Demoni Vankil, Page 2

  I am confident in my assignment and believe it will go faster than anticipated, my love, and therefore I pray to return to you sooner than expected. Please tell the girls of my travels, especially little Melody, for I know she would have been fascinated by the lands and animals I have seen these past three weeks. Oh, the stories I will tell them when I get home!

  Kiss the little ones for me, soundly on the forehead as I would have done.

  All my love,

  Eamon

  Tauku. Now, there’s a surprising development in the war. I don’t think I’ve seen the Tauku involvement recorded anywhere. There is nothing so vile or horrifying in this world than that damnable race and nothing, NOTHING I hate more! May every wretched one be hunted, disemboweled, and burned that the ash may be trodden under the hooves of the lowliest of beast and creatures!

  I digress. My apologies. Wanting to trace Eamon’s steps and identify his end location, if possible, I successfully secured a copy of an ancient map of Humär and began tracing from Andilain northward. It was easy enough locating the land where the dragons were but there was no reference to a town called Westgaiden. So I searched for an even older record that told me Westgaiden was a small fishing village on the west coast.

  West coast? That’s also puzzling. I guess there’s nothing like taking the scenic route. But a 3-week journey on horseback by an unknown route makes locating his end position sketchy at best. Maybe that was the point.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 5: Letter Four

  (day 47)

  My Beloved Ethany,

  It has now been forty-seven days since I last saw you and the nights seem to be getting longer and more cold. The wind has a purpose of its own, bitting into flesh and bone without mercy, but I do see the wisdom in this location.

  Worry not in my sporadic writing, dear. Remember how consumed I can get in my studies and work when the topic is truly fascinating to me.

  It is a challenge for me to not share with you what is encompassing my every waking moment and I can not divulge too much, but this much I believe it is safe to say. The Hero of the Gem has chosen each of us for a specific reason. Exciting and scary, I know.

  My first hypothesis is this: It is possible for a mägo to imprison all darkness using the skills of a Rune Keeper, a master of metallurgy and a Gypsy.

  Now I must discover how.

  Praying that you are all well and warm. Will write more soon.

  All my love,

  Eamon

  Now, I really want to know what is Eamon up to.

  I read the letter over again. Then again.

  I have a time frame. 6000s, the world war against Mahan.

  A meeting, a secret location—presumably in north-western Humär during the cold season.

  The Hero, Evolu, Kutollum, Gypsy.

  Imprison evil.

  What could a mägo, a rune keeper, a blacksmith and a gypsy have in common? I’m really bothered to see the runes come up again. And a keeper this time. It has so little merit that it dampens my enjoyment of this story.

  There is something here that I cannot put my finger on yet. I do love a good puzzle.

  I wondered if it might be the Demoni Vankil. I mean, the time is right. World events were pretty devastating and the unification of the races resulted in the defeat and capture of Mahan himself…and the use of a device. The darkest secret in history, the coveted mystery of all qualified and amateur historians.

  No one actually knows what the Demoni Vankil is. ‘Evil Chain’ is as close an interpretation as anyone has discovered. Every attempt to uncover hints of its existence has trailed off into nothing. Zilch. Nada. There simply has not been anything to go on.

  Instead, all we have are the muddy stories told from one generation to another, distorting facts to the point we can’t discern between what’s real and what’s the embellishment of the imagination.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 6: Letter Five

  (day 230)

  My Beloved Ethany,

  Oh, how time defies us! I am constantly urged to work harder and faster. But the 230 days since I last held you in my arms have been so long and tedious. I keenly feel my absence in the girl’s lives. I am beginning to forget the sweet scent of your skin at my lips and I count the days until I can hold you once more.

  I wear your locket and the girls bracelets close to my heart. It keeps me focused on my purpose.

  It pains me that I missed Saffron’s eleventh birthday. We had plans to go to the spring fair this year and attend her first Father-Daughter dance. Please kiss her and tell her I was thinking of her, that I remembered, even though I could not be there. The cook made a simple cake and we had a small celebration in camp to her honor, though I think Kutollum look for any reason to get out the ale.

  My burdens are great and a heavy ache grows in my chest. The whole camp waits on me as I, without a teacher, learn new languages and test over and over the magical combinations taken from my journals…but my tests are too slow and meticulous for their tastes. They pressure me. They do not understand. Mixing the disciplines of magic must be exact. Nonetheless, even Hammel and Shiro have become exceedingly bored.

  To pass the time Hammel has carved a beautiful puzzle box from manzanita wood, then had Renton forge delicate hinges of silver to hide within the twists and curves, corners and layers of the wood. I’ve never seen such skill or beauty.

  Charles arrived this morning with devastating news. His family has been murdered, Ethany. Eva and the baby are gone. Curse this blasted war! And curse Mahan!

  Charles is worn down, broken under the weight of such sorrow that cannot be expressed or assuaged by anything other than time. I am concerned for him, as I feel acutely the sacrifices for this cause have been great. He will stay with me for a time and assist in the experiments.

  I miss you, my sweet. Painfully so.

  All my love,

  Eamon

  230 days? I briefly glanced through the remaining letters, carefully unfolding them in order and laying them out. There are huge gaps. Where are the other letters? What have you done over the last 183 days, Eamon?

  Of course he’s not going to give Ethany all the details—he’s obviously hiding. He’s working on a secret project. If anyone were to come across the letters in transit it could compromise everything. Maybe even his family’s safety. Is that why there are letters missing? Was it protection or deception?

  I was left with a challenge: where do I start looking for the creator of a prison? I started by looking into Eamon’s first appearance.

  It was difficult to locate any reference to a neuvo-kuisa. It wasn’t a commonly used term by anyone. Only amongst royalty and those in high position. This led me on a mini goose chase. Since the records of the crown in Andilain were barren I was forced to find another option. There would be Evolu records. Normally this would not be the case—Evolu don’t meddle in or concern themselves with the affairs of other races, especially political…but the ruling family wasn’t just human. Lady Älodiä was from a noble Evolu house. That meant the elves had a direct interest in the welfare of the crown.

  I traveled to Äsä-Illäriu, the Evolu lands, and met with a representative from the Grand Library. Librarian Ainsley welcomed and encouraged my enquiring mind. I was given a cot in the foyer, food and writing tools to take notes. Gotta love those elves.

  He brought me a thick volume called the Book of Three Shadows, a history of events during the stay of the Evolu people upon the human continent. Interesting title. I raised my eyebrows, hoping Ainsley would explain, but he only smiled and motioned me to read. I did so…late into the night.

  The Evolu account of the war was something I had not read before.

  Across the sea the Nocturi and Evolu had driven Mahan’s Tauku Invocators out of their homelands at great personal loss. Once fortified, the Evolu made an exodus from their homeland through the Prime Gates ‘to join their human brothers’.

  To the west of Andilain, the Hero of the
Gem attacked Mahan directly with a small army of elite human warriors, called the Nethinim, ‘men who refused to die,’ along with four thousand Evolu rangers.

  ‘For we all feared the wrath and scrutiny of the Dark Lord…’

  ‘…so cunning and intertwined in our societies were his spies that many trusted none.’

  It was then that the Hero through High King Gaston ‘…in the utmost of secrecy gathered the wise and skilled to craft a plan that would bind the evil that had thrust the lands of light into darkness for a neuvo-kuisa, the Council of Whispers.’

  Ah-hah. And there it is.

  In this ‘council of whispers’ a name was presented. ‘…a unique individual was charged with the task of creating a method…’ Unfortunately, there’s only a shred of information concerning him:

  ‘…he held his head high, not with pride—but confidence. Only when his Queen pledged her protection to his wife and children did he bend knee. He asked for letters of sanction from each race…then uttered a mägo oath to do all that was required of him…’

  Sounds like a good guy.

  Next, I petitioned for a letter of recommendation from the great wizard Morphiophelius to take to the School of Magic. Surely the greatest collection of magical knowledge on Elämä would have record of a mägo clerk and experiments involving a magical prison.

  Core, from what Morphiophelius told me, would be the logical discipline to engineer a prison or any spell of lasting containment. Traveling to meet with Master Caiden from the Order of Core almost proved a waste of time. Almost. Caiden was curt, arrogant and unwilling to answer any questions directly. I was met at the docks and not allowed onto the school grounds. He clarified that my request to meet was granted only because of Morphiophelius’s recommendation and it never indicated that the interview must to be on actual school property. They’re all warm and fuzzy, those mägo. Gotta love their literal interpretation.

  Not.

  However, I said ‘almost’ a waste of time because his last statement in our somewhat heated exchange clarified my first hunch. He said:

  “The School of Magic has a glorious history, which does not and has not ever dabbled in the pollution of its practices. Disciplines are never mingled other than a secondary language to support its primary. Those who do are not permitted to study at this Institution and no longer exist to us…”

  That is when I remembered Eamon’s statement about being scowled at by those of his Order. He had already burned his bridges and got himself a one-way ticket to obscurity. He was disowned, struck from all the records of the Orders and forgotten. He was on his own.

  Mixing the disciplines? He would have had to study in secret and not expose himself. Brave guy, though. Even I have been impressed upon by the mägo’s conviction that mixing the disciplines is very dangerous and should never be attempted. Ever. I think it’s even common knowledge among all the races.

  This thrust me back into the world of myth, legend and folklore.

  I was doing a whole lot of running around without collecting a whole lot of information. I took a moment to examine the puzzle box. Is this the very box Hammel carved? Probably. I was right about the manzanita, surprised it was a dwarf instead of an elf.

  Where are the other letters? And why would Ethany keep some and not the rest?

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 7: Letter Six

  (day 300)

  My Beloved Ethany,

  The isolation is killing me. The echoes and howling across this massive mountain range remind me daily of our remote location. It has been so long since I have heard your voice I sometimes believe I hear it upon the wind. I have not heard from you in so long and I believe I may go mad. I am tormented by the lack of any news…especially of the war. But I can feel it being waged upon our lands.

  The supply wagons have become less frequent and we are forced to rely on the wood lore of the Kutollum combined with our hunting skills to stay fed. Frost berries may fill a belly but do not satisfy for long. However, it’s not the food that I miss so much as the news.

  The last we heard, swarms of Vallen march on the western lands, laying waste to the towns and villages. I am told even the majestic Forest of Andle has been set aflame! Hammel has tried communicating with his people in the north by Artic Tern, but even he receives little news.

  My progress is slow but steady. Even as I write, a renewed fire is kindled in my belly to complete this project in haste. I have the ability and knowledge to change our fate. I must succeed.

  Pray for me Ethany. Pray for my speedy success. Pray for my sanity to sustain me through the nights while I pray for news.

  All my love,

  Eamon

  The letters had consumed my every waking hour and I made the tired, foolish mistake of taking them down to the tavern. Wood, the tavern keeper, brought me spiced roots and meats with a large pitcher of Blackseed Ale as I combed over each document by candlelight, seated near the popping fire.

  Vallen patrons shouted and growled to one another in the background of the tavern. A priest of the Brotherhood sat in the corner, alone, sipping a small glass of new wine while reading a small book, and old Terrin in the corner, singing his tales at the hearth:

  The mists in lands not far away,

  Have hidden the deer and doe,

  But alas its power cannot hide,

  The broken hearts and woe.

  For upon the field of battle near,

  Were waged the wars of shadow,

  When men and elves and dwarves did fear,

  The dead upon the meadows.

  Choose ye this day, to serve darkness or light,

  For the worth of a soul is revealed in the fight.

  The evil swept across the sea,

  And turned the days to night,

  While wives and children fled the land,

  Their men remained to fight.

  The battle sore and blood did flow,

  As many lost their lives,

  The Vallen horde did pierce the lines,

  With sword and lance and knives.

  Choose ye this day, to serve darkness or light,

  For the worth of a soul is revealed in the fight.

  In the end the Gods did hear,

  The cries of faithful men,

  Who gave their all and fought with might,

  Unto a bitter end.

  For light did prick the night again,

  The horde destroyed no more,

  Now heroes live by bards abroad,

  Their deeds are now our lore.

  Choose ye this day, to serve darkness or light,

  For the worth of a soul is revealed in the fight.

  That old codger needs a new job—his music depresses the crap outta me.

  Apparently the Vallen scum felt the same way, because the next thing I knew, a large metal mug filled with ale ricocheted off the hearth and onto my table, the black liquid sprayed over the whole of my notes…including the letters.

  I bolted. Standing up too quickly I knocked over the candles I was reading by and ignited the drenched papers altogether. The table was suddenly engulfed in flames.

  Beating the fire with my cloak, Wood finally doused the table with water as I felt back into my chair, horrified. In an instant I had destroyed all the letters!

  Pushing through the soggy ashes of my notes…I gasped. Under the destroyed remains of my personal notebook were the 14 letters…unharmed! Lifting a single letter from the debris, the ashy diluted ale beaded and rolled off the surface of the paper, leaving it dry and unblemished.

  Lifting each letter in turn, the result was the same. None of them were harmed in the slightest fashion. Peering at them more closely I noticed a slight shimmer in the upper right corner of the paper. A small watermark. So they weren’t completely indestructible. I was still impressed and curious. Checking each page I recognized a similar mark in the upper right corner. That wasn’t an accident.

  What I did next, I can’t fully explain, because it was nothing
more than a hunch.

  Lighting one of the candles…I held the letter over the open flame.

  The candle went out.

  I lit a match and tried to hold it under the paper.

  The match went out.

  …so I set all the letters down on the table and poured the remains of my ale onto its center, then lit it on fire.

  Wood hollered at me, but without taking my eyes from the flame I assured him all was well and we both watched the fire consume the liquid in full and fade to nothing.

  The table was unharmed…and so were the letters.

  My conclusion is that rune lore is real. And Eamon is possibly a genius.

  * * * *

  CHAPTER 8: Letter Seven

  (day 367)

  My Beloved Ethany,

  I hoped, I searched, I desired. But now I know…rune lore is real! Oh, Ethany, the Order thought I was insane and mocked me, but never again. rune lore has proven itself to be all I had imagined and more.

  The tangible manifestations of this system of magic are so simple, I can see why it fell into disuse and faded into myth. Unfit for the purposes of the great mägo Orders, I’ve no doubt, but for me Ethany, brimming with possibilities!

  The ancients never tapped into its full potential. Maybe they could not see the boundless power they beheld or else why would they allow it to fade into myth? It saddens me, this act of indolence. But do you know what this means, my love? I am that much closer to finishing my work and coming home!

  We sought a method for bringing a rune to life. In this, Hammel, has been indispensable. He alone, the keeper of ancient texts and runes, discovered a reference to ‘Oro-Lifsin’ or words of life. Combining the lore that says the first language had intent, life, if you will, and was binding, I knew we were bridging the gap into my expertise: languages. More specifically the languages of the Seven Disciplines.