, after watching his student exceed his expectations.  These swords were once carried by a noble warrior, who long ago helped fight and contain the Garoliths.  That was a very long time ago, even as we measure time.  Since he was not allowed to slay the creatures, he brought his swords here and bade us guard them in the event they were again needed.  Over the ages, we have studied them, but have been unable to divine how they were crafted.  They contain no metal and appear to be made of a type of bone blended with the element of fire.  May they aid you in the times ahead.”

Branik studied the blades intently.  Micah, Reek and Michael all walked forward and looked at them as well.  Branik glanced at
Micah and handed them to him.

Micah took both blades and scrutinized them.  If they were fashioned from bone
, then it was like no other he had ever seen.  They gave off a bright white light that had nothing to do with the moonlight.  The blades were straight, true and dual edged as he glanced along the length of each; and they were lightweight.  He judged that the longer of the two was about two pounds and the other, though a few inches shorter, was just shy of that same weight.  He moved off a few steps and swung the blades in an intricate pattern.  Both were well balanced and, as they cut through the night air, gave off a pure ringing note instead of the accustomed hiss of steel parting the air.

Micah returned the swords to Branik and addressed the
Oakkrin.  “We thank you for the gift.”

“Branik, may I see those swords?” Michael asked
.

Branik handed the swords to Michael.

As Michael took them, he saw in his mind an elegant female with long following copper-colored hair standing by the very lake where he met Mason.  She was wearing a purple robe and had a golden sash around her slim waist. Held cradled in her hands was the limp body of a Swiftclaw.  Its tiny body was nearly severed in two by a horrible wound.  As she raised the pitiful little body up to eye level, Michael could see she had been crying. Her eyes were swollen and red and more tears began streaming down her face.  Another Swiftclaw, one with a bright silver crest, stopped before her.  The little female dragon nodded its head to the woman, and she began to chant.  While she chanted, the living Swiftclaw breathed a small stream of fire onto the broken little body.  The scales and flesh instantly turned to dust and fell away.  Michael saw the bones left behind begin to crystalize and then flow as if melting.

When the woman’s chanting ceased
, the female Swiftclaw stopped her fire.  In her outstretched hands, the woman now held two gleaming white swords.  The Swiftclaw bowed its head to the woman and then flew in close to her face.  Gently the little dragon touched the woman’s forehead with her snout and, with a loud popping sound, took off out of sight.  The woman, still crying, cradled the swords to her chest as if holding a child.  She bowed her head and disappeared.

Michael blinked several time
s to refocus his eyes.  Everyone was staring at him in concern.  “I am fine.  I just had a vision of the swords' creation.  A Myrkron created them from the slain body of a Swiftclaw with the help of another Swiftclaw,” Michael explained.

“Well we now know how they were created
; but I do not see how that helps us,” Micah replied.

“It doesn’t.  The circumstances of the spell were unique
. I doubt they could ever be duplicated,” Michael said with a sigh, handing the swords back to Branik.

Branik slipped both swords beneath his belt having discarded the sheaths of his broken swords back at Kantwell.  They would not have fit those sheaths in any case since these new blades were straight and the Avari tended to favor blades with a slight curve.  Branik felt much better having weapons once again.

“Thank you for the information and for the swords.  I hope to return; there are many questions I would like to ask you,” Michael said addressing the Oakkrin.

“Fare you well, Michael.  You are always welcome here,” the
Oakkrin replied.

“Kantwell?”  Michael asked.

“Aye.  I think it best if we return there now.  Merric will no doubt be worried about you."

Michael spoke the words of transport and the four of them vanished from the grove.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Attis
and Trask had gone directly to their people upon returning from the battle with the Weres.  Attis recounted the events of the past few days while Trask sought out Dain.  Attis informed the other Avari not to engage the Garoliths when they attacked.  He told them of what the Axethane said and that the Garoliths were for others to handle.  The Avari merely nodded and went on about their business.

When Trask found Dain, he was sitting with Mardak.  It was an odd sight; the big ogre sitting cros
s-legged on the ground, hunched over, pointing at an assortment of plants spread out on the ground while Dain sat in a similar fashion just before him, listening intently.  The two could not have been more physically dissimilar, yet they appeared completely comfortable with one another.  Trask walked up to the pair and both turned their heads at his approach.

“Hello, Avari.  How may we help you?”  Mardak asked politely.

“I am Trask.  I have come to tell Dain that his mother, Syanne, is safe.  We met her within Delven Vale and escorted her to Middle Watch,” Trask explained looking at Dain.

Dain rose quickly to his feet.
  “You saw her?  Was she well?”  Dain asked excitedly.

“She was well and asked about you.”

“I assume, since you do not mention him, there is no word about my father.  The Axethane that just arrived had no news of him.  Did my mother tell you anything at all?” Dain pleaded.

“I am sorry Dain
, but she told us nothing.  The way they were scattered, I doubt she knows what has befallen him.  He could have been in the group that fled to Middle Watch,” Trask offered, trying to keep hope alive for the young healer.

“He would never have left her
on her own,” Dain said quietly his shoulders sagging.

“Do not give up hope, Dain, until you know the truth for yourself,” Mardak added seeing how saddened Dain had become.
  “In war, we do not always have the choice of which path we follow.  Circumstances can lead us in a far different direction than that we would chose for ourselves.  He may have had no choice but to separate from her.”

“Shaman Mardak speaks true.  Do not give up hope,” Trask interjected then bowed slightly to Dain and turned and walked away.
  He would trouble Dain right now with healing his wound.

Dain sat down heavily, his focus no longer on the herbs they had been discussing.

“You should get some rest, Dain.  It is late and, in the days ahead, sleep may become a luxury we are not allowed,” Mardak said.

“Trask was very angry.  His aura was
as red as any I have ever seen.  What do you think he saw that would cause such anger?”  Dain asked Mardak.

Mardak eyed the small healer before him.  Dain’s head was cast down at the ground and could not see the
knowing expression on Mardak’s face.

“It is best not to contemplate such things.  They only cause us sadness and distraction
.”

Dain looked up at Mardak upon hearing his answer and nodded.  He did not say anything about the sudden shift to blue in Mardak
's own aura.  Dain had a feeling he would be seeing a lot more of that color in the near future.

Commander Salic was in his tent talking with his captains, Axethanes Bran and Ralk
, as well as Chieftain Karg, though Karg was seated cross-legged on the floor due to his size.  They were discussing battle plans when Dale stuck his head in and cleared his throat.

“Commander, there is a pair of Avari out here what wants to see you.  They have come from Delven Vale,” Dale announced.

“If they can find room, let them in,” Salic instructed.

Dale held back the tent flap and the two Avari stepped inside
, squeezing themselves along the outer wall around Karg.

“Commander Salic, we have returned from Delven Vale.  I assume
, since Axethane Ralk is present, you already know the situation there. I will not waste time in reiteration.  We were warned by Axethane Gant that the Garoliths have been freed and that they march with Mortow’s army.  He also informed us that our swords are powerless against them.  We are not to fight them,” Attis informed the group within the tent.

“Are we to simply stand by and be slaughtered?”  Captain Hamil asked in
disbelief.

“He said the
beasts are for others to deal with and we are best served by avoiding them.  I have so informed the other Avari.”

Trask spoke up
next, addressing Axethane Ralk.  “Axethane, my brother and I were only able to find six other dwarves in our search; a female Forger, a female Healer and four children.  We saw them safely to Middle Watch,” Trask explained then turned his attention to Axethane Bran.  “Axethane Bran, the healer we found is mother to your young healer, Dain.  I have already delivered the news to him that his mother is safe within Middle Watch.”

“I thank you for that courtesy.  I know Dain will have been relieved at this news
, and I am relieved for him,” Axethane Bran said sincerely.

Attis
took over the conversation once again.  “Commander, we came across a scouting party of Weres a few hours ago out on the marsh.  There were twenty of them, and I am afraid we only managed to account for nineteen.  One ran off across the marsh.  I thought it better to return and give our reports than to chase a lone Were through the marsh at dusk.”

“No doubt ran back to his master with his tail tucked firmly between his legs.  This is the first encounter with any of the enemy in many days.  I feel this war will begin in earnest very soon,” Salic commented with a heavy sigh.

Karg turned his head to study the two Avari.  “The two of you managed to kill nineteen Weres out on the marsh, alone?”  Karg asked in mild surprise.

Trask nodded his head once to the big ogre.

“I had heard rumor that the Avari were fierce warriors, but never gave it the credit it seems is deserved.  I look forward to seeing your people in action firsthand.”

Trask merely continued to stare at Karg with a blank expression.

“By your leave, Commander, we will turn in for the night,” Attis said nudging his brother toward the tent entrance.

“Of course.  Rest well gentlemen,” Salic replied as the two Avari departed the tent.

Karg watched them go then turned back to Commander Salic.  “I do not think the dour one likes ogres overly much, Commander,” Karg said with a half-smile on his lips.

“He has seen what your race can
do when driven by evil, Chieftain Karg.  I have seen that same look upon the faces of my kinsmen.  It is the look of hate forged by the countenance of atrocity,” Axethane Ralk replied softly.

“I am sorry for your loss, Axethane.  I truly am, but our races view battle and its faces very differently.  What you call atrocity
, we simply call war.  It is how we have lived for as long as any of us can remember.  In our battles with the trolls, those same atrocities are used to instill fear; to make them think twice about engaging us in combat.  When they do engage us, it is that same fear that gnaws at their courage and makes their sword arms shake.  My people do what they do out of tradition; a tradition based on necessity.”

“That
tradition,
as you call it, involved the slaughter and desecration of innocent and helpless women and children,” Axethane Ralk retorted heatedly.

“Peace, Axethane.  I do not condone what my people have done to yours.  I merely explain it so you may understand.  With the trolls
, it is a tactic that has given us an edge over them in battle.  After having met you and your people, I feel it is a tactical error on Mortow’s part.  It has not instilled fear within your breasts, but a burning anger and thirst for vengeance.  Woe be unto my brethren when we meet them on the battlefield.”

“Gentlemen, I feel we had all better prepare our men.  If the Avari encountered a scouting party not a few hours from here, then I feel Mortow and his army cannot be far behind.  He has sent no raiding parties for many days now.  I think this
is the lull before the battle.  You all have your orders.  Chieftain Karg, is there nothing I can say that will change your mind in this?”  Salic asked sincerely.

“My people and I will follow your plan
, but our position must be out on the marsh.  We need room to move and fight.  I understand your tactics and they are sound; but this pass is too narrow and restrictive.  We are an open land people.  We are used to such fighting,” Karg explained almost apologetically.

Captain Hamil slammed his meaty fist down on the small table causing it to crack.
  “Damn it man, out in the open like that, you can be flanked.  Mortow’s numbers will roll right over the top of you and cut you to pieces from the rear,” Captain Hamil said angrily.

Karg smiled at Captain Hamil.
  “Ah, your passion for our safety tells me much about your character, Captain.  Trust me. Those who get passed us will not be interested in flanking us.  Their only thought will be in avoiding us altogether.  We will provide a barrier to break their momentum.  You will be better able to hold the pass this way,” Karg explained calmly.

“I am in agreement with Captain Hamil.  You will be cut off from any help.  If they do decide to come at you from the rear, your men will be cut to pieces,” Salic commented dourly.

“I understand your concern, Commander, but this is our way.  If we are to die in this war, then so be it,” Karg replied then chuckled deeply.  “Fear not, gentlemen.  We are ogres.  This is what we do.”

Captain Hamil swore softly.

“Since I cannot change your mind, I suggest we adjourn for the night and prepare,” Salic sighed.

Karg bowed his head to the men at the table, turned
, and crawled from the tent.  He was followed by Axethane Bran and Captains Doss and Tanner.  Captain Hamil and Axethane Ralk remained behind.

“Mule
-headed, overgrown fool!”  Captain Hamil vented.

“He is only doing what he knows, Hamil.  Generations of tactics, especially successful ones
, are hard to deny,” Salic commented.

“But those tactics are for fighting trolls on the steppes, not fighting Mortow’s forces in a swamp.  He is going to get his fool self killed and likely most of his people.  Why not order him to keep to the lines?  He placed himself under your command.”

“Yes, he did; but commanding often means giving way when your Captains know more than you in a given situation,” Salic said with a smirk.

“So you’re going to throw that in my face to excuse his stubbornness?”  Hamil asked
, throwing his hands in the air.

“You were right back then
, were you not?”

Captain Hamil eyed Salic out of the corner of his eye.
  “Aye, Commander, but that was a long time ago when you were much younger and less experienced.  This time, it’s different.  You know he is throwing lives away.”

“Actually
, it is no different.  What do either of us know of ogre tactics or their capabilities in battle? Only what we have been told by our fathers from their fathers.  I have to trust Karg’s experience and knowledge in this.  He knows better than I what his people can do and how others will react to them in battle.  No, I will not order him to do something he feels is wrong,” Salic explained. 

“As you say Commander.”
  Captain Hamil picked up his mug and drained it in a single gulp.  He placed the mug back on the small table, rose and bowed his head to Commander Salic.  “I will go check on my men.”

Axethane Ralk continued to stare at the mug of ale in his hands
as Captain Hamil left the tent.

“You are an experienced leader, Axethane.  Am I wrong in this?”  Salic asked quietly.

“The captain is a good man, Commander, but as you said, commanding often means listening to those under you, especially when they are more knowledgeable than yourself.  That is the sign of a true leader.  To answer your question, I just don’t know.  I cannot say I would have made a different choice, but I also cannot say it was the correct choice.  Neither of us has ever fought a war such as this.  As leaders, all we can do is make the decisions and pray we make the right ones,” Ralk answered.

Commander Salic sighed heavily and raised his own mug.
  “May the Great One grant me wisdom and guide my hand,” Salic toasted.

Axethane Ralk raised his mug in kind.
  “May it be so,” Ralk replied.  Before Axethane Ralk drank, he added his own toast.  “And may it be vengeance.”  Axethane Ralk drained his ale, set his mug down, and rose to his feet.  “By your leave, Commander,”

“We are, both of us, too old to stand on ceremony, Axethane.  I want you to know that I greatly value your input.  You have greater experience than I
in these matters,” Salic told Ralk.

“Aye, I have more experience
; but is that the correct choice, Commander?”  Ralk asked sadly and departed from the tent.

Commander Salic sat staring after the Axethane, puzzled by the question.