Heir to the Sundered Crown (2 page)

The fourteen year old clapped his sweating palms together, licked his lips and waggled his toes. ‘Ok here goes’ he mumbled to no one in particular. He took a deep breath remembering what he had read in the fifth volume of ‘
the wizard’s craft’,
a text that he had managed to smuggle out of the Great library only two days previously. Closing his eyes and remembering what the tome had said he focused his mind, a tickling sensation passed through his body, sliding rapidly to his feet. He picked up his discarded shoes and tucked them into one of the pockets of his blue cloak. A swirling of air focused itself underneath his bare soles and then tentatively he stepped off of the ledge.

The surprised gasps of the surrounding onlookers and the fact that he had not fallen caused him to open his eyes. He almost laughed with delight. He’d done it! He’d actually managed to successfully cast a levitation spell. He flapped his arms like some newly fledged bird when he felt himself on the verge of falling; quickly he narrowed his eyes and deepened his concentration. Through half lidded eyes he sought out the opposite end of the plaza and slowly but surely made his way towards it. The crowd by now had stopped what they were doing to gawp at the lanky boy floating above their heads. Men and women stood slack-jawed at the sight whilst children laughed and pointed. A caravaner almost crashed his mule and cart as he failed to notice a wall.

After a few moments Luxon felt sweat trickle down his brow and his limbs begin to feel rubbery. He picked up the pace, making it across the crowd and to the archway leading to the school. Tiredness crept into every inch of his body, threatening to overwhelm him. Finally it became too much, and the swirling wind under his feet began to peeter out of existence.

‘Not good
!’ Luxon thought, desperately looking around for another ledge to cling onto or a soft place to fall. He grit his teeth focusing even harder than before, every ounce of power within him he put into the levitation spell. He made three more steps before a wave of blackness blurred his vision; the archway to the school was right below him. He fell as his vision faded. A woman in the crowd screamed

*

Luxon groggily opened his eyes to find himself in a large four poster bed. Four thick feather filled pillows supported his head and the quilt he was tucked into was thick with sheep’s wool. A single candle lit the room casting shadows upon several paintings adorning the walls. One he recognised was a portrait of Zahnia the Great, the wizard’s long white hair and thick beard billowing in a mighty wind, in his left hand was his staff
Erdasol
and in his right was the legendary sword
Asphodel
.  The long blade emblazoned with light and the staff living up to its name of the Earths Fire. Luxon slowly sat up, instantly regretting his decision to do so as a wave of nausea threatened to make him vomit.

“You’re not Zahnia just yet,” a chuckling voice spoke from the darkness. ‘Although saying that, a lad just shy of fifteen summers being able to control a spell of the upper ring is certainly impressive.”

Luxon slumped back miserably onto the pillows; another wave of dizziness causing the room to spin.

“M-master Ri’ges?” he asked already knowing the answer.

The elderly tutor rose from his high backed chair and stepped into the candle light. His wrinkled face was covered in liver spots, his gray hair was long and straggly and only the small pair of spectacles perched upon a hook like nose hinted that he was an intellectual, and not some scruffy beggar from off of the street. He had taught Luxon and the other boys and girls for over a two years in the school of the lower ring and rightly had a reputation for his tough style of educating. On More than one occasion Luxon had received whacks with the rod, either because of his wild curiosity, or because Accadus had baited him.

Ri’ges sat at the end of the bed smiling, an expression that took Luxon by surprise. He’d been expecting his teacher to raise fury at his latest stunt, not sit at his bedside with a smile.

“What happened?” He asked as he once more tried to sit up. The dizziness came again, but it was not as bad as before.

Ri’ges removed his spectacles and wiped them on his long gray robe.

“You fell’ he replied simply. ‘Luckily I saw the whole thing and was able to catch you with a telekinetic spell before you cracked your head open like a grapefruit. The reason you feel so nauseous is no doubt due to you over exerting your mind to keep the levitation spell intact, A spell mind you that one as young as you should never have attempted.” The old master stood and stretched his back. “One as young as you in theory should not even have been able to have gotten the spell to work at all...which is troubling.”

“I’m sorry Master” Luxon said miserably. ‘I just didn’t want to be late for classes again. Accadus hid my shoes again and...”

Ri’ges held a hand up in annoyance. “I do not care for the follies of young men. Making a foe of Accadus was not a wise move on your part.’ He glared at his young student as the lad tried to talk. ‘Listen to me Luxon. You are one of the most promising students I have ever seen pass through the crystal gates, and I will not have you ruin your chances of making apprentice because of some foolish feud.”

Luxon looked at his hands. He hadn’t had any idea that the old man thought that way about his abilities. He knew he was good, but his thirst for knowledge often saw him getting into scrapes with the city guards and the other teachers.

The old man’s expression softened. “Accadus will always loathe you Luxon. His father is the Baron of Redbit as you well know and what your father did...’ he trailed off as he saw tears beginning to form in his pupils eyes.

“My father was loyal to the King; the Baron had no right to make a claim. My father swore he spoke the truth that day and lost his head for it.” Luxon spoke miserably.

His father had been a noble in the court of the capital at Sunguard. With the royal line lost the realms leaders had gathered to discuss the succession.

Garrick, Luxon’s father had testified to the gathering that the King’s youngest child had escaped the assassins, swearing blind that he had helped a young woman smuggle a baby boy out of the city. Accadus’s father had condemned Garrick as a liar of the worst degree; arguing that the palace had been burnt to ashes by the assassins, and that all of the bodies had been accounted for.

After the summit Garrick had hurried back to his home and told his wife and son to pack for travel at once. Luxon had been afraid as any boy of just eleven years of age would be. That same night the Baron’s men came to their home and without preamble dragged the stricken Garrick into the streets. In the confusion Luxon and his mother managed to escape the city. It had been a month later that they had heard of his father’s fate. Anger surged through him, his hands knotting into fists at the memory.

“Accadus hates me because I know his father is a lying sack of...”

A knock on the small room’s door interrupted him.

“Come in” Ri’ges said placing a calming hand on Luxon’s shoulder. The lad choked back tears as another wave of nausea struck.

The door opened, and into the room walked a man dressed in black leather armour. He was no older than thirty his long black hair had traces of silver along the sides. His face was hard; a scar ran from the top of his right eye down toward his bearded jaw. Luxon’s eyes widened as he realised the man was a Nightblade, an order of highly skilled agents.

Since the beginning of the war the Nightblades had abandoned their posts across the realm. They were sworn to the King and no other. Until a rightful successor won the throne they had vowed to play no part in the fighting, instead they had returned to Caldaria, the only city in Delfinnia where they could practise their magic freely.

“Ah Welsly, I forgot all about the meeting, forgive me” said Master Ri’ges. The old man shook the Nightblades hand before turning to look at Luxon. ‘I am afraid Luxon here distracted me from our business’ he added gesturing to his student. Welsly nodded to Luxon in greeting.

“Ah yes, the boy who caused all of that commotion in the quartz quarter, I hear you put on quite a show’ chuckled Welsly. ‘If you would excuse, the council has need of us and we cannot tarry further. Get well soon Luxon. Shall we?” He held the door open for the aging mage, following him out of the room.

Luxon stared at the now closed door a feeling of excitement in his gut. He’d actually spoken to a Nightblade. He was sure all of the other students would be jealous of that. Tiredness came to him and before he knew it he was once again drifting off into a deep sleep.

*

The Dream was always the same. The lone withered tree standing on the hilltop, its withered branches stretching toward the heavens, the sky was always a tumultuous riot of colours. A name was always whispered on the breeze, growing louder and louder as he walked numbly towards it.

The voice was familiar, as though he had heard it once before long ago, a sense of dread wound its way into his stomach as he approached the tree, its knotted roots jutting out from its grotesque body trying to trip him as he walked ever onwards to the top of the hill. Luxon always awoke before he reached the summit but deep down in his gut he knew that something lay beyond the horizon, something terrifying, something that he did not want to see.

The whisper grows louder and louder until it turns into a scream, a woman’s scream, a woman in agony and despair, and she always would scream
his
name.

Just as he reaches the tree and crests the hill the sky turns black and silence descends upon him and there he sees it, a spectre. It stands there in the shadows staring, its features hidden by the darkness.

The sense that he knows its identity frustrates him like in a dream where you can never reach where you want to go, a name that tries to claw its way through to his waking mind, a name that he knows is full of woe. The spectre raises its hand, pointing at him and then a menacing laugh emanates from the darkness. Laughter, that promises pain, despair and evil intent.

The laughter becomes deafening threatening to burst his ear drums until finally he awakens covered in sweat, breathing hard, his heart racing with fear.

***

2.

“You still not sleeping well?” asked Yepert, the fat short boy who was Luxon’s only real friend in the whole of Caldaria. The lad hailed from the small village of Plock on the Eastern shore. His broad eastern accent gave him away as someone who didn’t come from wealth or prestige, but no gentler soul could anyone hope to find.

“The same dream every night,’ Luxon replied miserably as he wearily wrapped his cloak about his shoulders.

It had been two days since the incident in the plaza and word of his deed had spread rapidly throughout the city’s schools. His ego and reputation was at a high but his energy wasn’t.

The two boys were in their dorm room in the boys boarding hall. For the past three years the place had been home, but to Luxon it felt more like a prison.

“I overheard Master Kvar say that dreams were important to folk like us,” Yepert said as he bent to tie his shoes. Even such a simple task as that seemed difficult for him his rotund shape not making it easy for him to bend.

Luxon snorted, “I heard that Master Kvar is nuttier than squirrel poo, and that he tried to transmute his cat into a horse. I’ll be fine, it’s probably just stress or something, and this whole thing with Accadus is getting to me.”

Yepert finished tying his shoes and wrapped himself in his massive cloak. On the chubby boy it looked more like a tent than an item of clothing. Luxon couldn’t help but smile, his friend may appear to be an eastern simpleton, but he knew better. Behind those nervous eyes was a profound intellect, an intellect that almost matched his own. Almost.

The two of them left their room and began making their way through the city. Peddlers and merchants were already out on the cobbled streets eager to sell their wares. The small stone shops that nestled underneath the massive green crystalline walls were beginning to open their doors and scholars and officials made their way to their places of work.

It always surprised Luxon just how busy the city became at such an early hour, how normal things were despite there being a vicious war being waged outside its walls.

“Uh-oh.” Yepert exclaimed coming to a halt. Luxon stopped too looking at his friend in confusion.

“What?” he asked.

Yepert's face had gone a deep crimson red. He pointed. There through a break in the crowd of bustling folk stood Accadus and his three thugs. Regularly they persecuted Luxon and Yepert. With Luxon they often just snarled insults but with Yepert they got violent. Anger swelled up inside Luxon as he remembered the last time his friend had staggered into the dorm room bruised and battered.

He itched to teach the bully a lesson, but any use of magic for such use would instantly see him cast out and with the strict laws regarding magic users he would very likely never be able to practise his skills ever again.

“Let’s take the long way round.” Luxon said through gritted teeth. He didn’t want any trouble. Following his stunt in the plaza he could ill afford to come to the master’s attention again, at least not so soon.    

Just as they were about to turn around and head in the opposite direction they heard a shout. Luxon spun at the noise, Accadus had seen them, and he and his cronies were hurriedly pushing their way through the flow of pedestrians to reach them.

“Run Yepert, go!” He shouted grabbing his friends arm and hurrying him back the way they had come.

“Wh-what about you?”

“I’ll be fine” Luxon replied with more confidence than he actually felt. “Go on, I’ll meet you at class.”

He sighed as he saw the look of determination cross his friends face.