The Trinity of Heroes (I Will Protect You Book 1) (26 page)

The sky was unusually dark the next morning. Storm clouds pervaded the usually blue sky, and the threat of rain and strong winds lay on the horizon. Many citizens of Alacrecia awoke, unaware of the events that had transpired the night before in Haile. Galvan didn’t fish on this morning and it threw off his internal rhythm. He was still exhausted from the heavy workload from the Advent Ceremony. He stood up in his dwelling when a knock came at the door.

Rap! Rap! Rap!

Galvan slowly opened it. The gray light from under the dark clouds flooded his room, alerting him to the gloomy weather. Catherine stood on the other side of the doorway, her face glistening with tears.

“Galvan, it’s horrible! Last night, after the ceremony, one of the new Knights went home and killed his father. The entire city is in an uproar! Galvan, what are we going to do?!” Her face was covered with worry as she looked to Galvan for some form of comfort.

Galvan thought on it for a moment and then furrowed an eyebrow. “There isn’t really anything we can do,” he said. “Unfortunately, life will continue on with or without that poor soul. It may sound cruel, but the world doesn’t stop for one man’s life, or one Knight’s strife.” Galvan had been trying to balance his heavy workload with spending time with Catherine afterwards, and as a result, had been missing out on important hours of sleep. His response felt out of character for him, but he didn’t care, he was exhausted. “I just cannot see-”

Whap!

Catherine’s hand slapped across Galvan’s face and cut his sentence short. “You jackass, Galvan! How can you be so insensitive?! A man just lost his life, and the only thing you can think about is the flow of the world! Who gives a damn about that! We should be more concerned with the safety of our cities and their citizens, not our own personal agendas!” Catherine stopped her tirade for a moment and looked away in disgust. “I’m going to the market to get some spices, do whatever you want!” She turned and slammed the door in his face.

Galvan didn’t move to open the door; he just stood there defeated, hurt, and alone. He walked over to a table and slumped down in a wooden chair. The chair shook as the weight of his body crashed into it. He placed his arms on the table in front of him, cupped his head in his hands, and sighed.

The Galexia boy came to me one night shaking in his boots. He was terrified and looked like he had seen a ghost. He assured me that he had. I went to his mansion later that evening and set up camp on the ground floor. I remember those halls lined with porcelain statues and silver and gold idols, such a waste of space. I don’t think the Galexia family spends much time here anymore. I sat in my chair that night and finally heard it: the scratching, the clawing, and the growling in the walls. For a moment I was excited that I might actually see a ghost. My excitement soon faded when I checked around and found the culprit. It was nothing more than a family of raccoons making the mansion their new home.

-
Big Branic’s Big Book of Mysteries, Chapter 22

The next evening Razzius and Kastor trekked cautiously to Green Bryre. They were careful to avoid Haile and its guard outposts. They used the woods, the thickets, the cliffs to move quickly and undetected throughout Forme. They arrived in Green Bryre which was quiet and deserted. Its citizens were fast asleep at such a late hour, completely unaware of the malicious plan that was unfolding at their town’s entrance. Though Razzius himself had never been to Phillip’s home, he had a good inkling that it wouldn’t be hard to find. He had heard the stories and the legends of the grandeur of the Galexia house.

As the pair made their way through the shadows of Green Bryre, past the statue of Mervin and the small, shuttered shops that composed the town, they looked dubiously at each other. They noticed the large towering Galexia home in the distance, but wondered if they had made some mistake. They stared at the cracked windows, the overgrown vines choking their way up and down the stone steeples, the unkempt hedges, the long, weedy grass growing in the front gardens, and speculated whether or not the place had been inhabited by anyone in a long while. This looked nothing like the home of the wealthiest family in Forme, but more like an abandoned castle from a forgotten kingdom. The two stopped at a gate to the massive, dilapidated home.

As they were about to turn around and leave, Razzius noticed a small candlelight in a third story window. He grabbed Kastor and pointed eagerly toward the glowing sign. “Do you think there might be someone living there, Kastor? It seems like no one has been here for ages!”

Kastor grunted and whispered back, “Well, I didn’t come here for nothing. There’s only one way to find out.”

The two approached the large, rusted, iron gate that blocked the overgrown path to the Galexia castle. Decayed, mossy letters spelled
Galexia
throughout the iron framework of the portcullis; the first true symbol that confirmed that the two were in the right place. A rusty padlock impeded their progress. Kastor grabbed the lock, his hand turning a glowing red against the blackness of the night. The padlock melted, disintegrated slowly. Kastor turned toward Razzius, and opened the door.

Razzius led the way up the winding, meandering path toward the worn front of the Galexia house. Torch holders and lanterns sat bare and unlit along the path. There was no light to welcome them to the gigantic front door, which seemed as unwelcoming as the rest of the house. Razzius made a motion to knock, but was interrupted by Kastor who stopped him. Kastor motioned his forefinger to his lips, telling Razzius to keep silent. Kastor tried opening the door and it creaked its way open slowly, a chilly draft flowing out of the foyer.

The two men entered. The house was unbearably cold and smelled of rot and decay. It was completely dark, obscuring the duo’s vision. Kastor raised his hands, and a grayish purple hue emanated out in front of him. It was a dull light, but it was enough to highlight tables, chairs, and other obstacles within the living area. The home hadn’t been cleaned in a long while; dust and cobwebs had invaded every crevice. A dead bird lay in a corner, a perpetrator of the horrible smell. Something scratched in another corner, bats or rodents, perhaps. The cluttered space was filled with an eerie stillness.

Suddenly, the hue of candlelight began to flicker at the top of the stairs. The telltale
zing
of a sword being unsheathed shattered the tense silence. Razzius and Kastor readied themselves for battle against the unknown.

“Who goes there? You’re trespassing!” the unseen man yelled. “I’ll give you one chance to leave. Do it now, lest you taste my blade!”

“Phillip? If that’s you, we request an audience. We mean you no harm,” Razzius responded, hoping to avoid an unnecessary confrontation.

A thin, pale, young male cautiously inched his way down the stairs, stopping to overlook the foyer. The candlelight illuminated his face. Bags hung from his sunken eyes; it seemed as though he hadn’t slept a full night in ages. He shivered constantly, struggling to hold the candle, and his sword, at arms length. His face was angry and callous. His body seemed frail, weak, unable to support the weight of the feelings that seemed to consume him. Upon seeing the two intruders, both of whom appeared much more steadfast than he, he changed his tone immediately. He stuttered, his arrogance turning to fear, “Please, forgive me; I am in no condition to fight. Take what you will; there isn’t anything of value left here anyway.”

As Phillip backed away, Razzius spoke, holding his hand out toward the man as if to stop him from leaving. “Phillip? Wait! Don’t leave. We aren’t here to rob you. We are here to ask your assistance for a very important task. We want you to join us. We need your help.”

“And what help would that be, gentlemen? Have we ever met before? Do I even know you?” Phillip crept down the stairs, still unable to identify his visitors. But as he got closer, his eyes glinted with hateful familiarity as he recognized Razzius.
“You!
Is this some sort of sick joke? Has the Knight Guard sent you for me? I’ve stayed far away from Haile! Now leave me be, you have no business here!”

“Phillip, let the past be the past. Haile and its miserable Knight Guard are dead to me! I serve a new master, a new purpose now. Make no mistake, this is no joke. This is Kastor Char, Master Dark Sorcerer of Veronicia.” Razzius motioned to his partner. “We are going to march on Haile, burn it to the ground, kill Mayor Flint, and destroy the Knight Guard. We are taking over Forme, then all of Veronicia. I know your hatred for the mayor, for the city that cast you out, and especially for Lawrence Sanctus. I know your embarrassment over Elsie. Travel with me to the Black Swamp, beyond the Frozen Mountains, and recruit our soldiers. Join us, Phillip.”

“Ha,” Phillip scoffed, pointing to himself, “does it look to you like I’m in a position, in a condition, to
do
anything? I haven’t eaten a decent meal in months. My family is out of money. My father has disappeared. My legacy is gone. I work all day just to make enough money to scrape by. I loathe my own existence.”

Kastor whisked his hands, and a plate of roast turkey and potatoes appeared on a table in the kitchen. “Phillip, eat, please.” Kastor motioned for Phillip and Razzius to follow him into the kitchen.

The trio sat in the rickety chairs that surrounded the table. Phillip ate ravenously. The meal seemed to replenish his constitution. He thanked the sorcerer for his hospitality.

“How do the two of you plan to defeat the entire Hailian Knight Guard?” Phillip asked.

“To the north, in the Black Swamp, my master has told me of the existence of the Black Sangres. They number a million strong and will serve me, serve us,” Razzius explained. “Join us, Phillip, and I promise you the answers you seek about your father’s whereabouts. And, I promise you your vengeance on Lawrence Sanctus.”

Phillip was silent. The only sound was the loud chomping his mouth made as he devoured more of the turkey leg he held. He weighed his options: stay home, alone and malnourished and work himself ragged with no end in sight, or join these two and destroy those who had wronged him. Phillip had little battle experience, and little formal fight training, but if an army one million strong stood ready to fight, as Razzius had claimed, it seemed like a battle they couldn’t lose. Razzius seemed sincere in his reconciliations with Phillip; and Phillip desperately wanted a chance at revenge against Lawrence.

For two, long, miserable years, Phillip thought of Lawrence Sanctus and the decision he had made to let him live that night in Haile. Had Phillip killed him quickly in the street, instead of toying with him, no one would have suspected him as the murderer. Lawrence would have been out of the picture, and Phillip and Elsie would be together in the castle. Phillip’s momentary lapse in his own judgment caused a tailspin of events that led to the disastrous position he now found himself in.

“I hate Lawrence Sanctus. I want him dead. And the enemies of my enemy are my new best friends!” Phillip yelled ecstatically, hateful desire overtaking him. He pounded his fist on the table, shaking it violently. “I will help you lead your army, Razzius. And after we destroy Haile, I will kill Lawrence Sanctus, while that ungrateful bitch, Elsie Pyre, watches from the gallows.”

Razzius and Phillip wasted little time in preparing for their journey over the Frozen Mountains. Phillip questioned Razzius’ plan, reminding him that no one had ever crossed the mountains and returned safely. But Razzius was undeterred. He was convinced that his new master would show him a quick and easy way through the impassable terrain. Razzius told Phillip that they would leave the next night, and make the near half day trek by horseback.

Razzius looked at Kastor, who sat patiently, contemplating the trio’s plans at the far end of the table. “Kastor, it is time. Go to the Everglen. Destroy it. My master will tell me when the job is done. Once he does, we will ride on Haile! We know what we must do. We bid you farewell, friend.”

Kastor stood up and looked at the two men. He had waited for this moment. He was ready. It was so great to be
needed
again. His immense skills and talents that he had worked so hard to improve were finally in demand by someone with goals and aspirations that mirrored his own. Kastor radiated a deep, sinister confidence. He would not fail. He would wait one day, then travel to the Endless at the next nightfall. He would attack the Everglen as the sorcerers were sleeping. His victory would be assured! It would be easy!

The group spent the next day resting, preparing supplies, and going over their plan detail by detail to make sure that everything would work perfectly. The next evening, the trio split. Kastor traveled south toward the Endless. Phillip and Razzius exited the desolate Galexia mansion and headed to a stable. Razzius and Phillip unhitched two beautiful chestnut stallions. They saddled the horses, and rode north toward the Frozen Mountains.

I snuck out again tonight. Everyone else is asleep, but I haven’t slept in days. This new power is incredible; they must never know what I have found. These sorceries are so potent, why have I not heard of them before? I wake up the next morning with a pounding headache, but it’s all worth it to practice and experience these mysterious sorceries.

- Journal of Kastor Char, Age 17

That night Kastor began his journey to the Everglen. He stood at the edge of Green Bryre, looking south toward the Endless. He would simply walk, knowing full well that it would take Razzius and Phillip a while to reach their destination. He had time to think, time to prepare his attack. He began his journey, each step cold, calculated, and loaded with purpose. Kastor looked out over the southern landscape as he walked toward the sprawling woods, each step bringing him closer to his destination, his fight, his revenge. He would wreak havoc on the Everglen, bringing death and destruction to those who had cast him out.

“Gorbin Gabrielle, that son of a bitch!” Kastor muttered to himself as he approached the Endless, his anticipation growing. “I will kill every one of his subjects, and then make him watch as I murder his precious wife before his very eyes. After I’m finished gutting her like a stag, I’ll make him suffer before I end his life.”

Kastor continued to muse to himself as he now stood at the edge of the forest, peering into the blackness beyond the first row of trees. Kastor stopped for a moment then murmured out loud, “Paths once lost, now made clear.” Upon finishing his incantation, a small flicker of light danced in front of him, and began to forge its way into the dark unknown of the Endless. This sorcery was a simple guidance incantation that would lead him all the way to the Everglen. The light slowly floated through the air and stopped at a distant tree. As Kastor approached, the light danced for a moment, and then continued on to another tree, like it was being pulled by an unknown force. Kastor kept following it to where it now hovered over a nearby log. As Kastor jumped the log, it moved onward to the next landmark. The light forged its way through the darkness of trees, leading Kastor to his destination. This continued for a long time, before Kastor came to a landmark he knew very well. It was a pond at the edge of the Everglen.

The Everglen shone with a luminescent light. The trees glowed with spiritual energy and a variety of ethereal beings lined their branches. Spirit owls and squirrels sat perched on tree limbs while raccoons made dens in their hollows. Kastor watched as giant spirit butterflies flew through the Everglen. Sparkling dust and spiritual energy emanated from each flutter of their glowing wings. They were a bright shining blue and green with a nearly translucent body. Patches of night flowers bloomed, their white petals sparkling in the moonlit grove. Kastor looked to the sky and could see the glowing, full moon high above, which helped give the Everglen a surreal ambiance. The grass was perfect everywhere he looked; hallowed ground unharmed by darkness for a long time. Kastor looked to the pond where he could see fish swimming about playfully, frolicking as he strolled by.

As his feet touched the ground, dark energy that emanated from him infected the area. It transformed the grass and nearby flowers into weeds, and dried up patches of brown, dead clumps. The creatures that lined the trees ran for cover, and the butterflies all but disappeared. From behind him, bats soared into the Everglen, blocking out the moonlight. They covered the trees, roosting upside down. Their beady red eyes glowed menacingly in the dark clearing as its spiritual energy began to recede.

Kastor stopped for a moment, and thought about everything that had happened to him since he was first banished from here for his practice of dark sorceries. He had been in exile for seven years, and now he would finally have his revenge. Kastor observed the Everglen. The straw and grass huts of the sorcerers who lived there were scattered throughout the secluded clearing. The huts were humble and plain; they housed the Everglen’s many loyal sorcerers as they slept. But Kastor would surprise them; there would be no hope for their survival.

He slowly approached the first grouping of huts and uttered a dark incantation, “A darkness that creeps through the night, eating your dreams and bringing you plight!”

A dark shade burst forth from Kastor’s hand and crept through one of the dwellings, silently stalking the residents inside. There were no screams, and the sleeping inhabitants made no noise. It killed them quickly, strangling them while they slept. Kastor walked from hut to hut and watched through small windows as his fiend sucked the very essence of life from each occupant. His plan was working perfectly. As he moved toward the next group of huts, he noticed a small boy walking from one of them.

The boy saw him immediately, and before Kastor could silence the restless child, he screamed, “Ahhhhhh!”

The boy’s voice echoed through the still night. A host of sorcerers burst from their homes and rushed toward the boy who had turned to flee.

Kastor didn’t care that he had been spotted; he knew that none but Gorbin stood a chance against him anyway. There were sorceries that Kastor had mentally mastered, and would require no more than a thought for him to cast. He conjured these at the large group of sorcerers who were making their way toward him. Then he pointed his hands directly at the assembly of sorcerers and snarled, “Dark Siege!”

From his scraggly hands a black fog enveloped him, obscuring him from sight. From that fog, evil, vicious creatures appeared. Rabid wolves, ferocious bears, and giant, feral boars roared and raged their way carelessly toward the other sorcerers. The sorcerers began tracing runes and chanting incantations of their own to combat the dark horde. Hundreds and hundreds of dark creatures and shadows burst forth from the dark fog. Several sorceries hit their marks, dispelling some of the beasts in their tracks. But there were too many. The contingent of sorcerers was overrun. They were mauled, clawed, ripped apart by the deadly spirits.

While the other sorcerers were busy dealing with the attacks from his previous spell, Kastor prepared another deadly incantation. “Where life prospers, I feast eternal!”

Kastor clapped his hands, and as he did, a demonic weapon began to form amidst the darkness of the black fog. He reached for the large scythe that had a three-foot blade crafted from the same dark energy he had created earlier. He took the weapon and slowly made his way toward the group. “Die!” he shouted at one sorcerer. “Rigor Mortis!” he yelled at another. A black bolt of dark energy shot from his fingertip, and the recipient dropped to the ground. Kastor swung the unholy scythe, and severed arms and legs of the group of sorcerers. He impaled one of the sorcerers and lifted him high into the air with demonic strength. He watched as his blood and intestines slowly slipped out of his gaping wound. As the blood gushed down to the ground, he stood under the dead body, bathing in the downpour. He allowed himself to become covered in the blood, embraced by it. He feared nothing as he reveled in his bloody masterpiece of revenge. His immense power was unstoppable, and the unlucky group of novice sorcerers didn’t survive long. It took all of about five minutes for Kastor to claim the lives of the one hundred or so who had called the Everglen their home. Blood squished under his feet as he stomped about. Kastor licked his lips and breathed a deep, satisfying sigh.

“What have you done?!” a loud, booming voice tore through the night’s silence.

Kastor looked to see Gorbin Gabrielle and his wife walking toward him.

“What the hell have you done!? Those people! Their families! You monster!”

“Monster?! Did you forget, you made me!” Kastor shouted. “All those years ago, you cast me out! I was strong then, but I am even stronger now! I’ll kill you; I’ll kill all of you!” A dark energy shot forth from his hands toward his new target.

Gorbin quickly raised his hand and roared, “Impenetrus!”

A shield of the brightest light covered Gorbin and the woman, deflecting Kastor’s dark sorcery, dissipating it.

Kastor knew that Gorbin was a master sorcerer. His seven-year absence may have been long, but Kastor had not forgotten Gorbin’s long, dimpled face.

Gorbin’s fire-red eyes burned with intensity. He lowered his shield and said, “Kastor Char, you are an evil, vile man! How could you turn your back on your own people? I banished you from the Everglen because you had lost your respect for it, not because I harbored a personal grudge against you!”

“Silence!” Kastor commanded angrily. “You cast me out because I was a threat to your son, your successor, and now he is nowhere to be found. A lot of good that did you! You should have just let me kill him that day, and then none of this would have had to happen. Instead of burning these lands to the ground, I could be helping you save them!”

“What are you talking about, Kastor?”

“Change has come to Forme, Gorbin. My actions today will help usher in a new era of darkness and corruption. Today I will do what I couldn’t do when I was younger. I will kill Gorbin Gabrielle, and watch as the Everglen transforms into my personal dark utopia!”

“You are insane. I will defend my home. I didn’t allow you to harm my son that day when you two fought, and I certainly won’t allow you to destroy the Everglen now.”

“You speak as though I am giving you a choice, Gorbin. You misunderstand. Today you will die!”

Gorbin fired first, pointing at Kastor. A white bolt of energy hurled itself toward the dark sorcerer.

As it approached, Kastor simply lifted his hand and said, “Dark Impenetrus.”

Upon contact, the white bolt turned black and reflected back at Gorbin who was unable to react in time. He had never witnessed a counter-spell so powerful. He took the full blunt of the blow. He hit the ground hard, as dirt clouds erupted on all sides of him. He could feel himself struggling to breathe. The dark sorcery was sucking his life away. He tried to sit up, watching in horror as Kastor approached his wife.

Kastor looked at the woman with hateful rage. He reached out and grabbed her around the throat. “Because of your husband’s actions, you will die! Cry out for him, call to him! Beg him to save you, please do it!” He couldn’t help himself. He had her life in the palm of his hand, and there was nothing Gorbin could do to save her.

“Gorbin!” she shouted out in a scratchy whimper, her words strangled by Kastor’s inescapable grip. “Our son will come!”

The woman’s mentioning of her son infuriated Kastor even more. He raised his other hand and roared, “Death’s Grasp!”

Gorbin watched helplessly as a black energy bridged from Kastor’s hand to her body and began to rapidly age his wife. Gorbin saw her wither away in Kastor’s hands. Her skin became even more wrinkled. Her eyes sank into her skull. Moments later, he saw nothing more than an unidentifiable mass of rotted flesh and bones, suspended in air by Kastor’s hand. The Dark Sorcerer soon threw it to the ground like he was discarding a pile of trash.

Gorbin stared in disbelief at Kastor’s diabolical actions. “Kastor, you are a monster, a despicable, evil person. Deminion himself has taken hold of your soul, and you now have lost all connection to this world. I knew you would come; I saw a dark omen in my visions. I must tell you something before you take my life.” His body heaved with sadness and exhaustion. He was still hurting from Kastor’s counter.

“Speak quickly, my tongue longs for the sweet taste of your death,” Kastor replied. He licked his lips with his black, pimpled tongue.

“Your plans, they will fail. Your master, he will be defeated. My son will come to the Everglen, he will avenge us. No matter what you do and no matter how hard you fight, you will never succeed. Evil will never hold claim over these lands. There will always be heroes that will stand up against evil and fight for what is right.” Gorbin coughed up a little bit of blood as he continued to sputter. “Kastor Char, mark my words, you have chosen the wrong path, a dark path. It is a path that only leads to sadness and death.”

Kastor pointed his index finger on his right hand at Gorbin and exclaimed, “Black Arcanus!”

An intense black force shot forth, enveloping Gorbin, draining his life force. He struggled for a long time, attempting to breathe, forcing himself to stay alive even against certain doom. Finally, the clutches of death became too much. Gorbin slipped away, into the darkness. His eyes closed and his body went limp. Kastor had succeeded.