Book of One 04: A Child of Fire

  THE BOOK OF ONE

  A Child of Fire

  by

  Jordan Baker

  COPYRIGHT

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, incidents and events contained herein are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Other than historical characters, any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright 2013 by Electrum Press and the Author.

  All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without express permission of the publisher.

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  Kindle Edition: August 2013

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  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  CHAPTER ONE

  "Where's yer brother, Brian got to?" Fergus asked, swatting his hand at young Diller as the boy snatched a fruit-filled pastry that the big man had just taken from the hot kitchen oven and placed on the table to cool.

  "He's down in the tunnels again," Diller said, cramming the sugary pastry in his mouth. Barely a moment later he spit it back out into his hand, half chewed and began blowing on it.

  Jax kicked his feet off a bench, where he had been half asleep and sat up.

  "You've got no sense, my boy. If you're going to steal something hot, have the good sense to let it cool for a spell," he told the boy. "Patience, it's said, is a virtue, especially to a thief."

  Diller shrugged and shoved the pastry back in his mouth.

  "All right," he said.

  "And don't be talkin' with yer mouth full neither," Fergus scolded. "Didn't yer mum teach you any manners?"

  "She tried," Diller mumbled through a grin then he swiped another sweet bun from the table and ran off.

  "That boy's all mischief," Fergus commented with a shake of his head.

  "Aren't they all?" Jax replied with a wry smile. "It's good to see the boy laughing and just being a boy. It's his brother, Brian, who I am more concerned about. He's been spending a lot of time down in the tunnels lately."

  "From what he's been tellin', there's a bunch of 'em tunnels and they travel a fair ways under the river an' in all directions. The voices are louder down there too, he says." Fergus stirred the coals under the wood fired oven.

  "Voices?"

  "A couple the lads been hearin' voices in the halls, like a jumbled up bunch 'o different folks talkin'. Brian says he's been hearin' the same, but he's makin' sense of them an' they been talkin' back to him."

  "That's interesting," Jax said, getting up from the bench and picking up one of the sweet buns from the table. "What do the others say?"

  "One or two of 'em seem bothered by it an' say it's unnerving, but most of 'em are sayin' the voices are the good spirits of the keep an' it makes 'em feel courageous like when they hear 'em," Fergus told him then the big man noticed that Jax was holding the pastry in his hand and had already taken a bite. "Jax Larian! I'd be hopin' ye'd set a better example than that. It's no wonder things been goin' missin' from the kitchens."

  "What can I say, Fergus? I'm a thief." Jax grinned with his mouth full as he scampered out of the kitchen.

  Fergus shook his head, and could not help but laugh. When Kaleb had gone off to fight in Cerric's war, he had left White Falls in the care of him and Jax, and between the two of them, they had managed to put some semblance of order back into the place. When they had surveyed the damage from the flood they discovered that the water had removed a lot of the plastered walls and exposed the original structure of the keep, revealing several heavy, stone doors that had long been hidden. Brian and some of the others had managed to open them and found tunnels and passageways that ran far underground and they explored them a fair ways down, but Brian had taken to spending a lot more time down there of late, so much so that Fergus was starting to worry about the lad, especially considering the fact that he was hearing voices.

  Jax had done some of his own exploring under the keep and he recognized the type of stonework as being similar to a few other places where he had done some sneaking during his many travels over the years. While the current stone fortress of White Falls had been built by Kaleb's family some time ago, it appeared that it was built overtop a much older structure, that included an elaborate tunnel system, which had been long forgotten. Jax wondered what the purpose of the tunnels might have been, but this news that the keep itself was talking to Brian and some of the others, might shed some light on the subject.

  Jax made his way through the keep to one of the tunnel entrances, which was guarded by one of the young Bordermen that Kaleb had recruited. Next to the entrance was a bin of unlit torches and Jax nodded at the young guard as he grabbed one and headed into the tunnels, cocking his head and listening for any magical voices he might hear as he waved his torch through the flames of one that was already lit, that hung from a sconce on the wall just inside the entrance.

  Deep underground, Brian walked along the smooth stone floor, the only sound the fluttering of flames from his torch as he moved along the passage that had been cut long ago. He glanced back at the darkness that followed the dim, orange light that surrounded him and he could see the footprints where his boots had left a clear path on the dusty floor. At least he was not likely to get lost, he thought, though he was not particularly worried about that, since he knew the keep itself would guide him.

  "Go no further," the voices of the keep chimed in his head.

  "Why not?" Brian asked aloud, and his voice echoed loudly in the passage.

  "It is unsafe."

  "I'm not afraid of a little danger," he said, using his thoughts now.

  "There is danger. The fire will not last."

  Brian looked at the torch in his hand and he realized it had burned down a fair bit and would be guttering soon, which would leave him in the dark if he did not make his way back to the surface in time. He had decided to explore a different direction than his previous trips under the keep and he could not escape the feeling that he was searching for something, but he did not know what it could be. Brian turned around and began to head back through the darkened tunnel but stopped when he saw the glow of another torch approaching.

  "I heard you'd taken to cave dwelling," Jax said. "Despite my penchant for sneaking around in dark places, I must say is somewhat dreary down here."

  "I've been mapping out the tunnels," Brian said and pulled a scrap of parchment from his belt. "There might be ways to get in and out of White Falls that enemies might discover, or if we need to sneak out in case of a siege."

  "'Tis wise to be prudent," Jax said, "or something like that. Good thinking, Brian. Shall we take a look around?"

  "My torch is almost burned down," Brian said.

  "Mine still has some life in it," Jax said.

  They continued further down the passage and, a short while later, they entered a large chamber that was almost like a room. Over the sound of the billowing flames of the torch, they heard the steady gurgle of water and, at the far end of the room, they found an opening in the floor with a short wall built around it,
under which ran a stream of water. Jax reached down and dipped his hand into the cool, flowing water then held his wet fingers to his mouth.

  "Fresh, drinkable water," he said. "It's almost like you could live down here if you wanted to."

  "Sanctuary," the voices said.

  "It's a sanctuary," Brian repeated.

  "I see," Jax said. "Did the voices tell you that?"

  "You know about the voices?"

  "Fergus mentioned it. He said you can talk to the keep."

  "Yes. It's strange. I don't know how I can hear the voices."

  "Probably magic," Jax said with a shrug. "I can't hear anything. Can you ask these voices questions?"

  "I guess I can," Brian replied. He was not sure what kinds of questions to ask. Mostly he just listened to the voices of the keep when they told him things, but the voices had responded the few times he had asked questions. "What do you want me to ask?"

  "What was this room for?"

  "Sanctuary," the voices replied.

  "They call it a sanctuary," Brian told him.

  "A sanctuary? For whom?" Jax asked. "Did people live here? When? Why?"

  "The dark times," the voices answered. "The people, the younger, safe from the fire, the destruction, long ago."

  Brian repeated what the voices told him and Jax scratched his chin, thinking about what to ask.

  "Is there an exit from these tunnels, away from the keep?"

  "Yes."

  "Are there any dangers down here?"

  "Yes."

  "What kind of dangers?"

  "Deep places, powerful places, forbidden places."

  "Forbidden places?" Jax was curious. "Ask them where we can find some of those."

  "They say they are not far, but they're forbidden," Brian told him.

  "Yes, I think they mentioned the forbidden part before. That's what interests me," Jax said. He held up the torch to the entrance of the passage that led deeper into the tunnels. "Shall we?"

  Brian followed him into the tunnel that led beyond the chamber. They made their way down the dark passage and found another passage that connected with it. Brian marked it on his map and Jax turned the corner, heading down the new tunnel, but it was not long before Jax stopped, seeming to have bumped into something.

  "That's interesting," Jax said, taking a step back and shining the torch ahead of him. "I can't see anything, but the passage is blocked." Even the flames flickered outward and the end of the torch tapped against a hard surface as though hitting a pane of glass.

  "Forbidden," the voices said again.

  "Why is it forbidden?" Brian asked.

  "Only the sworn may enter."

  "The sworn? What are those?"

  "Defenders. Oathbound."

  Brian turned to Jax, puzzled by the voices. "Oathbound?"

  "There must be an oath," Jax guessed. "What oath must we take?" he said, glancing around at the walls of the tunnel.

  "Oath of the defenders. Taken by those of the blood."

  "Those of the blood?" Jax asked after Brian relayed the words. "Who are those of the blood?"

  "The one who hears is of the blood," the voices replied.

  "Well that must mean you, Brian," Jax said. "Ask them what the oath is. If it isn't too egregious, it might be something worth considering, assuming you'd like to know what's on the other side."

  "What is the oath?" Brian asked.

  "The oath to defend the sanctuary, to defend the people, to join the keepers of the oath."

  "Who are the keepers of the oath?" Brian asked.

  "We are the keepers. We are the fallen defenders. We defend the sanctuary."

  Brian relayed to Jax what the voices told him.

  "They're spirits of defenders? Interesting," Jax said, thoughtfully scratching at his chin. "That sort of makes sense. They said they were fallen defenders, so it seems if you take the oath you end up as one of the voices, like spirits, perhaps. I don't know all that much about the afterlife, Brian, but it sounds like that's the price of entry to these forbidden places."

  "I don't know if I want to become a voice of the keep," Brian said.

  "You might ask them what it's like," Jax said with a mischievous grin. "What do they do for fun, that sort of thing..."

  "Peaceful. Vigilant. Watchful. Eternal."

  "Do they like being defenders? Keepers? Whatever they are?" Jax asked.

  "We are the keepers. We are the fallen defenders. We defend the sanctuary," the voices repeated what they had said before.

  "Sounds kind of boring to me," Jax commented when Brian told him what they said then the thief clapped him on the shoulder. "Well lad, it looks like we can't go any further, unless you want to take the oath to become a defender or a keeper, or whatever these voices are."

  "I don't know," Brian said again, still wondering why the keepers would choose him instead of Jax. "Why don't you become a defender?"

  "Like you said. It's an oath for those with the right blood in their veins. It is definitely some strange magic, but it sounds like you've somehow related to these defenders. Maybe they were your ancestors. Has your family always lived in these parts?"

  "I guess," Brian said, remembering his father talking about how the farm had been in the family for countless generations and even recounting funny stories about things that happened to some great-great-great-grandfather or some relative many generations ago. It seemed as though his family had always lived there.

  "Well, it sounds like you've got some old defender blood in you so I suppose you can take the oath if you want, but I think it might be wise to give it some thought first. It sounds like one of those deals you can't go back on if you change your mind later.

  "I think you're right," Brian said. It was an oath the voices wanted, and he knew you never went back on an oath.

  "Since we can't go any further in this direction, and this torch is starting to look a little suspect, perhaps we should return to the surface," Jax suggested.

  "I guess so." Brian felt like he should explore further. It was as though something was calling to him, encouraging him to press forward, but he resisted and turned back to follow Jax, but the thief stopped.

  "One more question," he said. "Why have the keepers been silent for so long? Why are they suddenly so talkative? What is different?"

  Brian listened to the voices as they answered Jax's questions.

  "They say that the gods have returned," Brian told him. "They say there will be a war."

  *****

  The door opened at his touch, and Calthas walked into the little house that he had abandoned. The passive magical wards the mage had set had been tripped and he knew that the priesthood had visited. Most of his belongings were where he had left them, though a few were out of place. He dispelled the illusion on the door to his workshop and was pleased to discover that the ward he had set was untouched. He returned to the door and motioned for the one who had accompanied him to enter, then they both moved into the workshop and Calthas closed the door, resetting the intricate wards he had bound to them.

  "That is some very clever magic you have wrapped around this little workshop," the other man said, pulling back the hood of his cloak.

  "Thank you," Calthas said, nervously.

  "May I sit?" the man asked, gesturing to a chair next to Calthas' cluttered desk.

  "Please do. I am sorry I do not have anything to offer you."

  "It is no matter. I merely wish to rest. These bones are very old, you know."

  "I cannot even imagine."

  "No, I suppose you can't. Other than one curious encounter a short while ago, it has been a long time since I have merely sat and spoken to someone as I do with you now. Many years I have spent in a lonely existence, cut off from the better part of my essence, which was perhaps a result of my own foolishness. It is done, and now that I think about it, I think I would like some wine."

  He waved his hand and it was though the fabric of the world itself opened like a pocket on a piece of clothin
g. He inched his finger and a glass bottle floated out of the gap, which closed behind it.

  "Do you have something to pour this into?" he asked.

  "Yes, of course," Calthas said and he opened a cupboard and took out one of two small silver chalices and gave it to the man.

  "Get the other one," he said, glancing over at the second cup. "You're welcome to join me. This is a particularly good bottle, and good wine and spirits are meant for sharing."

  "Thank you," Calthas said then he fetched the other cup. "I never thought I'd share a drink with a god. You honor my humble workshop. I am not sure what to call you, whether I should say 'your holiness' or something like that."

  "Bah," the god laughed as he used his power to pull the cork from the bottle then poured the wine into their cups. "Call me Stroma. It is my name and I am glad to have it back. It was a long time that I was cut off from myself and I did not enjoy the experience, though it was not entirely without its lessons."

  "I cannot understand how someone as all powerful as you could have been waylaid in such a way," Calthas said.

  "I am not as powerful as I once was, but even then I was not all powerful as you imagine. We gods have our weaknesses and we too can fall prey to tricks and schemes. This 'One' god as he has been calling himself is certainly a sly one, and I underestimated him greatly. That was my great folly, though perhaps we can now endeavor to correct that mistake."

  "Is there a way to stop him?"

  "There are many ways to stop him, but none of them are easy," Stroma replied. He took a sip of his wine and sighed. "This god is very powerful, for he is not just one but two gods. He began as the god, Kenra and when he murdered Kroma, he took his power and his identity as well. His reason for doing such a thing escapes me, but perhaps his thirst for power overruled whatever powers of reason he might have had, although, truth be told, Kenra was never the reasonable sort."

  "I have wondered why Kroma would do such thing," Calthas said. "I worried that the stories of what he stood for, the things the people who worshipped at his temple for so long believed, might not be true."