The Crystal Legacy (Book 2)
Read The Crystal Legacy (Book 2) Online
Authors: C. Craig Coleman
The Crystal Legacy
Book 2
The Neuyokkasinian Arc of Empire Series
By
C. Craig Coleman
Neuyokkasinian Arc of Empire Series
Volume 2
The Crystal Legacy
Copyright
©
2014 C. Craig Coleman
Cover art by artist Rob Carlos
Map by Cartographer Antonio Frade
DEDICATION
Dedicated to my late parents, William A. Coleman II and M. Elizabeth P. Coleman who believed in me. They taught me to pick myself up and jump life’s hurdles. We have an obligation to try to make the world a better place.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to Leah Woods and Ben Stevenson, whose early beta reading responses encouraged me through more than a decade of rewriting and refining this story.
Special thanks to Lisa Grooms, my beta reader and copy editor, whose help made possible my publishing this story properly.
Thanks to Rob Carlos for his patience in perfecting the cover art and Antonio Frade for the splendid map in this book.
Thanks to Richard Sutton whose mentoring through this process has kept me sane and successful.
Table of Contents
4: The Morass Mesas of Sengenwha
5: Botahar and the Pundar River
10: The Ruins of the Wizards’ Hall
11: Memlatec and the Prince of Hoya
Just beyond Hyemka on the Nhy River, a small boat stirred in the darkness at the river’s edge. Cloth over the cabin’s windows cloaked the interior and the four men who conversed there.
Primal wizard Memlatec straightened up in the cramped compartment, facing Prince Saxthor, Lord Bodrin, and Wizard Tournak. Eons of uncertainty lifted from his shoulders, when Saxthor agreed to undertake the quest to retrieve the Crown of Yensupov’s hidden crystals. A ripple in the river’s cadence jostled the craft, breaking the moment’s respite. The candle’s flame quivered. Saxthor, Bodrin, and Tournak glanced at each other, as Memlatec rushed past them to the cabin door.
Outside, he scanned the river. It was well after midnight, but starlight glistened off a floating tree trunk. The faint scents of cooking mixed with musty scents from the river, adding to the ominous atmosphere. Bearing down on the boat, the tree’s roots grasped for the stars. It floated and bobbed, careening toward the vessel as if driven.
His great horned owl companion landed on the tense wizard’s shoulder. Its claw tips prickled his taught nerves. He glanced up at the owl, whose golden globes stared further up at the forest’s edge.
“What is it?” Saxthor asked, coming outside.
“Trouble?” Bodrin asked.
For a tense second, Memlatec glared at them. “Get back inside.” His eyes then squinted, searching high up on the riverbank. A black silhouette moved in the shadows. “Tournak, can you make out the figure there?”
Tournak came out of the cabin, pushing between Saxthor and Bodrin. “Where?”
“There’s a tall, thin man by the twisted oak, Memlatec,” Bodrin said. “He’s dressed in black with a long coat and large rim hat, staring down at us.”
“I told you to get back inside.” Memlatec jerked round to face the younger men. They slinked back into the cabin and closed the door.
“I can’t see as well as Bodrin,” Tournak said, “but I think that might be one of Earwig’s agents. If he’s who I think he is, I saw him years ago with her in Konnotan. Did he follow you here?”
“Followed or discovered, it doesn’t matter now. He’s seen us and knows me for sure. If he recognized you, and he’s seen the boys, he’s sent that log to sink the boat. Perhaps it’s a delay tactic until he can report to Earwig you’re back on the continent.”
The great owl shuffled on his shoulder. Memlatec concentrated, willing the log further out in the river. It slid beside the boat, a slight bump, boat and tree trunk rocked before the log passed on in the darkness. Memlatec turned to Tournak.
“He won’t know the boys, but he knows I’m not supposed to be here in the dark. If he reports my presence, along with you being here, Earwig will know who the two young men are.”
“You have to stop him,” Tournak said.
They looked up from the river, but the intruder was gone.
“He mustn’t get to Earwig,” Tournak said.
“Get the boat out in the channel,” Memlatec said. “It’s dangerous in the dark, but try to move upriver past Hyemka before dawn exposes you to other watchers. I’m off to stop this one.” He looked to Tournak, who nodded. The old wizard rushed up the riverbank, his owl jostling on his shoulder until it was too much, and the bird flew up into a sprawling oak. The old lanky mentor looked back.
The light went out in the tiny cabin window. The boat slipped back from the slick mud, rocking as it righted itself in the current. The moon was gone, but in the starlight, the wizard saw the two young men straining with poles to orient the boat up river. A night breeze filled the sail, and with Tournak at the steering oar, the boat moved up the center of the Nhy past Hyemka.
The great owl landed on his shoulder, bringing Memlatec’s attention back to the forest. The stealthy wizard slipped along the bank’s crest toward where he’d seen the dark stranger. There was a small skiff there, but Earwig’s minion was nowhere in sight.
He must’ve spotted me from Hyemka, or a raven alerted him to my presence, Memlatec thought. Knowing me, he knows I shouldn’t be here hidden in the shadows. He figures he has a revelation for Earwig, information important enough to risk exposure by sinking the boat. He must never reach Earwig.
Find him, Memlatec communicated to the owl.
The great bird flew up, circling above the woods’ canopy. Then a single hoot and the owl sliced through the night sky into the trees. Memlatec hesitated at the forest edge, then slipped between two dark pines into the black timberland.
* * *
Far to the north, in Dreaddrac’s Ice Mountains, the Dark Lord, wizard king of Dreaddrac, faintly slumped, staring at his newly fashioned wraith. Smegdor, his assistant, noted the almost imperceptible weakness in the drained wizard’s stance. The wraith, too, straightened up as though he sensed it. His grimace turned to a sinister grin. He’d shed his fear staring at his creator. Smegdor shuttered. No other wraith has dared challenge the sorcerer-king, he thought.
Static electricity sparked here and there on metal objects around the subterranean workroom. A yellow-green light wavered through the sulfurous fumes. Pulsing electrical charges maintained a low hum. Smegdor’s hair stood on end in the unnatural chamber.
“Master,” Smegdor said.
“Silence!”
The wraith glanced at Smegdor by the doorframe, heretofore secure behind his master’s protection. The aide felt a chill and jumped back into the hallway, but then peered back into the room.
An orc brushed by Smegdor entering the workroom carrying a tray. The tray crashed on the floor as the wraith seized and occupied the orc’s body. The victim’s black eyes turned yellow as the wraith’s menacing grin spread over the host’s face. A guttural rumble shook the silence.
“Don’t challenge the king,” Smegdor said.
The wraith sneered at Smegdor, then turned back to the Dark Lord. “I live again.”
“You live at my will,” the Dark Lord said. His tone was even but thick with an arched cat’s warning.
The Dark Lord and orc-wraith, having taken physical form, postured around in a half circle. Smegdor dropped a jar; the crash broke the locked stares for an instant. The Dark Lord glanced at Smegdor. The wraith spun around and shot wizard-fire at his master. The sorcerer-king thrust up his hand, deflecting the bolt that splashed as sparks on the wall. The orc-wraith shot again, but again, the Dark Lord deflected the bolt, this time chortling at his attacker.
“Master!” Smegdor said.
The orc-wraith shot wizard-fire at the aide, who ducked back into the hallway, then peeked in again. The creature looked back at the king and stumbled backward, held in the Dark Lord’s stare. The king’s grin disintegrated, his eyes flamed amid dark lines in his face. The new orc turned to run, but a wizard-fire bolt struck him. Incinerated, the orc body snowed as ash. The vaporous wraith stood exposed, wavering, facing his master. The horned head looked down at the floor.
“Mercy.”
“I should destroy you for your insolence.”
“Have mercy.”
“What did you know of mercy in life? However, you’ve my own essence within you now. I’ll not diminish my own strength to punish you— for the present. You’ll do as I say, or spend eternity down in the Well of Souls, your identity erased, all memorable trace of you gone.”
Smegdor felt he could taste the iron reflection of fear in the silence.
“What is your bidding, master?”
“Scour the southern kingdoms unobserved. I seek an unusual power source that moves there. Find out who, or what it is. Report to the Witch Earwig in Konnotan when you find its origin.”
“What if I don’t find it?”
Wizard-fire shot into the vaporous figure. Spidery, blue electric tendrils shot through the writhing form. The wraith’s shadowy essence sank to the floor and drifted over to the Dark Lord’s feet, then out the door around Smegdor, and down the dusty hall.
* * *
As yet, no one knew or suspected that the exiles were back on the continent. Saxthor’s aunt, the former witch queen, Earwig, was about her business stirring up trouble, and creating general ill will among Konnotan’s people. She took advantage of the grieving queen’s lack of visibility to suggest that the queen didn’t care about her subjects. As the economy weakened, Earwig’s suggestions, carefully placed here and there, fanned the flames of discontent by connecting the economic decline with the court. The witch was merrily directing her cronies to stir anger where they could. She was certain she could eject the queen, and reclaim the throne for her own. But then there was Memlatec.