Brinks In Time:The Legend of Valendri's Relic Read online

  Brinks in Time:

  The Legend of Valendri's Relic

  TOM ROGAL

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  This being the first of an epic tale, I made sure to have good people looking over my shoulder ensuring I stayed on track. I couldn't have done it without the support and encouragement of my family and friends. I had spent many years writing, revising, and re-revising, then adding. They helped me along the way. Special thanks to Jayme Zobel for making me look good in my author photo. Also thanks to Michele Blackstone for copy editing my work. A special thanks to Indie Designz for making a beautiful book cover. Enjoy the story!

  Prologue

  Dark skies in strange seas were never a good omen.

  That was the first thing Captain Aaron Civise had learned from the previous captain of The Forthcoming Sun. He inherited the prized vessel when his captain received The Kraken’s Vice, a sea sickness that was slow and painful always resulting in death. It happened to crew that remained on the sea for too long without the proper provisions. They were currently on the thirtieth day on sea, a week overdue.

  Taking the northern route was a slower trip. If they had taken the Southern Route like everyone suggested, they would have been home already. The former captain explained he had nearly died there months before, refusing to listen to reason. Death still found him despite going the complete opposite way.

  His first mate, known as Horim, asked, “Is that it?”

  Civise replied, “I’m not sure. Doesn’t look like it. From what our Elf Eye has said, it's much smaller. Bring him to me.”

  Horim didn’t delay as he looked for the elf. He was a lifetime first mate, knowing the seas quite well. He just never developed the skills one needed to captain a ship. He was a short and stout man, slow to act generally because of his physical limitations. Under pressure, there was no one else he would rather have at his side. There was never a captain who ever regretted having him aboard. Aaron was the same way.

  Aaron grasped the wheel trying to steady her from the rough currents. He was a strong man, tall and fair . . . or so the ladies usually said. By now, like the rest of the men onboard, he was scruffy and probably smelled worse than a dead carcass after having not showered in weeks. It was hard to see all the water surrounding them yet none to wash themselves with. They needed to save the water they had on deck for drinking. Aaron scratched his beard as he got the ship straight.

  Their destination was the elf stronghold of Hiierland, but they should have known this trip was doomed when their mast broke hours after leaving port. They had returned to repair it, but much good that did. It broke again during the latest violent storms they ran into. With another of their sails damaged as well, Aaron was running dangerously close to losing his crew. They had to be close . . . just had to be. Life would have been much easier if the elves had kept all their island fortresses up. At least they could have stopped on the way. Now, Hiierland and Fort Za, much further south, were all that remained of the once greatly touted Western Island Wall.

  The Great Western Ocean was a dangerous place, located in between the mainland and the continent that was being called Dragonia by the elves. Sandwiched somewhere in between them was their target . . . along with thousands of miles of ocean. It was such a small blip on a map that it made finding it that much harder. Normally elves were only allowed to make deliveries there, but as they were still trying to recover from the Ettui Island Wars it left them contracting many human vessels as well. This alone made it essential to have a competent Elf Eye aboard.

  Horim finally returned with Higalmos. Like every elf, he was taller than anyone else on the ship, though by far not the tallest he had ever seen. This was only his second trip on the water, so he spent most of his time below deck. It was just Aaron's luck that they were given a greenhorn Elf Eye to lead them. He was certain that he knew the way, but every time he pointed them in a direction they ran into a storm that turned them around.

  Aaron said, “Good of you to come. We seem to have run into some land up ahead. Please tell us that it's Hiierland.”

  Higalmos looked in the direction the captain pointed as he joined him. He could tell him right away that was not their destination. It was much too large. Plus, Hiierland didn’t have a mountain. This one seemed to have the largest he had ever seen. It could only be one place . . . a place they would much want to avoid.

  Higalmos answered, “I’m sorry to disappoint, but that is not it. We should go. We will not find any good on that island chain.”

  The elf and Horim began walking away, but not Aaron. He kept staring at the mountain. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. He heard what Higalmos had said, but how did he know?

  Juulomasula.

  That’s right. They needed food . . . and water . . . and there was something there that he wanted. What was it?

  Aaron said, “We are stopping at the islands.”

  Both stopped as they stared at him. They were nearly halfway across the ship, but his order was loud and clear. Was he being serious? Landing on those islands was the worst idea in the history of bad ideas.

  Higalmos pleaded, “Captain, I highly recommend that we not head . . .”

  “We are going toward that island. It has everything that we need. If you’ll not listen to me then go back below deck.”

  Horim wanted to stop him. Every sense that he had in his body screamed for him to do something. Yet, for some reason, he had the strange desire to go there as well. What harm could it do? Just to set on real land would be a relief and a blessing.

  Higalmos looked on worried. He didn’t like this. He knew where they were and he knew what was on that island chain. It was not a good idea at all to go there. He was going to have to put a stop to this.

  As he walked toward the captain, three of the ship hands walked in front of him, not saying a word.

  Higalmos commanded, “Let me pass. I must speak to the captain.”

  The largest hand, a tall burly man, responded, “The captain is busy. Can’t you see he is steering us? He has no time for your useless words.”

  The elf was taken aback. What was going on? Why were these lowly ship hands trying to block him? Next to the captain and his first mate, he was the third most powerful person on this boat.

  Higalmos yelled more forcefully, “Let me pass. Now!”

  It was then that he felt it: A strong magical presence. He looked to the south, the direction where it was coming from . . . right at the islands they had found. He had to get them out of here.

  “Captain, you must turn around now!”

  The hand said, “Men, secure the elf.”

  They tried to grab him, but he was much too fast. Everyone on board had turned against him. The Forthcoming Sun was not an overly large vessel, but it was full to capacity, which made moving around difficult. That was Higalmos’ problem now.

  Most were trying to catch him with their hands, but others were using boards and nets to apprehend him. The island was getting closer, as were the dark clouds. He would rather be stuck in another storm than on that island chain.

  As he ran in between two boxes, two of the crew tried to pincer him. When he got close to the one in front, he leapt over him, causing the two to collide. Captain Civise was now in view. He saw a strange hunger in his eyes as they narrowed toward the islands. This whole time he had tried to contact the nearest elf he could. They were probably about two hundred miles away from Hiierland, so well within the range of his Elf Speak. Yet, as they got closer to the island, he couldn’t seem to reach out to anyone. He could feel the power strongly now as well. He could hear it calling to them. Was it blocking his abilities to contact another elf
as well?

  He began to run for the captain when a rope suddenly lifted, tripping him hard to the deck. Even before he was able to know what was going on, three nets were on top of him and held by eight crew members. Higalmos struggled, but it was no use. Elves had many advantages over humans, but strength was not one of them. Especially when they were so many days out to sea and no elf food in sight.

  Higalmos pleaded again, “Captain Civise! Please turn back! There is nothing on this island!”

  Aaron replied, “It is here somewhere. I can feel it. It wants us to find it. Why else would it have guided us here? It is ours.”

  They were within three miles of the island and coming in fast . . . too fast. Everyone could hear the sounds underneath the ship. Higalmos gave one last attempt to escape. There was still time, but it would have to be now. He used what little he had left, but they countered by throwing more men on the net. There would to be no stopping it now.

  Even with the sounds of water entering the ship from below and the men screaming, the ones on the deck and the captain made no attempts to slow down. They showed no remorse . . . only an unheralded desire.

  It happened about a mile off shore of the northern island of the Simorgan chain. A large impact rocked the Sun as it caused everyone to fall. Damn, now it was too late. Higalmos knew from the shock that the bulbous bow was destroyed. If they had stayed the course, then they might have landed on the coral, keeping her at least afloat to some extent. That didn’t happen. Captain Civise wanted the ship on the coast. He had to get it to land whatever the cost.

  Aaron ordered, “Full speed ahead! Keep going! We must get it! It wants us to get it! Come on, you sea dogs!”

  Higalmos now looked terrified. When he meant landing, he meant on the rocks. At their speed, the ship was going to be unrepairable and lost. Anything but that! Not on this place!

  There was nothing he could do. The crew seemed just as hungry for it as their captain. They didn’t even know what they wanted, but whatever it was called to them to locate it. As the ship crashed into the rocks, everyone on deck was thrown into the water.

  Higalmos struggled as he was still tangled in the nets, which was keeping him submerged in the water. Even though he could last longer than a human underwater, he could still drown. That was never a good way to die. After doing everything he could, he was finally able to free himself and get topside.

  The scene was bleak. Crew members who did drown floated face down in the water. Some fell on the rocks, dying instantly or barely moving. There was about fifteen of the eighty crew member still floating, including their captain. They had no choice; they had to turn south and he would need to find a way to reach his brethren from on land.

  As he turned to swim south, he could see clearly the mountain that they saw in the distance before. It was a sight he had hoped to never see with his own eyes. He was born just after the Island Wars, so he only heard of this place in stories from his parents. They were now in the shadow of Mount Hrithgorn, and a storm was coming. And for them, the survivors of The Forthcoming Sun, he knew their nightmare had only just begun.

  1

  On a hot, late summer day, the last place Neeza wanted to be was sitting in his council chair. It was elevated slightly above the rest, making it just that much hotter than the rest. He wiped his brow. It was situations like this he wished mages wore something else besides robes. Nearly all the persons on the council were aged men and women too, so they all were going through the same. This meeting would be over soon, he reminded himself. They had already been there for a few hours. Just needed to last a little longer.

  Neeza was not a young man by any stretch. He was 816 years old, his name day only a few months away. His face and skin had been wrinkling more and more each year. His white beard was almost iconic now, having been the longest reigning leader of the magic using Mage people for over half a millennium. It was a burden he was happy to be lifting, but that still didn’t end his troubles.

  “Honorable Neeza. Are you ready to move onto the next subject of discussion?”

  He had lost his train of thought again. It was a reoccurring theme with him over the last few years. Thank the gods that his retirement was only a couple months away. Five hundred years as Myyril’s leader had certainly taken its toll on him. It would to anybody. After he officially called it quits, a steward would take the helm as leader of Myyril and the mage race. That was until his daughter would claim it, but he knew Divi was far from being able to do that.

  “I am sorry,” apologized Neeza. “Yes, we can continue.”

  “Are you certain? You seem unfocused today. We can always go on tomorrow if you are unwell.”

  “No, I am fine. Let’s move on.”

  Bezini, the councilman representing the School of Divination, nodded. The council was made up of fifteen members. Seven represented each school of magic that Myyrilian mages could learn. The other seven were won during an open election every ten years. Sydis didn’t lead any of the magic divisions, but he was the second most influential person on the council because he was just that much more powerful than the rest. All except for himself, that is.

  Darcoul headed the School of Black Magic and was in a position that usually required an aggressive man. He was at the height of his abilities and an even more hardened man than most. His face was chiseled, easily seen through his trimmed beard. He was tenacious as a teacher, many saying he was worse out in the field. He was not one to mess with. Neeza and Sydis were probably the only two that would be able to defeat him cleanly in a battle.

  Dinermar, a man of Neeza’s age as they were in many of the same classes when they went to school, lead the School of Illusions. He had been a trusted friend of his throughout his career. Dinermar was going to retire the same time Neeza did, but that didn’t stop him from taking on one last student before then. He couldn’t remember her name, but she came from a reputable family.

  Colletti, the youngest councilperson as her blond hair was not white yet, lead the School of Restoration and White Magic. It was one of the few school positions that were given to a woman because Myyrilian females usually made the best doctors. Neeza’s late wife was a great example. The only mark against her was that she let her emotions get the best of her at times. It didn’t affect her doing her job, but those moments were interesting times to deal with.

  Herodit was representing the School of Telekinesis, the only school he’d been able to get his daughter to attend because it was the only school his wife encouraged her to attend. He was the only head that didn’t have a personal student, but that was because he held other tasks outside of teaching that needed to be performed. His beard was growing quite long now having the position for a couple hundred years. Ghorris, the headmaster of the School of Geomancy and Surnius, headmaster to the School of General Knowledge were absent.

  Sydis continued, “Very well then. The next object in our agenda is what to do about that rebel mage group, Ferigor’s Hand. They have been terrorizing some of the small settlements for years, as we all know. Thanks to the Kittara, we’ve been able to keep these attacks silent, but they have been growing more daring as of late. They attacked Grifain, which is only fifty miles from the capital here. We won’t be able to keep it a secret for long.”

  This rebel group had been a pain in Neeza’s side for nearly a hundred years. They wouldn’t attack non-mage convoys as they didn’t want any other nation getting involved; especially the humans, who the mages held a very brittle truce with. They were looking to end the current form of government, replacing it with an entirely elected one instead of appointed or handed down by birth. Although the group was small, they had been growing bolder in their targets.

  Milfury, one of the elected officials, answered, “We must remain diligent and keep trying to stop these attacks before they happen. If we send our military mages after them it would be viewed poorly by the general populace. We have been promoting the safe environment for years in the capital, but outside our walls the livi
ng can be harsh.”

  Sydis replied, “Indeed they are. Whether it was wise to hide these attacks is not the discussion here. We must seek some solution.”

  There he was, at it again. He always would second guess him, usually disguising it cleverly through the rhetoric. Sydis was never shy about letting others know he was eyeing the position of High Mage. Everyone knew this. How frustrating it must have been for him when nearly 100 years ago his wife gave birth to Divi, thus ending any hope for him to assume the throne after Neeza stepped down. He was worried early on that he might try having her killed, but he hadn’t tried anything and at least now Divi was at an age where she could defend herself, even if she did refuse to learn magic.

  Neeza answered, “We did so because they started out as simple thieves. This resorting to violence is a recent development, which leads me to believe they have new leadership. One that isn’t afraid to take a life for their cause.”

  Colletti asked, “What are we to do then?”

  Neeza hated to have to make the decision he made, but this would give them the appearance of a larger military as well as giving the students a great opportunity for experience. Plus, the council would never agree to send any of Myyril’s available 7,000 combat mages to the outlying villages. Those kept the capital safe from the poorer communities and discouraged any notion of a revolt.

  “I want you to send newer recruits that have just entered their military training to meet in key cities and villages around the capital. We will tell them that this is an experimental training exercise and they will be stationed there a few months. If successful, we can keep some there as outposts to avert attacks.”

  Just by the faces they made, he was right about their reaction. It was the right call for this situation sadly. Even Sydis didn’t object, which he was famous for doing. Yes, he was sending in greenhorns, but if the increased numbers would prevent even a single attack, then it would have done its job.