《Toric the Soulless》


 Prologue

    Fields of grain stretching over gently rolling hills for as far as the eye can see. The gentle majesty of the terrain washed through his soul and made it cry out even more. Looking forward was the bounty of the earth, and turning around showed the fire-gutted timbers of once strong homes. Bodies strewn about the street and blood soaking the ground upon which children once played happily. The sheer disparity of the two views tore at his heart and sickened him. He knew the truth; a truth he had learned well, lo these many years of life. In a few short years nature would reclaim what was now an atrocity, and the world would turn on, not even noticing the wars of mortals.


    His mind wandered back over memories of his distant youth, a time of idealistic wonder and yearnings for the ¡®glory¡¯ of war. Bards were in his opinion, greater deceivers than daemons summoned from the nether reaches of hell itself. They spun great and powerful stories of battle and adventure, but they conveniently left out the blood, guts, death, wailing and gnashing of teeth, feasting carrion, and worst of all, they never once mentioned the personal cost to a man of watching brothers and sisters of the sword die in the dirt for the greed of other men. They spoke to the hope that clutches all young people¡¯s hearts, that they might be meant for something great, and deceive them into picking up a sword just like the one that will eventually sever them from this world. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    He can remember it like it was yesterday, a minstrel playing at the tavern his father ran, bawdy drinking songs that the miners demanded, and syrupy sweet love songs for the women. Then a single ballad of woe and honor, The Lay of Falgath the Resolute. Battles and magic, swords and bows, good and evil, all this and more pulled at the longing of a tavern boy to become more than his birthright. He had waited until his fifteenth harvest, as his father had insisted, and then he had gone. It was the beginning of his story, and he has asked that I tell it to any that might listen. Hear and beware, this is the tale Toric the Soulless, The Sword of Daath.

 Chapter One

    Gods be praised, I am finally free of that dreary, creaking old tavern. I will find my place in this world and all that hear my name will cheer for the great Toric that has defeated evil in the land.


    Toric was thinking thoughts that even he knew were silly, but still, they resounded through his mind with the kind of powerful longing that only a kid is capable of. Sure he was considered an adult by the world now that he was fifteen, but his mind had yet to catch up to his body. For a tavern owner¡¯s son he was an impressive specimen of a human. Tall, standing six feet six inches tall and weighing just over three-hundred pounds, he was broad shouldered and might have had an ounce or so of fat, maybe. A pack rode his shoulders as he pushed through the crowds, headed for the Imperial Recruitment Center near the outskirts of town. He had already said his goodbyes to his father, his friends, and the small shrine in his father¡¯s bedroom that held a portrait of his mother. He was still thinking about what his father had revealed to him just before he left. He could still hear his voice, echoing in his thoughts.


    ¡°Listen to me Toric, I have kept this from you according to your mother¡¯s wishes until either you were old enough, or we were to become separated. You are not old enough, but I may never see you again, so it is your right to know. Your mother was not human. All of your unnatural aspects come from her: your height, build, strength, speed, stamina, intelligence, and most of all, the way you heal so quickly. I know you intend to apply to the Imperial Army; you will have to tell them this, though the magi may be able to tell just from looking at you. Your mother¡¯s race is very rare in our world, and hybrid children with humans almost never happen. You are a dracuman, half human and half dragon. Be careful my son, you are not immortal. The only reason I agreed to your leaving, is because I don¡¯t think I can stop you for much longer, and don¡¯t want you to leave without knowing who and what you are. And know how very much I love you. Now I have said my piece and you must go, fare thee well my son.¡±


    It was an earth-shattering revelation for Toric. He had always known he was different than his friends and pretty much everyone he had ever met, but he would never have guessed this was why. The revelation did absolutely nothing however to dim his wanderlust or desire for glory, if anything, it increased the need to escape his hometown. And so he walked down a dusty street and up to a small but sturdy building at the edge of town. A sign out front proclaimed for the entire town to see, the ones that could read anyways, Imperial Army, Recruit Center, Zalkal Province. Taking a deep breath, Toric pulled the door open and stepped inside, gazing about him and noting the spartan look of the place. In this front room there were six chairs against the wall, a desk in the center of the room with a chair behind it and in front of it, and on one wall a map of the current Cruzian Empire. Sitting at the desk was Centurion Davyd, a grizzled veteran serving his final term out here in a quiet province.


    Davyd looked up and saw Toric enter the recruitment center. He smiled, genuinely. He had forgotten that today was the day Toric would sign up, but was very glad to see the boy who had been so inquisitive every time he had come to his father¡¯s tavern, The Dragon¡¯s Home. Raising his voice he also motioned Toric into the otherwise empty room, pointing at the seat in front of the desk.


    ¡°Have a seat Toric, all the papers are already filled out, I just need your signature and for Mage Tremalyn to check you out.¡±


    Toric walked over and set his pack on the floor, settling down onto the chair in front of the desk. He smiled broadly and nodded; his own voice had finally stopped squeaking a week or so ago, and was deep, strong, and powerful sounding as he spoke.


    ¡°Thanks Centurion, I have something to add to my papers, something my father just told me about my heritage as I was leaving to come here.¡±


    The Centurion frowned and lifted an eyebrow to Toric as he reached over to tap the bell that would call the Mage.


    ¡°Oh? And what might that be, Toric?¡±


    Toric smiled uneasily and was about to speak when Tremalyn entered the room from the back and froze within three steps into the foyer, staring at the young man sitting in front of Centurion Davyd. He was frozen in shock and could not believe the amount of energy coruscating around the figure of Toric. Even more startling however was that he could tell, instantly, that the boy was no mage. Somehow he had more magic at his fingertips than any being Tremalyn had ever seen, but no way of using that power that he could tell. After a moment Tremalyn became aware of Davyd calling his name and shook his head, turning to the Centurion.


    ¡°Davyd, you called for me?¡±


    Tremalyn struggled to keep his voice calm, his mind was whirling down different paths, trying to figure out just what the boy was.


    ¡°Yes sir. This is Toric; he came in today to apply for the Army. Is something wrong? You look as if you have seen a ghost.¡±


    Davyd spoke to Tremalyn and then turned back to Toric out of curiosity, after all the mage was staring at Toric like he was a dangerous artifact. Hmm, maybe that thing about Toric¡¯s heritage could help.


    ¡°Toric, what was it you learned about your heritage that you wanted to add to the papers? I am sure Mage Tremalyn would like to hear about it as well.¡±


    Toric shook himself, he thought he might be hallucinating, but as soon as the mage walked into the room his entire body had felt strange and tingly, his hearing had sharpened, and he could smell everything in the building, his eyes picked up on the smallest of details, and there was an itch on the back of his neck. It felt like his body was preparing him for something. A danger, or a fight, or to run, he could not tell, just something. But when the Centurion¡¯s question registered he turned back toward him and nodded, speaking just as deeply as before.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    ¡°When I was ready to leave the tavern this morning, my father pulled me to the side and told me that he had kept a secret from me, he said I was a dracuman¡ª¡°


    That was as far as Toric got, because as soon as the word dracuman rolled from his tongue the Mage spoke up.


    ¡°OF COURSE! That strange energy I see around you, I could not figure out what you are, but that makes perfect sense. You have no potential as a mage, you cannot access the power, at least not in the way magi do. But you do have a way of using it; it makes you stronger, faster, bigger, and smarter, raises your endurance, makes you tougher, and heals you from disease and injuries.¡±


    Toric nodded.


    ¡°Yes Sir that is what my father told me. He cautioned me that I was not immortal, just tougher than an average human. And that I am not finished growing yet.¡±


    Tremalyn realized he was still standing across the room and approached quickly, letting the power he had seized upon spotting the young dracuman fade away. He was young for this post, but talented enough to have graduated the rigorous academy and passed the entrance exams for Imperial Magi. At the tender age of twenty-two that was quite the accomplishment. He was five foot and eleven inches and slender, Toric towered over him impressively and was not even full grown. Still gripped by awe that he was meeting a dracuman he stuck his hand out to shake Toric¡¯s.


    Toric looked surprised for a moment before smiling and reaching out to carefully grasp the wrist of the mage, having long since learned to be gentle and considerate of his strength. Shaking twice firmly he dropped his arm and looked over at a flabbergasted Davyd. Clearing his throat he spoke as softly as his resonant voice could manage.


    ¡°Centurion? Are you alright?¡±


    Davyd blinked and then chuckled.


    ¡°Aye Toric, I am alright. I have known since I met you a few years ago that you were something special, but half dragon? I just have to admit, I never imagined that.¡±


    Turning to look at Tremalyn Davyd asked him a question.


    ¡°Can you still perform the Question and Anchor on Toric, or do we need to do something special considering what he is?¡±


    Tremalyn frowned in thought.


    I really should send him to a Master-class Mage for the Question and Anchor spells, but this is my chance to write myself into history. There has never been a dracuman in service to the Empire before; they are so rare as to be non-existent. I can do this; it will just take an enormous amount of power to bind a being like him.


    Taking a deep breath Tremalyn nodded to Davyd.


    ¡°I can handle the spells, don¡¯t worry.¡±


    Turning to Toric, Tremalyn gestured for him to stand against the wall in front of the map of the empire.


    ¡°Ok, listen carefully Toric, I am about to cast two spells on you. Every recruit is subjected to these spells. The Question is the simplest one, and always goes first. It weeds out those whom are not truly committed to serving the empire with all that they are. The Anchor spell comes second, and only if you pass the Question. The Anchor implants a hook, which is the best way to describe it, into the innermost sanctum of the one it is being cast upon. This hook allows other mages in service to the empire to do a number of things with far less effort than would normally be required. From you all that is needed is to relax and accept the power from the spell; if you do not want the Anchor to work, it will not, and you will not be accepted into the service. For your general fund of knowledge, the Anchor allows other magi to easily locate, heal, summon, teleport, or fortify you against magical attacks. Relax, breathe deeply and evenly, and above all else, accept that this is to help, not hurt, you. Got it?¡±


    Toric looked around just a little nervously, but nodded. He understood that this was necessary and had already talked all this over with Davyd many times over the past month. Taking and deep breath and slowly releasing it he nodded once more.


    ¡°I am ready, Sir.¡±


    Tremalyn smiled and then closed his eyes in concentration. Beginning slowly he pulled power from the environment, building the spell to at least triple the usual amount of power before he reached out with his mind toward Toric. The Question was a simple spell and did not delve nearly as deep into the mind or soul as the Anchor. It just read surface thoughts and desires and gave the mage casting it the answer to the question held in the spell. Tremalyn received back from Toric the most powerful assertive answer he had ever felt through a spell question. This young man desired with every fiber of his being to serve the Empire and through that service to make the world a better place. The power of it all rocked Tremalyn around in his own mind, gale force winds of thought buffeting him about like a leaf.


    Slowly opening his eyes Tremalyn smiled wanly at Toric.


    ¡°You have passed the Question, young man. Now I will cast the Anchor.¡±


    Tremalyn was being reckless and he knew it. The power contained in the Answer from Toric was immense, dwarfing anything he had ever felt before and the next spell would likely bring such a torrent of energy it might knock him out completely. However, he was giddy from the magic flowing through his mind and the air and the earth, just being near the dracuman was making him drunk with power, and he disregarded the tingling warning from his conscience. He began building the spell. This time he amassed all the power into the Anchor spell that he could manage, being certain he could do it if he just powered through the interference.


    Davyd had served with Magi for decades and he knew that something strange was happening. This was a powerful spell, yes; but Tremalyn¡¯s hair was floating and electricity crackled down his arms and legs. Davyd was a null, he could not feel or interact with magic at all, other than soul magic like the Anchor and Question, and the power flowing in the room was so thick that he felt like he was swimming in mud. The mage could not be stopped now, so Davyd just backed away from the pair and ducked down behind the desk, praying that whatever happened they would both be alright. A frenzied thought brought an idea and he pulled down a calling stone. Calling stones were emergency magical artifacts made of a soft stone that could be crushed easily. Once crushed they summoned one of the always ready reaction squads, that consisted of two magi and six veteran soldiers, from Imperial City. Holding it ready; he watched.


    Toric was curious, he could feel the power from the Mage and wondered if that was normal. Shrugging he stayed still and focused on just letting the Anchor spell do what it was supposed to do. Relaxing and mumbling under his breath, he spoke to the innermost core of what he was and told his very soul to trust, accept, and allow the spell to work. He had no idea if that was what the Mage meant, but he was doing his na?ve best to follow instructions. He could tell the exact moment that the Mage released the spell, and in that timeless instant, he knew something was horribly wrong. After that realization came a terrible fire of pain, burning and ripping at his soul. The moment lasted an eternity ¨C he has been asked about the experience countless times and all he ever remembers is terrible, paralyzing, unending pain, and then, nothing. Oblivion reached up and swallowed him whole.


    Tremalyn did not have even a moment to realize he had screwed up. As soon as the overpowered Anchor spell reached into the dracuman¡¯s soul, he was unconscious. For the mage that made the mistake of pride there was no punishment of pain; the innocent paid the price.

 Chapter Two

    Davyd stared in horror as first Tremalyn crumbled into a heap on the floor and then Toric screamed. It was a sound unlike anything he had ever heard before. Nothing compared, not the shouts and wailing of those dying on a battlefield, not the mindless screams from slaughtered animals, not even the horrible shrieking of a lich he fought when he was younger. This was a primal and powerful wail of utter despair and agony. Suddenly Toric was lying on the ground and floating above his body was a terribly bright globe of light. It hovered for a long moment before sinking back down into the young dracuman¡¯s form and the scream cut off like a switch had been thrown.


    As soon as he had control of himself again Davyd crushed the calling stone.


    Within seconds there was a bright flash of light and a circle of six soldiers stood looking outward with two magi standing in the center of the circle. All eight of them were armed and ready for a fight. Davyd spoke the codes quickly, lest he be targeted as an enemy.


    ¡°Pigeon, Delta, Niner, Six.¡±


    The reaction squad relaxed and both magi stepped forward. The taller one spoke to Davyd.


    ¡°What happened, Centurion?¡±


    Davyd reverted to battle quick description, pointing at the relevant crumpled bodies as he spoke.


    ¡°Toric is a local, came in to apply for recruitment. Tremalyn there was administering the Question and Anchor, and I think he overpowered the Anchor. Toric is a dracuman. Tremalyn collapsed as soon as the spell was cast, I am a null and I felt him cast it. Toric screamed the worst scream I have ever heard anyone make, and I have heard death knells from a lich, and countless mortals. Then he collapsed and a bright ball of light appeared from his body, it then sunk back into his body and the screaming stopped. Then I crushed the stone.¡±


    The taller mage looked at Davyd in shock and then spun to stare at the heap of flesh and bones that was Toric. He lifted his hands and removed his helmet and revealed the features of a High Elf. Barking quick orders the smaller mage went to Tremalyn as he knelt to check on Toric. Two soldiers went to secure the door and the other four pulled Davyd closer to the two unconscious men.


    The Elf ignored all that went on about him and spoke to the comatose Toric.


    ¡°You may not be able to hear me young Toric, but if you can just hang on please. Your kind is far too precious to the world to die from such a tragic event. My name is Drak Tellis of the House of Loquain. Focus your will and do all that you can to live, you can beat this Toric. You must beat this.¡±


    Looking back over his shoulder at the shorter mage, Drak issued a quick order.


    ¡°Evelyn, take us home, as gently as you can. This foolish mage has committed one of the gravest sins imaginable for magi; and it is up to us to fix it.¡±


    The female mage nodded once, sharply and gestured for Davyd and soldiers to come closer. Once everyone was within a certain distance she made a few curt gestures and snapped her fingers. There was a bright flash of light and a twisting of space and it was over. They were deep inside the Inner Citadel of Imperial City.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    Drak bent down and with a grunt he employed his seldom used elvish strength, lifting Toric from the floor and striding toward the door. Three orders over his shoulder set the men and woman upon their own tasks.


    ¡°Evelyn, get whatever help you need and take the mage for treatment and make sure his magic is bound and he is confined. Men, go on a rest cycle, dealing with this may take me a while. Centurion, you are with me, let¡¯s go.¡±


    Once again a few words from the tall elf set his squad scurrying about their tasks and Davyd fell in behind him. Davyd was silently cursing himself for not doing something to stop Tremalyn when it was obvious he was in over his head. After a few moments of trudging through quiet halls he mustered the courage to ask the High Elf the question that was most burning to him.


    ¡°Sir, what has happened to Toric? He is a good lad and was very much looking forward to serving the empire. I have been talking to him about joining for months now and I find myself nearly as worried as if he was my own kin. Oh damn, I should have told his father something. And will he be alright?¡±


    Abruptly Davyd managed to cut off his stream of words as he realized he was babbling like a worried mother at what was most probably not just any mage, but a High Elf Mage that was of a noble house.


    Drak raised an eyebrow at the centurion trotting by his side, but did not comment on the long spiel. He spoke as best as he could while he carried the enormous young man through the thankfully wide halls.


    ¡°The Anchor spell was specifically crafted, designed, and trained for a single use upon a human soul. All non-human applicants are supposed to be brought here to Imperial City for anything more than the Question. Not only did the Mage Tremalyn attempt the Anchor upon a non-human, he compounded his error by trying to simply over power the spell and make it work that way. There is never supposed to be that much energy directed at the soul of a mortal. If Toric had been human he would have died instantly. The light you saw rise from his body and then return was his soul. He is just barely alive, and I am uncertain how. I checked him as soon as you told me what had happened and half of his soul is untethered from his body, floating in the aether. The other half remains within him, connected by a single filament to the half that is absent. What the mage did was necromancy, and ignorance of what he was doing will not save him from that judgement. As to the question of if Toric will recover, the answer is I do not know. Do not let your worry for him bother you, it shows your character. His family will be notified when we have some answers, and I will see to it that you remain with him until he awakens or passes from this world. Hopefully he will get better and having a friendly face around should make him more comfortable. Now I have a question for you, centurion. A few questions actually. Do you know the identity of his draconic parent? Also, what is your name, I do not want to keep calling you centurion? Lastly, I will need you to write out a report with as much detail as you can remember and I will personally cast a spell of retrieval on your memory of the entire event. Can you handle all of that?¡±


    Davyd hung his head as the gravity of the situation became apparent. He had known it would be bad, but dying from necromancy was the worst thing he could imagine. He cleared his throat and replied to the Mage.


    ¡°First of all, my apologies Sir, my name is Davyd. Secondly, no I am sorry to say I do not know the name of Toric¡¯s draconic parent. I do know that it is his mother though; his father is human and runs a tavern in the southern district of Fell Bridge, the town we were in, called The Dragon¡¯s Home. I will be pleased to do everything I can to help. The report shouldn¡¯t take very long, but I am a null and I don¡¯t think memory spells work with me.¡±


    Drak turned down a new hallway and took three steps before gesturing toward a door with his chin. Once Davyd opened the door Drak strode through and into a moderately busy hospital ward. Three mage healers and several orderlies stepped up to help put Toric into a bed and Drak ordered for Davyd to remain with him while he went to confer with the healers and call for a Master-class Mage to come and take a look at Toric.

 Chapter Three

    Toric had no idea where he was, there was darkness all around him and for the life of him he could not remember how he got there. He thought back and could recall everything up until the pain. A gasp and mental flinch jerked his thoughts away from the agony. It was so very fresh, like an open wound that if he paid it any attention at all he could still feel fire lancing along his nerves. A soft wisp of light flickered before his eyes and slowly formed into a man shape, it wasn¡¯t too bright to look at, hovering there in the space just in front of him. A sound issued from the light and slowly the sound became words.


    ¡°Listen to me Toric, listen to me and remember my words. A terrible injustice has been visited upon your soul through a simple mistake on your part. You were na?ve and trusting of someone who did not deserve that honor. The mage that cast the Anchor upon you knew that using the spell on anyone not of pure human blood was not only dangerous but also an abomination. Attempting to power through the spell and make it work he poured a horrendous amount of energy into your soul; far more power than a mortal soul is capable of surviving. He killed the human half of you Toric, but luckily for you ¨C you are more than human. A soul cannot be severed from itself. It can be parted from a body, but not from pieces of itself. When the draconic part of your soul refused to leave your body your soul stretched and has made you into something not seen upon your world since elder days. Long ago when necromancy was more prevalent and abominations like what was done to you by accident were committed on purpose, there were rare instances that resulted in a stretched soul like yours. Those beings were known as Veil-Walkers, or just Walkers for short.¡±


    ¡°I have come to you to explain what has happened to you, as well as the new abilities you will have. Along with this blessing though, comes a curse. You have responsibilities as a Walker now as well. A Veil-Walker is one who exists in both the corporeal and incorporeal worlds at once. The incorporeal, or veiled, world exists like an overlay atop the mortal world that you were born in. It is where the ghosts live, where daemons hunt, where magic flows into your world. It is a dangerous place, but you should have no fear of it. Within the veiled world your half soul is invulnerable to attack as you exist still upon the mortal plane in your own body. I will teach you more as you mature, and show you how you can interact with this new reality. When you awake you will notice some things immediately. You will be able to feel and see the flow of magic, and eventually you will be able to manipulate it in its raw form. However you will never be able to construct spells like a mage. Ghosts, daemons, spirits, and other fae creatures will be unable to hide from your gaze, but be warned ¨C neither can you hide from them.¡±


    ¡°I want you to repeat this all to the Master Mage Vorxin and the Mage Drax. They can both be trusted to help you as much as they can. My name is Artur and I am The Veil-Master, tell them that and they will be happy to do what they can for you. You must learn not to trust so innocently, but at the same time do not abandon the parts of you that make you a good man. This curse will cause you terrible pain, physically as well as emotionally. But, through the agony that you bear, the world will become a better place. Now, just this once, I am going to allow someone to speak to you. Please do not interrupt her; she only has a short time and wishes to say several things. Prepare yourself Toric; this is the beginning of the pain.¡±Stolen novel; please report.


    Toric could not think of a single thing to say as the figure which had become more and more defined the longer it spoke turned and nodded into the darkness behind him. Suddenly there was a new light. This light wasn¡¯t the sharp, harsh, white light of Artur. No it was warm and familiar, like the golden glow of the hearth fire. Suddenly, all at once, the light resolved into a long neck, attached to an enormous head, the head of a dragon. It was odd, but he could tell just from looking at it that this dragon was a female. A long moment passed and then a choked sob escaped him and he whispered a word he had longed to apply to a mortal being for his entire life.


    ¡°Mother.¡±


    The light shimmered and slimmed down, coalescing into the form of a small beautiful woman. Features were difficult to make out as everything about her was sculpted of light, but he felt an instant and intense kinship with her that was beyond denying. The form spoke and with the sound of her voice came the rush of summer and the feeling of being safe in his father¡¯s arms after a bad dream.


    Oh Toric, my son, how I have longed to see you again. Before you jump to any conclusions, know this; I am not dead. I am bound to a place in the mortal world and may not leave it in either thought or action. Through the grace and power of Artur I am allowed this one moment with you. One day we may meet in person, but I beseech of thee, do not seek me out. My name is bound with me, and I may not speak it to thee. Tell the Mage Drax that thy mother is the Dragon Bound by Bone. He will know of me and can tell you much. For thee I have a gift that was left with the Emperor just after thy birth. Tell Drax thy seek thy birthright as Toric Fatesblood, only son of the Dragon Bound by Bone and Devyn Fatesblood. Speak not mine son, thy father is truly Devyn Fatesblood. His blood-brother Marrick raised you and loves you with all of his heart. Be gentle with him when you see him again. Mine time is nearly gone, speak quickly I must. A code exists that thy already know, but I will speak it once to you. Hear, remember, and always live by the creed my son. Let it guide you and honor it always, for such is the duty of thine blood.


    Protect the Legion


    First with words and if that fails


    Draw my sword, axe, or hammer


    Honor is my most precious thing


    Protect and guard it from myself


    I am the strong right arm of Daath


    And let all that meet me either cheer or flee


    Toric spoke, along with his mother, the words that his father had taught him since he was a small boy. As the last word faded from her lips, the wisp of light defining her form winked out. The form of Artur turned and looked at Toric and nodded once firmly, pointing toward something behind him.

 Chapter Four

    Toric turned to see what Artur was pointing at and gasped in startled surprise as he found himself lying upon his back in what seemed like a large stone room. Looking to his left he saw Davyd asleep in a chair and looking to his right showed rows of beds with other patients. Two beds down there was a soldier with a huge bandage across his torso and another on his head, and standing there beside the bed was a pale blue wispy form of a man wearing an Imperial uniform. The man was staring down at the body on the bed and it was several long moments before Toric realized he was seeing the ghost of the soldier that lay dead upon that bed. He was rather thoroughly freaked and rolled to his left and fell out of the bed at Davyd¡¯s feet with a yelp. A domino effect knocked Davyd out of his chair and onto the stone floor with a near identical yelp and then came the sounds of running feet and yelling healers.


    Within no time at all Toric found himself lifted back onto the bed and told very firmly not to move. He turned to look back at the soldier¡¯s ghost and found it staring at him curiously. Looking straight up at one of the healers he reached out and grabbed the man¡¯s tunic and pulled him close.


    ¡°That soldier to my right with the torso and head wounds. He is either close to dying or dead, please go check on him right now!¡±


    The frenzy Toric was feeling was obvious in his voice and he dearly wished there was something he could do about it, but there was just so freaking much that had happened he was feeling like a boxing dummy from getting jerked around. Remembering something from before he awoke he turned and looked at another of the healers and spoke again.


    ¡°I need to speak with the Master Mage Vorxin and the Mage Drax as soon as it can be arranged, please!¡±


    Davyd was gob smacked. He felt that was a good way to describe how he was feeling. First Toric wakes up and just about leaps out of bed, knocking him over in the process. Then he starts barking out orders that carry an undeniable and strangely authoritative compulsion with them. The first healer he had spoken to was already at the indicated soldier¡¯s bed and working to resuscitate the man. The second had turned around and headed back from where he came to send a page to get the Master Mage and Mage Drax. Toric just tells this healer to go get a Master Mage he should not even know of and the healer hops to doing the will of the patient. Shaking his head to clear the fog from his mind Davyd reaches out and touches Toric¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Hey, Toric, you okay buddy?¡±


    Toric turned and looked directly at Davyd right then, and Davyd can understand why healers are doing what he says. The previously soft hazel eyes of Toric are gone; they have been replaced by glowing pale blue orbs of azure flame that seem to pierce through your soul when you look into them. Toric¡¯s voice seems mostly the same at least.


    ¡°Davyd, I am glad you are here. Don¡¯t worry, I have been told about what happened and I do not blame you. There is no way you could have known what Tremalyn was about to do, or that it would be so terribly dangerous and wrong. Please do not ask me how I know all this; I was given specific instructions about who I could talk to about it. Until I talk to them, I am going to play things close to the vest. I hope you understand, you were always good to me and acted quickly once things went wrong. For that I am sincerely grateful.¡±


    Yep, gob smacked was the best way to describe how he felt. Davyd had asked a single question and received an answer that made him want to ask a dozen more. Not to mention that within the answer was a very politely worded statement that said - no more questions! So Davyd did the only thing he could and leaned back in the chair, nodding and smiling and wondering just how the hell this day could get any weirder. Then he groaned and kicked himself mentally; berating himself internally.


    Did I just fucking invoke Murphy into all of this? The last damn thing that this situation needs is for a god of mischief to take interest in these goings on. Oh shit, I am doing that stupid internal monologue thing again and arguing with myself. Think about bunnies and puppies and horrible cheek pinching old grandmothers.


    The expression on Davyd¡¯s face made Toric smile and he made a mental note to sit down and explain everything to the old Centurion at a later date. He owed the man for being a good person and getting him to help as quickly as he could. And as Toric examined his memories he realized he had already sort of met the Mage Drax and owed him as well for the swiftness with which he acted once he realized what had happened to him. According to Artur there was no healing what had happened, but there was the opportunity for him to use it for good. A victorious shout of relief from his right made him look over and smile as he saw the spirit of the soldier sink back into his body. Correction, he was already doing well.


    A commotion near the entrance caused Toric to grab the side of the bed and force his body to sit up. There was still an amazing amount of pain all throughout his body, and from what Artur had told him he did not expect it to ever go away completely. He would simply have to learn to deal with it. Propping his back up against the wall he turned toward the small crowd that was advancing on his bed. In the lead there was a medium sized figure wearing elaborate robes. Toric studied the shadow elf closely, having never seen one of his kind before. He was about five and a half feet tall, but much more heavily muscled than the High and Wood elves Toric had seen. The way the shadow elf carried himself, walking with tightly controlled steps and avoiding bumping into anyone spoke of great strength and even greater self-control. Toric idly wondered how he knew that; but shrugged, chalking it up to a side effect. His eyes flicked to the left of the shadow elf and somehow recognized the Mage Drax. This was the high elf that had taken such good care of him. There was no way to gauge his age, but somehow Toric was certain that he was not all that much older than he was. He was tall, much taller than the shadow elf, but also much more slender. Drax walked like a hunter, his steps as graceful as the great panthers that roamed the forest outside of Toric¡¯s hometown. Drax still wore his reaction team armor, crafted of leather and steel, it seemed formidable as well as flexible enough for him to retain his speed advantage. Toric¡¯s thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he caught sight of the human mage walking behind Drax and the shadow elf; the only thought that ran through his head at that moment was, ¡°Gods, fairies, and miniature flying pink elephants, she is gorgeous!¡±


    And then the small group was to his bed. Other than the shadow elf, two Imperial soldiers that flanked him, Drax, and the beautiful woman, there were three human men that seemed to be officials of some sort, an Imperial wearing the uniform of a Praetorian, another high elf wearing the robes of a senior healer, and ¨C surprisingly ¨C a gnome, wearing tight leathers and bearing a strange looking staff. None of them spoke, deferring to the shadow elf as he stepped forward and addressed the young dracuman.


    ¡°I have been informed that you called for my presence. While normally I would not answer the summons of a boy that is not much more than a recruit, the fact that you knew my name has intrigued me, and Drax here has related what he knows of your situation. Why did you ask for me?¡±


    Toric chuckled and felt something very strange; like a memory that he did not know he had surfacing in his thoughts. The memory made him raise his right hand and draw a circle in the air, then point at whom he now knew to be Vorxin and Drax. A wave of magic rushed from him and an impenetrable bubble surrounded his bed and the two others. He spoke the words, which he was becoming surer Artur had implanted into his mind, quickly.


    ¡°I give you greetings Vorxin. I implanted this in young Toric here so that you would know the gravity of the situation. He has become a Veil-Walker. I ask and demand this of you, as Artur the Master of the Veil; help him understand his abilities and responsibilities. He has several surprises for both you and Drax. Listen to him and then assist him.¡±


    The timber of Toric¡¯s voice changed to a conciliatory tone from the commanding one it had been using.


    ¡°I am sorry for taking your tongue to use Toric. This will speed things along. Goodbye young Walker, until we meet again.¡±


    Abruptly Toric had control of his mouth again and he cursed.


    ¡°Arrogant, screwed up bouncing ball of light! At least fucking warn me you are going to take over. Dammit!¡±


    Vorxin surprised everyone by laughing heartily before speaking in a soft tone. First he gestured behind him and the gaggle of healers, mages, and soldiers stopped trying to break the sphere, not that they could have succeeded. Smiling at Toric he spoke again, in a much more friendly tone of voice.


    ¡°Forgive my rudeness earlier, young one. Please tell us what Artur has told you, as well as anything else you might have to add.¡±


    And so Toric recounted everything Artur had told him to the old Drow. Vorxin was deep in thought when Toric turned to Drax and spoke to him in a much softer and more personal tone.


    ¡°Drax, thank you for all you have done to help me, but there is something more I must ask of you. While I was in that place with Artur, he allowed my mother to speak with me, and she told me to seek you out and say a few things to you. I am Toric Fatesblood, only son and heir of Devyn Fatesblood and I am to ask you for my birthright. As son of Devyn and the Dragon Bound by Bone. Also I would ask you what my mother¡¯s name is. She said she was bound and could not speak it to me.¡±If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Vorxin and Drax inhaled at the same time. They were both startled beyond reasoning at the words that came from Toric. Drax turned to look at Vorxin with wide eyes and an expression that bordered on panic.


    Toric was disturbed by their reactions but just waited patiently. He was a patient man by nature, and very difficult to anger. Perhaps that was why his anger was so terrible when unleashed, but for the moment he was content to wait for a response. He still felt the bubble of force surrounding them and knew that it would remain until he dismissed it. So, at the moment, he had a captive audience.


    It was a long moment before Drax turned back to Toric. He took a deep breath and his voice cracked with stress when he spoke.


    ¡°Your mother is named Krystuia. Sixteen years ago a necromancer arose in the southern reaches of the Empire. I am sure you have heard stories of the battles that happened there. The necromancer was powerful beyond belief and he created a massive army of undead and evil living mortals. The Empire set out to destroy him and called upon many of its allies to help. Most of the allies refused, believing that the Empire could handle the situation alone. That is the reason the Emperor no longer acknowledges the sovereignty of most other races within the borders of the Empire. We are now all one. Enough of that though, a bare few of the Empire¡¯s allies did respond. The Clansmen, three dragons, and the Legion of Daath all came to aid the Empire. What applies to you of this tale is tragic, and I am sorry to have to be one to tell you of it. Krystuia was one of the dragons that came; the other two were her parents, Sul and Karynia. Krystuia was young by dragon terms, barely into her third century. The Legion of Daath is not often spoken of, but they hold immense power. Every member of their army possesses skills on par with Imperial Special Operatives, and the Legion¡¯s army is six-thousand men strong. The Commander of the Legion at the time was a warrior of incredible skill and cunning. He was also a mage the likes of which the world had not seen in centuries. As such a powerful and charismatic human it was not unlikely that he would attract the attention of your mother. The war raged for nearly a year, and just before the final battle Krystuia gave birth to his son, you, while in the form of a human. She chose to do so that you could live as a man; for half dragons in draconic form usually find life difficult. The next morning the enemy struck a surprise attack, and the necromancer himself led it. The horde was near the tent where your mother was caring for you and your father¡­.. Your father lost himself to his rage. He sought to protect the both of you, and acted from a pure intent. He used a spell that the ancients had crafted for protection against the undead. It was foolhardy, but brave. The spell requires immense power and was never intended to be cast by a single mage. It took every erg of his magic, but it worked. Every undead in the entire province fell to ash, and the necromancer was completely destroyed. The repercussions of the spell however were severe. Your father still stands there upon that field; under watch by a full company of the Legion. He is frozen in a single moment of time. Time passes for us, but anything within four feet of his body is completely suspended. Your mother gave you to your father¡¯s best friend and made a few preparations for you, and then she summoned a most powerful spirit, Artur. She called upon him and asked him for a boon. She wished to free her love, and he agreed. There was however a catch. The spell that your father cast was intended to protect your mother and you from all undead and anything related to the undead, like necromancers. It remains in effect and will never fade. Artur told your mother that he could free your father, but in order to do so she would need to enter into a contract. The plan is simple; far from here there is a place of great power, where your mother sleeps within a spell circle. The circle is slowly draining the spell effect from your mother and storing it within a crystal. The process could be done instantly, but that would kill her; in order to keep her alive the process will take another five years, and then she will be released. With the power of the spell safe and able to be used against other necromancers in the future, Artur will pull a fraction of its power to release your father from his stasis. Please understand this Toric, Artur did not do this to be cruel, it is the only way it can be done. And your mother would have rather raised you herself, but if your father is not freed within the next decade he will remain frozen in time forever.¡±


    Drax stopped speaking and reached to his belt, taking a very short sip from the flask he pulled free, and then offering it to Toric.


    Toric was reeling from everything he had been told. First there was the pain of the Anchor spell, then the meeting with Artur, next he had gotten to meet his mother ¨C but not talk to her ¨C and now there was everything Vorxin and Drax had told him. He reached out and sucked down at least half of whatever was in the flask. He had long since discovered that alcohol didn¡¯t really affect him like it did others, at least now he knew why. The drink made him blink and shake his head, warmth spreading through him and calming his frayed nerves. Blinking he handed the flask back to Drax and made a mental note to find out what that was and get some. After a long moment thinking he decided he had one question that needed to be answered.


    ¡°Thank you Drax for telling me all of that, but there is one detail you left out that I need to know. What is this birthright I was told to ask for?¡±


    Drax decided he needed to stick around this kid, he had been surprised more times since finding Toric unconscious in that recruitment center than he had been in the last ten years. It was a refreshing feeling. Toric had just drunk at least four ounces of Black Fire and it seemed he had just barely felt it, and that was the smallest surprise yet. Chuckling as the young dracuman asked about the birthright he turned to Vorxin and gestured for him to take this one.


    ¡°Vorxin would be the best one to tell you of that Toric, he is Second-Mage of the Empire and as such can act as an official representative in this case.¡±


    Vorxin stepped forward and bowed his head formally to Toric, his fist coming up to rest over his heart in an official salute.


    ¡°Toric Fatesblood, son of Devyn and as such, Blood of the Legion. It is my honor to meet and recognize you as what you are. I am aware that you are uninitiated in the protocols of your station and will see to it that a Legion Officer is called to act as your aide. The birthright you seek is a complicated affair, but the Empire will do everything in its power to expedite the process. Drax left out a few things when telling you of the Legion earlier. Your father Devyn is not simply the Commander of the Legion of Daath, he is their ruler. As his son you are his heir.¡±


    Toric interrupted Vorxin, aware of the rudeness of it, but unable to quench his outburst.


    ¡°Wait, from what Drax said I had thought the Legion was some sort of army, not an entire people. How can there be a king? Are you saying I am some sort of prince? That is crazy!¡±


    Vorxin smiled as Toric babbled the questions in a childlike manner. This was the first evidence he had seen of the young dracuman acting his age. It was refreshing to see that he could be rattled, and an indication of his good heart that he reacted with incredulity to the news of his elevated station.


    ¡°Bear with me please Toric and I will explain. First of all let me tell you of the Daath Legion. They are not mercenaries, nor are they just an army. The Legion consists of many different races, people of various creeds and principles, all with at least a single thing in common. The Legion only allows members that have the appropriate blood to join. A mage can draw a single drop of blood from an applicant and use a special, secret spell to test it. The Empire respects the Legion¡¯s privacy and has not tried to determine what the spell looks for, or how the spell is performed. I do know that you were tested at birth and determined to be Legion, but after the battle your mother hid you away with your father¡¯s blood-brother and the Legion bowed to her wishes in the matter. The Legion occupies the Island Citadel of Daath. It is an island in the Imperial Lake, just a few miles from here. The island was occupied by the Legion long before the rise of the Empire and they retain control of it. It is a massive island, nearly thirty miles long and slightly over sixteen miles wide. Only those of the Blood may step upon the actual island, even the Imperial Embassy is on the docks and not on the island itself. The Commander of the Legion, that is their title for their, ¡°king¡± as you said, is determined by the one with the strongest connection to the Blood. Devyn had the strongest connection ever recorded, and after she was tested, your mother was determined to have the Blood nearly as powerfully as he did. Your connection is the result of their blending and as such is extremely powerful. You would be named the Commander, were it not for the fact that your father still lives. The Law of Succession for the Legion is clear. There can only be a single Commander at a time, and as long as Devyn lives, you are his heir. I believe the actual title for your position is in fact Prince. A Legion Officer will be summoned as I said and we will settle everything in time. There is a great deal that must be done, but for now you need to rest. This conversation has been intriguing, and I will strive to have everything ready for you once you awaken again. Does this meet with your approval?¡±


    Toric was now beyond amazed at everything that had happened, and just nodded as he spoke. Deciding that since everyone was looking and speaking as if he had real authority he might as well use a bit of it or a selfish reason or two.


    ¡°Yes sir, that meets with my approval. I need a few things though. Please allow Davyd to remain with me if that is okay with him; he has been a true friend and helped me a great deal. I would like for someone to fetch my father from the Dragon¡¯s Home. I have a great deal to discuss with him, and no matter what I have learned he remains the man that raised me. In short I need my dad. The last thing I must ask of you two is I hope simple for you to grant. I understand that there is respect due in public, but when we are in private could you, Vorxin, and you, Drax, please treat me as just Toric? I may be a prince, but that does not take away my need for friends, and from what I have seen, heard, and learned recently, you are both excellent men and would make good friends.¡±


    Drax grinned and for a moment looked like just another kid. Leaning forward he laid his hand on Toric¡¯s shoulder and nodded firmly.


    ¡°Consider it done; I would be honored to be your friend. Besides, it looks like you might be able to keep my life interesting; and it would get my father off my back. He keeps insisting that I shouldn¡¯t play around as a soldier and instead should settle into life at court and make powerful allies. Gods, I love him, but the man can just suck all the fun out of life.¡±


    Vorxin was not nearly as exuberant as Drax, but he smiled as well and bowed his head.


    ¡°It has been nearly two decades since anyone asked me to be their friend. Seems I do not get out enough. I would also be honored young Toric. A friend and teacher I will be to you; after all there is a great deal you must learn. Drax can be your friend in the public eye and raise no questions, but I must maintain a bit more distance in public. However in private I have no issue with dispensing all the formalities and treating you as a kid that needs to learn respect and commitment to his studies.¡±


    Toric and Drax shared a laugh at how Vorxin was able to both compliment him and imply that he and Drax were little better than unruly children compared to him. It was a masterful performance and it managed to come through as kind instead of scathing. Suddenly Toric felt his eyes growing heavy and he leaned back against the wall again. Remembering to release the spell he gestured and the containment bubble collapsed moments before he felt himself falling into a peaceful but exhausted sleep.

 Chapter Five

    The moment that the bubble faded, Vorxin¡¯s bodyguards rushed in toward Toric with angry expressions. They were understandably perturbed at him for barring their access to their charge. However a single sharp word from their principle stopped them in their tracks. Vorxin frowned at them both before turning to speak to the otherwise still crowd.


    ¡°Let us move from the hospital so we do not disturb Toric or the other patients.¡±


    Suiting actions to words he strode toward the exit, motioning the Praetorian up next to him.


    ¡°Praetorian Arnolds; please go to the Legion Embassy and send a request to the Citadel. Ask for a full squad of Strikers, three orderlies, and a Legion Tribune. Sign my name to the request and put the words ¡®for fate and blood¡¯ after my name. Go now and report when it is done.¡±


    The Praetorian saluted and spun on his heel, heading straight for the docks.


    Vorxin stepped into a medium sized bedchamber just down from the hospital and finding it empty gestured for everyone to enter. Once he sat down on a chair he looked at the gnome.


    ¡°Ictill, thank you for coming to that meeting with me, but by the grace of the fates your services will not be needed. The boy remains anchored to his body, in a way. I do not want rumors to get around just yet; so please keep this under your hat, he is a Veil-Walker.¡±


    The gnome stumbled back a step and his eyes grew wide. Nodding his head he twisted a grip on his staff and it shrank to the size of a pencil; which he stowed in a belt pouch.


    ¡°It is good. A great heart I sensed. I did not wish to sever his thread. I will go now; much to research I have. Keep me updated?¡±


    The gnome was already wandering off as he asked the question, and he did not await an answer. Vorxin just shook his head, Ictill had a brilliant mind, but all those smarts seem to leak out and he had to chase them down. Shaking away the loose thought he lifted his head to look at Drax.


    ¡°Drax go and inform your CO that by my command you are off the rotation. I want you to stay with Toric all you can, he is going to need someone familiar and you are conveniently near his age. Although for a bit that boy had me fooled into thinking he was fifty not fifteen.¡±


    Drax smiled and saluted the Second Magus.


    ¡°That is an order I am happy to obey.¡±


    Turning on his heel Drax also vanished from the room.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Next Vorxin looked at the woman Toric had noted among the group.


    ¡°Stephany, your services will not be required with this matter. Furthermore I need you to spread the word to any that you deem it necessary to warn. Toric is not to be subjected to the usual games of the court. This detail goes no further than you; he is of the Blood and will be under Legion protection within the Keep. He is na?ve and young, but not stupid. Any women that try the usual tricks are likely to find themselves in a cell, and as for any of the courts many political movers and shakers ¨C the Legion does not take kindly to politics. They are likely to end up dead in an attempt to control or manipulate the lad, and you notice I do not mention what capabilities he himself has. Spread the word, hands ¨C and all other body parts ¨C off Toric. Got it?¡±


    The stunning Imperial Spy Master nodded her exquisitely made up head and twirled upon delicate court shoes; her short strides tapping along the stones and out of the room.


    Vorxin finally looked to the three Imperial Functionaries.


    ¡°Your job is simple. I chose you three because I did not know how this was going to turn out, and I trust all of you to keep your mouths shut. Prepare a room near the healer wing here, but one suitable for a sovereign level guest. Have Toric moved there while he sleeps, and until the Legion arrives and are briefed one of you remain in the room at all times. The centurion Davyd will be there most likely, as will Drax at times. Once the Legion¡¯s group arrives, arrange for all of you to move to a room nearby; where at least one of you will be on call and available to Toric or the Legion at a moment¡¯s notice, around the clock. I am unsure how long this will all go on, but new and more permanent arrangements will likely be made within the next week. Do you all understand?¡±


    He waited for any questions and when there were none he nodded firmly and smiled at the three men.


    ¡°Good, get to it.¡±


    Once the three functionaries had gone and Vorxin was alone with just his guards he relaxed and rubbed his temples. This was going to be difficult, but the entire Empire owed a debt to Toric¡¯s parents and this was a small way to begin repaying it.


    I have to shield Toric from Imperial politics. I have no doubt he can handle them, but as much as I would love to see some of those vipers dead, I cannot allow such things to happen. Not when I am capable of preventing them. As a Veil-Walker Toric will be impossible to lie to. Thinking back over what I know of the Walkers, there are several traits that he doesn¡¯t even have to learn, he will just be able to do it. He can see spirits that linger on this side of the Veil. He can sense untruths ¨C whether written or spoken ¨C I always thought that was odd, but it is undeniable. There is simply too much documentation to prove it. His spirit on the other side of the Veil is impervious to harm, but his spirit on this side is vulnerable until he learns to protect it. Well, just as vulnerable as it always was. He is impervious to magical attack, but vulnerable to poisons and physical attack. Fortunately for him, his draconic heritage makes him nearly impossible to poison and with training physical attacks will be less of a problem. He is also granted an elemental boon; that must be a priority. We must discover what his element is as soon as possible, that fact will shape all his future training. Enough of this; I need to go and report to the Emperor and then get some rest; there is a LOT to be done.


    With that last thought he climbed to his feet and nodded to his guards, turning and striding from the room with renewed energy and a set purpose.

 Chapter Six

    Toric was awake, but his eyes were still shut. He was struggling to remember a dream, more of a nightmare actually, or was it? It was confusing, he remembered battle. A long terrible battle. He was wearing strange armor, of a design he had never heard of before. It consisted of a long mail suit that covered his body from shoulders to knees, and attached to the mail over his chest and back was heavy large plate pieces. On his shoulders had rested pauldrons and long gauntlets covered his forearms, from his elbow jutted sharp spikes and across his knuckles were reinforced, gleaming bumps. A heavy set of plate chausses covered his hips, and more reinforced plate covered his knees. The weighty boots with blades running out from the toes were strange and looked even stranger dripping blood. The entire ensemble was a matte black color except for a large red dragon emblazoned upon the front of the chest piece. He remembered wielding a sword in his right hand, shaped like a falchion but long and heavy enough to be a two handed weapon for most humans. In his left hand had been a warhammer, a wicked spike on the back and a ridged mallet head on the front that weighed nearly twice as much as the sword. The helmet had been the strangest part of the entire getup. He had taken it off at one point and looked down at the face of it, staring up at him was a blank black face shield surrounded by expertly crafted steel teeth. The entire thing turned on its side had seemed like a small dragon head holding a black ball within an open mouth. Something about it had resonated within him, but as to what that might have been; he had less than no idea. His apparel was easy to recall, almost perfect in his memory, but the other bits and pieces came and went with irregularity no matter how hard he tried to force it. Finally he gave up and opened his eyes.


    He was in a different room, which was immediately apparent. Also easy to spot was that he was not alone, far from alone.Without moving around too much and giving away the fact that he was aware; he could spot ten different people. Four of them were familiar to him, Drax was reading in a chair next to a window, Davyd was talking to the Praetorian officer he had never gotten to actually meet, and next to his bed with his head bowed sat the man that had raised him since birth, Marrick.The other six men wore strange clothing that was obviously a uniform. It was made of leather and had pieces of steel riveted to it like shingles upon a roof. A recent memory intruded and he deduced that these were the Legion men that Vorxin had said would be coming. He wondered how long he had slept, but was thru with playing possum. Closing his eyes again he groaned and slowly rolled to the side of the bed so he could stand up.


    The moment Toric groaned several things happened at once. Marrick jumped up and moved to help him stand, Drax closed his book and paid attention, Davyd and the Praetorian hopped to their feet, and the Legionnaires came abruptly to attention. Another man wearing the Legion armor stepped into view and moved purposefully toward Toric. This one¡¯s armor was different in that his sleeves both bore thick red stripes. He spoke swiftly to Toric in a voice that was obviously used to barking orders.


    ¡°Ah, you are awake. Finally, we have been waiting for hours for you to wake up young man. Now get up and get ready, the Emperor desires to see you for court as soon as you are awake. Hop to it.¡±


    Every face in the room turned to stare at the Tribune in shock, the Legionnaires included. The tone of voice he was using was the one they all remembered their parents using to chastise them for being naughty boys. It was disrespectful in the extreme. Toric locked his unsettlingly glowing blue eyes on the tribune and spoke with such surety it surprised him.


    ¡°You are a petty little man, and it is a wonder you ever attained the rank you hold. I seriously doubt you either read whatever information there exists on me, or listened to any briefing that was prepared. I just woke up after suffering from an injury that defies belief. My body, mind, and very soul have been ravaged and changed on a level that you have no hope to understand. The only thing on my mind at the moment is getting to a bathroom, and I have neither the time nor the inclination to deal with you.¡±


    Turning to the oldest of the Legionnaires, and locking his spooky eyes to his, Toric spoke again.


    ¡°Legionnaire, if you have not been briefed, from my understanding I stand high in your chain of command. I am Toric Fatesblood, Heir and Blood of Devyn Fatesblood. To my right stands Devyn¡¯s blood-brother Marrick, the man that raised me in the necessary absence of my parents. He will be covering for that officious prick standing there staring at me in impotent fury. I would thank you to do as Marrick says, please.¡±


    With that Toric put the entire affair to the back of his mind and stumbled toward Drax, whom caught him by the arm.


    ¡°Quick Drax, get me to a bathroom.¡±


    Toric whispered urgently to the tall elf and they both headed for one of the doors. Once they were safe in the bathroom Toric sat down on a small bench and caught his breath, not able to really believe how weak he was.


    ¡°How long have I slept?¡±


    Toric queried as he stood again and made his way around a partition to do his business with the chamber pot.


    Drax coughed and made a strange noise that sounded a lot like a laugh.


    ¡°I am sorry Toric, I was amused by the effortless way you handled that buffoon out there. He has been trying to get rid of everyone but the Legionnaires for quite a while now. You were right, he not only did not know who you were, but he did not care. All that he cared was that he might be able to use you as a stepping block toward a position within the Imperial Court. Court positions are paid appointments that come with food and board here within the Keep. The funny part is that if he had just done his job properly and respectfully he would have done himself a much better favor. Marrick is not just the man that raised you; he is a Legate within the Legion and a sworn blood-brother of your father. The Legionnaires will be happy to follow his lead and get rid of the dead weight of the tribune. As to your original question; it has been four days since we last spoke. But please do not fret; I have good news. The healers all agree as does Vorxin, all you need now is exercise and food and soon you will be right as rain.¡±


    It didn¡¯t take long for Toric to finish up and make himself decent. He stepped out from the alcove and grabbed a piece of fruit sitting on a small table in a bowl. Biting into it was a happy surprise. It tasted better than anything he had ever eaten; although the fact that he had slept for nearly a week might have something to do with it. Suddenly he was ravenous and looked toward Drax with what must have been an obvious expression.


    Drax laughed and helped him from the bathroom to a table in what Toric now noticed was an extravagantly large and well-appointed room. There was steaming food laid out upon the table and Toric laid into it with gusto. Glancing around he found that the pompous tribune was gone and the others were all sitting on couches near the other end of the room. All except for Marrick who nodded to Drax and sat down at the table with Toric; Drax turned to leave but Toric reached out and caught his arm in an instinctive movement.


    ¡°Please join us Drax. I am unschooled in the art of having close friends, and so I am just going to follow my gut. I know my dad looks uncomfortable and probably thinks this is going to be a difficult and awkward discussion. But he is wrong; I do not blame him for anything that has happened.¡±


    Marrick and Drax both looked at Toric and then each other. They shrugged simultaneously and then pulled out chairs on the opposite sides of Toric and sat down.


    ¡°Thank you. Now, Dad, I need to say something to you. As I have said, I do not blame you. You were a wonderful father, and were doing your duty to your brother and commander. I will always think of you as my dad. You taught me the core values that make me what and whom I am. It is because of those very teachings that I feel as I do. Now that that little bit is out of the way; please fill me in on what is going on and what this is about the Emperor wanting to see me.¡±


    Toric continued eating in a nearly ravenous manner, and Drax gaped at the amount of food disappearing from the scattered bowls and platters. Marrick smiled, long since having become used to Toric¡¯s massive appetite.


    ¡°I am glad to hear that from you Toric. I had tried to steel myself against the possibility of your rejection and rebuke, but I was lying to myself. I will always think of you as my son; despite the fact that I always knew the truth of the matter. Right, let me get to the details. The tribune is gone, and two Legionnaires are escorting him to the docks under arrest to be sent to the Island for a court-martial and then probably re-education. What the Emperor actually said was that he would like to see you as soon as you are able; not the moment you awoke. We need to go over a few things before you are presented at court, and there is the matter of your attire of course as well. You have several options¡ª.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of attire, I need to ask you something. I had a very strange dream, and a part of it has stuck with me. I was in a battle, or a war, it seemed to be endless. The armor and weapons I was using are stuck in my head and will not go away.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Toric interrupted Marrick and described the armor and weapons in great and exacting detail.


    Marrick shook his head and smiled.


    ¡°I hate magic, it always ruins surprises. What you described is in fact the style armor the Commander and his Heir wear.The only unique pieces are the weapons and the helmet. Each Commander or Heir designs his own helmet and chooses his own weapons. It is interesting that you did not see a shield in your dream, but not completely unprecedented. You are certainly large enough and still a growing boy. It would make sense that you would focus on complete offense. However, your mother and father designed a helmet and weapons for you before you were born. They said the idea had come from a shared dream. We have everything here and a smith is waiting in another room to fit it all to you. You will wear it to the audience; that should be a relief. The Legion does not believe in court clothing; our armor is like a second skin. It is no coincidence that I trained you with a war-hammer and a bastard sword. I was unaware of the falchion, but it should not be a difficult adjustment for you. Weapons are not allowed within the court, or anywhere in the presence of the Emperor. As soon as you finish eating we will get you to a bath and then a haircut and outfitted. Then we can go meet the Emperor.¡±


    Turning to look at Drax, Marrick smiled again.


    ¡°You lucked out Toric, and chose a good man to be your friend. I have known the Tellis family for a long time, but did not know they were blessed with another son so near your age. His position within the imperial army is a credit to him. At only twenty years of age I think he might be the youngest elf to ever attain Adept rank as a Magi and belong to the Special Response Section of the Imperial Army at such a young age. Your father was friends with Drax¡¯s uncle, and it unnerves me thinking about all the trouble they managed to get into together. Please watch each other¡¯s backs.¡±


    Drax and Toric grinned at each other in that disturbingly mischievous way that seems to be universal among boys. After a short moment Toric turned back to Marrick and reached for him; enveloping him in a stout hug he smiled and then let him go.


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get this show on the road. I will go back to the bathroom and get washed up, and either you or Drax come with me and instruct me on the protocol I will need to know for the presentation to the Emperor. Then we will get my armor fitted and head for court. Don¡¯t forget to send a messenger to the court to let them know we will be there within the next few hours.¡±


    Marrick nodded and gestured for Drax to go with Toric and rose from his chair, wiping his eyes before turning to face the rest of the room and barking orders to several different people. Two of the Legionnaires rose and followed Toric and Drax to the bathing room, posting themselves on guard at either side of the door. One of the imperial functionaries disappeared for a short moment then re-entered the room carrying a chest that he took into the bathing room and sat on a short table.


    Drax started with the instruction as soon as the functionary had left. It didn¡¯t take long for Toric to disrobe and climb into the bathtub. It did however take him a few minutes to figure out the indoor plumbing; as he had never before seen such a contraption. Shortly however there was hot water flowing out of the spigot and he pulled down a bar of soap to begin scrubbing away all the sweat and filth that five days of unconsciousness brings to a body. Even while he bathed he paid close attention to Drax¡¯s words.


    ¡°This should be a relatively short presentation Toric, but even in the Imperial Court, sometimes things do not go as planned.The first thing you need to know is that considering your position and who you are, not to mention the fact that it was an Imperial Mage that caused your injury; you will be allowed to approach to within the final balk line before the throne. The lines are obvious upon the stones, stretching out in front of the Emperor in long inlaid lines of precious jewels. The final line is made of diamonds and as such should be quite easy to spot. When you reach the diamond line you should bow, but not kneel. Ignore the murmuring and boos and such from the crowd. They will not yet know who you are. As a member of the Legion¡¯s ruling family you do not need to kneel. Bow your head and salute with fist to heart; I will show you exactly how it is done shortly. Once that is done you lift your head and the Emperor will indicate what he wants to do. I think it likely he will make the presentation of your weapons and helmet right then and there; but do not draw the weapons in his presence.Once he gives you the weapons and you thank him, pass them to one of the people with you and they will bear them for you. Be cautious in whom you choose to be your weapon bearer as it is a position of great importance in this instance.Following that I would think the Emperor will ask you to join him in private for a more personal discussion, but that may not be the case. You are just going to have to adapt and go with the flow of whatever happens. Do not worry about any major mistakes of protocol. The Emperor knows that you were not raised as a noble and he is a good man. The other nobles at the court are not likely to be as forgiving, but in the end it does not really matter what they think. Your position is secure within the Legion and there is not anything they can do to harm it. There are a couple people you should know of beforehand. The Princess will likely be on the podium sitting on a smaller throne to the left of the Emperor. There will be an abundance of Praetorians in attendance as well as the First Magus. The First Magus is not a fan of the Legion, but it is very doubtful he would say or do anything against you. The Emperor was a Prince during the war and served closely with your father. He made his thoughts regarding you very clear when you were an infant and he agreed to hold your weapons and helm, as well as to permit Marrick to raise you within the Empire so you could have a more normal childhood.¡±


    By this time Toric was rinsing off and rising from the tub. Drax handed him a towel and in a short time he was dry. Tucking the towel around his hips he walked over to the now open chest and pulled out the black tanned leather pants lying on top.Dropping the towel the leathers went on, followed by a tight leather vest. Toric sat on a stool and then continued, pulling on thick woolen socks and the boots that matched the pants and vest. Next came a thick padded gambeson around his torso and padded chaps that covered his legs. He reached next for the mail and as soon as he touched the heavily enchanted links he could feel all the many defensive spells that had been worked into the steel even as it was being forged. This mail alone would stop a spear thrust by a troll. (Sorry, couldnt''t help myself but give a little shoutout for LOTR) Drax helped him into the mail so that it fell correctly across his shoulders and down to his knees. The mail leg piece was more difficult to get on, first a belt constructed of leather and overlapping steel plates went around his waist and hooked into the gambeson; then the mail chausses went on, hooking to the belt and to embedded buckles on the chaps. Sitting back down the greaves and boots went on next, covering the leather boots in steel armor and toe blades. Articulated knee and elbow armor followed, along with the plate that hooked into the belt and went around his hips, falling down to cover the front, back, and sides of his upper thighs and groin. Opening the hinged metal chest and back piece, Toric slid it on like a jacket and then Drax buckled it shut. Drax reached into the back of the neck and attached the arming cap so that it hung down behind his head along with the mail coif that could be easily pulled up and over his head before the helmet was donned. After that the gauntlets were simple. First came the thin flexible leather gloves that were skin tight, and then the heavy enchanted leather and plate steel reinforced gauntlets that buckled into the sleeves of the armor, making it all seem like one continuous piece. Last was the weapons harness, a mass of steel and leather that rode on his shoulders and around his waist, with buckles ready and waiting for the sword to strap in across his back and the hammer to rest on his left hip. At the bottom of the chest was a knife in a plain sheath. Toric drew it and looked it over; a clenching of his chest resulted. This was a knife constructed from the tooth of a dragon and he immediately knew it to be his mothers. It was a simple act to strap the knife to his right hip, and right then he named it Fang.


    Toric lifted his head and looked into the expensive full length mirror in the bathroom. It was eerie, but he had a feeling in the pit of his stomach that this armor was going to become more familiar to him than his own skin. Shaking the thought away he turned to look at Drax.


    ¡°Well? How do I look?¡±


    Drax was astounded, again. He was having real trouble thinking of Toric as fifteen. He was wearing nearly a hundred pounds of armor and it didn¡¯t seem to bother him. Not to mention the fact that he had put it on like a veteran campaigner and Drax knew for a fact this was the first time he had ever seen it. The matte black armor coupled with his tan complexion and glowing blue eyes made him seem like a demon come to life. At the moment Drax looked at Toric in the armor he felt like he was at the beginning of some epic journey. A path that would change his new found friend and forge him into something the world would need. Drax frowned, his family was known for having brought many gifted seers into the world, but he had never been strong in that trait before. However the thought stayed with him and would not go away. This was a beginning of something powerful, and he could either help it or get out of its way, but he could not hinder it. Recalling the question Drax grinned and nodded.


    ¡°You look like something out of a story book my friend.¡±


    Toric smiled inwardly at being addressed in such a way. He had never had any close friends, and he was determined that Drax would be the first. Remembering they had somewhere to be; he spun on his heel and stepped out of the bathing chamber.


    Marrick was on the other side of the room and spun around when he heard the distinctive clanking of armor. The moment that he saw Toric he knelt and put his fist to heart. All around the room the action was repeated by every Legionnaire in presence, excepting the two that had been at guard on the door and were now flanking Toric.


    Toric was startled for a moment and then did the only thing he could think of. Saluting back he spoke.


    ¡°Please rise, I don¡¯t know how the protocol is structured, but anytime we are in private there is no need to kneel. I am honored beyond words, but I am not a vain man. Now get up and let us get this bloody show on the road.¡±


    Marrick laughed loudly and stood.


    ¡°You have no idea how much you sound like your father Toric. I could have sworn that you were him just now. He hated all the kneeling and pageantry.¡±


    Several of the older Legionnaires nodded and smiled.


    Marrick gestured to the squad of Legionnaires and gave a few orders. Then they moved out of the room and into the hall.For this presentation to the Imperial Court and Emperor the group was cut down a bit. Toric was in the center, two Legionnaires flanked him, one led and one trailed. Behind Toric and in front of the trailing Legionnaire walked Marrick and Drax and out in front of the leading Legionnaire was the Praetorian Arnolds. That was it for this occasion, leaving Davyd and the functionaries in the room, along with two of the younger Legionnaires.

 Chapter Seven

    It was a long quiet walk and Toric had some time to think.


    My life is changing in profound ways, and yet I seem to be able to handle it. I should be completely bewildered and unable to cope with all of this pageantry as Marrick called it. It is clear that Artur was able to implant memories and triggered events in my mind, and I was unconscious for four whole days. Who knows what all he might have stuffed into my head. Not to even mention that I seem to have dreamt of battle, horrible wars and terrible magic. Things just seem to pop into my mind when I need them. Information about how to act, how to respond to soldiers, how to deal with petty intrigue, what pull I have, how to put on my armor, and even as we walk my mind is watching for ambushes and my body is ready to respond. Why would Artur do that? How do I even know it was Artur? Perhaps this has more to do with my heritage. Maybe it is because I am a dracuman. Okay, mental note number one: talk to Drax or maybe Vorxin about all of this. There has to be an answer, and I am worried I will not like it. The only reason I can think about for someone putting this knowledge in my head is because I will need it, but not have the time to learn it the old fashion way, and gods that is a scary thought. Hmmm, it looks like we are almost there, time to get my game face on, can¡¯t let the silly politicians realize how inexperienced I am. Wait, how did I know that!? Arghh! Alright, think about it later.


    Toric smoothed the expression on his face and straightened his back. Standing tall, and he was very tall, he nodded to the questioning look directed his way by the Praetorian. He was ready.


    The Praetorian opened the door and the group entered a large antechamber. A wizened old man trailed by four other praetorians stepped up to the group.


    ¡°My name is Archibald; I serve as Seneschal to His Imperial Majesty Justin Cruzian Dalkath the Third. Who are you and how should you be introduced?¡±


    The Praetorian caught the Seneschal¡¯s attention and answered. First pointing at Toric he explained.


    ¡°This is Toric Fatesblood, Heir Primus to the Daath Legion¡±, he next indicated Marrick, ¡°Marrick Secondus, Legate Third of the Daath Legion¡±, then he pointed out Drax, ¡°Drax Tellis, First Son of the House of Loquain¡±, and last he gestured to the Legionnaires, ¡°and the Prince¡¯s escort, the Fists of Daath¡±.


    The Seneschal¡¯s eyes grew wider and wider as the Praetorian spoke, and at the end he had to lean on his staff heavily. Turning to face Toric he bowed his head low and spoke in a much less stern tone.


    ¡°Your pardon my lord for my earlier tone. I did not recognize you and spoke in ignorance. Please accept my profound apology.¡±


    Toric was already growing annoyed with all this scraping and bowing, but he knew how to act, somehow. Nodding his head slightly he smiled.


    ¡°Think nothing of it good sir. I have only just been notified of much of this, and I expect that most of the court is just as ignorant of my identity as you were.¡±


    The graciousness of the young man¡¯s reply caught the Seneschal completely off guard, as he was used to dealing with the petty and oftentimes irrationally angry courtiers. He smiled genuinely and bowed his head again, this time much more naturally.


    ¡°Thank you my lord. I will announce your group forthwith.¡±


    Turning to the squad of four praetorians he nodded and they spread out to cover the four corners of the group. The Seneschal hobbled carefully up to a magnificent door and nodded to the two men standing there. They pushed the heavy, immense door open and the group moved into the throne room slowly, following the slowly walking Seneschal.


    Toric got the sense that the Seneschal did not often announce people personally anymore, and then his senses were overflowed. He remembered Artur and Vorxin mentioning that he would be able to sense deceit and spirits and had even had an example when the soldier was dying in the hospital, but nothing could have prepared him for what he felt on entering the imperial throne room. He gritted his teeth and focused his mind. He was just going to have to adjust to the pervasive feeling of lies and the lingering spirits that swirled throughout the massive room.


    The Seneschal¡¯s voice rang out, and it was sonorous as it announced the men behind him.


    ¡°My Emperor, Lords, and Ladies, Dignitaries and Ambassadors, it is my distinct pleasure to announce an arrival. Heir-Primus to the Daath Legion, Toric Fatesblood! Legate Third of the Daath Legion, Marrick Secondus! First Son of the House Loquain, Drax Tellis! Escorting the Heir, the Fists of Daath!¡±


    With that the Seneschal turned and limped back toward the antechamber with a quick bow of his head toward Toric.


    The throne room was for that moment entirely quiet. It was so quiet that when a single voice rang out in a command several people jumped in surprise.


    ¡°Approach the Throne.¡±


    Many of the courtiers looked shocked, and even Praetorian Arnolds was a bit surprised as he led the group along the open area that led from the doors to the throne. Toric¡¯s eyes flitted to the left and then to the right, noting the entirely too well dressed and well fed men and women. Privately he thought they all looked like a bunch of bloody peacocks. Although there were a few that were dressed sensibly. Almost every man or woman present was looking in disdain at the armored men striding along the approach. Toric flicked his eyes forward, fastening them onto the dais where he could see that the Emperor sat on his throne and as Drax had thought the Princess sat at her father¡¯s left hand.


    The Emperor was in his forties, dressed in what had to be a very uncomfortable purple robe. It was adorned with what looked like actual jewels sewn into it along the cuffs and neckline. A heavy cloak rested over his shoulders and seemed out of place as it was made of ragged and patched leather. In his right hand he held what at first Toric thought was a scepter, but which he identified a short time later as a short spear. It was wrought of a deep ebony wood with inlaid gold and electrum on the haft, and a silver and steel head. The Emperor had dark red hair, nearly auburn in color, with some grey just starting to show at his temples. Deep set eyes at first gave him a stern appearance, but that changed the moment Toric saw the sparkle in his green eyes.


    Shifting his attention to the Princess, Toric studied her as well. A classically structured face and a full head of golden blond hair, with deeply green eyes that were nearly the color of the deep sea, gave her an immense aura of beauty. She looked to be about the same age as him, perhaps a year younger. She was attired in a form fitting gown of deep blue satin that set of her hair beautifully, and the lace on her bodice was colored to match her eyes. If Toric was the same man he had been a week ago he would be salivating and would have searched out her dressmaker to thank them for making her gown so tight to her skin. Fortunately, Toric had changed and after he gave her a quick glance his eyes moved to the next person.


    This must be the First Mage Drax was speaking about. He stood straight and tall and had the distinctively pointed ears that revealed an elvish ancestry. The rounded edge of his lobes however indicated that he was not a full blooded elf. The title of First Mage is only given to the most powerful, knowledgeable, and wisest of the magi; as the First Mage was responsible for all that pertains to magic within the Empire. The other numbered Magi were responsible for Magic as it pertains to certain areas of the empire and reported to the First Mage. He was not overly tall, standing at about half a foot over five feet. A hawk like nose and small dark eyes gave him an ominous appearance. Unlike the Emperor there was no mitigating factor, the First Mage had a piercing presence, and standing next to him was a spirit that made Toric uncomfortable. The black and silver amorphous being was facing away from the group at first, but then turned around and stared at Toric for all of three seconds before it fled, quickly. The First Mage looked startled for a moment before regaining his composure and re-asserting a stern visage.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    By the time Toric had finished his silent perusal of those on the dais the group had reached the first balk line. This line was made of emeralds and there were no more courtiers past this line. Now the sides of the approach were lined by any nobles of the empire that happened to be in attendance. There were many empty seats, but a few were filled. The closer a noble was to the dais, the higher their status. At the emerald line the group continued without losing a step. Ten feet later came the second balk line, made up of sapphires, and still the group continued. Fifteen feet later was the third line, made up of jet, and at this line the Fists all spread out and stopped, kneeling but not saluting. Toric, Marrick, and Drax continued alone. The fourth line was twenty feet further and built of rubies. When the trio continued past this line there was a roar of disapproval and four praetorians stepped up from the sides of the approach, loosening weapons but keeping them sheathed. At the final balk line, thirty feet from the last, the three men stopped. Drax and Marrick both knelt and Drax saluted with fist to heart, but Toric remained standing. Toric bowed his head in the exacting way which Drax had shown him Toric saluted briefly, touching his fist to his heart and then dropping his hands back to his sides and raising his head. To all those watching who knew nothing of his history it seemed an insult and there were all the boos and catcalls and insults which Drax had told him to expect. There were also several reactions which surprised Toric. The First Mage smiled and bowed his head briefly toward Toric, which was strange as Toric got the impression that the mage didn¡¯t like him at all. The next thing that happened however was almost a disaster.


    The four praetorians that had stepped forward earlier reacted in a most strange manner. Toric did not know a whole lot about the protocol, but what he did know was that attacking foreign royalty was a bad thing. Apparently the Praetorians did not know this and drew their weapons as one. They attacked without warning and too fast for anyone to intercede, and at that moment Toric became aware that his dreams of a martial nature were far more than just dreams. He reacted before anyone else could even speak. There were two swords in the process of being drawn and two spears already headed for his unprotected head, and he slid to his right, dodging Drax and dropping to his knee to duck under the closest spear. He stood quickly and drove his shoulder into the praetorian¡¯s chin, and felt the man¡¯s jaw shatter. Grabbing the now falling spear he spun and hurled it straight through the second spear wielders head. It entered through the man¡¯s mouth and exited through the back of his head, the haft got stuck on the bone and the man fell over dead with his own spear a bare foot from piercing Marrick. Marrick scooped up the falling spear and turned on the rogue praetorians when a voice rang out with such authority every person in the room froze in place.


    ¡°ENOUGH!¡±


    The Emperor was standing and staring at the Praetorians that had acted.


    ¡°Restrain the two with swords, and clean up the mess of the other two.¡±


    Other Praetorians leapt to obey and the Emperor turned to look at Toric.


    ¡°We apologize for the actions of Our men. We do not know why they acted as they did, but We assure you We will find out. Please return to your place, We will finish the ceremony and then you will accompany Us and Our daughter to a more private area for a less formal discussion.¡±


    Toric straightened up and bowed his head again in the same manner to the Emperor. He could see the honest rage on the ruler¡¯s face and could feel no deceit from the man. He had spoken the honest truth and was appalled at what had occurred. A few short steps returned Toric to his place and Drax and Marrick gave him a quick glance to make certain he was unharmed. The glances were filled with curiosity about how the hell he managed to do what he just did, but they restrained the impulse to question him. There was a time and a place for such a thing, and this was not it.


    The Emperor remained standing and gestured to his daughter. She looked at him in consternation for a moment and then an expression of annoyance flashed into her eyes. Standing she walked to the side of the dais and hefted a long and heavy case. Turning back toward her father she walked as quickly as her tightly fitted dress would allow and set the case down on a small table between the throne and her seat. The table creaked with the weight and Toric wondered just how the princess had been able to carry the case so easily. Dismissing the thought he returned his attention to the Emperor.


    ¡°Come here Toric.¡±


    The Emperor¡¯s words sent a ripple of surprise through the crowded room. Even the Praetorians looked shocked, but not a single one of them moved to interfere.


    Toric leaned his head to the right for a moment and then stepped forward; three steps later he was climbing the steps. Each time his foot fell the clang of steel and leather on the alabaster stone sent echoes through the silent hall. It took only moments to climb the sixteen steps to the top of the dais, but seemed to last an eternity. His other senses were running in overdrive and to his right he could see an apologetic spirit; that of the man he had just killed. He knew without speaking to the spirit that it had acted under a spell, and it was furious about being manipulated thusly. Finally he stood at the top and his armored form towered over the Emperor and everyone else there.


    The Emperor gestured at the case.


    ¡°Your mother left this for you before she went away. It has not been opened; indeed it cannot be opened, except by you. Place your bare hand against the lock and it should release.¡±


    Toric reached for his right hand, his motions tight and controlled. Quickly he unsnapped the buckles and tugged the gauntlet and glove from his hand, tucking them into his belt. He knelt in front of the case and reached out, laying his bare hand against the lock. There was a snap and hiss of the lock disengaging, and then the chest rose open on its own. The lid lifted to a forty-five degree angle and then froze in that position. Nestled inside the case upon a material that seemed to be crushed black velvet were five items. Three he had expected the sword and hammer and helmet, but the other two were a surprise. He would get to them though; first he would complete his armor. Leaving the sword sheathed he picked it up from the case, and ignored the nervous Praetorians. Hefting the weapon he was surprised at the balance and artistry it exhibited. This was a masterwork. It took only a single smooth movement to slide the sheath into the waiting harness on his back. Next he removed the war-hammer, and this made the guards really nervous as it did not have a sheath, but he continued to ignore them and slid it into the loop on his left hip. Then it was time for the helmet. It was just as he had dreamed it, an onyx orb between the jaws of a steel dragon¡¯s head. Setting the helm at his side he pulled a necklace from the case. Holding it up, so he could see the detail of the medallion hanging from the thick chain of wrought iron links, incidentally brought it into view of those standing closest to him. The Emperor, Princess, and First-Mage all gasped in recognition. Toric knew exactly what he held; though again, how he knew, was a mystery. The medallion showed two snakes twisted around in a circle, each swallowing the tail of the other and tiny rubies for their eyes. In the center of the medallion was a large ebony gem and he could feel the incredible amount of power stuffed into the crystal lattice of the gem. This was a Vas Aureus, a medallion that was created by the ancients to store magical power. It was tuned to a specific element and could only be used by those with an aptitude for that element. Just holding it let Toric feel that this was an Ignis Vas Aureus, meaning that it was tuned to fire, and that he could use it. Lifting the chain he settled the medallion over his head and tucked it down so it rode under his armor but above the gambeson. The last thing in the chest was a medium sized pouch and when he hefted it he discovered that it was quite heavy. Opening the pouch he looked inside and inhaled sharply in surprise. Reaching within he pulled out a jewel, it looked like a diamond in the way it was cut, but from inside sparkled several different colors ¨C reds and yellows and oranges. The Princess was the only one to gasp this time and he looked up at her in curiosity as he had no idea what it was. She smiled shyly and whispered to him.


    ¡°Fire Diamond¡±


    He still didn¡¯t know what it was, but at least he now knew what it was called. Stuffing the stone back into the pouch he tied the pouch to his belt and closed the case. Standing again he held his helmet at his side and bowed deeply to the Emperor.


    ¡°Thank you my lord, for keeping these safe for me.¡±


    Toric¡¯s voice was soft enough that no one below the dais heard him. It was a personal thank you to the man for the favor he had done for a friend. More loudly he said.


    ¡°As my parents son I extend our gratitude to the Emperor and his family for keeping this case both secure and safe. As myself I sincerely thank the Emperor for the honor he did my parents and the Legion in this action.¡±


    There was no clapping, but at least there was no booing either. The Emperor at least smiled in appreciation and then stepped up close to Toric, standing at his side and looking out over his court.


    ¡°This session is suspended. All business that was not handled today will be addressed when next we meet. Praetorians, clear the hall.¡±


    With that he turned to a Praetorian wearing a much fancier uniform than all the others.


    ¡°Sickles, gather the Fist Legionnaires and bring them to the guard room off of the Red Hall. They can wait there while I speak with Toric.¡±


    He turned to Toric and gestured toward Drax and Marrick as well.


    ¡°Follow me.¡±

 Chapter Eight

    The Emperor descended from the dais and his daughter went with him. The First Mage and two other mages made to follow, however a quick word from the Emperor sent them off in another direction. Toric, Drax, and Marrick followed along behind the gaggle of people that seemed to think they were all going with the Emperor to this ¡°private¡± audience.


    The three of them were soon admitted to a new room. Toric was slowly becoming convinced the Imperial Keep was an infinite mass of rooms. This new hall was named the Red Hall, and Toric could find no reason for such a name that he could see. There was a large fireplace and set in front of it were three couches and several plush chairs. The Emperor sat down in a chair with a sigh, placing the short spear he carried on a side table and lifting his hand toward the other chairs.


    The Princess sat on a couch and Drax decided to be brave and sit on the same couch. Marrick sat on a couch opposite the Emperor and Toric first put his sword and hammer down on a table before settling down on the chair to the Emperor¡¯s immediate right. Looking around Toric realized that the guards had thinned out the group following them immensely. There were three praetorians inside the room, and a single mage that walked over and joined Marrick on his couch. That was it, and the door had been shut.


    Reaching down Toric sat his helmet on the table next to the sheathed falchion and took a moment to breathe deeply. He looked up to find the Emperor staring at him.


    ¡°You are a fascinating young man, Toric.¡±


    The Emperor¡¯s voice was kind and much quieter than it had sounded in the echoingly large throne room.


    ¡°In the space of an hour I have seen you behave as a well-groomed Prince, a battle-hardened warrior, a gracious noble, and a tired young man; but you have yet to act as what you are. I have been led to believe that you are fifteen years old, and grew up living at the tavern your step-father ran in a small town. You, young man, are an enigma wrapped in a riddle.¡±


    Marrick and Drax looked just as interested in Toric¡¯s response as the Emperor. The Mage was watching the proceedings quietly and the Princess was behaving like a petulant child that wished she was anywhere else.


    Toric cleared his throat before speaking.


    ¡°I have been dwelling on those very facts for the last few hours. The only solutions which make any sense to me are that either my mother and father implanted event-triggered memory packets in my mind, or Artur has been instructing me while I was unconscious. I am leaning toward the second explanation being the case. I have vague memories of dreams that involved endless battle, wearing this armor and wielding these weapons. As I entered the throne room I had a flashback on a memory of standing in that same room and learning the ins and outs of how to act in such a circumstance. I am disturbed by this possibility; as the only reason I can think of for Artur forcing such information into my mind is that I might not have the luxury of spending the time needed to learn in the normal fashion.¡±


    At the mention of the name Artur the mage became much more interested, focusing on Toric like a cat watching its prey. Even the Princess looked a bit more curious instead of annoyed. The Emperor frowned in thought and then nodded once.


    ¡°That may well be it young man, that may be it indeed. The actions of Artur have oftentimes been ¡­ opaque to say the least. However, he always seems to act for the best. Vorxin briefed me on your recent conversation with him, and I wish to say a few things to you. First I need to apologize for the Mage Tremalyn. He acted foolishly out of pride and in doing so cause you great harm. The mark of his failure will be with you always and for that you have my apologies. Also, the actions of some of my praetorians earlier were inexcusable. I have no idea what came over them, but you have my assurances the matter will be investigated fully.¡±


    Toric raised a hand and broke in.


    ¡°Your Majesty, please, I have something to say about the Praetorians.¡±


    The Emperor nodded for him to continue.


    Toric acted through instinct, feeding a bit of the enormous power he could feel within himself to the ghost that had not left his side since the incident. Slowly it became visible to the others. They reacted predictably, yelling and screaming and jumping to their feet.


    Toric spoke quickly, addressing the ghostly image of the praetorian.


    ¡°Praetorian, you did not act against me of your own will, did you?¡±


    The now fully manifested spirit spoke in a voice that seemed to whisper against Toric¡¯s flesh.


    ¡°No, I was compelled to act. I do not know where the impulse came from, but one moment I was infuriated at what I saw as a lack of respect to my Emperor, and the next moment something seemed to just nudge me over the edge from fury to action. I was thrusting my spear toward your side and then you moved. That strange feeling came over me again and I thought to hurt your friend instead and shifted my aim to the one called Marrick. I saw my friend fall and you cast his spear. That is all I remember Walker. Will you release me from this plane now?¡±Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The Emperor was standing and staring at the ghost in amazement. Then he turned to the Mage and enquired of him.


    ¡°Does he speak the truth, Daniel?¡±


    The Mage was staring not at the ghost, but at Toric. At the Emperor¡¯s question he jerked his head back around to look at him and nodded mutely, then shook his head and spoke.


    ¡°Aye my lord, a spirit cannot lie to a Veil-Walker. I am sorry for my surprise; I was unaware that the young man was a Walker.¡±


    While the Emperor and the Mage spoke, Toric had stood and walked up to the spirit of the first man he had ever killed. His hand rose and the still bare skin of his palm pressed against the ghost¡¯s forehead. Of all mortals, only a Veil-Walker could physically interact with spirits, and that ability was for this purpose. Words flowed into Toric¡¯s mind and he spoke the release, performing for the very first time one of the duties that had come with his transformation into a Walker.


    ¡°As a Walker of the Veil, I, Toric of the House Fatesblood, release this soul to the Judgement of Men. Go thee now and face the weighing of thy soul for either the bliss of Paradise, the agony of the Inferno, or another Turn upon the Wheel.¡±


    There was a bright flare of light and the spirit was gone. Toric smiled as he felt the soul depart for another chance upon the Wheel of Life. Turning back to his chair he froze when he saw every person in the room staring at him in slack-jawed wonder.


    ¡°What?¡±


    The Princess was the first to recover, surprisingly enough.


    ¡°What was that?¡±


    Her voice is melodic and soothing, thought Toric.


    He scratched the back of his head and smiled shyly.


    ¡°Eh, well, it just appeared in my mind. It is the ceremony of release and a responsibility of all Veil-Walkers. Sometimes spirits become stuck on this side of the Veil. This can happen for any number of reasons: those that die under a compulsion, children that do not understand what has happened, people that have unfinished business, suicides, and those that fear the Judgement. It is a Walker¡¯s duty to send them on, whether they want to or not. Spirits do not belong on this side without an anchoring body, and much of the problems with ghosts and the undead are the result of spirits that became stuck and in their despair at their loss of life, they become bitter and do much evil.¡±


    Toric shook his head hard and grabbed at his temples.


    ¡°Dammit, how did I know that!?¡±


    Realizing what he said he apologized.


    ¡°My apologies, Lady. I should not have cursed; it is simply that I am having a difficult time reconciling what is in my head.¡±


    The Princess no longer looked annoyed or petulant. She actually looked concerned and intrigued. Usually she could not stand all the noble boys that her father brought around; hoping that one might catch her eye. This one seemed different, and it looked as if her father genuinely cared about him. She waved off the apology.


    ¡°No need to apologize, Toric. May I call you Toric? You have been a perfect gentleman so far and I am certain it was just a slip of the tongue.¡±


    Toric¡¯s first thought was that she could call him anything she wanted, but his damnable memory said he could not say that, and then it offered another phrase. This one literally dripped with sweetness and he shuddered internally. Deciding to go with something a bit different he responded.


    ¡°I would be honored if you addressed me so, my lady.¡±


    The Princess smiled.


    ¡°Thank you Toric and I insist you call me Krysty.¡±


    Toric jolted and then smiled.


    ¡°As you wish, Krysty.¡±


    While Toric and the Princess were having their conversation, all of the older men in the room were very quietly smirking, the Emperor included. They all carefully turned and smiled at each other before looking back at the two very young people totally ignoring the rest of the room. Finally the Emperor cleared his throat and addressed Toric again.


    ¡°Thank you Toric for adding that bit of information. I will have Daniel here check into the compulsion angle. I wanted to know if there was anything we could do to make your stay here more comfortable. And I was asked by the Legion Ambassador to inform you that one of the Legion Galleys arrived last night and is at your disposal. They greatly wish for you to make a visit to the Island as soon as might be possible. Also, I have had word sent to your grandparents, Sul and Karynia that you are here. I received a reply early this morning. They are on their way and were overjoyed at the fact that they would get to see you again soon. It will take them several days to fly the distance as they are far too large to teleport easily. Since there is no great rush; we decided it would be easier for them to fly.¡±


    The Princess looked puzzled.


    ¡°Why would his grandparents be too big to teleport, and how could flying be easier? It takes a lot of magic to lift a person for just a few minutes, let alone days.¡±


    The Emperor looked at his daughter.


    ¡°I have told you of Sul and Karynia, have I not?¡±


    Krysty frowned in thought, and Toric decided it was an adorable expression on her face. After a long moment she shook her head and looked over at Toric.


    ¡°Could you please tell me the answer Toric? I know that look on my father¡¯s face; he thinks this is funny and is going to be impossible to get a straight answer out of.¡±


    Let¡¯s face it; it is not often that you hear someone say something like that about an Emperor. Toric laughed out loud.


    ¡°It is pretty simple Krysty. I am a dracuman, and my mother was a dragon. Her parents are Sul and Karynia and they have not seen me since I was just a baby. I do not remember them at all.¡±


    The Princess looked startled and then had an obvious epiphany. She snapped her fingers and pointed at her father.


    ¡°I do remember. They were two of the dragons that came to help with the war. It was such a romantic story when the dragon and mage fell in love, but I have always hated the tragic ending.¡±


    Then the Princess gasped and spun back to look at Toric.


    ¡°Oh goddess, I am sorry Toric. My father should have prepared me before all of this. I know who you are now, and I am so sorry you had to grow up without your parents.¡±


    He smiled sadly and bowed his head toward her in thanks for her sympathy. Then Toric sat back down and the topic shifted from the serious discussions to other things. Drax joined in and made a few jokes that caused serious bouts of laughter all around the room. The short private audience turned into a long evening that the Emperor would remember later as one of the few times during his rule that he was able to completely relax among people that were not his immediate family.

 Chapter Nine

    Toric had finally made it to bed around midnight. The time spent with the Emperor had been far more relaxing than he had thought it would be, but he was still exhausted from his recent injury. Collapsing into his bed after shucking his armor he fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.


    Toric¡¯s eyes opened and he beheld a cavernous room. Standing before him were two men, two elves, two trolls, two dwarves, two magi, and lastly two beings he could not identify.


    The Men were complete opposites of each other. One bore a slender rapier and wore leather and chain armor. On his back was a round buckler. He was short, barely a couple of inches over five feet, but had the lithe musculature of a very quick man. The other was a tower of muscle and steel. He was seven feet tall and wore field plate that covered every inch of his body. Resting on its head in front of him was an enormous twin-bladed axe with a three foot long handle.


    The Elves both wore leather and wooden armor that gleamed with the sheen of layered enchantments. Bows and quivers crossed their backs. One held an elven spear in his hands, a six foot staff with a leaf-bladed head. The second had twin swords sheathed at his sides, each the size of a gladius and possessed of strangely long handles with odd pommels.


    The Trolls were simply massive. They appeared to be twins, with long shaggy hides that bore identical markings in their fur. They stood at nine feet tall and were naked except for belts and loincloths about their hips. From the belts hung identical huge wood and steel mallets at either of their hips. He could not imagine taking a hit from one of the huge hammers, and they had four.


    The Dwarves were a surprise. Dwarves were very rarely seen outside of their underground strongholds, but these two seemed to fit the stereotype. Heavily muscled but short, they had on sleeveless armor and armored pants. Their helms left their faces open and long, flowing beards fell across the front of their armor. Hanging on the left of their belts were hammers, both dwarves bore them but they were each unique. On the right side one of the dwarves had a war-hammer much like Toric¡¯s own; the other had a long-hafted single-blade war-axe on his back. Both of the dwarves had heavy shields already strapped to their left arms.


    The mages were complete mysteries. Both wore robes that concealed everything about their bodies. They had deep hoods that completely obscured their features in shadow. The only difference between them was one¡¯s robe was black, and the other¡¯s white. They were even the same heights.


    The last duo stepped forward and removed their helmets. One was male and the other female and both of them had the same distinctive glowing blue eyes as Toric. The male was wearing blackened leather armor with pieces of black plate affixed over his chest, back, stomach, groin, and down his left sleeve. He had a sword on his right hip, positioned for a left hand draw, which clued Toric into the fact that he was most likely left handed. A steel-banded buckler shield was hung from his back, and the helmet he held was completely solid, without any gaps whatsoever. The female was armored much differently. She had on leather breeches and a vest. Over that was a long leather and chainmail jacket that buckled closed on the front. A belt held three daggers on her left hip and a steel whip rode her right hip. Her helmet was identical though, a solid piece that looked like it was constructed for her head specifically. They stopped in front of Toric and the female spoke.


    ¡°We are the Combat Instructors and this is the School. Everyone you see here is dead and was granted entrance into Paradise. When a Veil-Walker comes into the world we and others are called upon to teach them. Anytime you sleep your mind will be drawn here and we will teach you. Veil-Walkers live dangerous lives and as such it behooves them to learn as much as they can as quickly as they can. We will not force you to learn, but we will continue to offer. Would you like us to teach you?¡±


    The tone of her voice was bored, and almost resigned, he thought. It was like she had done this a thousand times and never had anyone say yes, at least not at first. Toric was no fool though; he had already been attacked by a hidden enemy through the manipulation of what should have been perfectly friendly men.


    ¡°Yes, please teach me. I have already suffered an attack that could have killed me and my friends.¡±


    The woman and man and all of the instructors looked at him in surprise. Then the male Veil-Walker stepped forward. He was a shadow elf, Toric could see. He looked at Toric closely and asked a question.


    ¡°You can see us? You can hear us?¡±


    Toric was confused, but nodded in affirmation.


    ¡°Yes, should I not be able to?¡±


    The man pointed behind him at the others.


    ¡°How many do you see behind me?¡±


    Toric had no idea what was going on, but answered anyways.


    ¡°Ten. Two mages, two humans, two elves, two dwarves, and two trolls.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The male Veil-Walker looked at Toric closely, and then shook his head in exasperation.


    ¡°It has been several centuries since we were last called to train a Veil-Walker. We have been training Walkers for the last eight millennia, and in all of that time there has never been one that could see us the first time we came. Usually it takes months to get through to them. That is not the only oddity; there is also the fact that you see the others, and they have not yet spoken. That means that you are fully here; somehow without even knowing why, your mind turned its full and complete attention to this place from the very moment we called you here. It is unheard of. Tell us your name, age, how you became a Veil-Walker, and heritage please. We need to know to begin your training.¡±


    So Toric went through everything and there were a few startled gasps of surprise from one of the elves, the trolls, one of the magi, and both of the men when he mentioned he was Blood of the Daath. After everything was told the ones that had been startled came forward and each one of them hugged him in turn and greeted him as a brother. The male Walker looked at him closely again and shushed everyone.


    ¡°You did not tell us your heritage. There is something about you, something that speaks of great strength. Also, I can tell you are a Fire Elemental Walker. That is odd; there has not been a Walker with Fire before. Ever. We had thought it impossible.¡±


    Toric shrugged and spoke calmly.


    ¡°My mother was a dragon.¡±


    Everyone in the cavern went silent and the man that had been speaking nodded.


    ¡°Ah, well that certainly clears everything up. Dragons are the only races still existing that were born of fire. There are many of air, earth, and water; but no others remain of fire. Do you have armor?¡±


    Toric nodded yes.


    ¡°Good, think hard and imagine yourself wearing it. It will come to you here, as well as any weapons or other tools, and we can begin training you in the best use of them.¡±


    So Toric concentrated and suddenly he felt his armor settle around him, the helm appearing in his hands. He lifted the arming cap, and then the mail coif, buckling them into place under his chin. Then the helm slid onto his head and once his armor was complete an enchantment activated, sealing it all together into one single piece. It truly felt like a second skin and at last he understood why Veil-Walkers had the solid piece helmets. He could see out from the helmet perfectly and his vision was completely unrestricted. He saw the expressions of each of his teachers and realized just how menacing the entire ensemble was. These were hardened warriors and as they looked at him standing there even they felt a tingle of dread race up their spines.


    The male Veil-Walker shook of the strange feeling he had felt come over him when the boy put on his helmet and motioned for his counterpart to take over. She was the best they had in evaluating someone before training. Often times the way they responded in trying to combat her steel whip was the best way to gauge their intelligence.


    Vanessa strode forward, her whip slipping free of her belt and the heavy steel knife edges clanging as they fell to drag on the stone. She put her own helmet back on and spoke to the young man before starting.


    ¡°My name is Vanessa. I am going to evaluate your present condition. You cannot die in this dream state, but you can be hurt. The magi will heal you before you awake and unlike on the mortal plane they can heal you completely. Scars will remain though; the body always remembers when it is hurt. Ready yourself, I will not hold back.¡±


    Toric reached over his shoulder and drew the falchion in his right hand. Watching her whip he reached down and tugged the war-hammer free in his left. His footwork felt natural as he stepped to the right and started to circle toward Vanessa¡¯s left and keep her body between himself and the whip.


    Vanessa smiled behind in approval of the tactic behind her helm. She spun on her heel and lashed out with the whip. The bladed whip sliced through the air and struck out for his neck.


    Toric dropped to his knee to let the whip uncoil above his head and then chopped his war-hammer up and in a circular motion to try and snare the whip around its head.


    Vanessa was far too good to let such a trick catch her and instead flicked her wrist to send a wave down the whip and keep it untangled. Then she pulled it back and her left hand sent a dagger flying toward the vulnerable armpit of his armor.


    Toric¡¯s fighting instincts screamed a warning at him and he suddenly had a flash of memory of another dream where a man drove a sword at the same weak place in his armor. He reacted in the same fashion this time, snapping his left arm down to cover the weakness and spinning around in a circle with sword extended to ward off any blows while he was distracted.


    The spin worked and Vanessa had to dance backwards out of range of the heavy sword. It was a blind stroke, but still would have done significant damage if it connected. Vanessa had seen something though right before he had acted to stop the thrown knife and initiated his spin. She stopped and held a hand up to Toric.


    ¡°Stop for a moment. What was that just now? When I threw the knife at you there was a pause for lack of a better word. It seemed almost like something else intruded into your thoughts.¡±


    ¡°That is a good way to describe it. I do not know the answer. I have these memories of dreams where I am fighting terrible battles. I had thought it was something that Artur had done.¡±


    Vanessa took her helmet off and looked at him.


    Toric took his off as well.


    Vanessa frowned and turned to the mage wearing the white robes.


    ¡°Lariff, get over here. Check his memories and see if it is something Artur added. I wouldn¡¯t think he would do that and not tell us though.¡±


    The mage Toric now knew as Lariff strode over to him and put his hands out on either side of his head. There was a momentary pain and then he lowered his hands, looking at Toric in awe.


    ¡°They are not implanted memories. The trauma you endured that stretched your soul and made you a Veil-Walker also triggered your draconic blood. Dragons have ancestral memory, able to recall everything that anyone in their line has experienced. Somehow, and do not ask me how, your mind is retrieving relevant information for you according to your experiences from your blood. This will change how we teach you, and you might want to think about studying your genealogy a bit.¡±


    Vanessa nodded thoughtfully then re-donned her helmet and Toric followed suit. The training continued.

 Chapter Ten

    Toric groaned and rolled out of bed. He stood up and looked down at his chest, and sure enough, there was a long scar from his throat to his left ribs. It even looked like it was years old. Just thinking about that monster axe Rune used made him shudder. There were already half a dozen scars on his body and that was only one night of training. At least they were not lying about how he would feel in the morning though. Not only did he feel well rested, but he was wide awake, not groggy like he usually was. He moved into the bathroom and began washing up. He was dirty and sweaty and grimy and his muscles ached. It was the good aching of muscles that had been worked hard, but the hot water still felt glorious. After he was done washing he put on a pair of soft leather pants and stepped out of the bedroom and into the common room of the suite they were staying in. No one else was awake, but there was food laid out on the table and he sat down happily. He was digging into the eggs when he heard a surprised squeak from the door and turned to look.


    There was a pair of pages standing there holding heavy trays laden with food and an older man behind them with two pitchers in his hands. Toric remembered his manners and stood, gesturing them inside.


    ¡°Do not worry; you come bearing food, which instantly makes you a very important person to me.¡±


    The pages could not restrain their laughter and the older man smiled. All three entered and finished laying out the food. They had just departed when another door opened and a young Legionnaire came out of the bathroom. When he saw Toric sitting at the table eating he froze and looked down guiltily. Toric understood, the man was supposed to be at his post outside his door, and had been in the bathroom when Toric awoke. He was having a good morning and did not want to spoil it so he looked at the Legionnaire and made a tossing motion over his left shoulder, a common gesture meaning ¡°forget about it¡±. As the Legionnaire came closer he whispered to him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let it happen again.¡±


    The Legionnaire saluted and took up his station behind Toric while he continued to eat ravenously. Within about twenty minutes Toric was winding down on eating and leaning back in the chair sipping a tall glass of juice. The door leading to another bedroom opened and Drax and Marrick came out. They headed for the food left on the table like it was a lodestone and they iron. Marrick stopped in shock as he came around to the opposite side of the table from Toric and saw his naked torso. Before he could ask Toric quickly began explaining what his night was like. They both stared at him in shock then; until Drax began laughing uproariously. He tried to say something ten times and finally managed to get it out.


    ¡°Can you not do anything the normal slow way? It is like you have to get everything done as fast as possible. You are making the rest of us look bad.¡±


    Toric smiled and laughed politely, but his thoughts on why everything was moving so fast were not exactly good breakfast conversation, so he kept them to himself. Turning and looking at Marrick he laid out what he wanted to do today.


    ¡°I want to visit the Island. How long is that going to take? Would it be a day trip or should we plan to stay overnight?¡±


    Marrick looked serious and shook his head.


    ¡°It will take a couple of days, probably only one night, but it might take two. We should go as soon as possible though; there is a necessary ceremony that has to take place before you are officially Blood of Daath.¡±


    He turned and looked at Drax.


    ¡°Drax, you were telling me yesterday that you needed to touch base with your father and let him know what is happening. That is at least a two day trip for you and you will not be able to accompany us to the Island. Could you start that today?¡±


    Drax nodded thoughtfully while chewing his food.


    ¡°Yes that would work out fine and this way we should all be back before Toric¡¯s grandparents arrive.¡±


    Toric nodded as well.


    ¡°Good, let¡¯s get to it then.¡±


    It was a few hours before everything was ready. Toric was again in his armor and holding his helmet, he had yet to put it on except in his training. All of the Legionnaires were formed up around him and Marrick stood at his right hand. They had been moving through the Keep for about ten minutes and finally they exited out into a wide courtyard. Toric looked around curiously, but recognized that now was not the time for sightseeing. He faced forward and followed the Legionnaires toward the gatehouse. Marrick called a halt before they exited the Keep completely and turned to Toric.


    ¡°I recommend you put your helmet on until we are on the galley and away from the curious. It will keep your identity a relative secret and might prevent any problems your eyes could provoke in the populace. The Fists will keep the crowds away, but ¨C and I mean no offense with this ¨C those glowing blue eyes might freak out the general public.¡±


    Toric frowned but nodded in agreement. He reached down and lifted the helmet. It slid onto his head and there was the same feeling as had happened in the dream training, but much more powerful. The helmet sealed into the place and the complete enchantment of the armor activated. He felt the magic flowing into place and gaining strength. The armor now augmented his already formidable strength and made him faster and stronger. Looking around he saw that the aura of dread was present here too; everyone in the vicinity looked uncomfortable until they turned away and then their expressions settled. Marrick was the only one to keep his eyes on his step-son and he was the only one that smiled.


    ¡°Good.¡± Marrick turned back to the Legionnaires. ¡°Forward!¡±


    The small parade continued and the portcullis rattled upward. Soon they were down the approach to the Keep and headed into the inner city. Everywhere they went people turned toward them in curiosity, and as soon as they saw Toric they would turn away in panic. No one impeded their path. The Fists did not even have to fend off the beggars and the march to the docks was uninterrupted. By the time they reached the docks everyone but Toric was sweating under the hot sun. Toric figured his armor had an enchantment built in to keep him cool, as that was the only explanation for him not boiling in the dark armor beneath the burning sun.


    The docks were a riot of colors and noise. Laborers and longshoremen were everywhere loading and unloading ships. This was the lifeblood of the Imperial City and the docks stretched for nearly two miles, and that was just the commercial docks. They made a sharp turn and walked up to a stout stone wall, following it until a gate appeared around a corner. Standing guard before the gate was four veteran Legionnaires that came to attention when they spotted their group. Marrick barked an order for the gate to open and two of the men called their code words through the view slot. The gate ground open slowly and the Fists escorted Marrick and Toric through. The gate thudded shut behind them and Toric looked around at the Legion Embassy. It was laid out like a fort and to the side was a group of various civilians, dressed like people from all different walks of life, but with one thing in common. They were all under twenty-five and each one had a healing cut on their right hands. A memory intruded, likely from his father, and he recognized these people as new recruits. Marrick coughed and he turned back to the front to see the prick of a tribune from yesterday standing next to a woman wearing a similar uniform to Marrick, a Legate.


    Toric touched Marrick¡¯s shoulder and then stepped forward, motioning for the Fists to stand away. He came to a stop and regarded the woman for a moment. She was younger, perhaps thirty years of age, than he would have thought a Legate would be. She most definitely had some steel in her spine as she faced him without flinching. The tribune at her side was not so brave; he had dropped his eyes within seconds of seeing him. Toric reached up and hit the release on his helmet, pulling it off his head and ending the dread effect, he snapped it onto a clip on the side of his belt next to Fang and smiled at the Legate. The population of the entire courtyard let out a sigh of relief as the pervasive sensation of doom faded.


    ¡°Greetings, Legate. I am Toric Fatesblood.¡±


    The woman did not smile back, nor did she salute. She spoke in a firm voice.


    ¡°That has yet to be determined young man. A galley awaits you and will take you and the other recruits to the Island. There you will be tested and if there is any justice in this world you will be found for the fraud you are and crucified for your deception.¡±


    Toric had no idea of the woman¡¯s reasoning behind such a statement, but he did know when he was being called a liar and his eyes flared with anger. With most people that would be a figure of speech, but with Toric it was truth. His eyes deepened in color, becoming such a deep blue as to appear black, and they flickered and danced like living flames within his skull. It was apparent just how menacing it appeared as the woman took a full step back away from him. Before he could speak however Marrick strode forward and put out an arm across his chest.


    ¡°Toric, do not lose your temper. It is the right of a Legate to speak their feelings, though usually they are careful not to anger superiors.¡±


    The woman snarled at Marrick as well.


    ¡°Another imposter, wearing a uniform he has no right to. I know all the Legates in the Legion and you are unknown to me. There will be no need for you to go to the Island I will announce your punishment right here. Guards! Ready a cross so we can show this conman the laws of the Legion.¡±


    Not a single guardsman moved; the older ones recognized Marrick Secondus and a few whispered words to the younger ones kept them in place. Toric quested around with his senses to see if the woman was being manipulated, but there was nothing there. This was not magic, no, this was simple arrogance. This time it was Toric that restrained Marrick and gestured to the Fists to stand back. The proper words and actions came to him along with a memory of his great great-grandfather facing a similar situation with a recklessly arrogant noble. The magi last night had shown him how he could use his elemental control of fire for many things. He was not yet trained enough to have great finesse, but he inherently had great enough strength to make a statement nonetheless. His voice was powerful and echoed throughout the courtyard.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    ¡°Here I stand, Toric Fatesblood, Blood of the Legion, and make this vow. By this creed do I prove my worth. Speak it only if you do not fear the anger of Daath.¡±


    ¡°The Legion is family, hearth, and home


    I protect it with my brothers or alone


    May the enemy always feel my wrath


    As I am the strong right hand of Daath


    Spirits strike me should I lie


    This oath I make when others vie¡±


    The moment the oath began the earth shook. Toric¡¯s words echoed strongly and a bright light flared to the west, piercing up to the sky from the Island. A gust of wind blew and the same light that speared up into the heavens, hammered down directly atop where Toric stood speaking. The light dimmed enough for everyone to see that Toric stood unharmed, the oath complete and still lingering in the air. A figure stood behind him, made of light and shadow, it was massive. The powerful figure knelt and placed its¡¯ huge hands on Toric¡¯s shoulders. A voice filled with power and might came from the form. It spoke in an old dialect of a forgotten tongue, but every man and woman that heard it understood what it said.


    ¡°You spoke the oath and so I judged you. You are mine young one, the son of the Commander of my Legion and the Heir to his command. Let no one bar your path to my realm; I await you.¡±


    With those short words the figure condensed again into a blazing ball of light, and shot back into the sky. A sonic boom was heard and the light returned to the Island, the earth shook once more, and then all was silent. Toric looked at the Legate.


    ¡°I should not have had to do that woman. Your arrogance and pride have been your undoing. It is my wish that you and the tribune accompany me to the Island. Get to the galley and I will join you soon.¡±


    With that Toric turned away and looked over the courtyard. His voice rang with authority.


    ¡°Return to your duties. See the recruits loaded on the galley; I wish to leave as soon as possible. Fists, I had hoped to give you a day off, but it looks like I am not as safe as I had thought among the Legion. That saddens me, but it will be necessary for you to remain with me. Someone send a message to the Keep, and give it to Second Mage Vorxin. Tell him this. ¡®The recent event was necessary and I apologize for any disruption it has caused. Should further explanation be required I will expound in person upon my return. Sign the missive Toric Fatesblood¡¯. Let us get going.¡±


    Toric and Marrick boarded the galley with the Fists and stepped into the pilot cabin for a moment. Marrick spun around and smacked Toric¡¯s armored shoulder. Then he screamed and hollered for a bit, and finally he grabbed Toric in a bear hug.


    ¡°You have got to stop doing shit like that. You are fifteen years old, and you spoke an oath you shouldn¡¯t even know and summoned Daath! He has not come off the Island in centuries. Most of the rest of the world has forgotten he ever existed. Had he been unamused by that stunt he might have burned you out right then and there. I have aged ten years in the last two days just from being near you, and I am damn sure not going to let you go off on your own.¡±


    After Marrick ran down a bit and let off some steam; Toric reached out and pulled him back for another hug, then pushed him out to arms reach and looked him in the eyes.


    ¡°I am sorry that I scared you dad, I had to do something with her accusations, never mind the threat to have you crucified. Calling on Daath to strike me down if it was a lie was the greatest vow I could think to make, and it surprised me just as much as it did you when he actually answered. I will try and keep my antics down to the bare minimum, but to be perfectly honest so far I have just been reacting to what happens around me. What is going to happen when I actually have a chance to make proactive decisions doesn¡¯t really bear thinking on.¡±


    Toric offered a crooked smile with that last comment and Marrick laughed and smacked his arm again, wincing when his hand bounced off the armor.


    ¡°Okay, fine, let¡¯s get out of this cabin and let the pilot back in here. Maybe you would like to take a turn at the oars?¡±


    Marrick joked as they both left the cabin and went to the aft end where there were some rough seats anchored to the deck. The Fists arranged themselves about the duo, two of them on their feet with eyes sweeping from the lake to the ship to check for threats, while the others settled down on the benches as well. The centurion among them came over and sat down next to Toric.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t had a chance for formal introductions my lord. I am Centurion Xander, and as you have found out the squad is called the Fists of Daath. We are actually a Special Sections Squad, but when the call came in for a squad to volunteer to guard the son of the Commander I managed to pull rank and get us assigned. The Legate and I served together during the war and he knows me pretty well, considering he has been a little out of the loop for the past fifteen years. I need to apologize for Third Michael, he told me about the little incident this morning when he had to go to the can. He is good kid, but still a little wet behind the ears.¡±


    Xander went a little red in the face when he realized he was telling a fifteen year old that one of his men did something stupid because he was too young at nineteen. Then he shook his head and smiled, Toric was something else, it was impossible to think of him as a typical teenager.


    ¡°Anyways, I just wanted to introduce myself and tell you what a pleasure it is to meet you. The boys and I had thought this might be a dull but relaxing posting and looked forward to the honor. Now that we know you a little bit that thought has reversed itself, this should be a terrible and exciting posting and we look forward to vacation.¡±


    Xander had a professional soldier¡¯s sense of humor and Toric appreciated it greatly, laughing loudly at the joke.


    ¡°I am honored to have you with me Xander, honored to have a squad with the reputation of the Fists with me. I was prepared to ignore Michael¡¯s error in judgement and frankly had forgotten all about it, but it speaks very well to his commitment and character that he came to you and told you about it, knowing that he would suffer a punishment. When things slow down I will see to it that ya¡¯ll get that vacation, but for now I am happy to have good men watching my back. It¡¯s a big back, so you all got your work cut out for you.¡±


    It was Xander¡¯s turn to laugh and laugh he did. Then they all leaned back and enjoyed the trip to the Island, letting the steady beat of the pacers drum lull them along.


    Toric jolted up and realized the ship had come to a halt. Moreover he realized he had nodded off and not dreamed; that was a very interesting thing to know. Catnaps did not count toward the torture sessions the Instructors called training. Standing up he stretched and faced toward the Island, getting his first good look at the Realm of Daath.


    Toric let his memories tell him the story of Daath and the Legion. The Island was nestled in the exact center of the massive Imperial Lake. Long before the Empire was founded, indeed long before there were even any settlements around the lake there was a terrible war fought between the Armies of Light and the Forces of Shadow. The last battle of that war took place here on the shores of this lake, and ended when an Elvish Mage called for an elemental to turn the tide of the battle. He cast the spell incorrectly and instead of the earth elemental he was seeking, he awakened a spirit that was anchored to a shrine built in another age and buried under the silt of the lake. The spirit awoke and lifted the shrine and what is now the Island up to the surface of the lake. Looking around at all the terror and agony, all of the honor and courage, the self-sacrifice and also the betrayal that was evident in all war, the spirit saw potential. In a long dead age this spirit had been worshipped as a god, despite its attempts to explain to the people of that age that he was simply a level of being beyond theirs. Now it looked upon the age of man and saw a being he could interact with. First things came first however, and it did not want to deal with this war. With a heave and twist of the Veil the spirit twisted the world so that the Armies of Light were sent to another continent with a temperate climate, and the Forces of Shadow were banished to a continent far to the north, a land of ice and snow. The spirit acted in the extreme long term, and slowly man moved toward the Island. As mortals began the slow colonization toward its home the spirit made some decisions, first it molded its appearance to that of a strong male human warrior. After that was decided it looked into the very souls of men to try and decide what he wanted in the people that would serve him. It was during this time that an Elder Dragon came to the spirit, having felt its stirrings and having known it of old. The dragon landed on the Island and spoke to the spirit. The two of them were ancient and extremely powerful beings, they spoke no lies to each other, and neither of them feared the other, as a battle between them would destroy them both. The dragon was intrigued by the spirit¡¯s idea and offered a piece of information. To the far south of the Island was a group of humans that had inadvertently been pulled to this world when the spirit had twisted space and time to rid himself of the Armies of Light and Shadow. They were called by some foreign tongue that the dragon did his best to pronounce, saying Leejun. The spirit was interested and sent his mind toward these foreign humans, discovering them to be a group of warriors, but not just warriors. They were builders, scholars, fighters, archers, cavalry, and something called soldiers. They called themselves the Ninth Legion and wished for nothing more than to return to their home. The spirit could not do that, as he did not know from where they had come. However, he asked his friend the dragon to deliver a message for him. The dragon agreed and offered this Legion a new home, a place to call their own, with natural protection and the bounty of nature all about them; all that was required was for them to agree to hold no other liege than the spirit. The spirit realized it was going to require a name; humans were very picky about having names and titles. He and the dragon tossed ideas back and forth and the dragon mentioned something that all humans feared, something called Daath. The spirit liked that, and he made it his own. That is how the Legion came to serve Daath, and it wasn¡¯t until the memory had finished playing in his mind that Toric realized it was the memory of the ancient dragon and the Legatus Quintus Octavius. He shivered as the name filled his mind, such a strange sound it had. He even remembered the Legatus changing rank structures to permit the usage of magic, and changing his name to reflect both the luck of the fates and his blood oath to the spirit Daath, Fatesblood. These facts resonated in his mind and made him close his eyes and hold his head for a moment. Finally after an interminable amount of time he opened his eyes to find that only a few moments had passed since he began traveling along through his ancestor¡¯s memories.


    Toric reached down and put his helmet back on; this time his memory showed him a small knob that turned on the side of the helmet and the feeling of dread dimmed to nothingness. The rest of the enchantments still activated and he gestured to Xander and Marrick, time to go. His voice was steady and did not betray any of his inner turmoil as he addressed the Legionnaires on the ship.


    ¡°Detail four men to escort the Legate and the tribune along with us. I will see that they are dealt with and then send the men back.¡±


    Toric turned and faced the recruits who were exhausted after their brief journey across the lake, each and every new batch of recruits spent the entire trip at the oars and rowing. He looked them each over and nodded to himself before speaking.


    ¡°Welcome to the Legion. Obey your trainers and learn your lessons well, the Legion is family. The Legion is hearth. The Legion is home. We look after each other, beat each other up, and pick on each other incessantly. The Legion is a fresh start, nothing you were before coming to the Island matters; all that matters is who you become now. Legionnaires are the most feared individuals in the world, and it is for a single reason. There is no such thing as ONE Legionnaire. Anyone that picks a fight with a member of the Legion has to fight the ENTIRE Legion. Learn that and you will be well on your way to becoming everything you are meant to. The Legion is our life, and Daath is our Lord. Centurions, move them out.¡±


    By the end of his little impromptu speech the recruits were cheering, as were many of the Legionnaires within hearing. For the veterans it was nothing that they had not heard before, but there was something about the man that was speaking that tugged at the heart and made them feel as if he was an older brother sharing a family code.

 Chapter Eleven

    Toric waited for the recruits to disembark and then he led the others down the ramp to a small group that stood to the side, obviously awaiting them. There were three tribunes, two Legates, a double strength squad of sixteen Legionnaires, and an old man wearing a white robe with the symbol of an eight pointed star emblazoned in gold on the front, a priest of Daath.


    The oldest of the Legates stepped forward, bearing the insignia of the Legate First. This was the commanding general of the Legion, the man that was left in charge after the Commander became frozen in time, and if anyone was likely to be upset about Toric¡¯s arrival it was him. However, that was very obviously not the case, as the Legate First stepped forward and hugged Marrick emotionally, turning and saluting fist to heart to Toric with stiff and formal bearing.


    ¡°It is my distinct pleasure to meet you Toric, please remove your helmet; you have nothing to fear here.¡±


    Toric chuckled and slipped the helmet off, hooking it back on his belt and smiling at the older man.


    ¡°It is an honor to meet you sir. We have a great deal to discuss; should we move this out of the sun? I don¡¯t mind, but dad is getting a bit old and cannot bear up under the heat like he used to.¡±


    Marrick stared at Toric in shock. He had been doing so well, but that was a totally inappropriate joke in this moment. Then the insult registered and he reached out and smacked the back of Toric¡¯s head, dismissing the thought about how inappropriate his actions were.


    The old Legate was holding his sides and laughing at the antics. Finally he got himself sorted out and motioned to the priest.


    ¡°Brother Augustus has something that he needs to say, and then we will move your little comedy act indoors.¡±


    The priest glared at the Legate, but it just bounced off the old man. Finding himself ignored the priest turned to a younger target, stepping up to Toric and now finding he had to crane his neck to look up at him. The priest grumbled and stepped back so he could stand more naturally, and he finally got to the point.


    ¡°Young man, I have been led to believe that it was you who summoned Daath just a few hours ago, is this true?¡±


    The priest made the simple question sound like Toric had committed a grave sin, but it did not faze him nearly as much as the priest had obviously intended to.


    ¡°No Brother, I did not summon Daath. I owe Daath my allegiance, my life, and my sword; he would be the one doing the summoning. I made an oath in his name, and he chose to come and reinforce it. Am I to understand that doing so was somehow wrong?¡±


    The priest glared full force at Toric but had to backpedal quickly.


    ¡°No, of course it is not wrong to make a truthful oath in His name, and you are correct, you cannot force Daath to come to you, I misspoke. What occurred of such gravity that you had to make such a binding oath?¡±


    Toric turned and gestured to the four Legionnaires standing guard with the Legate and tribune, indicating for them to advance. The Legate First turned and frowned at the sight. He was quick to question it.


    ¡°Why is our newest Legate here under guard, and with her cousin?¡±


    Toric smiled sadly as a piece clicked into place.


    ¡°She is the reason I had to resort to the oath, Legatus.¡± Toric did not notice the old form of Legate rolling of his tongue as he spoke, but the others did. ¡°Her cousin was dismissed from my service yesterday and I thought he was on his way back here for discipline. Marrick can give you the details later. Instead when I arrived at the embassy to board the galley I found the tribune with the Legate. She accused me of being an imposter and assumed I would arrive here, be tested, and then be crucified. I was prepared to ignore her ignorance at first, but next she publically shunned me and basically told me to join the other recruits. I was about to act against that insult, but Marrick stopped me. When she saw Marrick she called for guards to come and arrest him and immediately prepare a cross for the crucifixion of a man pretending to be a Legate of the Legion. That was when I swore the oath to prove my lineage and thus my step-fathers. I found it interesting though that none of the Legionnaires at the Embassy moved to obey her, I am certain that the older ones recognized Marrick, but still you would think a good Legate would command some personal loyalty from the troops under her command. I brought her and the tribune with me to speak their case. I will leave them in your hands, Legatus. These men I borrowed from the trainers escorting the recruits; if you could replace them I would be obliged. I told their officer I would return them to duty as soon as I could.¡±


    The Legate First was furious and shocked. It was not a combination of feelings he was very accustomed to, but after a moment he got himself together and turned to bark a few orders. Two men came into view; they wore classic articulated lorica armor, of burnished steel over scarlet red shirts. The only change from the original Roman armor was the addition of armored pants made of red-dyed leather with steel plates affixed. Each one was identically armed, a gladius rode low on their left hips, cocked at an angle for a cross-body draw, and they carried tall spears. These were the First Squad, eight men that served as the bodyguards of the Legate First. They always wore the same armor, dating back to when the Legion had first arrived on this world, and they were always chosen because of their skill. There were no political appointees among them; just hardened veterans. Two of them approached and relieved the four trainers, and quick thank you from Toric sent the trainers back to their duties.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    The Legate First marched over to the female Legate and spat a single word at her.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    The woman stood her ground and stared right back at the Legate First.


    ¡°We have worked, sweated, and bled for all our lives to get where we are within the Legion, and now this kid just appears from nowhere and claims the Legion as his own? It is not right. He is fifteen years old; he still has his baby fat for god¡¯s sake. What has he done to earn this?¡±


    The Legate First just stared at her sadly for a long moment. When his answer came it was in a low, almost whispering tone.


    ¡°This boy sacrificed everything he had for the Legion before he even had a chance to know he had it. His mother is bound beyond his reach; trying to save his father, our Commander. His father saved six-thousand Legionnaires, myself included, and in doing so condemned himself to a living death that has lasted for fifteen years and will continue for another five. He was raised without knowing his parents, raised by a man that you ordered crucified. That man, Marrick is the Legate Third and did more to earn his position than you ever have. Moreover, the Legion is not about arrogance and pride; did you not listen when the ¡®boy¡¯ spoke. We are family, and you should have welcomed a long lost brother with open arms, not scorned him as a stranger. Lastly, he did not seek us. He did not even know to come looking for us. The Legion reached out to him when we knew he was close. You have shamed us all, and I will leave your punishment up to the Heir.¡±


    Turning to the tribune he glared until the man dropped his eyes, and then just shook his head in sadness, seeing the rot of entitlement had spread more widely than he had ever imagined. Gesturing to the two members of the First Squad he gave a few quick instructions for the both of them to be confined to low level guest quarters and issued field rations and water for meals. Then he turned back and started to apologize to Toric.


    Toric raised his hand to forestall the apology.


    ¡°There is no need Legatus, you did not do these things, and while I understand the chain of command and that you feel responsible, please know that in this I do not hold you as such.¡±


    Toric looked at the priest.


    ¡°Are you satisfied that I had good cause to call upon Daath in my oath?¡±


    The priest looked startled and then recalled that he had initiated this conversation.


    ¡°Yes Lord Heir.¡±


    Toric nodded and returned his attention to the old Legate.


    ¡°Let us go inside Legatus. Perhaps a tour of the Fort is called for, my memories are all dated to before the war, and I would much like to see how it has changed.¡±


    The Legate First, the priest, and all those present looked confused at that statement, but Toric did not notice, already striding purposefully toward the Fortress. Marrick lagged behind and quickly explained to those following that Toric had access to the memories of everyone that he shared blood with in a direct line back through time. The priest looked ecstatic and wanted to start asking question immediately, but Marrick forbade it. Toric was still spinning from all the added information and he was going to need time to get his mind settled.


    As they walked the group followed Toric, marveling in the fact that he seemed to know every twist of the halls, each nook and cranny in the rooms, and then suddenly he stopped at a dead end in a hall. The Legate First walked up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°This is a dead end Toric, your chambers are back this way, come on.¡±


    The man spoke gently, tugging at the boy¡¯s shoulder, but he did not move.


    Toric didn¡¯t hear the Legatus; his mind was centuries away, millennia even, watching this wall being built over a doorway. He was supervising the work and making certain that the masons built it so it would look seamless and like a natural part of the stonework. Daath had commanded that this be sealed, as it was no longer needed and a danger to the future Legionnaires. He said it would come to light again in time, but it would be ages before what was concealed ever saw the light again. Toric stepped forward, moving away from the others, and lifted his hand behind him to motion them back. His left hand pulled the war-hammer from his belt and his right donned his helmet to activate the strength enchantments and shield his eyes.


    Marrick shrugged when the First looked at him and backed away, motioning for the others to move back as well. Then they watched as Toric gripped the hammer and turned to the side, swinging with all of his personal, magnified strength focused into the head of the hammer. Thousands of pounds of force were poured into that single six inches square bit of steel and when it struck the wall on a precise point, the entire edifice crumbled away. A long hallway was revealed and a gesture from Toric sent fire jumping along the sconces, lighting each one all the way down the gently sloping ramp. The priest and Marrick and the First quickly catch up with him, but Toric turns and holds up a hand.


    ¡°Legatus, please bring two of your men. Brother Augustus, you cannot accompany us; this area is forbidden to the clerical arm. Marrick, I need you to stay here and not allow anyone else to pass. I will show you later, but for now you are the highest rank I have available to bar the way until a door can be built.¡±


    Toric started to turn back away, but the priest was incensed.


    ¡°How dare you, boy! The priesthood has the right of way to every inch of this Island and you have only just arrived; now stand aside or I will have you ejected from this Fortress.¡±


    Toric had no inclination to deal with the petulant cleric and simply gestured with his right hand. A cage of fire sprang up around the priest and he ignored the man¡¯s screaming to turn back toward the flickering ramp. The Legate First and his two most senior guards followed him quickly. The guard¡¯s eyed Toric¡¯s back with expressions of mixed awe and fear. It was a long walk and the floor never once leveled out from the slope, nor did it turn. By the time they reached the bottom, the Legatus estimated they had journeyed at least a mile out and maybe six hundred feet down.


    Another one of the fire gestures from Toric lit a pit of oil in the back of the room, the fire raced out from the central brazier along half-pipes inlaid on short stone walls until there was light flickering from fires around nearly the entire circumference of the room. In the center of the circular room was a short altar with a chair sitting behind it. The chair was strange to the eyes of the Legatus and his men, constructed of thick wooden beams that seemed to be hand carved and inlaid with pearls and seashells.


    Suddenly one of the guards shouted in surprise and then gasped as recognition flowed through his mind. A figure was striding out from a blank wall, immediately recognizable as Daath. The second guard and the Legatus both knelt where they stood. Toric strode forward to the altar and knelt there, slipping his helmet off and setting it next to his knee. His head came up and looked at Daath as He sat on his throne in this ancient shrine.

 Chapter Twelve

    ¡°Daath, the Lake Spirit, friend of Camnorous the Devourer, Lord of Water, Liege of the Legion, and God of Honor and War; I present myself to Your service. I came to realize on the trek down here that the series of what I thought were accidents leading up to this day; were in fact fate stirring the pot of my life. I have been created for something and it makes me tremble to know that an event approaches the horizon that necessitated such tremendous manipulation of my life. I have been given more power and knowledge than any mortal I can remember, and now I beg of You my Liege, what is it that is coming?¡±


    Daath looked kindly at the boy before him, amending the thought even as he had it. This boy was a man now, with a man¡¯s responsibility and honor. He was right in that many things had been, adjusted, to bring him to this point; but some of the things really had been a coincidence.


    ¡°You are right my warrior, I as well as others have meddled with your fate to give you and the world of men a fighting chance. However, one thing that occurred to you was none of our doing. The draconic trait of genetic knowledge that has awakened so powerfully in your mind was a stroke of good fortune. It has presented a problem for those of us on the side of men though. I will do what I can to help your brain adjust, or shortly the weight of memory will overwhelm you. It is a fortunate thing because even as we nudged things along to create you or someone like you; the enemy has been creating servants to do it¡¯s will as well. The added knowledge you have gained will serve you in good stead and will shorten the time you need to spend learning; so as to increase the time you have to spend doing.¡±


    Daath reached out and a bowl appeared in his right hand and a knife in his left. A quick motion sliced through the amorphous seeming flesh of his right wrist and he held the bowl down so that the bright blue blood flowed from his arm and into the bowl. The wound sealed quickly and the knife disappeared, leaving the Great Spirit holding a bowl of his blood that he sat upon the altar.


    ¡°Long ago this same ritual was performed in this same shrine for each man in the original Ninth Legion. The first man to taste of my blood was your ancestor Legatus Quintus Octavius, who became Legate First Quintus Fatesblood. With this blood I reaffirm my claim to you, and the power will help you adjust to your new condition. As a Veil-Walker my blood will affect you much more powerfully than it would any other mortal. Prepare yourself Toric, this will hurt a great deal, and it may change you or mark you in some way. Were we any other place in the world but here at the seat of my power; one of the others might have acted to prevent this. Now, drink Toric, drink it all.¡±


    The moment Toric picked up the bowl there was the sound of battering against the walls, and the guards looked around nervously. Toric knew something was protesting this action, but here, in this place, they were secure from any of the other Greater Beings that meant ill toward Toric or Daath. The friendly Beings gathered to bear witness. The figure of Camnorous the Devourer, the great Elder Dragon and Toric¡¯s great great great great grand-father through his maternal line appeared to watch. The form of Artur was fully armored and smiling at Toric from the sidelines. Other¡¯s appeared in all sorts of forms and standing near Artur were the Instructors, each of their grins promising torturous training in his future. Toric took a deep breath and then drank the blood down in a few long gulps. The blood tasted like sweet, refreshing water; it tasted like the best water he had ever had, but then the pain hit and he forgot the taste.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    It began in his head, building and building until he was certain his head would split open like an over-ripe melon. The agony lanced along his nerves and traveled to every last inch of his body until there was nothing that did not hurt. He was completely unaware of what was happening, mouth opened in a silent scream because he could not breathe. Blue flames engulfed his form and his body grew in size, time accelerated for him within the flames and he aged six years in only moments. His previously gangly and unfinished body filled out and the armor magically shifted form with him. He was now an inch over seven feet tall and weighed in at four hundred and seventy-five pounds. His bones had changed density to support his increased musculature and his draconic heritage had finally begun to assert its presence. His skin was gone, replaced by thousands of tiny scales as hard as steel that covered his entire still human shaped form. Each dracuman was different in how their heritage presented itself, depending on their genealogy, and with Toric being of such a powerful line, he gained some of the most powerful gifts. The scales mimicked his natural deeply tan skin color, but could be changed according to his whims. He did not possess claws as some others did, but instead recessed dew-claws rested within his forearms, a twitch of the wrist able to bring the wickedly sharp eight-inch long claws from their built in sheaths to rest curving outwards from the sides of his arms. His armor now had an enchanted slit on the sides of his arms so that the claws could be employed without needing to take of his gauntlets. His control over fire now rivaled that of full blooded dragons, as his Veil-Walker abilities engorged the power of his god, and the aura of dread enchanted into his armor had been absorbed by his flesh. A magus that observed him now would sense first of all the barely constrained rage within his spirit, and then they would feel the immense well of fire within his body. The blood of the Lord of Water had given him a gift denied even to dragons and his fire was unquenchable, able to burn beneath water or within earth. The superficial changes had marked him greatly, but it was the change within his brain that had hurt the most, as well as helped the most. He no longer had the brain of a mortal, and no longer had to worry about his mind snapping beneath the weight of eons of memory. His mind had sharpened and expanded; it filled the same amount of space, but had nearly limitless capacity. He was not any smarter than he was, but he now had perfect recall of all the many and varied memories of his lineage. One other thing changed about his brain; the neurons in his mind acquired the ability to fire six times faster than those in the rest of his body. The result was that he could think faster than he could move. It was going to become his most devastating ability. Think of it; think of the advantages of watching your opponent in slow motion and war-gaming your responses in your mind to find the perfect one before you even had to begin to react. It was again the unintentional change to him that would become the most important, and it would remain a secret from all but those closest to him.


    Finally, the pain of the changes faded away and Toric returned to full cognizance of the world around him. He flexed his hands, and felt his body¡¯s changes. His mind whirled at speeds that astounded him, and he catalogued each difference. He could feel the barely restrained power within his musculature. When he stood up from his kneel the speed of his own action startled him. He took a deep breath and had to cough as his throat complained of that action. The circular shrine was empty of the Greater Beings and he was completely alone save the same two guards that had accompanied him and the Legatus when they entered. The Legatus was nowhere to be seen, and the guards were looking at him in a kind of shocked awe. His voice was scratchy and hoarse; the effort it took to speak made him woozy.


    ¡°How long was I out?¡±

 Chapter Thirteen

    The oldest guard immediately saluted, fist to heart.


    ¡°I am Lucian my lord, Centurion of the First Guard. You have been down here for thirty hours. Are you well, my lord? You have been in much pain and were screaming up until just a short while ago.¡±


    Toric chuckled and then coughed as the laugh made his throat burn. He could actually feel the itching in his throat as it continued to heal the damage at an accelerated rate.


    ¡°I will be fine, Centurion. Remember this; anytime power is gained in such an accelerated manner, the price will usually be pain. I was aware of the agony, but when things hurt that badly, time becomes a liquid concept. Do you know what rooms are mine; I can feel my bed calling for me.¡±


    The Centurion smiled uneasily. He was not yet accustomed to speaking so informally with this young man, and he was thoroughly disturbed by what he and his partner had just observed. They had listened and watched for hours as Toric¡¯s body had crackled and popped, bones breaking and elongating and then healing again. He was seven inches taller than he was before and massed a considerable amount more. His eyes were a very deep blue now; they seemed like a flickering black fire in the dim light of the shrine. Suddenly the Centurion realized he had been asked a question and replied quickly.


    ¡°You are in the Princeps quarters, my lord. Marrick is still waiting at the top of the ramp and can show you to them. A team of engineers are up there now installing a stout door and the Legatus has informed everyone that no one gets access here unless you or Daath Himself permits it. We will escort you out if you are ready now?¡±


    Toric just nodded and gestured for them to precede him.


    The two First Guards saluted him again and turned to head up the ramp, falling into the easy marching gait that they had learned many years previously during the first training they received as recruits. At the entrance to the shrine they kept marching up the ramp and Toric spun quietly to face the shrine that was falling into darkness as the fires winked out. Toric quietly saluted the altar at the center and mumbled a short phrase.


    ¡°I am the sword of Daath. May all that meet me either cheer or flee. I will not fail You or the world, my Lord.¡±


    With that Toric spun and in several long strides caught up to the Legionnaires without them ever noticing his pause.


    It was a silent walk. The Legionnaires had no desire to interrupt the young dracuman¡¯s thoughts, and Toric was in deep thought indeed. He was becoming accustomed to his new body, and had already decided he needed to spend some time sparring with someone to get used to his reactions. The next time he slept would be an interesting session with the Instructors. It seemed that he was able to incorporate the changes into his movements at a near instinctual level, but every once in a while he caught himself moving jerkily or nearly stumbling. Time was going to be a necessity, and from the way Daath and the Others were pushing him; it did not appear like time was on his side. Neither Daath nor Artur not the Instructors had told him who the enemy actually was, but using his newfound speed of thought he went over all the details he knew - which was a lot of information considering his expanded memory - and arrived at a single conclusion. It made sense that Daath was pushing His Legion to combat the threat, as it was Daath¡¯s actions that created the problem. The Forces of Shadow that Daath had banished to the northern lands seemed likely to be the enemy he was being groomed to face. In examining his memories there was only one ancestor that had seen the Forces of Shadow, henceforth to be called the Foes in his mind, and that was Camnorous the Devourer, the Elder Dragon. He had seen the Foes marching across his hunting grounds and had destroyed a few of them just for fun, but mostly he just ignored them. They were an army made up of many races, but with one thing in common holding them together. They all feared and served their leader, a Fae Shadow mage. He could recall Camnorous attacking their camp at one point and the Fae had emerged from his tent and locked eyes with Camnorous, sending a threat in a mental communication that basically said, ¡°Leave us alone and we will leave you alone, but fight us and I will summon a Lord of the Inferno to fight you.¡± Camnorous had killed a few more of the ogres and then huffed a ball of fire into the center of the camp, sending a mental reply to the Fae, ¡°I fear nothing little fae, and have slain Infernal Lords before, but if you cross these grounds without poaching from my herds anymore, then I will leave your little army alone.¡± The Fae had agreed and they had crossed in peace. From that little information that dated back nearly thirty thousand years, Toric had gauged the strength of the forces. They had been comprised of many different creatures and dark mages, with a huge baggage train and millions of the camp followers which attached themselves to all large armies. There were plenty of females and males; so they wouldn¡¯t have all died out in the frozen north lands, and the Fae was immortal unless he was killed. He could not die of old age or sickness.


    Suddenly Toric realized they were approaching the top of the ramp and pulled himself away from his memories to focus on the screaming and yelling he heard up in front of him. A few moments later and they stood in front of a brand new door, made of wood and banded steel, with a few planks not yet in place, he could see the solid steel core of the door and approved. Standing on the other side of the door were twelve Legionnaires facing outward and in front of them were three priests, including Brother Augustus and four of the Temple Guards. Temple Guards were pulled from the Legion and selected by the Priests; only the truly pious were permitted to join them. One of the priests was yelling at someone Toric could not see off to the side.


    ¡°I do not care who you are or who sealed off this entrance; I demand those Legionnaires move aside and allow us to enter. There was a massive surge of Daath¡¯s energy somewhere down there and we need to find out what is going on!¡±


    Toric recognized Marrick¡¯s voice when he responded, and the sheer stubbornness in his tone made him chuckle softly.


    ¡°No.¡±


    The priest sputtered in indignation when Marrick casually denied him. There came the sound of booted feet from behind the clerics and then the priest spoke again.


    ¡°Now that there is more of the Temple Guard here I am certain you will be more reasonable. Tell those Legionnaires to move aside, or I will have them moved forcibly.¡±


    Before Marrick could respond, Toric reached forward and pulled the two First Guardsmen away from the door and stepped forward himself. He laid his hands on the shoulders of two of the Legionnaires forming the barricade and gently urged them apart to let him through.


    The Legionnaires just about jumped out of their skin, but they did part to allow him and the First Guardsmen through their line. As soon as he walked out of the shadow of the tunnel everyone spun to face him. He was remarkably different looking than when he had entered. His face was older and while he still looked young, he most definitely did not look like a child. He was much larger and the darkly flickering flames within his eye sockets sent chills down the spines of everyone that looked at him. A thought from him flicked the dread enchantment on at a low level; making it just active enough to cause everyone that looked at him a bit of discomfort.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Marrick was shocked to his core. The boy was gone and in his place stood a man; a man that had been through unspeakable pain and trauma that would have broken most men, but had somehow only made him stronger than he was. For just a moment he thought he was going to break down and cry; the boy he had raised and loved as his own flesh and blood was now a tool of Beings of great power and that was never a safe occupation, but he managed to control himself and sent Toric a welcome fatherly smile.


    The priests looked nervous and even a bit guilty; well all but Brother Augustus who just looked at Toric in terror. He was even edging back toward the rear of the group and looking around to mark his escape routes. He had been confined in that cage of fire for six hours, unable to even sit down without burning himself on the molten bars. His legs were still shaking from the exertion. He had gone immediately to the Temple and reported to his superiors who had insisted he return to this new tunnel with them. They had elected not to inform the High Priest and to act to discover what was down the tunnel by their selves before taking the find to His Holiness. Unfortunately they had not been able to get past the Legate Marrick for the past few hours and their leader, the Priest Adolphus had summoned additional guardsmen to force their way past. At the moment the guards arrived; so had the never to be sufficiently damned Toric.


    Toric ignored all the shock and awe and frowns and rage. He simply walked up to the priest that had been yelling at Marrick and stopped within arm¡¯s reach of him.


    ¡°I was very clear with Brother Augustus. This is not an area that is open to those of the Temple. These are not my rules, but those of Daath. At a later date I will personally take the High Priest within so that he might see it, and understand the reasons. However, that will be all. The Temple administers to the religious needs of the Legion. What is contained within the chamber at the end of this tunnel is precious to the Legion. It will be guarded and protected from all that seek it with either ill intent or selfish purpose. You are not acting out of altruistic reasoning. You think that I have barred the Temple because I am jealous of the contents. The thing that drives you to seek it is your own jealous nature. I have neither the time nor the inclination to pander to your ego. Now be gone, return to the Temple and take the Temple Guardsmen with you. Pray that I never again hear that you even threatened to pit the Temple Guard against Legionnaires; as that would present a wonderful reason to disarm the Temple.¡±


    Priest Adolphus sputtered and gnashed his teeth before finally settling on a frown before he spoke.


    ¡°Who the hell do you think you are? The Temple is outside of the Legion¡¯s chain of command and I do not even see a Legate rank tab on that ridiculous armor of yours. You have no right to command me!¡±


    The First Guards bristled, but a stilling gesture from Toric calmed them.


    ¡°The Temple exists only because of the First Legate¡¯s judgement that his men needed a structured religion. Daath was perfectly happy with each man being responsible for serving Him in their own way. The Temple was created and made equal to the Legates, but answerable to the Commander or his Heir. As to whom I am; perhaps you should have discovered that detail before you challenged my orders. In the old way of speaking I am the Legion Princeps; should that be too difficult for you to understand you may address me as Lord-Heir. Although I find myself liking the old title better.¡±


    Toric turned his attention toward the Temple Guardsmen.


    ¡°I am fairly certain that in spite of the priests orders you men would not have attacked your brothers here. However, just to remove the temptation from this garrulous priest, please return to your duties at the Temple.¡±


    Each of the Temple Guards saluted him and spun on their heels to march in an orderly formation back to the Temple. Brother Augustus was right behind them, and Toric let him go without a single glance in his direction, turning his attention back to the other two priests. His eyes bored holes in them as he waited for a response. Finally after several minutes of whispered conversation between the two of them, the one that had yet to speak answered.


    ¡°Very well, Princeps, we will return to the Temple. I am taking you at your word here, and I hope for your sake you haven¡¯t been spinning any lies. Please excuse Brother Adolphus¡¯s fervor in this case, he was not acting selfishly, but he was perhaps a bit imprudent. He is the Temple¡¯s Archivist and gets quite overwrought at the prospect of mysteries. I am Brother Liam, the Temple Linguist, and was asked to come along as a student of ancient history myself. I have only one question for you, and the answer may well explain many things. Does this tunnel lead to the templum Domini aqua?¡±


    [Shrine of the Lord of Water.]


    Toric recognized the ancient tongue of the Legion from their previous world and appreciated the priests attempt to keep the question as private as possible. He smiled and responded in the same language.


    ¡°Etiam ita et lingua bene comitatus.¡±


    [Yes, and I appreciate the courtesy of the language.]


    Marrick and the Legionnaires and even Brother Adolphus looked at the two of them, completely mystified. Brother Liam and Toric shared an amused smile, and then Brother Liam took Brother Adolphus by the arm and led him away.


    Toric turned and looked at the trio of engineers that had stopped work on the door to watch the drama and issued a quick order to continue along with thanks for all their hard work. Then he turned and looked at the Decurion in charge of the men guarding the entrance.


    ¡°When the door is complete, see that a lock is installed, one that can be opened without a key from the inside. Make certain there are only two keys for the lock, and destroy any duplicates. Take one key to the Legate First and bring the second to me. Then tell whoever is in charge of guard postings within the Fortress to establish a two man rotation on this door.¡±


    The Decurion saluted and replied in the affirmative.


    Toric turned to look at the two First Guardsmen with a tired smile.


    ¡°Please for the love of Daath; get me to my bed without any more drama or bullshit.¡±


    The Guardsmen surprised themselves by laughing along with Marrick and led the two down the hall a short distance to a set of stairs. Two landings up they entered a short hall with only three doors. The second door opened into a spacious suite that looked to have been recently cleaned. The suite was magnificent, sitting on the top level of the Fortress, and having a balcony that showed a truly breathtaking view of the city and harbor. The main room had two fireplaces and comfortable looking couches and chairs along with a massive twelve place dining table. There were three smaller bedrooms off the main room and each room had a small bathing chamber with indoor plumbing. Toric stumbled into the master bedroom and even in his exhaustion had to stop and just take in the well-appointed room. Various different weapons adorned one wall, and it was obvious that these were battle ready weapons, not just wall-hangers. Next to the bed was an armor rack in the shape of a mannequin along with a wooden rack that would easily hold his personal weapons. It was an easy matter to unbuckle his weapons and hang them on the rack, but it was more difficult to strip his armor off and get it onto the mannequin. However, he managed it in only a short time, with the minimum amount of cursing possible. Finally he stood there wearing only his soft leather pants and ran his hand along his belly. If he looked closely at his skin he could spot the overlapping scales and if he focused hard enough the color of his skin shifted to a different hue. Experimenting he found it relatively easy to shift the scales to one different color scheme, which had black scales running in a wide line down his back and branching off from that band were tapering red stripes that curled around his body from his back to terminate at a point a hands width from meeting on his front, all the rest of him was colored a very dark charcoal grey. He found a mirror in the bathroom and was startled by his own appearance. One detail of the changes that he had not noticed was that his hair had changed color, it had been a deep brown, but now it was shockingly white. With a mental sigh he relaxed from what he thought of as his draconic persona back to his human and the scales changed back to his normal skin tone. He was fairly certain that with enough practice he could make his scales change color to blend into the background, but he was far too tired to try and figure that out now. After using the restroom he stumbled back to the bed and fell in a heap onto the soft feather mattress. Very shortly he was fast asleep.

 Chapter Fourteen

    Toric opened his eyes and looked around the cavern he now recognized as the School. His Instructors stood there and smiled at him. Vanessa walked up to him and looked him over critically. After a very thorough inspection which made him a bit uncomfortable, after all he was still a man and Vanessa a fairly beautiful woman, despite the fact that technically she is dead, she stepped back and nodded.


    ¡°Well you look fairly impressive Toric. Why don¡¯t you tell us everything that happened and what you know of the improvements that happened?¡±


    So, Toric told them what had happened, and showed them each thing that he was able to. Demonstrating the dread enchantment without his armor and summoning a massive wall of fire with just a twitch of his finger. The Instructors were all surprised by the draconic gifts. They tested the protection his new scales gave him and discovered a few weaknesses he would have to look out for. It was now nearly impossible to get through both his armor and his skin, but while his skin was very tough, his internal makeup was not on par with true dragons. True dragons internal organs were all housed within solid bone enclosures, like multiple rib cages. His stomach was vulnerable to heavy impact trauma like from the troll¡¯s mallets. His skin didn¡¯t allow itself to be cut, but the force of the mallet¡¯s blow traveled on through his skin and ruptured several important organs. So while his scales added protection, it was still advisable to use his more rigid armor. Toric forgot to tell them about the dew-claws and at one point while sparring with Fury ¨C the lithe and smaller human ¨C he reacted and while blocking the falchion in his right hand bore forward until his fist was only inches from Fury¡¯s chest and instinctively extended the claw. It punched right through the light armor on Fury¡¯s chest and sliced through a gap in his ribs to puncture his heart. Fury ¡®died¡¯ and then hopped back up to his feet as the injury disappeared. He was spitting mad, but before he could attack, Vanessa called for a halt.


    Fury whined about it, but quickly cooled down and asked Toric a question.


    ¡°What the hell was that?¡±


    Toric was embarrassed.


    ¡°I forgot about the claws when I was going over everything that changed. To be honest I had completely forgotten about them entirely. When my fist was close enough to your chest I just had a sudden urge to drive my claw through your heart and poof, that¡¯s what happened.¡±


    Fury was past his anger, and motioned for Toric to present his hands.


    ¡°Show me.¡±


    Toric lifted his arms and extended both of the claws. Fury got down close to one of them and then turned to yell at the mage wearing black.


    ¡°Balth, get over here and check this out.¡±


    Balth walked over with the strange and spooky gliding steps he always moved in. He bent down and looked at the claws, paying extra close attention to the edges. Suddenly he reached into a pouch and took a diamond from it. Holding it up he pressed the side of the stone to the edge of the dew-claw and then pulled it back. The entire group pressed in to look at the gem. It had an extremely deep gouge where the claw had cut it. They all turned and looked at Toric. He was sweating and looked ready to collapse.


    Fury spoke urgently into Toric¡¯s ear.


    ¡°Sheath the claws, Toric. DO IT NOW!¡±


    Toric barely heard the shout, but he managed to obey and instantly he felt better. It was odd. While the claws were out he had felt like he was being drained of energy at an enormous rate. Groggily he looked up at Fury and then fell on his butt.


    Balth fished a potion from his pouch and wordlessly handed it to Toric. After he drank it he started to look better, color returning to his cheeks. Then Balth spoke, and it was the first time Toric could remember hearing his voice.


    ¡°Only use those claws in the direst of emergencies Toric. I have no idea why your body generated them, but everything happens for a reason. There is a spell built into the claws that sucks energy from you a prodigious rate. The spell crafts the edge of the claws into sharpness only a single molecule in thickness. It is not important that you understand that only that you understand what it means. Those claws of yours will cut through anything. If you have to use them, then extend them for just a moment, and then immediately pull them back into your arms. If you follow those rules than the energy drain will be barely noticeable. The spell seems to have no way to manage the flow. Either they are extended and the spell is active, or they are sheathed and the spell is off. I have only ever heard of a single dragon having such a spell and that is the Elder Dragon Camnorous the Devourer. He can apply a spell just like this to the claws on his hands and feet. However, he can turn it on and off consciously. If you left your claws extended they would continue to draw energy until you passed out, and then naturally retract. Falling unconscious in battle is seldom a smart move.¡±


    Toric nodded to the explanation and with the mention of Camnorous he at least understood where the spell came from. He looked up at Balth and told him simply.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°My mother¡¯s father is a direct descendent of Camnorous. That must be where my body found the spell, in the Elder Dragon¡¯s memories. While we are on that topic; could you answer a question for me Balth? Is it the Forces of Shadow that I am being molded to fight?¡±


    The question brought all the other Instructors to a halt, and within moments they were gathered around him in a silent circle. Balth was equally quiet, looking troubled as he thought. When the answer came, it was not the one Toric had expected.


    ¡°That is a very disturbing hypothesis Toric. We do not actually know the identity of the enemy, and believe me; we have talked of little else but you and the possible identity of your enemy. While we were alive, we were great warriors and goodish people, but while we can help train you better than the Greater Beings, we are not really kept in the information loop.¡±


    Balth lifted his head and looked at the two dwarves.


    ¡°Rognor, Tognor, you were both in the Army of Light, what do you think of this?¡±


    Tognor spoke for the both of them.


    ¡°The Forces of Shadow were terrible opponents, filled with mortals of the worst kind and led by a being we never got a good look at. All we know for certain is that it was some kind of an immortal. It wore gold armor and suffered what should have been mortal wounds on at least three occasions. It was caught in a fire calling and did not burn, its ship was destroyed once and it walked from the ocean three days later, and it was buried under an earth elemental the size of this cavern only to shrug off the earth and return to the rest of its army.¡±


    Toric added what he knew.


    ¡°I have access to the information Camnorous knew before he fathered my ancestor. He met the leader of the Forces of Shadows when they crossed some of his hunting lands. It¡¯s a male Shadow Fae.¡±


    Tognor grimaced and spat to the side.


    ¡°Damn, no wonder we couldn¡¯t kill him. Shadow Fae¡¯s can only die through Veil-Magic. They are immune to elemental or physical attacks.¡±


    All of them looked at Toric¡¯s dancing blue fire eyes. Then they all nodded simultaneously.


    ¡°It has to be him. Well at least now we have a good idea what we are training you for. Balth, you and Vanessa take over for the rest of the night. It is time to start his training in Veil-Magic. He is going to need to have an instinctual level of control to ever hope to face a Shadow Fae, and if we are wrong about the opponent, it will work out alright. A Shadow Fae is the toughest opponent I can think of to ask any mortal to face, so if we train him to beat that, anything else should be easy.¡±


    Fury¡¯s voice settled the others and Toric took a deep breath before moving off to the side with Balth and Vanessa.


    Vanessa was a Walker and as such had a deep understanding and connection to the Veil. While Balth was a Sorcerer; unlike magi, sorcerers did not have to learn spells, they used magic on an instinctual level. Magi took magic from their environment and internalized it, crafting it into a spell and then expelling it for the desire effect. A Sorcerer was born with a connection to the Source of all magic, and all they had to do was imagine the effect they wanted and push the power that they had through to create what they wanted. Magi learned spells that had a specific purpose, and if they didn¡¯t have a spell to do something, they could not do it. A Sorcerer, however, was only limited by their imagination and knowledge. They could not break the Natural Laws of Magic, but they were capable of doing almost anything within those laws. Only the very rarely born Magerors could create new spells for the Magi. They were magi born with the internal connection to the Source that Sorcerers had, but incapable of using that power through imagination. Instead they had to craft complicated mnemonics and gestures and sometimes chants that structured their minds into the correct form to achieve their spells. Balth was a far rarer sort of Sorcerer, as far as Toric had been able to discover, he was unique. He was a Sorcerer that could use his internal Source OR draw on the power that lay around him in whatever world he was in. In this way he was able to do Veil-Magic by reaching out through a rift his Sorcerer power created to the Veil to gather its power. During the time that Balth lived, he was the most powerful magic user alive.


    It was a long and exhilarating night for Toric. He learned to do things he had never dreamed of and found that if he concentrated he could feel his half of his soul that existed now within the Veil. He could see through his eyes within the Veil and look over wanders that did not exist within the mortal plane. Rivers of magic flowed like water over rolling hills of steel. The rain that fell was sometimes honey and when dogs barked it sounded like the most beautiful of songs. Balth and Vanessa explained to him that the Veil did not actually look or sound like that; what he was seeing was his mind trying to interpret the uninterpretable. It was chaos and a mortal mind could not understand it, but he could harness it for his own uses. Every single part of the Veil was a very special form of magic and could only be found there on the Veiled World, Veil for short. The magic was thousands of times more powerful than that found on the mortal plane, and it was thousands of times weaker than what was found in the High Realm, where the Greater Beings originated. Balth explained that what mortals thought of as gods, were not actually any such thing, as Daath had said to the original Legion. They were simply powerful beyond our ken and seemed godlike. The Greater Beings however knew the truth and they never pretended to be gods, they accepted that some mortals could not understand the truth and did not continuously correct them. However, they would not answer to the title of god, as they knew the truth. Far above the High Realm was the Highest. The Highest was home to the Creator and He was God and a Being that it was proper to fear.


    Toric examined his memories of the other world the Legion had come from and found mention of this Creator there as well. That more than anything convinced him that the Greater Beings were correct, the Creator was a being to be feared. He forced himself to put the interesting theological information to the side and to focus on his learning. Discovering how to summon Beasts of the Veil for different tasks and then leaning forward as Vanessa began a lesson on using Veil-Power to construct a shield that magic from the mortal realm could not penetrate. Just as the lesson came to a close, but before he could practice he felt the School becoming less substantial and felt himself being pulled away. He almost panicked, and then he realized he was waking up. He waved to his Instructors and they waved back, chuckling as he managed to keep control of himself. There was no fooling them; they knew he had almost freaked out.

 Chapter Fifteen

    It was morning, the ninth day of this new chapter in Toric¡¯s life. In just nine days his entire reality had changed. He was a Veil-Walker, an Ignis Elemental Mage, Sword of Daath, Princeps of the Legion, he knew who his parents were, and he had access to literally hundreds of generations of his ancestor¡¯s memories. He lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling, admiring the complex wood and stone work. Ever so slowly he worked back over the details of the various political plots that he seemed to be unwillingly involved in. First an unknown magic user used the Emperor¡¯s personal guards to attack him in full view of the court, next a disgruntled Legate and tribune conspired to bar him from his birthright and execute his step-father Marrick, and lastly the Legion Temple tries to become involved in a matter they are specifically barred from by the Spirit they claim to serve. The situation with the Legate and Tribune was mostly resolved, but the other two were in various states of progress. He would go to the Temple today and speak to the High Priest, but the situation in the Empire was going to have to wait for a time; he didn¡¯t even have any purview over that situation as it happened within the Empire¡¯s jurisdiction. Toric shook his head and focused on what he could deal with today; first he would go to the Temple and then he would head for the Fist¡¯s barracks. Training in the School was all well and good, but he needed to put some time into his combat abilities on this side as well. With a nod he swung from the bed and climbed to his feet, heading to the bathing area. A quick check of his chest showed the brand new scar; where Balth had formed a spell similar to the one on his claws around Tognor¡¯s axe and Fury¡¯s rapier to test the strength of his scales. The axe had enough force behind it to punch through whatever had stopped the rapier and the massive scar showed the terrible damage that had resulted. With that molecular edge the axe had still needed a hell of a lot of force to cut the scales, but once the scales parted all of that force had punched the head of the axe all the way through his chest and lodged in his backbone. It had really hurt, badly; but he understood the concept of knowing his own limitations and had taken to heart ¨C quite literally ¨C the lesson not to let weapons hit him, just in case.


    Within a short time, most of it taken up by a long hot shower, he exited his bedroom wearing his armor and weapons, with his helmet dangling from his belt. This time there were others awake and eating. Quietly he joined Marrick, Xander, and Michael at the breakfast table. It did not take him long to devour enough food for six others, thus beating his old record by at least two full courses. His new height and weight added a great deal of mass; mass that required fuel to operate. Toric just kept on eating; he knew that expression on Marrick¡¯s face and knew that eventually he would get to whatever was on his mind. It was an old game, and the familiarity of it made him happy. Marrick would stare at him and try to get him to break and ask what was going on, and Toric would just sit there as long as he could stand it and wait for Marrick to talk first. As it turned out, Toric¡¯s increased appetite won the game, because he was usually the loser, but the fact that his mouth was full kept him from breaking his silence. Finally Marrick coughed and looked up to lock eyes with Toric.


    ¡°I asked Xander and Michael here for a couple of reasons. I want them to be your shadows today. Until we recruit new bodyguards; I want two Fists with you at all times, even here on the Island. Nothing could have changed what happened yesterday in that shrine, but if the Fists had been there they could have stayed on guard and I could have gone with you. I haven¡¯t even brought up the problems with the Temple and that Legate. Do you have a problem with that?¡±


    Toric swallowed his food and looked up at Marrick, then turned and looked at Xander and Michael.


    ¡°I have conditions, conditions that mean no disrespect to any of the Fists, but which I find necessary considering what is coming. Don¡¯t worry, eventually I will clue all of you into what the future holds for me and anyone with me, but for now I need you to just take on faith that it is going to be ¡­ perilous. You two come with me to the Temple this morning, which is my first stop. After I speak with the High Priest we will go to where the rest of the Fists are and I can lay out the conditions.Sound good to you two?¡±


    Michael just saluted to Xander, silently indicating his acknowledgement and recognition that it was ultimately Xander¡¯s call.


    Xander smiled and inclined his head to Toric.


    ¡°Sounds good to us, Princeps.¡±


    Toric smiled at the use of the older title and turned back to his food.


    Once everyone was full they stood and left the suite headed for the exit to the Fortress. The Fortress was massive and old.The entire structure had been laid out according to directions from Daath and had taken one hundred and fifty years to construct. It was built into a massive stone monadnock and the stone quarried from the mountain had been used to construct the fortifications. It was hailed as the strongest fortification on the continent and the Legion population had never outgrown its space.


    It took twenty minutes to reach the front antechamber of the Fortress, and a further fifteen minutes to exit the main building, cross the drill yard, and exit through the five interlocking gates to enter the city. As soon as the foursome exited into the city there was an immediate uproar. Toric was taken aback at the sheer mass of people standing before him and cheering.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    Xander and Michael acted immediately, pushing out in front of Toric and Marrick and screening them as they walked. It was vaguely amusing to watch the two normal height men as they pushed the crowd back so the veritable giant could walk unmolested behind them. As if anyone would actually try and pick a fight with a fully armored and armed man standing over seven feet tall with blue-black flames for eyes.


    As Toric walked his eyes roved around and observed the crowd. Elves, men, women, mages, and soldiers, but all of them wore armor. They were cheering for him, but not with the usual frenzy a civilian crowd would have shown. Each person out there was careful not to jostle their neighbors, and showed the tight control of veteran soldiers. This was the strength of the Legion. They had no civilians that could be targeted by their enemies. No weak spots to exploit. If anyone wanted to attack the Legion they would have to mount a physical invasion. There were several things that, while they did not startle him, made him uncomfortable. The main thing that widened his eyes was the amount of scantily clad women.Intellectually he knew there were a few people that made the cut to join the Legion as Blood, but did not want to be warriors. These became the engineers, bakers, servants, cooks, and myriad other positions that kept the Legion self-sufficient. They were required to participate in the militia after they went through recruit training, and a small percentage of the women became, ladies of the evening. His mind, while greatly expanded and having the memories of how sex was performed, was not yet caught up with all the feelings associated with such an act. The memories were pure information, with no emotional attachment. A nudge from Marrick made him realize he had been looking in the direction of said women for a moment too long and he jerked back forward. A thought crossed his mind and he smiled at it. A good way to make a statement and keep anything untoward from happening through the rest of their trek had just occurred to him.


    ¡°Xander, Michael, fall back closer to me.¡±


    Toric looked around and waited for the two Fists to fall back, and then he cast the shield spell he learned last night.Reaching through to the half of his soul in the Veil he summoned its power through his connection. Shaping it into Veil-Fire, an aspect of his element, he shaped the shield around the four of them, making it into a half bubble as he doubted anyone would be burrowing under the ground to get at them.


    It worked perfectly and the crowd fell back away from them, far away. Three remained close still, all of them dressed as magi and studying the shield with expressions of confusion. They all bore blazes on their shoulders indicating they were still Apprentice level magi and had likely not yet even read of Veil-Fire. It was a very obscure branch of magic after all.


    A much older mage pushed through the crowd behind them and once she had spotted Marrick behind the shield a look of first surprise and then recognition crossed her face when she looked at Toric. She winked and then stood behind the three magi and waited to see what they would do. After several moments of the magi following Toric¡¯s shielded group through the city one of the magi reached out with a flicker of power to try and feel the shield. Toric ignored it and continued on, as did the older mage. As soon as the thin filament of power touched the Veil-Fire it burned away into nothingness. The Mage frowned and then reached forward physically. Toric started to react to pull the Veil-Fire away before the stupid Apprentice lost his hand, but the older Mage was closer and faster. She reached out and smacked the boy on the back of his head hard.


    All three of the Apprentices whirled to face the Master class Mage and Toric paused to see what happened. It was actually rather anti-climactic from his viewpoint. The Master Mage first informed the boys what would happen to any physical object that came into contact with Veil-Fire and then assigned a research project to all three about the dangers of Veil-Magic. The Apprentices obviously thought it was a bad enough punishment and all three left with their heads hanging. By this time the crowd had completely dissipated, likely out of fear of catching the Master Mage¡¯s attention, and Toric dropped the shield.


    As soon as the shield disappeared, the woman ran forward and wrapped her arms around Marrick¡¯s neck, kissing him soundly on the mouth. Toric, Xander, and Michael just kind of all stared at them slack-jawed for a while.


    ¡°You¡¯re back! Oh Marrick, I have missed you dearly.¡±


    The woman stated as soon as she came up for air.


    Marrick was stuttering, which was kind of funny, but Toric was ashamed. He had never once considered the life Marrick had left behind to raise him. An idea occurred to him and he smiled happily.


    ¡°Marrick, seeing as how you have arranged for Xander and Michael to accompany me today, I see no reason why you shouldn¡¯t take some time and catch up with old friends.¡±


    Marrick spun around and glared at Toric, which only made Toric smile wider. There was no way Marrick could say no with her standing right there.


    The woman came up to Toric and held out her right hand. Toric gripped it as his memories showed him and leaned down to kiss the top of her hand softly, before standing once more.


    ¡°Enchanted, Ma¡¯am. I am Toric Fatesblood, and any friend of my step-father is a friend of mine. Please be so kind as to see to his entertainment for the day, and I would be honored to be your host for dinner. Perhaps you can tell me some of his past; he is remarkably close lipped on the subject. Far too embarrassed to admit that such a beautiful woman as you was only a friend of his, I expect.¡±


    As she pulled her hand back to hold it against her chest, she blushed brightly at his words. And Marrick just glared harder.


    ¡°I would be delighted to entertain Marrick, as well as to come to dinner. I do have some very good stories and since I know who you are, I have a few of your father as well. My name is Valeria and I am honored to make your acquaintance my lord.¡±


    Toric waved off the title.


    ¡°Please, my name is Toric and if you are agreeable, consider yourself a friend that can use it.¡±


    Valeria blushed again and simply nodded. She turned to Marrick, who had wiped the scowl from his face, and stuck her arm through his, pulling him away toward the shopping district. A thought occurred to Toric and he took three long steps to catch them and pressed three of the Fire-Diamonds into Marrick¡¯s hand. Then he was away with Xander and Michael.

 Chapter Sixteen

    The three of them shared a good laugh on the rest of the way to the Temple. Most of the humor revolved around the expression on Marrick¡¯s face when Toric came up with a way to make him have a good time, and the rest was how Marrick¡¯s scowl had tightened when Toric was schmoozing his girl. Suddenly they rounded the corner and Toric stopped dead. The building that stood before him on the corner paid only a passing resemblance to the Temple from his father¡¯s memories. It was less of a building and more of a sprawling, grandiose palace. Enormous and made of expensive ebony woods and imported quartz stone, it was also covered in far too many precious metals. Anger began to boil within the pit of Toric¡¯s stomach and he did not even notice that his eyes flickered from blackish blue to completely black pits of flame. Xander however, did notice and stopped to touch his shoulder.


    Toric¡¯s head snapped around and then his expression relaxed. His voice was still tightly controlled when he asked Xander his question.


    ¡°When was the Temple expanded like this?¡±


    Xander swallowed hard. The anger in Toric¡¯s voice was an almost visceral thing. He felt like he could feel the pounding heat of his fury.


    ¡°Fifteen years ago a new High Priest was appointed after the last one died in the final battle of the war. He said that Daath wanted a more grandiose structure to honor Him. The Legate First fought it for six years, but eventually he was out voted.Without the Commander to veto the ruling, the council acquiesced to the High Priest¡¯s ruling. That High Priest died three days ago from a strange illness, and the current High Priest will only serve in the interim until another is appointed. I am sorry my Princeps, I had assumed you were informed on this. I will make certain that you are presented with an intelligence briefing each morning that will cover anything you should know about that day¡¯s plans in the future.¡±


    Toric nodded and listened carefully throughout Xander¡¯s explanation.


    ¡°I will make getting a proper staff a priority and I will include an intelligence officer on that list. I still want you to help whoever that is Xander, but it would be unfair for you to have to take the entire load. I want you focused on commanding my guard, not hunting down obscure information. Let¡¯s go see this interim High Priest.¡±


    The trio marched up to the entrance of the Temple where four Temple Guardsmen stood at guard. Xander handled the introductions and as soon as the word Princeps was mentioned the gate was swiftly opened and one of the guards ran off to bring word of his arrival to the High Priest. Toric and his guards had only made it across the courtyard by the time eight more Temple Guardsmen presented themselves. They came to the position of present arms just in front of the door to the Temple and it became clear the messenger had not been a courtesy, but a warning. Toric sighed and made his intentions clear.


    ¡°Understand this; I will be seeing the High Priest today. Whether or not I have to slaughter my way into this building is irrelevant. You cannot stop me, nor could the entirety of the Guard. I do not want to kill you; no matter how far you have fallen you were once Legionnaires and that is all that matters. We are family, and family should not kill family. Make your choice.¡±


    With that said Toric scooped up his helmet and seated the solid helm upon his head. The armor sealed and he reached out to touch Xander and Michael before activating the dread enchantment at full, thus excluding them from the effect. The Guardsmen lowered their spears into position and Toric drew his falchion and war-hammer. He could say something for these men, they did not lack courage; each and every man fought the dread and stepped forward in unison.


    ¡°Xander, Michael, stand aside please and watch my back. I do not want to be flanked or caught by archers.¡±


    Both men wanted to argue, but they could see the tactical sense as well as a direct order and did as commanded.


    With two more steps the Guardsmen were close enough that the enchantment began to have some effect on them. Two fell back and the rest charged. A single step saw Toric among them and he whirled like a dervish. The heavy enchanted steel of the falchion slammed through a spear and into the middle of a female guard. Her lighter body stood no chance against his power and she was launched fifteen feet to slam into the door of the Temple and fling it open. An instinctual itch from Toric¡¯s left made him raise the war-hammer and he blocked a slicing saber on the haft. His left wrist twisted and he disarmed his opponent before taking a quick step close and unleashing his left claw for just a moment. It punched through the man¡¯s armor, ribs, and heart and he fell dead to the ground. With the claw retracted Toric spun in a backwards swing, catching two more Guardsmen off guard at the reversal and the hammer end of the war-hammer smashed into one¡¯s face, snapping his neck; while the back unsharpened side of the falchion slammed into the lower back of another, snapping his spine and crippling him. As four of their number fell in less than four seconds the rest of them retreated to the door, using it as a choke point to try and hold him.


    A shout from behind Toric alerted him and he spun to see the barracks across the courtyard emptying as men ran to help the others. The gates were secured and the three of them were trapped in the courtyard. Toric grimaced and reached down into his connection to the Veil for a second time that day. First he called on a Veil-Beast he had made a connection to the night before and it tore its way into reality using the power he lent it. It was known as a Chimera and apparently he had lent it too much power as it had brought its entire pack with it. Eight of the beasts stood in a circle around Toric and his guards. Toric spoke to the first beast and as he had learned made a request of it, not a demand.


    ¡°Please guard me and these two by my side, but do not put yourselves at undue risk my friend. You can truly die here away from the Veil and such a burden would be too much for me to bear.¡±


    The beast smiled, which was a truly frightening thing, and nodded its head once. The pack circled slowly around the three of them and Toric used his power for a second action. Lifting his hands into the sky he unleashed a blast of pure Veil-Fire into the heavens. The beam of power molded to fire was visible to every mage on the Island, and there could only be one source it had come from. As Toric remembered from his father¡¯s memories of the war, he unleashed four more of the enormous blasts, leaving him with only a bare minimum reserve before his mana regenerated. The five blasts signaled a Mage in need and every soldier or Magi in the vicinity would come running. Still, it would take time to get through the gates and Toric had a purpose as yet unfulfilled. He turned back to his friend the Chimera and asked it a question. It grinned far wider in response to this one and bobbed its head affirmatively. Toric smiled and stepped up, climbing onto the massive creatures back. A shout and gesture to Xander and Michael was met with stares of incredulity before they finally worked up the nerve to climb up behind him. Now that all three rode the Chimera Toric turned to the other beasts that had come as well.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Before I ask a boon of you, I would like to know why you have come.¡±


    The oldest of the pack stepped forward and bowed to Toric.


    ¡°My son came to me last night and told me a wondrous thing. He had been called by a Veil-Walker and asked to make a contract. The one that called him was being taught by ten others that are known to us, and that was a huge point in his favor. A further point was the mark of the Lord of Water that shone through his soul. You have drunk of the Blood of Daath and accepted the Duty of the Sword. We would serve you if you demanded it, and yet you came on bended knee and asked.It is a wonderful thing to see one that remembers the old ways. You are Blood of Camnorous and He is the Lord of Beasts.You are our brother and for that we would serve out of duty, but still you asked. Call on any of the Beasts of the Veil, the Elders decided after my son¡¯s report. You are worthy to be the first Beast Master since the rising of the Veil. Now, did we not have some enemies to slay?¡±


    Xander and Michael could not understand a word of the conversation, it was all hisses and growls and gnashing of fangs, but Toric was beyond moved at the Elder Chimera¡¯s words and bowed his head, responding in the same tongue.


    ¡°I am honored, and will not argue with an Elder. Yes, there remain enemies to slay.¡±


    Toric pointed toward the massive doors to the Temple and the Chimera Pack rushed through the Guardsmen like fording a river. Once they were within they found a line made up of Priests of Daath, five of them stood reciting prayers and calling for the power of their god to aid them. The Chimeras all laughed and hissed at each other. Their conversation was amusing to say the least, asking how these clerics could not know that they were calling on their god to slay His own champion. The prayers finished and nothing happened.


    Toric told the Chimeras to ignore anyone that did not attack them first, and while the beasts did not like wasting a meal, they understood that this was the mortal world with different rules. As they advanced the Priests scrambled out of their way in terror; leaving the way open to the huge spiraling staircase that led toward the second level. Getting directions from Xander, Toric nudged the Chimera in the correct direction and a short while later they stood before a large door leading to the High Priest¡¯s rooms. Toric slid down from the Chimera after ordering the guards to remain in place and strode up to the doors. Focusing deeply he called upon all of his immense strength and punched the doors, one with each fist, sending them both flying open. The door on the right bounced off its hinges and fell to the floor with a resounding thud. Toric strode into the chamber, but before the Chimera¡¯s could enter he froze in shock. What he saw within that room would remain with him for the rest of his life, and even though he described it in detail to me, I will not record it here. Let it be said that there were atrocities within that room that should not be spoken of, nor written down for other sick minds to duplicate.


    Toric turned and forced the Chimeras from the room, before asking the Elder to accompany him and to not repeat what he saw. The Elder agreed and ordered his pack to remain, following the Sword within, and retching against a wall when the smell hit his sensitive nose.


    ¡°Forgive me Elder, had I known what lay in here I would never have called upon your son. I did not know mortals were capable of such things.¡±


    The Elder laid a claw on the young Sword¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Never doubt evils existence young one. We fight it where we find it, but wherever exists any being with free choice, so there will you find evil. Do you hold enough power to destroy this place?¡±


    Toric felt for his well, and then looked around at all the stone, gold, silver, and gems. This place was tainted and should never again be used for those that paid homage to Daath. A commotion from the entrance to room made the Elder and Toric spin around and then rush back around the bend in the hall to face Xander before he could enter.


    ¡°What is it Xander?¡±


    ¡°Reinforcements have arrived my Princeps, but I am having a hard time convincing them the Chimeras are friendly.¡±


    Toric chuckled and turned to the Elder and nodded his head back toward the doorway.


    ¡°Let¡¯s get your pack home, and you have my promise this entire building will be ash by morning. I possess Camnorous¡¯s fire, and can call it for this.¡±


    The Elder¡¯s eyes widened and he bowed his head to Toric.


    ¡°As you will it, Beast Master.¡±


    Toric walked back out of the room and danced through the massed Chimeras to face an annoyed Marrick backed up by no less than five Master Magi, including his girlfriend.


    ¡°I leave you alone for like twenty minutes and boom, you attack the Temple and summon not only help from the entirety of the Island, but a full PACK of Chimeras. That does it young man, you will not be leaving my sight for a long damn time to come.¡±


    At this, the Elder started cackling and Toric spun around to glare at him. Which made the rest of the pack laugh at him and the original Chimera he had bonded with nudged him with a huge claw.


    ¡°No use arguing with our elders¡¯ brother. They always end up getting the last laugh.¡±


    Toric hung his head and finally he started laughing too. He lifted his head and his hands and spoke for a final time in the Chimeras tongue.


    ¡°Go and run the Veil again my brothers, but don¡¯t get too comfy, there is a war in my future, and I will need your assistance.I am going to have to hunt a Shadow Fae and the Forces of Shadow.¡±


    The Elder was the only one to respond to that announcement; the others just looked at him in confusion. The Elder growled and smacked the stone floor hard enough to leave a huge dent.


    ¡°We will be with you for that hunt, Beast Master; as will the entire Council of the Veil.¡±


    Toric blinked in astonishment as the pack vanished. That final sentence from the Elder had been spoken in common and every soldier, mage, and priest in earshot was staring at him.


    He turned and looked at Marrick with a stern expression.


    ¡°See the entire Temple cleared, and no one is to enter the High Priest¡¯s quarters. I will remain here personally to see to that until the Temple is emptied. Get all of the books, scrolls, and manuscripts from the library and every last piece of religious or mundane material moved to the courtyard. Call for any extra help you need, but by the time the sun sets I will burn this place to the ground. Call for the Legatus and the Arch Magus to meet me here and I will show them why. Now go please Marrick and do not ask me any questions about this.¡±


    With those words Toric sat on the ground and removed his helmet. Sitting cross legged on the floor and laying his weapons to either side of him he sat his helmet before him and waited.

 Chapter Seventeen

    The sun had risen high in the sky before the Arch Mage and the Legatus appeared before Toric. He had ignored all attempts to sway him from his course of action. After thirty minutes of listening to himself talk, Marrick had finally left to begin the dismantling and evacuation of the Temple. The two older men stopped in front of Toric and waited patiently for him to climb to his feet, sheath his weapons, and hang his helmet from his belt. He stepped aside and pointed wordlessly into the High Priest¡¯s chambers. Both men entered and were only gone for about ten minutes before they re-emerged, ashen faced.


    Toric¡¯s voice was level as he spoke.


    ¡°Do you agree with my decision?¡±


    The Arch-Mage turned to the side and threw up against the wall. He was a mage yes, but also a scholar. A man unused to the horrors found on the battlefield, and lacking the memories that Toric had of various similar atrocities. He nodded in agreement with Toric¡¯s question.


    The Legatus looked into Toric¡¯s eyes and held his composure, asking a few questions of his own.


    ¡°How did you know and what will become of the Temple now?¡±


    Toric smiled sadly.


    ¡°I did not know. I came here today to speak to the High Priest about the behavior of his clerics yesterday. I was trapped and attacked at the earliest opportunity, but even before that I was appalled at what the Temple has become. Daath doesn¡¯t care for ostentation, despite humanity¡¯s natural greed. It is loyalty and bravery that Daath craves, and the Legion gives that in abundance. As to what the Temple will become, I do have a few ideas. I will destroy this monstrosity and upon its ashes a simple hall will be raised. We will rebuild it as a library and a place of learning. The Priests will have to be evaluated and the truly pious will remain, but I expect a great deal will be dismissed back to the Legion, if not found guilty of any crimes. I will require that all Priests serve at least two of every five years among the Legion itself, administering the faith upon the field. The Temple Guard will be disbanded completely and a post will be established that will rotate men from the regular Legion to serve as a small guard to protect the Library once it is built. Once my father is freed I will turn over any other decisions to him. The High Priest will be removed from the Council and for the remaining interim until my father returns I will hold his veto power. These are not arbitrary judgements, except the destruction of this so called Temple. Present my findings to the Council and have them vote. I called the two of you here to bear witness to my reasons. Is there anything you have to add?¡±


    The Arch-Mage shook his head and then smiled for the first time since leaving the room behind him.


    ¡°You are so much like your father it is uncanny. You present your decision couched in language that sounds like we have a choice, but seated in so much logic we would be fools to not follow it. It is like time has turned back and I am seeing him again before me, a student that became my liege. I will take your decision to the Council and have no doubts it will be followed to the letter. When you have time please visit the Academy, there may be a few things you can learn there.¡±


    The Legatus chuckled and nodded in agreement with his learned colleague. Then the two men turned and headed for the exit.


    Toric decided it was time he left this place of madness and with a simple gesture used his rebuilt power to seal the entrance behind him with an impenetrable wall of Veil-Fire. He caught up to the two men and chatted amicably with them as they left the Temple. In the courtyard they found all of the Fists awaiting Toric as well as Marrick who looked to the Legate First.


    The Legatus spoke swiftly at the questioning gaze.


    ¡°Hurry your efforts Legate Marrick, if the Temple is not emptied by sundown, then whatever remains will burn with it.¡±


    Marrick looked simultaneously relieved that the Legatus agreed with Toric and concerned because he also believed the reason should be kept secret. However he was a Legate and a Legionnaire besides, and he saluted swiftly before turning to hurry the Legionnaires along.


    Xander caught Toric¡¯s attention and then pointed to the Temple Guardsmen that sat in a huddled mass under the careful supervision of another of the elite squads, this one bore the mark of a crimson hawk on their armor.


    Toric touched the Legatus¡¯s shoulder and then walked toward the group. The Legatus followed behind him, leaving the Arch-Mage discussing the earlier action with Valeria. Toric and the Legatus stopped before the Crimson Hawks and looked over the sad looking group of men. Several of them bore bloody bandages and Toric was a little bit relieved to see the woman he had punched through the doors was still alive. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but he just didn¡¯t like the thought of having killed a woman, despite the fact that she had been trying to kill him. His voice showed no signs of his internal emotions as he spoke.


    ¡°The Temple Guard will be disbanded, and all that are found without guilt in the crimes of the Temple will be returned to their original posts within the Legion.¡±


    Toric had no doubt of that happening, the Guard had attacked the legitimate Princeps and there was no excuse for that. The question was whether they had acted under orders, or because they were complicit in the crimes.


    One of the Guards responded in a vehement tone.


    ¡°How can a man think to judge those who serve our god directly?¡±If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Toric raised an eyebrow and responded in a soft tone.


    ¡°I am the Sword of Daath, and as such I apply His justice upon those in His care. Furthermore, Daath is the first one to tell us He is a Greater Being, not a god. You have been twisted by men that sought power beyond their ken, and your only hope of living through this is if you simply obeyed lawful orders. However, there is no way that at least some of you did not know what went on up there.¡±


    His hand rose to point at the windows of the High Priest¡¯s quarters, and he saw two men bearing the crossed scepter and sword of Guard Captains wince. Toric stepped through the ring to stand before them and the seated guardsmen scrambled away from him. He had obviously made an impression on those that witnessed him in battle. His hands reached down and dragged the two Captains up so they hung freely in the air, an impressive display of strength. His voice was like ice as he spoke.


    ¡°You two knew, did you not?¡±


    Toric applied pressure to the backs of their necks as he spoke and the one in his right hand spoke almost immediately.


    ¡°The High Priest said it was the will of Daath. He needed young virgin women, never more than twelve years old to sacrifice for Daath¡¯s favor. We brought them at night, because he said that there were some unenlightened Priests and Guards that did not understand the truth about the god¡¯s needs.¡±


    Toric grimaced and tossed them both outside of the ring, speaking to two of the Crimson Hawks.


    ¡°Take them away and have someone write down their words. Just you two and one other to be a scribe, I don¡¯t want anyone else involved in this filth.¡±


    He turned back to look at the Guards still on the ground and he saw their horror stricken faces at the thought of children, little girls, being sacrificed. He nodded and then said a final thing.


    ¡°All of you that are found free of crime will still have to live with the guilt that not only did this perversion happen right under your noses, not only did you ignore the little things that might have led to you discovering the truth and making it right, but you also attacked the men that came to stop it. Justice will be done and those two Captains will face crucifixion for their crimes, as will any others that participated.¡±


    Crucifixion was the most terrible punishment the Legion could dispense, and only a Legate or higher rank could order it. As Toric had suspected, as soon as the word left his mouth, two men made an attempt to run. They did not get far and he ordered the crosses to be prepared. He was not an overly cruel man and as soon as the crosses were ready they would be raised within the Temple and burn with it so that the punishment would not be drawn out. He turned away and looked at the squad leader for the Crimson Hawks.


    ¡°Take the rest of them to the Fortress and house them in the Stockade. They will be dealt with eventually, but I will leave the decision of those not involved in the crimes of the Temple to the Legatus, excuse me, to the Legate First.¡±


    The squad leader looked at the Legatus and received a nod in return, then sorted his men out and began escorting the remaining former Guards to their temporary home.


    Legatus Octavian and Toric sat down on a bench and conversed for a while as the emptying of the Temple continued. After an hour or two food and drink was brought to them and as they shared a meal the Arch-Mage and Valeria joined them. The Arch-Mage looked at Toric and asked a question that caught him off guard.


    ¡°Valeria tells me that you summoned Chimera to help you fight, spoke to them in their language, and that one of them called you Beast-Master in common.¡±


    Toric sat speechless for a moment, part of the reason being that he had to finish chewing, and after a little while responded to the Arch-Mage.


    ¡°I am a Veil-Walker, as is obvious by my eyes. Veil-Walkers receive training in their abilities at the School, a place our mind and soul is drawn to while we sleep. The Instructors there taught me to summon beasts from beyond the Veil to help me in battle. That is how I learned to summon Chimera. My mother is born of the line of Camnorous through her father. He is the Lord of Beasts, much as Daath is Lord of Water, one of the Greater Beings. The Chimera recognized His blood in mine as well as the Mark as the Sword of Daath. I have been given many gifts and the blood of two Greater Beings leaves a mark on a man. The Council of Elders within the Veiled World apparently cast a vote, and gave me the title of Beast-Master, enabling me to call upon any of the Veil Beasts to help me fight. It is a great honor, as well as a terrible responsibility. Veil Beasts are immortal on their side of the Veil, but on this side, the mortal side, they can die. I will have to send men and women, elves and mages, dwarves and others that already exist on this side to their deaths. I do not relish adding other beings to the list.However, I will do what is necessary to win the war that is coming.¡±


    The Arch-Mage simply nodded and waited for him to finish before asking another question.


    ¡°And what might this war that is coming be? I agree, you have been gifted with great power, and you seem to be handling it well; but there are all these little hints of a terrible war in the making, but nowhere have I found an enemy that could challenge the Legion. Let alone all of the mortal world as you seem to think.¡±


    Toric looked around and then pushed the first magical construct he had ever learned into being. The bubble of force that had surrounded him and Drax and Vorxin for their discussion popped into place. It was not made of his element, and was difficult to create, but once it was built it was self-sustaining. He spoke before either of the magi could question him on it.


    ¡°Do you all know the history of why Daath called for the Legion?¡±


    As they all nodded he continued.


    ¡°The enemies we will face are the Forces of Shadow that once fought the Armies of Light on the shores of this very lake.Daath banished them to a far northern clime and in that act of twisting space and time; the Legion as it was in the beginning slipped through the cracks and landed upon this world. Daath brought them to him to serve and guard his anchor upon this world. The Forces of Shadow did not die or fade away in that far away land. No, they grew and became even mightier as there was no force to stop them. They are led by a Shadow Fae and he is a being of great power. I will eventually have to face him, but his armies will need to be defeated first. It will be a war unlike any we have ever faced, and we will need to find and make contact with the Armies of Light in order to have a chance. We have decades yet before any of this begins, but we have much to do to prepare. By the time my father and mother are freed, I want this entire Island to be a veritable Fortress in and of itself. The docks are vulnerable, and we do not have nearly the naval power we will need. The galleys are impressive for what they are, but we need some faster clippers, and I would prefer a couple of large galleons. The Academy and the Fortress are the only two really defensible spots on the Island. I would prefer that we have at least ten full-fledged Citadels with interconnecting tunnels and above ground walls. The City is open to attack, we have always relied on the lake and its natural defense to protect us, but for the war to come it will not be enough.¡±

 Chapter Eighteen

    The Arch-Mage and Legatus looked at him in shock, but their minds were already turning toward what it would take to make it happen. They had a willing workforce and plenty of trade partners to get materials from. The Legion had long since purchased vast stretches of forest on the edge of the lake from the Empire, for their exclusive use as timberlands. The Legatus imagined what the Island would look like if they threw themselves into this project. Massive quarries would be needed and those would be carefully carved out so as to form the bottom levels of the new Citadels. They would have almost twenty times the room they had now, and that was when he saw something Toric had not mentioned. He expected the Island to be a last refuge. A place where people would flee to when their own lands fell. It would be a terrible responsibility and they would have to test everyone before allowing them onto the Island, but that was no matter. Most of the Empire possessed the requirements to join the Legion, but they were comfortable in their lives and did not want to leave their happy lives to join a kingdom where they would face battle on a regular basis.


    Toric cleared his throat and the two men looked up at him.


    ¡°These are matters for another day. Think about what I have said, and discuss the implications among yourselves and those that you trust; but today we have plenty to deal with without adding all of that to the load. I must prepare myself to destroy this place, and I am certain I have called you away from other duties. Thank you for coming to bear witness. I will be returning to the Imperial City on the morrow to meet my grandparents, and I will need the Fists and another Striker squad with me. Which squad is to be chosen; I leave up to you Legatus. Arch-Mage, I would like two magi to accompany me, but their selection I leave to you. He will not like it at all, but Marrick is staying here. I need him to begin some preparations for me. Before I leave I will give him a way to contact me, and will speak with him daily. Any messages that need to be passed can go through him. We must act swiftly to cut this rot from the Legion and to ensure that no other problems remain. Do not think of me as a young untried boy that has been thrust upon you, but know that I am the Sword of Daath, and He has given me all that I need in order to serve Him and the Legion as well as is possible. Do you believe me?¡±


    The three that sat there were overwhelmed by the unexpected speech, but after a long moment they all responded quietly, nodding their heads and speaking in turn.


    Valeria spoke first and her voice was both hard and soft in a feminine way that Toric had difficulty quantifying.


    ¡°You are correct that Marrick will not like this idea at all, Toric. However, I also believe you are correct about the problem and how to fix it. I have missed Marrick so much for these last fifteen years, but I understood the honor and desperate need behind his leaving. I would have preferred to go with him and help raise you, but your mother was very specific that no one else than he know your location. I believe that you were born for a purpose, this purpose that you have detailed to us. You are the Sword of Daath, and in the end that is all that I need know. Command me my Princeps and it will be my honor to obey.¡±


    The Arch-Mage peered at Valeria and then turned to Toric, licking his lips before speaking.


    ¡°I am Ultan, and I am ashamed. I let this perfidious atrocity develop right under my nose. If the signs, portents, and very voice of Daath were not enough; your actions here would be. You are what we need, whether we like needing you or not. I believe you my Princeps and I will endeavor to become more aware as I go on. You shall have your two magi by this evening; as a matter of fact, I know just the two for you.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    The Legatus had never looked away from Toric for the whole of the other two speaking, and now that it was his turn he did not flinch or waver.


    ¡°No long speeches are needed. You are your father¡¯s heir, and the Sword of Daath. The Axes will join the Fists tonight, and be at your orders my Princeps. Do not worry about Marrick; I will deal with him immediately. He can be a bit grouchy at times, but I know all of his dirty little secrets.¡±


    Toric smiled and nodded. Then turned and looked at Xander who stood behind him.


    ¡°Xander, I need a space of about ten feet cleared all around me. It will take me the rest of the day to gather the power to level this building, and if anyone gets close while I am doing this, they will die.¡±


    With no further words he stepped forward from the table where they had eaten and knelt upon the stones. His weapons were laid beside him, and his helmet sealed into place upon his shoulders. Xander and the Fists were already clearing people away and as soon as there was enough room he began. It was an arduous process to control the Fire, but not to summon it. If he didn¡¯t care where it spread and what it burned this would be simple, but to control Camnorous¡¯s True Fire was a task that would take all of his power and concentration. As soon as he produced the first spark of that flame to hover before his eyes, every mage or sensitive on the Island knew that Greater Magic was being wielded there. The Arch-Mage stared at the growing flame with shock and then ran to hurry the men that were clearing the Temple along. Valeria was frozen with awe and fear as she watched the young man shape magic that was beyond the abilities of any other mortal being. This was the Fire of Camnorous the Devourer, the Lord of Beasts, the Greater Being of Fire, and the progenitor of the dragon race. The Flame built so very slowly, a spark at a time, but by the time that the sun was near to setting and Toric was close to being ready, there was an enormous ball of liquid fire burning in the air above him. As the last bit of light left the horizon, and a runner finished checking the Temple, Toric screamed his rage and fire flew forward to cage the gaudy building in bands of pure elemental fire. The cage shrunk and burned inward. It was a masterful display of control as Toric created a firebreak from his own construct. Everything the flame touched turned to ash and within a dozen heartbeats the Temple was gone. The flame roared and hovered in a condensed ball where the Temple had just stood, before suddenly rushing in a line back to Toric and disappearing as it touched his chest. Toric stiffened in shock when the fire filled him, but before he could pass out a form appeared at his side.


    Daath coalesced beside His Sword and shook His head in amusement. The boy was pushing himself to make the Legion pure again, and needed this public display of approval to erase any doubts. Daath laid his hand on Toric¡¯s shoulder and with a slight nudge of power refilled His Sword¡¯s waning strength. His voice shook the stones and scattered the ashes as He spoke.


    ¡°This man is My Sword, and he will help My Legion against the Darkness. If any wish to serve Me, they will do so by serving My Sword. Do not twist My words or My law, the Commander remains in Command, and the Princeps leads when he cannot. The Priests were never for Me, but instead to pander to your needs. No more, any that wish to serve as a Cleric of Daath, will do so in armor and with a sword. My Temple is the battlefield, and prayer is the sound of your charge.¡±


    It was short, sweet, and to the point. Toric stood and looked gratefully up to Daath.


    Daath looked down and spoke softer, but still loud enough for others to hear.


    ¡°Go Toric, and do what you must, but please stop trying to do it all alone.¡±


    And with that Daath was gone and Toric looked up at Xander who was staring at him with wide eyes. The momentary boost of energy from the Greater Being was fading and Toric could tell he had just enough to get back to his rooms. He gestured urgently to Xander and as soon as he was close, leaned heavily on him. Whispering the order to get him back to his quarters. Somehow they made it and he was undressed and dumped into his bed. No dreams did he have that night, there was no energy to be used for training. A good night sleep did him a world of good and he awoke to a new day and a fresh dawn.

 Chapter Nineteen

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    Toric climbed out of the way too comfortable bed and stretched. Smothering a yawn he walked to his bathroom and cleaned up before once again donning his armor. He was getting good at it, and it did not take him long before he walked out into the middle of a very loud argument. For a split second he appreciated the enchantments worked into the stone of his room, because he had not heard a word of the yelling inside. Then he shouted over the arguing people.


    ¡°QUIET!¡±


    Silence descended like an axe, and Toric looked around at all the strangers in his sitting room before focusing on Xander.


    ¡°What is going on here Xander?¡±


    Xander looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but where he was, but he saluted and spoke as professionally as he could.


    ¡°My apologies Toric, there was a slight disagreement over what the new squad and magi were supposed to be doing. I felt that it would be best if they just waited on you and let the Fists continue to guard you until you made a decision, but the Axes squad leader outranks me and wanted to post his men to guard your room until you were ready. My men forgot their decorum and this ruckus resulted.¡±


    Toric just shook his head and smiled.


    ¡°Well at least you used my name Xander. Ok, this is what is going to happen. Until the Fists and Axes return to their original duties, the units are going to be one unit, along with the magi. You men and women are my guard, and I expect you to behave as such. Xander is my main adjunct and that is no reflection on anyone, I simply met him first and like him. Xander, the Axes leader will command my guard and you will be equal to rank with him, while serving as my aide. The combined unit will be called the Dragons, and I know that one is not in use as it is reserved for the Princeps personal guard. Now get yourselves sorted out while I eat and speak with the magi.¡±


    The newly named Dragons evaporated from Toric¡¯s view in an amazingly short amount of time.Toric sat down at the table and quickly began stuffing food into his mouth as two women approached. They were both in fighting leathers and Toric was able to appreciate their bodies as they walked up. He gestured for them to sit down and they did so, remaining quiet and looking a bit disgusted from the amount of food he was eating. He paused to ask a question.


    ¡°The Arch-Mage seemed to think you two would be a perfect fit for my guard, care to tell me why? And please, introduce yourselves.¡±


    The first one to speak was dark haired, lithe, and carried herself with the kind of assurance that only comes with being very accomplished in martial arts.


    ¡°My name is Bethany, and as to why the Arch-Mage chose us, I have no idea.¡±


    The other one spoke quietly, her hair was the color of fire and her voice like silk covering steel.


    ¡°I am Akira and the only reason I can think of for us being chosen is that out of all the magi serving in the Legion, we are the most accomplished at martial pursuits. It has become a bit of a joke among our colleagues; because we spend time they believe would be better spent studying, working out and perfecting battle techniques.¡±


    Toric mused for a moment and then rubbed his chin, finding no stubble, as always. Finally he nodded and smiled at the duo.


    ¡°This will be a challenge, but I am sure the two of you are up for it. Your job is simple, but difficult to accomplish. I have almost no training in the magical arts, and the way I use power is far from the norm. I need the two of you to advise me on magic and to help me accomplish my goals with the same. If I didn¡¯t think of a way to apply magic to a problem and you think it will make a difference, speak up. I have a great deal of information stuck in my head, but not a great deal of practical experience. Here is the plan for today, I need to gather Drax from his parents¡¯ estate outside of Imperial City, and I assume we can find the location and teleport. I know you have the knowledge, skill, and power as Adepts, but I am unsure about the exact location. How can we achieve this?¡±


    Akira responded to that question with a shy smile that startled Toric, though he didn¡¯t let it show on his face.


    ¡°I know where Drax¡¯s estate is. I can get us all there, and Bethany will be available at full power if we have to make a quick exit.¡±The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Toric smiled and nodded.


    ¡°Good, let me finish eating and corral my new Dragons and then we can go.¡±


    Xander coughed softly from behind Toric.


    ¡°The Dragons are ready and waiting Toric, they are all gearing up down the hall. I told Marcus, that¡¯s your new Guard Commander that you would be ready to go as soon as you finished eating.¡±


    Toric laughed heartily.


    ¡°You are already proving that your selection as my aide was a good decision. Keep it up Xander.¡±


    Xander rolled his eyes and Toric ignored it, enjoying the rapport developing between them.Toric quickly finished up his breakfast and then stood, drawing his gloves on, and then his helmet. He felt it seal and stopped the dread enchantment on his body from triggering at the last moment.


    Bethany peered at the armor curiously and walked up to him, waving her hand in front of his face.


    ¡°How the hell do you see out of that?¡±


    Toric chuckled and shrugged.


    ¡°It is one of the benefits of being a Veil-Walker.¡± He turned and glanced at Xander. ¡°Go get the boys and let¡¯s get this show on the road. It is time to scare the crap out of some elves.¡±


    Xander stepped out of the room and hollered down the hall; shortly there was a crowd again in the sitting room. Twenty men, Toric, and the two women Magi were a tight fit for even that impressive room. Toric nodded to Akira and she quickly drew the needed power. Toric watched fascinated as the magic swirled about them, molding to her direction and then there was a flash of light and they all stood in a spacious courtyard.


    A High Elf was standing on the porch of a large mansion and his eyes widened in shock as twenty-three armed people suddenly appeared in the teleport yard. It was not uncommon to get visitors in this manner, but it was very uncommon for them to be geared like they were going to war, and even more uncommon for one of them to be seven feet tall and wearing custom armor that looked like that. He froze and then reached out to ring a bell on the porch.


    Toric told everyone to just wait, and shortly the group was surrounded by ten armed elves. They wore purple and green livery and appeared to be Household Guards. Akira stepped out of the group and lifted her hands so that she would be noticed. One of the guardsmen gestured and the elves lowered their weapons as Drax crashed around the corner of the house.


    Toric took his helmet off and hung it from his belt, smiling as he watched Drax¡¯s expression go from shock at the alarm, to welcoming at the sight of Akira, to shock again at the sight of him.


    ¡°What the hell happened to you Toric? It has only been a couple of days and you grew like a foot and look like you weigh more than my horse.¡±


    Toric laughed loudly and walked forward to grab Drax up in a hug.


    ¡°It is good to see you Drax, I have a few things to tell you, but those can wait. I can tell you that the next time I go to the Island you are coming with me. I think I can make an exception to the Law for you, and if need be they can test you. I see the Blood shining within you, and there shouldn¡¯t be any problems.¡±


    Drax stuttered and finally settled on just trying to get out of the hug. Then he completely ignored Toric and walked over to greet Akira. Toric watched in amusement as the two went through a formal greeting; while it was obvious they just wanted to drag each other into the bushes. A sound from his right pulled Toric¡¯s attention to four new elves that appeared from around the corner. One was nearly identical to Drax, but the other three were women. Two were obviously Drax¡¯s mother and sister, but the third did not seem to be family at all, standing a bit to the side and looking at Drax and Akira with a frown.


    Toric coughed and looked pointedly from Drax to the newcomers.


    Drax flushed and rushed over, leading Toric up to the older High Elf that had to be his father.


    ¡°Father, this is Toric Fatesblood, the one I was telling you about. Toric, this is my father, Lord Trex Tellis of the House Loquain. And here is my mother the Lady Amelia Tellis, and my sister the Lady Amelex Tellis. Lastly this is the Lady Conithia Havor of the House Trolbane, a friend of my sister.¡±


    The Lady Conithia Havor did not look at all pleased about the way she was introduced, but managed to curtsy to Toric. Toric ignored what was most likely jealousy over Akira and held his hand out to Drax¡¯s father.


    ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you, sir. Your son has been a good friend to me.¡±


    Toric rather immediately noticed something wrong when Lord Tellis did not take his hand, staring at it instead in disdain. Toric lowered his hand and narrowed his eyes.


    ¡°Is there a problem?¡±


    Drax tried to interject but Toric raised his hand to stop him. He was not angry, just curious.


    Lord Tellis sneered and spoke in a supercilious tone.


    ¡°I am supposed to believe that this hulking beast in ghastly armor is the Fatesblood Heir?¡±


    Toric turned the full weight of his fiery eyes upon Lord Tellis and spoke in a very strange tone, his voice wavering between that of a battle lord and that of a spirit from a crypt. It was terrible and horrifying, but it was the voice of a Veil-Walker and as such could not lie.


    ¡°I am Toric Fatesblood, Princeps of the Legion, Sword of Daath, Son of Krystuia the Dragon Bound by Bone and Commander Devyn Fatesblood of the Daath Legion, Veil-Walker, Beast-Master, and a Lord of Fire. Should my word not suffice I invite you to at least believe your own son.¡±


    Toric¡¯s voice then faded to a more normal tone and he took a deep breath.


    ¡°Please pardon the dramatics, there has been great difficulty in convincing people of my place as of late, and I have become tired of it. It took a recent personal appearance by Daath for the Legion to be completely convinced and I exerted a tremendous amount of power last night. I may still be a bit tired from that ordeal.¡±


    The Lord of Loquain was pale and sweating. He was not a young elf and had heard the voice of a Veil-Walker before. The other titles had to be true, and if true then he had offended a being that walked a path far above his. He reached out and took Toric¡¯s hand, shaking it firmly.


    ¡°I have had the honor to meet a Veil-Walker in the past, and recognize a mistake when I make one. You have my apologies, why don¡¯t we retreat to the veranda and sit for a discussion and snacks. Let me show you my hospitality to repay my earlier idiocy.¡±

 Chapter Twenty

    Amelex Tellis, Drax¡¯s sister, POV


    I was having a lot of trouble reconciling my brothers¡¯ animated stories of the last several days with the hulking human sitting on our porch. He was the largest human I had ever seen, and there was just something ¡­ otherworldly about him. It was more than his eyes, not that those weren¡¯t plenty. They were like an abyss of blue-black flame, but they added to his presence. He had a strong face, and reminded me of one of the generals of the Imperial army. A face that seemed like it had seen and endured things that mortals were not meant to see and experience. And that voice that he used earlier! It was a voice like none I had ever heard before, powerful and merciless. I have met dragons that did not speak with that much power.


    My father has the bad habit of using first meetings to test strangers. He acts like a buffoon in order to plumb their character and see how they react to arrogance. It is usually an easy way to weed out those that have a weak will, or hard heads, but this time it backfired. Drax warned us not to play games with his new friend, but father always thinks he knows best. Oh no, my face must had showed my thoughts, because the human is looking at me with those eerie flaming eyes.


    ¡°Is everything alright, milady?¡± He asks in a much milder tone of voice than he used earlier.


    I cough and manage a smile.


    ¡°I am fine, thank you for asking. I was just reflecting on my father¡¯s poor choice of gauging your character.¡±


    As I spoke, my father groaned and put his head in his hands.


    ¡°Really Ama, there is no need to give away all my secrets, and I already apologized. Drax was right, and I should not have played games with the young man.¡±


    Back to normal POV


    Toric chuckled and smirked at Drax.


    ¡°You warned them about me? Am I so scary as to need others to be warned not to play with me?¡±


    Drax snorted and nodded his head in the affirmative.


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    Toric laughed aloud and slugged Drax on the shoulder, gently. He knew that his strength had advanced far beyond what a friendly punch should be. But even though he held back most of his strength, Drax still grabbed his shoulder and made a big deal out the supposed pain. The friendly back and forth teasing was apparently not obvious enough to the Lady Conithia though. After Toric punched Drax and he pretended to be hurt, she jumped to her feet and cast a spell of binding on Toric.


    Or, she attempted to bind him. The enchantments in his armor shrugged off the intermediate level spell, and his voice thundered out immediately toward the Legionnaires.


    ¡°Hold!¡±


    The two mages stopped their casting at once and reabsorbed the power of their spells. Toric then turned back to the Lady Conithia and spoke gently.


    ¡°Drax is not actually hurt, Lady. We were just joking around, and I am sorry if you misunderstood us.¡±


    The elf glared at Toric in anger.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter if it was a joke or not, Drax is a prince, heir to a powerful House, and an elf besides. No human, no matter their position, should ever strike him. Such is the agreement between the Empire and the Elven nation. We elves are above human law.¡±


    Toric¡¯s eyes narrowed and he shook his head in disagreement, waving back Drax when he tried to interject and speaking in a carefully modulated tone.


    ¡°The agreement between the Elven Nation and the Empire is that elves, no matter their creed or sub-race, will be held to the laws of the Elven Nation. They are not above Imperial Law, they are outside of it, and that is simply Imperial Law, not all human law. The agreement is in fact very similar to the agreement between the Legion and the Empire. The difference being that the Elven Nation is part of the Empire, while the Legion is simply an ally. As Princeps of the Legion, my rank is much higher than Drax¡¯s. But none of that matters to me, he is my friend and I will do my best to be a good friend to him. Among friends and family there is no reason to be ruled by protocol, however I will keep in mind that you seem to wish for things to be bound by propriety at all times. Since that is the case, I will give you this warning just once, if you attack me or attempt to bind me again; I will not stop the response of my bodyguards.¡±


    Toric¡¯s words flowed out of him, his tone in the beginning was like that of a teacher to an unruly student, but by the time he had finished his words were icy and full of promised pain.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    Lady Conithia Havor POV


    With each word the human spoke I felt my face flush hotter and hotter. Never before in my life had I felt such anger toward one of the lesser mortal races. I am forty-seven years old and by the reckoning of the elves I would be a full adult in a little less than three years. I have trained in pure mana manipulation magic for thirty years and was considered a prodigy by the Elven Nation. Most elves use Elemental Magics, focusing on one of the eight paths: fire, water, air, earth, light, shadow, nature, and void. But I can produce any element by crafting mana into the correct form. It costs nearly triple the amount of mana as a specialist would spend, but I have a massive mana pool to draw from and so I can afford to spend it. Ever since my mother and father retired from public life I have been the head of House Trolbane and one of the rising stars of the Elven Magi, and never in my entire life have I been so disrespected to my face. This boy dares to say he is above me!? Above all elves!? It cannot be allowed, and as he finishes speaking I decide to show him what the truth of the matter is.


    Reaching into the right pocket of my robe I crush the one of the Call-Stones resting there and smirk at the arrogant prick as an Elven Academy response team teleports in to surround us. I chose the Call-Stone very specifically, as it is the one that also sends a call for the Academy¡¯s Arch-Mage. The Elder High-Elf appears only moments after the response team¡¯s appearance. But the boy seems to have admirable reflexes and has already vaulted off the porch and taken position next to his bodyguards.


    My eyes widen in shock and anger as the entire Tellis family swiftly abandons me. Drax moves to put himself between the response team and the humans, while the others simply retreat to a corner of the yard quietly, their own House Guards moving forward to shield them from any potential violence. All in all only about six seconds have passed since I crushed the Call-Stone. Before I can get a word out, the Arch-Mage speaks harshly.


    Back to normal POV


    Toric¡¯s eyes widen just a bit as he feels the ripple spread out through the aether when the bitch of an elf crushes the Call-Stone. He begins to act even before the summoned guards appear, and a short application of pure power to his body lets him move the thirty yards to his guardsmen in the blink of an eye. He glances back at them and uses Legion hand signals to tell them to follow his lead. Then he turns back to face the Lady Conithia and the thirty elves that appear around her. Before he can speak another ripple spreads through the aether as an extremely powerful Elven Elder appears.


    Toric¡¯s eyes can see the bonfire of magical potential contained within this Elder¡¯s soul and he unconsciously taps into the still recovering pool of Veil-Walker power within his own soul. Drax appears in between him and the other elves, and he sees the Tellis family moving away from the rapidly devolving situation. Toric sighs as he considers that for once maybe he shouldn¡¯t have corrected the elf. Sighing once more, Toric pulls on the power residing in his center and lets the Veil-Walker Fire flow into his body, causing flickers of bluish black flame to dance across his armor. Suddenly he hears a voice calling out in alarm.


    ¡°Wait! Walker, whatever is going on here, please just wait, I guarantee your safety and that of your men. Please, let none of us do anything hasty.¡±


    The Elven Arch-Mage spoke in a panicked tone. His name was Viktor Munadarlaus, Arch-Mage of Void, Headmaster of the Elven Academy, Sixth Elder of the Elven Council, and Lord of House Orfano. He was the third oldest elf alive, and had seen six millennia pass on this world. In all that time he had learned a few facts that were absolute, but the main one that seemed to occur over and over was that nothing was ever as it seemed. That one was echoing in his mind right now as he responded to a call from one of his students, only to arrive at the House of Loquain and see his student and an Elven Academy Response Team about to actually attack a Veil-Walker. There are very few existences among the mortal races that could scare him, but Walkers were one of them. They lived brutal and unforgiving lives, battling things that most of the world barely understood, let alone could fight, and this made them incredibly dangerous. He had thought they were all extinct, but the eyes of a Walker are unmistakable, and judging by this one¡¯s eyes, he was a Veil-Fire user. Veil-Fire was ¡­ terrifying, and in all his years and research, he had never met a being - Greater, Lesser, or Mortal - that could wield it. And so, he spoke quickly, and relaxed a bit as the Walker toned down his connection to the First Flames.


    Turning to glance at his student, he saw that she was furious. Her fists were clenched and she was in the middle of a chant that constructed a seventh-tier spell of subjugation. Her intent was clearly focused on the Walker, and with a sigh he gestured at her form and cut her connection to her mana. The spell fizzled out and his senses showed him that once it was gone, the Walker let the Veil-Fire slip completely back into the aether.


    Breathing out in relief he looked around at the gathering of elves and humans to try and make sense of things. A few things immediately stood out. The Walker was wearing the armor that was restricted to either the Legion Commander or the Princeps, and he knew that the Walker was not the Commander. This must be Devyn¡¯s son, which made him a dracuman. The Legionnaires behind him reinforced this fact. Also, young Drax was standing in between the Walker and the EART, so whatever was occurring, Drax thought that Conithia was in the wrong. Which wasn¡¯t really much of a clue, because he was fairly certain that Drax could not stand Conithia. She had been trying to arrange a marriage between herself and the young master of House Loquain since his birth, but his parents had repeatedly informed her that the only person that would choose who Drax would marry would be Drax himself. Lastly, he saw that the rest of the Tellis family was off to one side of the yard with a double handful of guards in the process of erecting a protection circle to keep them safe.


    Turning to face Drax, Viktor spoke clearly.


    ¡°Young master Tellis, kindly explain to me just what is going on here? Conithia seems to be far too furious to give me a coherent explanation.¡±


    As he spoke, his peripheral vision saw the further whitening of Conithia¡¯s face and he had to fight mightily to keep from snickering at her. Though as Drax explained the situation, his humor evaporated like water upon the sands of the Great Desert and a flash of cold fury rippled through him.

 Chapter Twenty One

    Once Drax had finished his report ¨C and it was definitely a report it seems the boys training in the Imperial Army had left an indelible mark on him ¨C Viktor turned to the EART and spoke to its leader.


    ¡°Captain Samis, your presence is not needed here. Please take your team back to the Academy and revoke Conithia¡¯s right to call on a full company. Demote her Call-Stones to a squad level.¡±


    The Captain saluted his Elder and he and his men disappeared in a clap of displaced air.


    Conithia attempted to interject, but Viktor glared at her and a single comment from him sealed her mouth shut.


    ¡°Do not speak until I give you leave to, student.¡±


    Viktor than rummaged around in his Bag of Holding (Authors Note ¨C Yeah I could call it all sorts of things, but everybody knows what a Bag of Holding is, so I do not have to explain it) and found a small blue stone that he pulled out. Speaking into the stone quietly so that no one could hear, resulted in an explosive shout of ¡°WHAT!¡± coming from the little stone. And within a few seconds a second teleport clap was heard as two figures appeared in the courtyard.


    Viktor simply gestured at Conithia and the two elves turned to look at her. They were middle aged for elves, the woman was nearing a thousand years of age, and the man was about twelve-hundred. They both bore a striking resemblance to Conithia, but whereas her face seemed haughty and reserved, the both of them had laugh lines and an aura of happiness. At the moment however, both elves seemed sad ¨C no, not sad, disappointed.


    Conithia looked at them in open astonishment. Her expression showing everyone that might look that of all the people that might appear, she had never imagined that it would be these two. She stepped forward and reached out to them, but stopped in shock and confusion when the woman stepped forward and slapped her left cheek.


    Toric looked away uncomfortably, as did most of the rest of those gathered. They could not however help but hear what the woman said after she slapped Conithia.


    ¡°Daughter, whatever gave you the idea that Elves are above other mortal races? All mortal races upon our world are equal. We were crafted in the images of different gods, but simply because we have diverse skills and traits do not mean any one race are better than any others. If any race might be able to claim they are above others it would be the Dragons, but even they do not encourage such arrogance among themselves. Your father and I had thought that acquiescing to your request that you become Head of the House so that you could chart your own path would teach you some humility, but apparently we were wrong. As of this moment you are no longer Head of House Trolbane. Your father will take his position back as the commander of our military and I will return to run the House. You are once again the heir. In addition I am invoking House Rights to push your coming of age forward ten years, and for the next thirteen years your father and I will see to the continuation of your education personally. Now go apologize to whoever it was you attempted to bind, and understand fully that we will be discussing your attempt to soul-bind a person very, very thoroughly.¡±


    Before Conithia could say anything, Toric stepped forward and spoke.


    ¡°Lady and Lord Trolbane, pardon me I do not know your names. My name is Toric Fatesblood. Please, while I understand that your daughter made an error, I ask that you not be too hard on her. She has suffered a great deal of humiliation just now in this public dressing down. If you could explain to her, her error, then that is enough. I will not say more, she is your daughter. I just want to say that no harm was done, and I hold her no ill will for her narrow worldview.¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    Conithia¡¯s mother turned to speak to Toric, but her face went white as she saw him and she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood when she heard his family name. Conithia¡¯s father was able to recover his senses first and responded to Toric¡¯s comment.


    ¡°My name is Tav Havor and this is my wife Leli Havor. It is our pleasure to meet you Toric. I fought in the war with your father, and each day I pray for his safe return. I apologize for my daughter, and while you may have forgiven her, it still seems she has some strange ideas about the world that must be corrected. However, do not worry too much, she is still our daughter and we will always love her. Please excuse my wife, she; and I, I must admit; are shocked that you are a Walker. I thank whatever reason it was that the binding spell failed. I do not think my daughter fully understands how horribly she would have died if your soul had actually felt threatened. It has become apparent to me that there are serious gaps in her education if she feels that elves are the supreme race. Not to mention the fact that all mages should be able to recognize the signs that a person before them is a Veil-Walker.¡±


    Toric sighed and looked at the ground.


    ¡°My armor is enchanted to resist a lot of different effects, but I did not notice that it was a soul-bind. I am an Ignis Element, and if she had touched Veil-Fire through her spell it would have been, as you said, horrifying. I am glad that such a thing did not happen. And I regret that I provoked her at all. I know a lot of things, centuries of memories are buried in my skull, and every time I sleep I train with Veil-Walkers of the past within a soul-space. However, I am only fifteen years old, and while I may know much and have terrible power, sometimes I speak without thinking. None of this would have happened had I simply ignored her petty words. Instead I let her get to me, and became angered because of her worldview. I have much to learn, and I hope one day she can forgive me for my rash words.¡±


    Tav smiled and shook his head.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it too much Toric. It shows good character that you apologize for something you feel was your error, but in the end each person is only responsible for their own actions. You were not in the wrong here, words can be retracted, but attacks cannot. Now if you will excuse us, it is time that we take our daughter home.¡±


    Toric bowed his head shortly and offered an apologetic smile to Conithia. The poor girl still seemed to be in shock from everything that was happening around her and did not even seem to notice his look. Once again the soft clapping sound of displaced air was the only sound heard as Leli Havor teleported herself and the rest of her family away.


    Toric turned to face the last of the recent arrivals, and before he could ask the old elf introduced himself.


    ¡°Greetings Toric, I am Viktor Munadarlaus, Arch-Mage of Void, Headmaster of the Elven Academy, Sixth Elder of the Elven Council, and Lord of House Orfano. I would like to offer my sincere apologies for the actions of my student, as well as for her lacking education. Her father was absolutely correct; there is no excuse for her not being able to recognize what you are. The Walkers suffer under their duties, and all mages owe them respect, no matter what their race, creed, or code.¡±


    Toric¡¯s eyes widened at all of the old elf¡¯s titles and then he listened patiently to what he said. He smiled as he replied.


    ¡°I have not been a Walker for very long, but I do understand that it is a terrible responsibility. I do not blame you for your student Lord Orfano. I do not even blame your student. Education can lack many things, and gaps are to be expected. Now if you could please excuse me, there are still quite a few things I need to discuss with Drax¡¯s family before I head back to the capital. Most especially I need to apologize for this rather unsightly interruption.¡±


    Viktor laughed at the last few words from Toric and reached into his bag, pulling out a small silver token that he passed to Toric.


    ¡°I will take my leave, but first take this. Anytime you want to talk, or if you ever need help from an old man, grip this with a bare hand, say Viktor Orfano to activate it, and we will be able to speak through it. Fare you well Walker Fatesblood.¡±


    Toric admired the token and then he admired the fact that Viktor had teleported away while he was looking at the token. There had not been even the normal clap of displaced air. It was the smoothest teleport he had ever seen, including in his genetic memories. Shaking out of his reverie, he turned on his heel and drug Drax with him back toward the porch to continue the conversation with the Tellis family.

 Chapter Twenty Two

    Elsewhere


    A massive mountain was the site of this century¡¯s conference. Projections, powerless clones of every Greater, Typical, and Lesser Being of Annwn were gathered here to discuss the issues faced by their world. Most of the mortals of Annwn were ignorant about the true nature of the world upon which they lived. They had always lived here, so they had no way to gauge exactly how special and different their world was from others. They knew about the Beings that inhabited the world alongside them, and they knew about the Veil that existed in parallel with their world. These were simply facts of life that had always been.


    How could they know that their world was a very special plane of existence? A plane that was most definitely not a planet. Miners had never questioned the fact that metals would slowly grow back as they were extracted. Mages never wondered why they were only limited by their ability to control power, not the amount of power they could access. Empires never thought that gold would be a valuable commodity; after all it was a mostly useless metal. This was simply the way that things were, and there was never any reason to question it.


    However, the Beings that were gathered at the mountain were not mortals, and they all knew the truth. Annwn was a world of plenty, and they had everything they could ever want here. The major problem that this conference was talking about was something the realm of Annwn had never faced before, not once in its billions of years of existence. Sometime soon, the date could not be determined exactly, the Realm Gate would activate. It was built when Annwn was created, and it had remained deactivated ever since the Beings were relocated from the multiverse to Annwn. Many mortals had followed the Beings that were once known as gods to Annwn, and they were the ancestors of the mortals that lived there today.


    When the Beings had used their power collectively to construct Annwn the greatest among them had decided that once they entered Annwn it would be sealed against the rest of the universe. They used the remnant of the power that was left after building their new infinite home to fashion the seal. It was not perfect and would not last forever, but it would give the new plane a very long time by itself to grow and fashion its own self-identity. Only once in the long history of the realm had the seal been bypassed, and that was by accident. One of the more powerful Greater Beings had intervened in a war and warped the two sides away. He had not noticed that one of those being transported was a Shadow Fae, a Lesser Being. The Fae had fought the forcible relocation, and when the two powers clashed a ripple had spread through space time and created a vortex that drew a group of human mortal soldiers to Annwn from very far away. That was the beginning of the end for the seal around Annwn.


    Ever since that day the Beings had been moving in the shadows and subtly preparing themselves and the mortals for the day that their world was no longer separated from the rest of the universe. There was no way to know what the universe would be like after such a long time away from it. The departure of most of the so called gods had plunged the majority of the major civilizations into ruin, and whatever had risen from the ashes was sure to be very different.


    There were some important differences between Annwn and the rest of the universe. Once the Realm Gate opens every major city on Annwn would gain an Arch Gate. The Arch Gate would, through some very complicated magical theory, be for all intents and purposes the Realm Gate. When the Realm Gate activated it would reach out and connect to the nearest Gate it could find. Annwn was physically located within a massive black hole at the outer edge of a small galaxy. Anyone born in Annwn could pass through the Realm Gate and enter the universe and then return. The Beings were bound to Annwn and could not depart Annwn for any reason, but they could still connect to those mortals that agreed to carry a part of their power back out into the universe. No mortal not born in Annwn could enter it through the Realm Gate, unless they were judged worthy by the Council of Beings.


    A sudden roar from the avatar of the Greater Being of Fire called the Council to order. The massive dragon, that had enough power to crush cities even in this near powerless form, opened his mouth and spoke.


    Brothers and Sisters, the day of opening fast approaches and for that day I have assisted my Friend in preparing an ambassador. Please give your attention to he who is now known as Daath.


    The eyes of the various forms all turned to look at avatar that stood easily next to the massive scaled dragon. They were wide eyed as they noticed him for the first time. Daath had not attended a Council since the forming of Annwn, and for this most Beings were grateful. Camnorous was one of the most powerful Greater Beings in Annwn, but it was Daath that was feared above all others. Daath was in the middle ranks of Greater Beings as far as power was concerned, but it was not his power that was feared. He had never been beaten. He was a master strategist, and was the most powerful mage to ever exist. Most of the Beings here were born as embodiments of natural forces. As such they thought in certain ways. However Daath was born as a simple, low power water elemental; and through his understanding of magic rose through the ranks of power until he stood where he was now. When Annwn was created he was one of the lowest power Greater Beings, but even here in this paradise he never stopped plumbing the depths of power and grew ever stronger. And now Camnorous was announcing that he and Daath had prepared and ambassador to venture out into the universe. Many were displeased with this notion, but they waited to hear what he would say. Most of those in the Greater Being rank already knew of the boy Daath had prepared. How could they not, when all of them had felt the pulse of power when Daath had fed a small percentage of his own life-force to the youngster.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Daath smiled at the Council and spoke with a quiet voice that seemed to echo despite his calm demeanor.


    As Camnorous has said, I have prepared a mortal to act as the first ambassador to leave Annwn. Many things went into his creation, and I have only hid what he is being groomed for. He knows his fate and life have been manipulated and bears me no ill will for it. If the Council votes to allow him the position, then I will tell him what he needs to know. For now he thinks he is being trained to fight a certain army that is being grown in the Northlands by everyone¡¯s favorite Shadow Fae.


    Drax paused as the laughter of the Council rolled over him. Everyone present knew about the Lesser Being that was raising a massive army of the outcasts of mortals. The Shadow Fae was completely insane, a curse of his race, and actually thought he could raise enough mortals to challenge the Council. The Council ignored him as long as he continued to keep his army confined to the Northlands and did not attack the mortal settlements in that inhospitable clime.


    The young man in question is known as Toric Fatesblood. He is of my Legion. He is a dracuman, and his mother is of Camnorous¡¯s line. Through an unfortunate incident he became a Veil-Walker. I fed him a small percentage of my life-force and it forced an unexpected, but welcome, change in his body aside from the one I was pursuing. He awakened draconic memory in his cells and can now call upon the cumulative knowledge of his ancestors, including Camnorous. As he remains a mortal, a great deal of Camnorous¡¯s knowledge is sealed against his viewing, so please do not get in an uproar about the Treaty. He is unique. He is an Instinctive Mage. He does not construct spells, instead he simply wills his element ¨C Veil-Fire ¨C to obey him, and it does. He can also form all the basic spells out of pure mana, of which he has a limitless pool thanks to his connection to the Veil. He has been acknowledged by an Elder Chimera as a Beast-Master. If the old paths of Ki cultivation are still followed in the universe, he will seem like a normal mortal. But his body is on the level of a Lesser Being at this point. Every time he sleeps he connects to the School and the Ten tell me he is learning at a frightening pace. He is the perfect ambassador for us, as the only Walker left in Annwn; any Being can dip into the Veil and access what he learns. Please Brothers and Sisters, ratify his position so that I may begin preparing him in earnest before the Gate opens.


    The Beings that were opposed to any disciple of Daath being made the ambassador had a sudden change of heart as they heard the most crucial detail in all of Daath¡¯s words. A Veil-Walker was indeed the perfect ambassador, as every Being had the ability to put a tendril of their consciousness into the Veil and absorb the information Toric collected. He would have to organize it in his mind so that it could be dumped into a place that would be prepared in the Veil, but that was easy enough to do with a bit of training. And it explained why Daath was asking the Council to agree to this in advance, instead of just springing this on them when the time came. Any revelation of information regarding the greater truth and the universe to mortals had to be approved of by the Council.


    After a long period of silent contemplation; Vira, the Greater Being of Metal called for a vote. Votes among the Council were only cast by Greater Beings. The Typicals and Lessers would have their own smaller council meetings within the hour to discuss whether they agreed with the decision or not. If they did not they could vote as an entire council against the decision. If both councils vetoed the vote it would require a Grand Council meeting where every Being in Annwn would be required to attend and vote on the matter. Everyone hated Grand Council meetings, so they were extraordinarily rare; not to mention the fact that did the Typicals and Lessers go against the will of the Greaters. The vote came in and just like that the fate of Toric was decided. Once again his story would change.


    No one, not even Daath, knew what this decision would set into motion.

 Chapter Twenty Three

    Magna Empire ¨C Galaxy P8X-P4 (Silver Stream) ¨C Finibus Sector ¨C Lutum System ¨C Planet Farlook


    The Planet Farlook is at the outer edge of the sprawling civilization that is the Magna Empire. Farlook is a Merged World. Merged Worlds are planets where the Veil either failed to completely solidify, or it suffered some cataclysmic event that tore it asunder.


    This allows the various beings that inhabit the Veil to roam freely in the physical world. Merged Worlds are incredibly dangerous planets, but they are also extremely profitable. The Veil-Beasts that slip out of the Veil are highly sought after for a variety of purposes by magi, cultivators, and normal people alike.


    Their magic rich bodies are used to craft superior grade armor and weapons. Magi and Alchemists both prize many different components taken from their forms. And some powerful Veil-Beasts form mana and/or Ki cores that can be used by cultivators and magi alike to increase their power and understanding of their respective disciplines. Additionally the mana cores, which are much rarer than Ki cores, are the only way for normal magi to use the various forms of Veil-Magics.


    The Farlook Family rules their planet from the three dozen scattered fortified cities. The cities are connected by massive Teleportation Arches. The Arches are roughly the size of a two story house, and function by feeding off a world¡¯s ley lines and piggy backing along its power flow to transport people and cargo to other cities.


    Using this method the cities are all connected to each other, and thus the thirty-six cities of Farlook function more like a single massive city with separate districts. This eliminates the need for common citizens to travel outside of the fortified cities and risk death from the very hostile indigenous fauna.


    The Capital has an enormous plaza that houses the Teleportation Arch on one side and the Realm Gate on the other. The inner workings and mechanism of action of Realm Gates are unknown, and research into them is outlawed on pain of death by the Empire. The Realm Gate on Farlook connects to the Waypoint System, the capital of the Finibus Sector. It is through Waypoint that the entire colonization of Farlook was possible.


    The Magna Empire is billions of years old. It rose from the ashes of the great space faring civilizations that fell after the Final Exodus. The Exodus was when all of the Beings of the universe banded together and left the known universe. They had become disgusted with the various acts of decadence and outright evil the mortals they had once protected were engaged in.


    The Beings took a vote on whether to destroy all mortals and let life start over in the universe, or to simply leave and let the various empires, kingdoms, and republics try to stand on their own. They decided to leave along with the very few mortals whom still followed their lead. The Beings were intrinsically connected to many things within the societies and their departure caused the collapse of most large cultures.


    The power vacuum caused by the Exodus led to a war the likes of which the universe had never seen. In an attempt to grab power the greatest of the high technic civilizations deployed a weapon that was meant to destroy the ability for all races except their own to travel faster than the speed of light. The weapon did not do what they thought it did. The explosion fed off of itself and the resulting ripple sped through space-time and actually altered some of the fundamental laws governing the universe.


    Faster than light travel became impossible for everyone and the physics that allowed technology higher than Paleotechnic ceased functioning. Only a single race was able to escape this fate as their technology was based on what used to be a much more elusive power source, mana.


    Magic became far more prevalent and as the old civilizations fell to ruin, ever so slowly new ones began to rise up. After many, many generations the chance meeting of the last space faring race ¨C the Travelers ¨C and the only remaining multi-system government ¨C the Magna Empire ¨C gave rise to the Magna Empire we know today.


    The Magna Empire was able to build their Empire through the use of artifacts known as the Realm Gates. They are a combination of complicated magic circuitry and power generators that extract energy from a transmission of entangled particles linked to the Empires home galaxy¡¯s galactic core. The math is incredibly complicated (AN and completely made up, so made up that I used imaginary numbers ¨C HAH!) so I will not go into it here.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    The Magna Empire was able to use the still functioning gates to maintain an Empire spanning sixty-three worlds. Eventually the Travelers followed strange energy readings to meet the Empire, and after a rocky start that I will not go into, they formed a partnership.


    The Travelers were able to decipher the Realm Gates in order to construct new ones, and they called for all of their ships to meet and begin to slowly spread out from the core of the Empire and deposit new Gates on habitable worlds.


    The Travelers are a very reclusive and insular group, but some facts have become known about them through the millennia. They belong to an offshoot of the Elven race and are functionally immortal, but with very low birthrates. Their race was kept as slaves by the only civilization to use magic and technology together. The Travelers had always been gifted with magic, but before the Exodus magic was not strong enough to be a weapon for any but the insanely gifted.


    Once magic surged through the universe, the Travelers used their new found strength to slaughter their Masters and took their civilization for themselves. The built massive ships known as Arks after they discovered that FTL was no longer possible, and took to traveling the stars the old fashion way. The only way to speed things up was through the use of magic, which they became very proficient with. The math required for teleporting between galaxies was nearly undoable, but they managed to construct computers that could achieve the calculations if given enough time. Fortunately, time was the thing they were richest in.


    They travel from system to system and look for habitable planets. Each system is thoroughly mapped and scavenged over for the scattered pieces of ancient fallen civilizations. All high-technology is taken and studied, and anything that is of no use is destroyed.


    If a habitable planet is located it is then scanned for any high-intelligence. If a society of sentient creatures exists then the Travelers drop a pod that contains everything needed for an embassy near the civilization. The pod contains a Realm Gate and a Traveler AI that will activate it and remain in case any of the Directives are broken. Traveler AI¡¯s use the same entangled particles as the Gates to communicate with the Traveler ship that dropped it. Then the Empire sends an ambassador to make contact with the indigenous peoples.


    If a habitable planet does not have higher lifeforms then a pod containing just a Gate and an AI is dropped and the Family that is selected by the Traveler Matriarch is notified that they may begin colonization. Basically the way to get selected to colonize a planet is to submit your family¡¯s name to the pool and make a donation to the Travelers. It can be money, ancient data, old tech, or anything that might sway the Travelers to grant your petition.


    All that the Travelers require of those that purchase a world is that they follow the Traveler Directives.


    1) No single Family or group can own more than two planets except for the Magna Empire.


    2) Slavery, Indentured Servitude, or anything along those lines is expressly forbidden. Any attempt to bypass the spirit of this Directive is the same as violating the Directive itself.


    3) Attempting to replicate either the Realm Gate or space-faring technology will lead to revocation of planetary ownership.


    4) All planets must join the Magna Empire. Does not include those planets that belong to an indigenous race of sentients.


    Through the Travelers the Magna Empire has grown incredibly strong albeit fairly slowly. And through the use of the Realm Gates the massive Empire is able to function with an ease that far surpasses that of the high-technic space-faring civilizations of the past.


    The Imperial political structure is fairly simplified for such a large body. The Imperial Family is a very large group consisting of nearly thirty-thousand members, but only the core of the group has any real power. The Council of the Empire is made up of thirteen seats that are chosen from the Imperial Family by the Senate. The Senate has three members from each member world of the Empire, and in order to cast a vote at least two Senators must agree. The thirty-thousand of the Imperial Family are required to spend their entire lives from the age fifteen to fifty away from the Empire¡¯s Core and serving in either the military or some sort of service within the far flung reaches of the Empire.


    At the age of fifty they can return to the Capitol and they become eligible to be voted on by the Senate to sit on the Imperial Council. Council members can only serve for twenty years and then must spend twenty years off the Council before being eligible to be voted back on. Five of the twenty years off the Council must be spent back off world if they wish to become eligible to be voted back on.


    The currency of the Empire was complicated and simple at the same time. It was a credit based system that was completely backed by precious metals. This means that at any moment a citizen could go to a bank and exchange their credits for their exact worth in precious metals.


    1 Copper = 1 Credit


    1 Silver = 10 Credits


    1 Gold = 1000 Credits


    1 Platinum = 10,000 Credits


    1 Mithril = 100,000 Credits


    1 Veil-Gold = 1,000,000,000 Credits


    Veil-Gold, Mithril, and Platinum were introduced as the Empire grew and became more and more wealthy. They are not kept at most banks and require a citizen to have a special account with a high-security vault in order for them to even be deposited.