Dark Legacy Series: Vol I: The Bearer of Secrets

The Desert of the Forsaken: a desolate place, hot and unforgiving. Apor, the larger, pale cerulean sun, and Praema, the smaller, brilliant amaranth globe bathed the barren wilderness in merciless heat. But darkness descended, ushering in a welcomed reprieve. The wind rustled with a gentle sigh as the temperature plummeted to near-freezing. The cracked, dried surface crumbled beneath the shifting weight of two figures standing next to each other, cloaks drawn tight around them as they hunkered over their fire.

A third figure winked into existence behind the two smaller beings. He paused and waited, wary of a potential trap. He reached out with his essence and identified them almost at once: Atz and Lurx.

Both still wore their magic-imbued armor and were oblivious to Judas’s arrival. The warlock suppressed a smile, glad he still possessed the ability to sneak up on them. His skills remained undiminished since the war. He walked closer and cleared his throat. Startled, they turned, drawing swords but stopped when they recognized him. The warlock gazed at them, his expression masking his thoughts. The two smaller, muscular forms bowed in greeting, almost bumbling.

“Don’t bow to me; I’m not a king,” the warlock admonished. His face grimaced as though he were sucking on a lemon, and he tossed his belongings on the ground near the fire.

Kings are more trouble than they’re worth.

Once, he befriended a king who honored him above all others. Blessed with a powerful and rich friend, Judas never lost himself to the decorum of palace life. He winced when people were as fearful around him as their king. They feared his wrath, an imaginary worry. From then on, the idea of monarchy repulsed Judas.

“No, not a king,” muttered Atz, “but you’re the supreme wizard of all wizardkind. You even cast out the dark lord into the eternal abyss itself! Doesn’t your deed grant you some respect?”

“You did give us all an incredible gift,” seconded Lurx, “life without fear.”

“Master Guardians, that’s very kind of you, but life without fear is only half a life. With life there’s death, love and fear, joy and hate, a never-ending circle that must be balanced. Nothing is eternal—not the Abyss, not death.”

“You speak of the myth,” Lurx said, breathing deep.

Am I? he wondered. If he was, he didn’t do so consciously.

Atz nodded. “From the fairies.”

“The one about a mage coming forth from beyond the touch of mysticism? Are you familiar with it?” The two dwaven shook their heads. Judas smiled. “In essence, the legend is of a being who will come forth and be a perfect balance between light and dark. Equal in all aspects: life, death, love, hate, like life itself. The mage will be the restorer of life—in more ways than one. Knowledge and experience will come with heavy costs, loves lost, hate found, death will come, and life will thrive.”

The two dwaven grew silent and gave a slight shudder; they did not like to talk about death. For dwaven, the subject was taboo. Death, though inevitable, was shunned from casual conversation. When the subject of death couldn’t be avoided, they talked through obscured and slanted meanings, often referring to life. For the dwaven, only the Keeper of the Dead spoke about the deceased.

Many didn’t find dwaven hospitable. Wizardkind became skeptical of their shorter friends because they closed themselves off in their mountain halls, alienating from the outside world, and perceived this as a sign they did not care for any of the other races. Their dark history drove them to alienation. Most would leave the mystery unsolved, not caring why the dwaven behaved this way. Wizardkind was guilty of the same thing too, only caring for themselves.

How did we become so short sighted?

Long ago, the friendly race lived beside the mountains rather than inside them. The dwaven made fine armor, swords, and shields using methods only privy to them, passed from generation to generation, father to son, but that changed after the centaurs hatched their nefarious plans.

Judas enjoyed their company and cherished it as much as that of elyves, unicorns, fairies, and dragons, the latter sparingly.

Atz combed his stubby, thick fingers through his long waist-length beard. “Could that mage be you?”

“No.”

“How can you be sure?” Lurx interjected. “You could be. You did defeat the dark lord.”

“How are you sure you’re dwaven?”

“Because I am!” Lurx proclaimed with pride.

“Yes, but how do you know you are a dwaven? Perhaps your forefathers got a name wrong, and you’re a dwandur or an elyf.”

“Because that’s what I am,” Lurx repeated, slower. “I’ve been told; I’d know if I was different.”

“As would I, Master Guardian.” The warlock gave a kind smile. “I’ll admit to the similarities between the myth and my life, but I don’tcome from beyond the touch of mysticism.”

“Where is everyone?” Atz inquired. Judas relented to the blatant change of the subject. The dwaven, anxious for the meeting to be over and away from the centaur sure to come. The warlock sympathized.

“The journey is long, and not everyone can slip away from watchful eyes,” the warlock said, pausing to frown in concentration. “So, we shall wait.”

“Why are we meeting here instead of Ralloc or your manor?” asked Lurx.

“I’ve grown suspicious of Ralloc. Who hasn’t? Enemy eyes are scrutinizing it, and this is the only place where we can be protected by Soma and other benevolent spirits.” He smiled down at the dwaven. Hearing the name of their goddess helped calm them, but he didn’t believe in such notions himself, at least, not the dwaven’s version. Both dwaven and their taller cousins, dwandurs, were a superstitious lot.

“What makes you think Ralloc is watched?” Atz spoke at last.

“Everyone looks to Ralloc, from all over Ermaeyth, and always will. There are whispers if you listen.”

“We can always trust your judgment, Judas,” a honeyed voice came from behind them. All three turned, spying Madam Meristal Raviils as she strode forward. “Is this a full meeting? Who else are we waiting on?”

“Down to business fast—you appreciate what I like,” Judas commented, and he held his arms wide to embrace her again, propriety discarded.

They released each other, quicker this time, and he spoke to all present. “We’re waiting on Staell, a maghai of unicorns; Sedrus, the baleful weapon master of the centaurs; Zmora, the fairy representative; Mella, of the elyves of the Enclave in the Vikal Mountains—and the elyfian High Consular in training. We have two new additions, the goblins and council members Kellis and Lagelm, and Soma, of course,” Judas carefully added the dwaven’s goddess at the end, whether real or imaginary.

Almost as soon as Judas spoke, five figures appeared and approached the fire together. Sedrus, the centaur, called out a greeting as Judas surveyed them from afar. To his disappointment, he didn’t spy the goblins, the two newest members among them.

Sedrus stared down as he neared the fire, and seeing the two dwaven, turned his head in disgust. “What are these vermin doing here?”

“They’re here on my request,” Judas intoned with a commanding voice, leaving no room for argument. “They’re the guardians of the magical and non-magical realms. The V’Sol have cared for the Mirror of Imaesion since the beginning. We require their help, and we’ll respect them as equals. Their abilities can shield us from prying eyes and sensitive ears.”

Sedrus kept his head high, a blatant show of disgust and reluctance to cooperate. The two dwaven eyed each other and gave a silent snicker.

Judas, privy to the knowledge that the V’Sol talked telepathically because of their armor, only imagined what jokes were at Sedrus’ expense.

“I didn’t predict Lagelm’s and Kellis’ absence. It seems they aren’t coming. We can begin. This morning, the Mirror of Imaesion reacted erratically due to enchantments detected on the Other Side of the gateway. Once there, it came to my attention the Kothlus Trilogy emerged once again. For those of you who do not recall, the Kothlus books are written in Xilor’s blood, the only way I might bind him. If he or his minions acquire them, he’ll be one step closer to resurrecting. These three books are the starting point of what I’ve been trying to prevent.”

“A starting point to what, Judas?” Zmora questioned.

“I think you comprehend as well as the rest of us, Zmora. It could only be one thing,” Meristal spoke. A hardness filled her voice, and the expression on her face showed how much she loathed when anyone, or anything, tried to question or contradict Judas. “How many times must he prove himself? By the time you all start believing, it’ll be too late.”

“The Dark Lord Xilor will return to power?” Mella, the elyfian, interrupted. “I didn’t think it possible.”

“Not will, not for certain, but he’s in the process as we speak,” Judas admitted, frowning. “Someone went to the Other Side to retrieve the books. I’m still looking into how they managed to get past Atz and Lurx. What does this mean for us?”

We have a betrayer in our midst, Staell stated. The unicorn gleamed, effulgent, his inner light shining through his translucent skin. A slight shiver went through the gathering. Unicorns spoke with telepathy; each time they spoke, it was like an invasion of privacy unless you became accustomed to it. Judas looked up, making eye contact.

“No,” Sedrus interjected. “There’s no way he could come back. You killed him! You told us you killed him!”

“Indeed, I did. Even though I killed him, he still lives.”

“What?” Zmora probed.

“The infallible Lakayre lied!” Sedrus proclaimed.

I’m sure— Staell began.

“Your treachery knows no bounds.” Sedrus reared. “Perhaps the Kothlere Order is right to cast you out, to hunt you down! If he isn’t dead, where is he?”

“Enough!” shouted a voice. All eyes turned to Atz. The dwaven kept their silence in the meetings, only present as a means of protection, this marking the first time they’d spoken to everyone. “Master Lakayre stopped him. That’s all that matters! If he hadn’t, you would all be kneeling at Xilor’s feet by now, or perhaps even deceased!”

“We all want to understand,” Lurx said. “Even I must confess curiosity. How did you stop him Master Lakayre?”

The warlock went silent for a few moments while he relived memories he tried to forget. “I destroyed his body, rendering him unsuitable to sustain life, but he still lived on in a wraith-like form. I ripped his soul away, tearing it from his consciousness, yet he struggled on. I trapped his mind, his essence into a mirror, much like the Mirror of Imaesion—that’s where I got the idea from—yet he survived. I cast his soul into the Abyss, and his hold on magic ceased. Returning for his body, Xilor spoke to me from the mirror, still alive. I realized he couldn’t die though I don’t know why. With time, he was sure to escape, and the only thing left to do was to make it as hard as possible for him to come back. I siphoned the blood from his body and buried his body in the City of Despair. That’s when his followers stole the mirror from Ralloc. Even if he managed to procure one part of himself, he’d still need the others.”

This does not help us, Staell broke in. He scanned the others gathered. Is your curiosity satisfied? Now we need to work on preventing him from returning. You heard Judas yourself, it’s a matter of time, not if. We must work to prolong this inevitable conclusion. We must find the betrayer among us.

“It’s the bloody vampires,” Sedrus mused, his tone acidic. His gaze swept over to Atz and Lurx. “Or these dwaven.”

“Yes, betrayed by our kind,” Judas confirmed, ignoring Sedrus’ last remark.

“Another betrayer in Ralloc…”

“The same kind?” Sedrus growled. “No, we are not!” Hate shined in his eyes as he glared at the dwaven.

“Your blood may not be the same, but magic connects you,” Judas commented, his ire building. “We are all connected. Either magical or non-magical.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Meristal broke the tension, “but we never caught the first betrayer, did we?”

“No, we didn’t,” Judas confirmed. Meristal noted the tinge of regret.

“A first one? When was this? Are you sure it’s not the same one?” Mella, the elyves representative asked, her interests piqued. Her raven hair rustled with the caress of a gentle breeze.

“Long ago, during the climax of the Wizard’s War,” Meristal answered with disdain. “You weren’t part of the group. We’re sure the first one is inactive, either passed on or removed from a position of power and firsthand knowledge. To be honest, we weren’t certain.”

“Another one rises,” the warlock informed. “It’s up to us to find out who did it before the damage is too much to repair. But the three books were located on the Other Side, that much we can discern.”

Master Judas? Staell chimed in. You’ve spoken in the past tense more than once. Is there something you haven’t told us?

“Indeed, you are wise and alert, Staell. Yes, past tense because they were on the Other Side. They aren’t anymore. I went myself, along with the two guardians, Master Lurx and Master Atz, and council member Daylynn Reese.”

“You what!” Meristal shrieked, her long-time hatred for Daylynn Reese getting the better of her.

“The council’s decision, not mine. You’re always my first choice,” he assured. “You were still in Mecas River City, and I couldn’t wait for your arrival. We didn’t realize what caused the disturbance at the time, so we had to act.”

“Of course,” Meristal relented. Judas stifled a smile as she bit back retorts and fought for composure. An inkling of a thought crept into his mind; she still longed for the old days, when it was him and her against the world, no matter how much she talked about progression.

Perhaps I’m not the only one who can’t escape the days of the war. The good days, youth and vibrancy, invulnerability. Now? Old and forgotten. During those darkest days, they both meant the world to each other, and their fierce friendship was forged through warfare.

“That still doesn’t explain the past tense expression,” Mella spoke up. “They’re in our possession now, are they not?”

“No, they’re not,” Judas said, voice solemn. Shock arched through the gathering like wildfire.

“How did this happen?” Zmora solicited.

“It matters not,” Mella spoke up. “I’m sure Warlock Lakayre did everything in his power. Someone slipped by him. Could any of you do better?” Other than Meristal’s mumble of ‘maybe,’ everyone went silent, an unarticulated agreement.

“I want each Head of Creatures to report and keep tabs on their designated species. Be mindful of more signs of Xilor, like the sheol on the Other Side.”

“I heard about that,” Meristal grunted.

“Sedrus, following this meeting, check on the other centaurs: Mella, take the goblins, trolls, and elyves. Zmora, of course, you have the fairies and vampires; Staell, the unicorns are yours, along with the dragons; Meristal, take the gorrillians—you’re the only one those damn things listen to—and the saricrocians.”

Judas pointed to Atz and Lurx. “The dwaven are yours.”

He turned to his pack as an angry voice burst into the silence.

“What will you be doing, Lakayre?” Sedrus demanded. He stamped his hoof, his muscle rippling beneath his chestnut brown coat.

A thick, choking silence fell. Everyone waited, taken aback by Sedrus’ blatant disregard for titles and propriety within the group. Muted conversation ceased. Eyes darted around, averting the two. No one wanted to watch this confrontation. Judas led, they followed, doing whatever he asked, knowing the necessity. Sedrus was the only being in the circle who didn’t like answering to anyone outside his race—or anyone at all.

“Well,” Judas said, disregarding the lack of respect Sedrus showed him, “Soma and I will be talking to the sheol, unless, of course, you want to trade, Sedrus?” A shudder swept through the camp, the fiends of death slipping their minds. Those creatures were a thought best left unformed. “Well?” Judas prompted.

“I think you know what would be best, Master Wizard.”

Judas nodded, twiddling his goatee with this thumb and forefinger. “We’ll meet again, and soon. I’ll contact you when we can meet again.”

“There’s something else,” Sedrus interjected. Everyone stopped, eyeing the centaur. “Daylynn gave her report to the council. The consul moved for a motion to hunt you down and kill you. We blocked the motion. You’ll be surprised, but Daylynn sided with Lagelm, Kellis, and I. She said you saved her life.”

“I did,” Judas confirmed. “Twice.”

“I believe it’s because of your actions, she voted against hunting you down. The consul is livid and still wants to extradite the Wcic. For the moment, you’re not officially hunted, at least by Ralloc.”

“Good. Now I need to figure out who is hunting me.”

Sedrus turned to leave when Staell called out through his mental projection. I have something to add. My people tasked me to deliver a warning to the council. Since a member is present, I shall do it now. The sheol now congregate and are poised to strike anyone! Who they decide to strike is uncertain, but the threat is real. They stirred in the shadows of their ruins and attempted to kill Warlock Lakayre and your council member on the Other Side. The lower castes of vampires stir in Shadow City. The portents are real if one choose to pay attention. Something sinister stirs beyond sight. War is coming.

The centaur swallowed hard, knowing what a message from the unicorns would imply and the weight of their words. “I’ll deliver the message,” Sedrus grunted.

Also, if war does come, our allegiance lies with Warlock Lakayre.

Sedrus nodded and moved off, and others followed him. Judas saw the foreboding on the centaur’s face. He didn’t relish the thought of delivering the message in its entirety.

Staell moved closer to the warlock. I wish to bestow a gift to the Wcic.

Judas’s eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue. Instead, he spoke, “I can arrange a short visit around dawn. I didn’t plan to return to my manor because the council would look for me there first; and being hunted by an unknown factor, though undoubtedly a minion of Xilor, only further solidified my not returning. But I left something very valuable and must fetch it. I’ll bring her around dawn.”

Where will you go afterward?

“Eventually to Wizard’s Pass. I have an old acquaintance there. Few are familiar with him, and we should be relatively safe as it’s out of the way and out of sight.”

A sound plan. I’ll await you at your manor at dawn.

Staell retreated, leaving Judas with Meristal, Atz, and Lurx. He motioned to the dwaven. “You may leave. Thank you for your service.”

The two dwaven bowed and faded to carry out the task Judas gave them.

Judas withdrew his wand from the folds of his inner robe and pointed at the flickering fire the dwaven built. The earth churned, dousing the fire with sand, giving the appearance as if no one had ever come.

Meristal gazed at Judas and raised an eyebrow.

“There’s someone among us who’s feeding information to the enemy,” he confirmed. “I haven’t been able to discover who yet, even after all these years, so I must take precautionary actions. Spells can only be so good if someone is trying to listen in. If someone can track down our location, I wouldn’t want to give anything away.”

“Any ideas of who?”

“Well, I can rule you out now,” he mused with a bittersweet smile and mocking tone.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“During the time of your absence to Mecas River City,” Judas explained, “things happened only people in the Kothlere Council would be aware of and couldn’t have been you.”

“So, the search is narrowed down to the council?” Meristal asked, treading with caution on the sensitive subject.

“Yes, and no.”

“Anything to do with this group?” she inquired, terrified the answer might be yes.

“No, I don’t believe so. I cast a powerful charm that will notify us of treacherous thoughts in our midst. If someone cannot be trusted, we’d know.”

“And there’s no way to trick you?”

“Sure.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Anything’s possible. Unlikely, but I’m not infallible. They would either be powerful, intelligent, or privy to some form of ancient wizardry I’m not.”

“So, other than suspicions, you can’t narrow down the exact perpetrator?”

“No,” Judas said, decisive. “Too many people are coming and going in the castle for absolutes, but I’m getting closer. I just need more time. Why are you so interested all of a sudden?”

“Well, if the dark lord is coming back—or is back—then time is something we may not have,” Meristal reminded.

“Too true.”

“Where are you going? After your manor, I mean?” she inquired.

“Dlad City, I should think. It’ll give me time to prepare the girl for her journey.”

“Can I see you before you leave? I just got here.”

He smiled. “I know. We don’t have the best timing, do we?” He hugged her again. “Let me know when you are coming. Okay?”

She pulled away, nodded, and teleported away, leaving Judas alone. He still had his task to complete.

Gathering his power, he too, vanished.

His wink carried him to the opening of the Corridor of Cruelty, once a monumental feat to all who crossed its cursed threshold, now a lingering moment of discomfort for the warlock. Long ago, Judas entered the Corridor, and for three months he suffered all the cruelties it offered. They were months that seemed like years. But he mastered the Corridor, and now he only experienced the briefest moments of suffering as he walked through on foot. All who came passed by on foot or horseback. No one, nothing, could teleport through, an anomaly unto itself. Once across the five-mile gap, he teleported again to his destination.

On the other side of the teleport, death and decay greeted him. The grass crumbled to ash beneath his feet. Even in the dark, Judas knew the dirt went from a rich brown to black as charcoal, black as death. Stone monoliths littered the way in front of him, each an epitaph of an identified member of some long forgotten royal family. This place where the sheol stayed—The Ruins of Sheol—was the final resting place of countless millions, both from the Wizard’s War and another war from long ago, forgotten by society, a rarity in educated circles of historians. Ignorance of the place, though common, was due to the meticulous erasure from most texts circulating in the general populace. The Ruins were hard to track down, but slivers of history from the once epic war could be traced back, almost to the beginning of magic if historians searched hard enough.

Judas withdrew his wand from his robes, and a light appeared at the tip, casting long shadows on the raised tombstones in front of him. The sheol, like moths, attracted to luminance in small amounts, but too much and they would die. Judas peered into the darkness before him, his eyes searching for any signs of movement.

They are here, they are always here, he reminded himself.

In answer to his thoughts, a skittering noise like fingernails scraped over a chalkboard, manifested in front of him. The faint sound of wind sucking in followed. The breath of a sheol, an echoing effect, impossible to determine which was the first and which was an echo through the continuous sound.

“What comes?” a deep, rattling called.

“Your Head of Creatures,” Judas responded, mustering a tone of command he didn’t feel. The sheol, like the City of Despair, compelled a strange effect on the living. The City of Despair, once great with splendor, rivaled Ralloc and the Golden City. Towers and buildings made of crystal and marble, lush green gardens and clear waters, but now a dead spot on the face of the Ermaeyth. Anyone who entered unprepared never came out again.

“We have no Head of Creatures. We have no want,” the sheol responded.

“I am, and I do.” Judas stopped walking forward, waiting for the sheol to come out in the open. Slowly, the decaying wraith slithered forward like a serpent floating in the air. Left and right, it inched forward, floating like a wisp of smoke, coiling and recoiling. The wraith stopped meters short of Judas and hovered like a black cloud of toxic gas.

“What is it?” the sheol hissed.

“Let us begin by talking about your master…”