Heir to the Sundered Crown (The Sundered Crown Saga) Page 2

  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.

  “N-no. I won’t leave you. I’ll stay at your side.”

  Luxon clapped his friend on the shoulder, “Your funeral.” He said wryly. Both lads turned to face their tormentors.

  Accadus stood a full inch taller than Luxon, his broad s
houlders hinting at his physical strength. His dark eyes were full of malice; his large nose dominated his face. He too wore a blue students cloak except his had the emblem of his father emblazoned upon the breast. The crossed axes and the red crow of Redbit stood out proudly allowing all to see that he was under the protection of one of the most powerful lords in Delfinnia.

  Standing at either side of him was Douglas a tall skinny lad with shifty eyes and on the other was Rudak a large brute of a boy with a look that said that the lights were on but nobody was at home. Neither of them studied at the schools, instead they were in service to Accadus.

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the son of the liar and his fat oaf of a lover.” Accadus said snidely eliciting chuckles from his goons.

  “That’s funny coming from the son of a traitor and a liar.” Luxon replied calmly, his steely grey eyes bore deep into his foes. Accadus false smile immediately dropped, his face reddening with rage. Without warning he lashed out connecting his fist with Luxon’s nose.

  Bright white pain shot through Luxon blinding his vision and causing him to stagger backwards. Yepert cried out but Accadus’s thugs quickly silenced him. Rudak grabbed the fat lad, putting him into a headlock and muffling his cries with a large hand over his mouth. Accadus gestured to his friends as he and Douglas gripped the dazed Luxon under his armpits and hauled him and his struggling friend down a nearby alleyway.

  Panic started to swell in Luxon’s mind. Out of sight of the public he dreaded to think what Accadus had planned for them. Perhaps calling the bully’s father a traitor was a step too far he thought as his wits slowly collected themselves. Accadus had a mean right cross.

  “You snivelling piece of scum. My father is the rightful king. He is the strongest Baron in all of Delfinnia; the crown is his through strength of arms.” Accadus snarled pinning Luxon to the alleyways wall, an arm pressed against his throat. “You think that just because you are skilled in magic that it will save you? Magic is dead in this world, if you use it outside this city the knights of Niveren will gut you like a fish.” He raged.

  Luxon was scared. He had never seen Accadus so angry. Out of the corner of his eye he could hear Yepert’s muted cries as the two thugs beat him yet again.

  “Your father may be the strongest’ he wheezed, ‘but he is a liar.”

  He winced as he awaited another blow. Perhaps Master Ri’ges was right when he said that he was too foolhardy.

  The blow never came. Instead Accadus was on the ground his hands around his throat, his face tuning blue. Luxon stared in confusion, noticing that Yepert had gone quiet as well. The thugs who had been beating him just moments before were also on the ground. His friend was on his feet a look of stunned disbelief on his face. The two thugs were in a similar predicament as Accadus.

  “What the? What’s happening Luxon?”Yepert asked worriedly.

  By now Accadus had gone an unnatural colour as he gasped for air. Luxon gasped as he realised that his hands were tingling with energy. With horror he realised that somehow he was responsible. He wracked his mind desperately trying to think of a way to break the spell he had somehow cast. He faced his friend.

  “YEPERT HIT ME!” he shouted in panic as the three bullies began to thrash ever more desperately. His friend hesitated.

  “Dammnit Yepert if you don’t hit me then they will die. I don’t know how but I’m causing this, I can feel it. I need something to break the spell and physical harm is one of the most effective ways.” He said frantically. Accadus had now turned a livid purple.

  He shouted out in annoyance as his gentle friend stood there stunned like a frightened rabbit. Spinning, he faced the wall gritted his teeth, and ran head first into the stone wall where moments before he had been pinned against his will.

  His head connected solidly with the hard stone and the world went black.

  *

  “It isn’t possible. No one has that ability.”

  Voices drifted into Luxon’s conciseness.

  “They have...” responded another. A higher lighter pitched one compared to the first’s gruffness.

  “Nonsense. If you compare this boy, this child to him, then I seriously question your sanity.”

  Luxon stirred. Slowly he opened his eyes and immediately regretted doing so. Once more he was lying in the bed chambers of the school. The same painting of Zahnia the Great greeted him except this time there was no friendly voice to set him at ease. His head throbbed and he tentatively touched the spot where it had connected with the alleyways wall. He winced as pain radiated from the wound. Glancing around the room he could see his robe hanging from the back of the high-backed chair that master Ri’gis had sat in during his last visit.

  The voices were coming from the hallway outside of the room. Gingerly Luxon sat up. Stars exploded before his vision causing him to cry out. The voices stopped and the door opened.

  In walked a woman, whom Luxon guessed must be the owner of the second voice that had drifted into his consciousness. Her long blonde hair framed a delicate face; deep blue eyes looked at him causing his breath to catch in his throat. She was beautiful.

  “So, you’re finally awake.’ The woman said walking over to the bedside. ‘My name is Hannah, I am apprentice to Master Enil” she explained as she checked Luxon’s bandages.

  “The Master healer?” Luxon asked his mind racing to recognise the name.

  Hannah gave him a wide smile, her perfect teeth shone like polished ivory causing Luxon’s heart to beat quickly. From the youthfulness of her skin Luxon mentally guessed that she must have been only a few years older than him-self, he took a wild stab in the dark, she was around eighteen.

  “That’s right’ she answered. ‘You took a very nasty knock to the head. According to your friend you deliberately knocked yourself unconscious.’ She raised an eyebrow questioningly. ‘He was much shaken up when he sought help.’

  Luxon simply shrugged his shoulders. “I had to do it. Something happened...something that I couldn’t control.’ He added miserably. The memory of what occurred flashed into his mind, a dreadful thought struck him.

  “Accadus! The others! What happened to them? Are they ok?” he blurted out, sitting up in panic. His head swam again as the concussion threatened to drag him back into the realm of sleep once more.

  Hannah gently eased her patient back down into the pillows beneath him. She turned to face the door to see that the man she had been talking with earlier had now stepped into the room. The man wore a black cloak with the hood up; it was drawn tightly to cast his features in shadow.

  “Your friend’s live” The man answered with not a shred of kindness in his deep gravelly voice. ‘However, you have broken the law and have been charged with attempted murder under the act of the sacred flame.”

  Luxon gasped, he tried to speak but this time the darkness took him and he once more fell into unconsciousness.

  Hannah rounded on the cloaked man. “Why did you say that? Could it not have waited until he was feeling better? Whatever this lad has done it is decreed by the law that he remains in a healer’s custody until he is fit and able to stand trial.”

  The man shrugged nonchalantly. “It matters not. Either way he will be judged.”

  *

  Three days passed before Luxon was able to stand without being struck by nausea or the world spinning before his eyes. On more than one occasion he had attempted to walk but had collapsed into a painful messy heap. The healers apprentice had looked after him throughout his time of incarceration.

  At first he hadn’t realised that he had been arrested but it dawned upon him when Hannah had not allowed anyone to visit him. He had heard Yepert enquiring about his health before being gently turned away with a polite refusal, even Master Ri’ges had not been allowed entry.

  Luxon was afraid.

  On the second day Hannah had told him what he had been charged for. Aside from the claims from Accadus for attempted murder he had been brought up on the serious charge of uncontr
olled magic use, a crime that since the days of the fall of the Golden Empire meant death for anyone that committed it.

  Magic wielders were feared in all the corners of Delfinnia, except for Caldaria. For over a thousand years magic had been strictly controlled. It had been magic users that had caused the Empires fall and brought the world to the brink of annihilation in the magic wars. Witch hunters and the knights of Niveren scoured the realm in search of those who abused their power and the remnants of the wicked things conjured into the world during the wars. Fell beasts, spirits and other abominations had been unleashed as mage battled mage, and wizard waged war upon wizard.

  Before the war of succession had begun, mages and wizards had kept mostly to themselves choosing lives of seclusion in Caldaria or using the skills learnt at the city’s schools to help the peoples of the realm. Wizards and mages were often used as court advisors to the King and barons, but now even they had been forced to return to Caldaria. Those that left Caldaria were not allowed to use any magic, to do so would mean certain death. Nightblades however were the exception. Often employed as bodyguards or agents the Nightblades used their skills to do the deeds that a normal person could not. Their main purpose however, was to hunt the beasts of the void that stalked the realms dark places.

  Luxon sat in the room’s high-backed chair wracking his brain to figure out what had happened. He had asked Hannah to scour the great library for any tomes that could answer the mystery but none had contained the information he sought. A tome he had not yet read lay on the small table at his side, ‘the history of Magic volume 47’ was emblazoned on the cover. He sighed in exasperation and settled into the chair to read the massive tome.

  ***

  3.

  Dungeons of Retbit, Barony of Retbit

  Kaiden wasn’t very comfortable, not one bit. His hair was long and unkempt and his clothes stank with several days’ worth of dirt and sweat. The smell of the dank damp dungeon added to the foul aroma. The fact that he was chained to the small cells wall meant that he had very little room to manoeuvre, a fact that had resulted in several unpleasant instances when it came to relieving himself. His once spotless mantle was covered in filth. The Gold seven-pointed star on his chest was faded and muddy.