Rise of Heroes

Chapter 6 - Whispers of Magic

“Are you sure it’s wise, Your Majesty?” the guard asked hesitantly as Joel got up from the wheelchair, leaning on the wall. He hated it, he hated how much he depended on the damn contraption and how weak he looked in it, covered by a blanket like a sickly child. He was not ready to give up on life, not yet. He had so much to do before he passed this dark burden on his children.

“I am sure, son.” Joel pushed himself off the wall to stand on his own two feet. He could feel weakness already creeping in, but he ignored it. Giving his guard a reassuring smile, he took a step toward the door. “If I need you, I’ll call.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The guard nodded, opening the door of the library for him. Joel made his way inside, eyes searching the quiet aisles for Reinhart, his Keeper of the Chronicles. It was barely late afternoon, so the Keeper was likely transcribing another old book or reading something he had forgotten about.

Leaning on one of the shelves for support, Joel moved further into the heart of the library, still not meeting a single soul. When he eventually reached the living quarters in the back, which belonged to the Keeper and his apprentice, he straightened up in front of the door and took a deep breath. He was sure to find him there.

Joel knocked, tensing his body so he could make his feet stop wobbling. He could hear noises coming from inside, but they ceased a moment before the door opened and a young boy appeared at the threshold, an apron hanging from his neck to his ankles and a long piece of cloth covering his nose and mouth.

“Your Majesty!” the boy exclaimed with wide eyes, and Joel smiled at him. The boy didn’t say anything else — nor moved, for that matter — just stared. Reinhart appeared by his side wearing the same ridiculous apron. He pulled his face cloth down to his neck with one of his long gloves that covered his arms all the way up to his elbows.

“What are you doing, boy?” Reinhart murmured, slapping him lightly on the back of his head. “Invite him in! Your Majesty, forgive this fool for his poor manners.”

“It’s alright,” Joel said as both Reinhart and the boy moved to the side to make way for him. He wasn’t sure how long he would have been able to support his weight on his own, and he didn’t like the idea of dropping to the ground like an old sack of potatoes, especially in front of others. To his relief, the boy, Aaron, he finally recalled, lent him a hand, helping him to the only free chair beside the big, rectangular table. Reinhart closed the door.

The Keeper’s quarters included two small bedrooms, as well as a spacious hall. The hall was covered with numerous shelves lined by the walls, each of them overflowing with books or some weird-looking objects Joel could not fathom the purpose of. The smell of dust, sterile air, and blood hung heavily in the air.

The blood part, he hoped, was only due to the demon corpse on the table in front of him, lying on a thick cloth with its chest open and black blood dripping into a few buckets set strategically around the table. One of them was already overflowing and the dark substance kept dripping onto the stone floor, staining it black.

Joel grimaced as he met the empty eyes of the demon.

“Apologies for the mess, Your Majesty, we did not expect company,” Reinhart spoke as he made his way back into the room, taking his spot next to the table. “We got this gift from Prince Jaden, and we have been working on it for the last six hours.”

“It took us three hours just to open it up,” Aaron said as he was putting on his own gloves. He suddenly froze, glancing toward the king and adding, “Your Majesty.”

“Rowen demon, is it?” Joel asked, straightening in the chair to look at the rest of the creature. The giant teeth protruding from its muzzle were confirmation enough, but he wanted to be sure. It had been a long, long time since he had seen one of those.

“Aye, Your Majesty, and that’s the tiny one,” Reinhart murmured without moving his gaze from the creature. His hands had disappeared almost to the elbows in its chest and suddenly he jerked them up, taking out a giant piece of meat that distantly resembled a gruesomely deformed heart. He had left the cloth hanging around his neck, completely unabashed by the smell or bodily liquids spraying in the air. “We have another one waiting, but it was too big for this table.”

“Lovely,” the King said with fake enthusiasm, sensing his stomach turn as he watched Reinhart drop the heart in a basin, black blood splashing on his apron and the floor. “Isn’t this your dinner table, though?” he asked, nodding toward the table the demon was lying on.

“Naturally,” Reinhart replied, while Aaron made a disgusted face from the other side of the corpse. “A bit of scrubbing and it will be like new.”

“Yeah, right. You won’t see me eating from this thing again…” Aaron murmured while he cupped his hands as per his master’s command, taking a handful of intestines and gagging. Reinhart didn’t even glance at his poor apprentice. Instead, he turned toward the king.

“You should be resting, Your Majesty. If you are here, then this must be important. How may I assist?”

Truth be told, Joel just wanted to get out of bed and have a normal conversation with his friend, but he couldn’t put it so bluntly in front of the young boy. He was the king after all, no matter how much he wanted to be anybody else with what was coming.

“There are a few matters I wish to discuss. I told you about them some time ago and I expect you have found what I need?”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” the Keeper said as he slowly took off his gloves, leaving them on the demon’s hind leg. “Let’s take a quick break, Aaron. Bring his Majesty something to eat from the kitchen.” Aaron stared at him for a long moment, then nodded, discarding his own gloves and apron. He bowed to the king, then quickly headed toward the door, disappearing through it without a word.

Reinhart stepped toward one of the shelves, taking down a book and pulling a single piece of paper from within. He handed it to the king, who gave it a quick look.

“That’s the contents of the book,” Reinhart said, scratching his sparse beard. He had never been able to grow a decent one, Joel remembered, even now that his hair had strands of gray taking over the black. “It’s harmless. As far as I can tell, she is practicing, and she is progressing quite well.” Joel scratched his jaw as his eyes still regarded the list. “Princess Estelle is quite powerful, Your Majesty. More powerful than I will ever be. Although it doesn’t come as naturally to her as it does to some others, she can achieve a great deal with proper guidance. It’s all about the innate potential…”

“And you’re sure Jaden and Tamara don’t possess any magic?” Joel interrupted him. Reinhart shrugged.

“I don’t think so, Your Majesty. From what I can sense, neither has ever used or tried using magic. I am not strong enough to feel if they carry the spark within them so I cannot be entirely sure. But I believe they are like you. I think Princess Estelle is the only one bearing the gift.”

Joel nodded. The roots of his family ran deep and if he could believe the thousands of chronicles in the library, they were old enough to consider themselves descendants of one of the first mages. Naturally, Joel didn’t believe any of it when he read about magic as a child. Later, though, his brother turned out to possess magic and Joel had no choice but to accept its existence. His brother had been able to do things that were beyond one’s imagination and still, their mother claimed that Kayden wasn’t powerful at all, that there was much more to magic than what he could do.

When the most unbelievable part of her stories came true, the demons, Joel was more than sure that everything she had told them as children weren’t just fairy tales.

“Magic awakens,” he whispered to himself, but it was so quiet in the room that Reinhart heard him, shooting him a questionable look. “What did you find about Elaine and Isabelle Niabard?”

“They don’t possess magic either,” Avrom continued. “Neither of them. I had people check on them again and again and they could not sense a single spark of magic.” Reinhart paused for a moment, his face making a painful grimace before he spoke again. “Am I to assume that there would have been no wedding if it was any different, Your Majesty?”

Joel felt a heavy weight fall off his shoulders.

“We can’t take any risks at this point.” Joel closed his eyes, running a tired hand through his thinning hair. “Too much is at stake already.”

“So you believe in the prophecy of the Forbidden blood, I take it?” Reinhart asked and Joel was forced to open his eyes and look at his friend. There was no surprise on the Keeper’s face or judgment of any kind.

“The demons are already here. And by the looks of it, they may not need this Forbidden blood to wreak havoc and destruction,” he said. “But it doesn’t hurt to avoid giving them any extra power on top of what they already have. How about you, Avrom?”

“Me, Your Majesty?” He said as if surprised, but Joel knew he was not. He was more well-read on the subject than any of them could ever be. With his ability to retain information being almost inhuman, his title was not just for show. His predecessor was the same — the Keepers were almost always people with an extraordinary memory and a love for reading. “I don’t claim to understand prophecies, Your Majesty. They are interpretations of a future. Nothing is ever clear and nothing is ever straightforward. The Forbidden Blood may be the key to the demons’ victory or their downfall. It is all in the interpretation.”

Joel watched him carefully, pondering on the sudden vagueness of his Keeper’s words. Reinhart was staring at the demon’s body, lost in his own thoughts.

“Avrom?” the King called him, but the Keeper didn’t react. “What is the matter?”

“I’ve heard talks about the Gate recently, Your Majesty. In… particular circles,” he said finally. “There are those among them that believe the Forbidden Blood has already passed into this world and that event allowed the demons to enter it too. They want to find the Gate and destroy it before it’s too late. They don’t want to take any chances.”

“Do you really believe the Gate exists? Like a real, solid gate to the place the demons come from?” Joel asked. Reinhart shrugged.

“Why not?”

Joel nodded. What had once been a myth was now a reality, and what everybody had thought true was now false. It was hard to tell which part could have been real and which — not.

“And you believe they can close this Gate, should they find it?” Joel asked hopefully, although he knew the answer. Reinhart looked at him under his bushy eyebrows.

“It is very unlikely that they would get anywhere near it or that they would be able to close it,” he said, dusting an invisible speck from his robe. “If the legends are to be believed, and I do believe them, it would take immense power and strong blood magic to close the Gate again. A handful of self-taught children would never possess something so dangerous.”

Joel looked down at his hands, watching them as they trembled. He balled them into fists, then looked up again.

“Elaine Niabard will marry my son. Isabelle Niabard will wed the Heir of Keldar and she will stabilize her country. I know Andreas well, and I know how he thinks. He is a smart man. After those two marriages, Anamir will become stronger than Keldar. It will have strong military support and steady supplies, which will be acquired by trade with Reid. They will have control and strength and they will do what is necessary.”

“Are you trying to convince me your plan will work, Your Majesty? Or rather, to convince yourself?” Reinhart asked.

Joel laughed bitterly.

“I don’t even know anymore.” He shook his head. “You don’t think it is a sound plan?”

“Oh, it is, Your Majesty,” The Keeper smiled, pushing himself off the table and glancing toward the door. “But as it often happens, sound plans rarely go unhindered.”

Before the king had the chance to reply, the door opened and Aaron stepped in, balancing a big tray with cheese, grapes, and bread in his hands. The boy froze when he realized they were both looking at him, then hesitantly took a step back.

“I brought food,” he said, his voice careful and uncertain. “You said to bring food, Master. Did I do something wrong?”