Malcor's Story Read online

  Malcor’s Story

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  Dar Tania – October 2016, a 100 page story

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  © 2016 Eric K. Barnum, 1-3972738796

  All rights reserved except unless written permission granted by author.

  Library of Congress: 2016919935

  ISBN: 978-0-9981076-3-9

  Table of Contents

  Description

  Author’s Preface

  Chapter One: Coming of Age Ceremony

  Chapter Two – The Ceremony

  Chapter Three – Tor's Defiance

  Chapter Four – The Father's Trial

  Chapter Five – Malcor's Path is Set

  Chapter Six – Initiates to the Temple at Morbatten

  Chapter Seven – Morbatten's Northern Road

  Chapter Eight – Tor's Revenge

  Chapter Nine – The Shrine

  Chapter Ten – House Tor's Fate

  Chapter Eleven – The Order of Water

  Chapter Twelve – Interlude of Kings

  Chapter Thirteen - Order of Water

  Chapter Fourteen – Malcor's First Rite

  Chapter Fifteen – A Brief Rest

  Chapter Sixteen – Killing Malcor

  Chapter Seventeen – Memory of the Necromancer

  Chapter Eighteen – The First Cascade

  Chapter Nineteen – The Lich's Ultimatum

  Chapter Twenty – Morbatten's Ambassador

  Chapter Twenty One – Malcor versus the Undead

  Chapter Twenty Two – Malcor Climbs the Undead Ladder

  Chapter Twenty Three – The Order at Ori

  Chapter Twenty Four – Truce with the Lich

  Chapter Twenty Five – Out of Time

  Chapter Twenty Six – Preparations Made

  Chapter Twenty Seven - Lich Game

  Chapter Twenty Eight – Dar Kendra versus Ori

  Chapter Twenty Nine – The Camp along the River

  Chapter Thirty - Calvin's First Rite

  Chapter Thirty One - Instruction

  Chapter Thirty Two - Lich Takes in Sumo

  Chapter Thirty Three - Countermeasures

  Chapter Thirty Four - Respite

  Chapter Thirty Five - The Forge at Klenna

  Chapter Thirty Six - First Rites for the Initiates

  Chapter Thirty Seven - Seline Conquers Flame

  Chapter Thirty Eight - The First Party Embarks

  Chapter Thirty Nine - Malcor Joins the Imperics

  Chapter Forty - The Next Day

  Chapter Forty One - Ambush

  Chapter Forty Two - Enter the Lich's Mountain

  Chapter Forty Three - The Antechamber

  Chapter Forty Four - Calvin's Combat Test

  Chapter Forty Five - Calvin Enters Officer Training

  Chapter Forty Six - The Lich Meets Daryx

  Chapter Forty Seven - Eldar Genesis

  Chapter Forty Eight - The Pha Rannic Knights

  Chapter Forty Nine - The Role of the World Jewel Tehra

  Chapter Fifty - Orcus' Throneplane

  Chapter Fifty One - Malcor’s Challenge

  Chapter Fifty Two - The Storeroom War

  Chapter Fifty Three - Calvin as an Officer

  Chapter Fifty Four - Seline and Blaze

  Chapter Fifty Five - Hellhounds in Khasra

  Chapter Fifty Six - The Aftermath of Hellhounds

  Chapter Fifty Seven - Tembri

  Chapter Fifty Eight - The Attack Begins

  Chapter Fifty Nine - Tembri Joins Malcor's Party

  Chapter Sixty - The Lich's Treasure

  Chapter Sixty One - The Sceptre of the Jade God

  Chapter Sixty Two - Tania Raises the Stakes

  Chapter Sixty Three - The Order versus the Lich

  Chapter Sixty Four - Clean Up

  Chapter Sixty Five - The Falcon Forge

  Chapter Sixty Six - Ora's Genesis

  Chapter Sixty Seven - The Truce of Dragons

  Chapter Sixty Eight - Calvin's Foe

  Chapter Sixty Nine - Respite

  Chapter Seventy - From Ori to Tania

  Chapter Seventy One - The Dragon Emperor

  Chapter Seventy Two - A Shadow through My Heart

  Epilogue: Court of Dragons

  Description

  Malcor Kell’Tayris experiences Time as flashes of brilliance that help him enter the paladin trials. His dreams of knighthood along with this genius gift set him on a quest of legend. Seeing Time murder him, killing those he cares for and everyone he knows, he struggles to become a divine warrior. Watching Time's flow, he learns how to wield it to join the mightiest of Tania's paladin orders, to fight the strongest foes, to face the greatest of challenges. In his blood lays dormant berserker rage, a truce with shadow dragons, and a prophecy of the next king to be. Malcor struggles with fury to stay true to his faith.

  Trials of pain, dragon fear, and a quest to slay a mighty foe take him into a head-on collision with necromantic gods that threatens the shadow dragons' return back from darkness and heresy. Malcor's passion and his allure to the shadow dragons threaten the straight path of faith and force a choice: will he remain true or fall to the shadows? When gods rage and Time slays, Malcor's choices and dreams drive his quest beyond even prophecy and faith.

  Author’s Preface

  Writing is like a fiery compulsion burning in my soul. When I was young, like 5 years old, I remember this dream of being trapped in bed with a giant deer or moosehead mounted on the wall. I imagined it staring at me. I’d wake up late at night feeling alone and watched. One time, I tried to see if the animal on the wall stared back so I made a circle with my fingers and looked and looked. In the dark of the room, I know I imagined it – or maybe it was part of the dream – but a bloodshot canine eye I just knew belonged to a wolf, looked right back at me. It freaked me out but set the stage for my mind to put together a very important thing.

  Our world is real, but our perception of that world creates a very unique experience for each of us. I choose to let my world include magic.

  Later, as I grew up, I’d lose myself in books with fantasy and sci-fi taking up a disproportionate amount of my life. Having been raised in a very religious family, I felt challenged to make sense of it all. Malcor’s Story comes from years of daydreams about how much cooler and awesomer our world would be if, all around us, magic lurked. I have found magic everywhere but most enjoy certain quiet moments in the cathedrals and temples of this world. Nothing can really compare to connecting with something as old and ancient and exposed as a mountain’s peak. There is always something bigger out there reminding us that we are a part of something whether we focus on it or not. These temples stay with me and I felt very much the same in a very different way when my children were born.

  As vast and overwhelming as the temples of the world can be when you let yourself open up to them, it is the vastness that brings with it magic. In the birth of a child, it’s reversed. All that vastness of the world falls into your hands when that tiny life blinks its eyes into confusion and chaos. Suddenly, the vast becomes very small, singular, and important. Whether you believe in the divine or not, whether you see the world as I do, there are things that we will never individually understand. Meanwhile, unconcerned with our lack of understanding, those same things comprehend us.

  I heard th
e roar of a thunderstorm rising up a mountain where I stood above the timberline. The wind swept the clouds up and I imagined that if I jumped, I would take flight and soar. It was July and I stood on Mytikas, on Mount Olympus in Greece. An hour later it began to snow. I will never forget the sound, even though I would be sore tried to describe it. In the noise of a hospital at my daughters’ births, I felt very much the same way. I heard the same sound because all the noise of the hospital and chaotic activity that is a birth became this magical moment. I experienced it as sound. Another way I might say it is that Time moved sideways.

  Malcor begins his journey at time in life when all of us struggle to confront the inevitability of adulthood. That transition is full of clichés and wise pithy sayings like, “You’re going to make mistakes. It’s okay. Learn. Keep going.” My favorite, “Learn how to manage money.” I wanted Malcor to have a different experience. Morbatten is a militaristic empire that knows and practices what we tell our children – they are the future. Given that this is true, Malcor is allowed to struggle into his dreams and is accelerated every bit as much as he can handle towards his dreams. Because magic is real, his dreams are shared. His partners help him move towards his dreams. Sure, he might fail, but so did they. Having been there themselves, they know when to back off for Malcor to have his moments of success. Having experienced heartache and disappointment, they know how to let Malcor fail in a way that the lesson and wisdom is not lost.

  This is the empire of dragons who watch and have watched over humanity. Their god emperor, a fire breathing dragon named Alerius, considers the people of Morbatten his treasure. He has found that the real treasure is not gold and gems, but the free-willed humans of his empire choosing to serve and advance his dream. The life of a citizen is but a blink, but the bloodlines, the stories, and the impacts of heroes stay with the dragons far more than stackable gold coins ever could. Don’t get me wrong; Alerius loves treasure too. Some of you may wonder at the archetype of a dragon like this being benign, even benevolent. Make no mistake. Dragons do not see the world the way we think they do. In Dar Tania, a wise ruler of the kingdom north of Morbatten explains it best when he tells Princess Alaura, “Dragons do not have friends. They do not see you as a friend. Your life is but a blink, and you were used as a tool to send us a message. Our royal prince is dead and taken by your dragon friend. Our paladins, though not killed, have been demoralized and humiliated. Your dragon friend bathed our city in terror. That message and this story will last for ages. You were used to deliver that message. Nothing more.”

  If you have not yet, or if you enjoy this story, I encourage you to visit my blog at darmalcor.weebly.com or pick up Dar Tania. Dar Tania tells the story of how Morbatten was founded some 1,800 years before Malcor’s Story.

  I dedicate this book to some of the best friends I could ever imagine – Dar Malcor and Tembri, the battle priest I have seen in my real life friends. To those who provided comments and critique, thank you: Mark F (and for helping with the map), Kenneth B, Sara I, Tony R, and my wife Ryann B who spent almost as much time reading this as it took me to create it. Also, special gratitude to Brian Mclean and Marsha Hairston who helped me with final proof editing.

  Chapter One: Coming of Age Ceremony

  Malcor stood tall on the hill. It looked down on the valley he called home, the village of Klenna. The tavern, just there at the crossroads cut southeast to the capitol city of Morbatten and northwest out of the empire towards the wilderness and several small provinces between here and there. He found more and more, that he liked these high places. He could see forever and imagine his future waiting out there. His future felt glorious in his dreams, full of honor and might; very different from the day to day grind here. His nineteenth birthday would arrive soon and that meant another Coming of Age ceremony. Starting five years ago at the age of fourteen, he tried to attend. Each year, the foundry’s owner, Tor, had conspired to prevent him. This time he would make it. Nothing would stop him. If he failed, he’d be too old and would be trapped as just a smith. Forever.

  The wind chilled his face in the early summer day with just a hint of snow from the high mountains between Klenna and Morbatten. Tiny human figures maneuvered horses and other beasts along the crossroads and their various side branches. Far to the northwest, he noted a cloud of dust from what was probably a large caravan. He felt restless as if the world confined him. Leaving Klenna sounded so good. If only, if only,... if only he could find a way to actually leave! How many times had he stood here and imagined voices carried by the wind calling him, “Malcor! Come away with us!” No such voices today except in his dreams stirred.

  Apprenticed to one of Klenna's blacksmiths when his parents died in the last war, Malcor had quickly become a favorite in the foundry and earned a small measure of fame. He had an eye and knack for alloying metals together that resulted in higher quality goods and repairs. Also possessing uncommonly good intuition and strength, he seemed to pick up more than his fair share of odd jobs. A lot of repair work, along with maintenance of adventure-worn gear, gave him time to listen to the stories and he yearned - if only. This year there had even been rumors of war stirring from the west. Stories like that usually flew through Klenna without lingering but this one had weight to it given the outpouring of knights from the capitol city Morbatten passing through Klenna heading west. The rumors suggested something with the Bloodstone Valley, a place often tied to such things because of continual warfare with hordes of undead for centuries.

  He sighed and ran his calloused fingers through his hair, at least the parts not scarred over from a forge accident years ago. As much as he loved the stories, the knights posed a mystery to him. He often found them watching his work and whispering to themselves. Were they talking about him? Altogether different from adventures he and other children grew up on in Morbatten, the actual knights troubled and intrigued him at the same time. They clearly had a presence more than simple power and strength. Why they always ended up staring at him, he would never know. His master often joked that one day he would find himself talking to a knight and realize that all the religious posturing in the world amounted to zero mystery and just a lot of boring administration. Malcor noted this joking never happened within ear shot of a knight or anyone connected to the Temple.

  Malcor's eyes followed the side road up to the shrine of their Goddess Takhissis. He preferred the name Takhissis. Wanting to be a knight, he appreciated that more warlike and actioned name than Tiamat, the Mother. Either way, their multi-dragon-headed goddess of the colored dragons would watch over them. The difference in names came from whether worshiped in combat and action, or in times of peace. Crowning a hill just a bit taller than his, the dark gray stonework and golden lines of script and art had a presence to them, similar to the knights but etched in immortal stone. His master had warned him to stay away from the shrine and all temples, but Malcor never listened. He liked it there. The oppressive weightiness of the religion, when viewed at a distance, was nothing like the warm embrace he had felt during his parents' funeral in that very shrine. Or, the times he snuck up the shrine’s hill to watch the knights training. His nineteenth birthday at that shrine could change everything for him tomorrow. If only... if only the priest or priestess watching the Coming of Age ceremony took note of him and saw something different than a simple young blacksmith.

  Still staring at the shrine, he noticed something and shielded his eyes from the sun to get a better look. Just to the side of the entry way column, a hooded figure appeared to be staring at him. The dark robes apparent in the column’s shadow gave the figure away. "It's a priest," he thought and waved. He saw the figure pull the cowl back. Even at the distance, he could tell by the brilliant red hair that it was a priestess. She shook her hair free and waved back as a giant of an armored knight stepped to her side into his view. He felt the knight's regard even as he calculated that the knight must stand close to ten feet tall. Like the knights at the foundry, he suddenly felt the weight of a convers
ation about him taking place. Only Dar rank priests and priestesses would have a knight with them like that. Was it a dragon, a Dread Lord? And a priestess, one attended by a giant knight. So, not just a Dar rank perhaps one of THE high priestesses. He made a mental note to ask about the red-haired priestess. He hoped the pair would not be there at the Coming of Age ceremony. Still feeling their gaze, he returned to the Klenna path and started the walk home. Or, maybe they should be there?

  Malcor slept in a small room just off the kitchen of his master's house. A few trinkets he had forged rested on a shelf by his cot. As a blacksmith, he had prepared carefully for the Coming of Age ceremony. He wanted something to show off that would give him the safety of the blacksmith career. But, what he wanted more than anything, was something new and different. "Tomorrow's my chance," he said as he picked up a black iron-wrought statue of a dragon. Over the past few months he had worked gold in to detail to add further dimension to the dragon. As far he could see, it was perfect though it always seemed to need just one more thing. Absently, he began to polish it - again - and wondered about tomorrow.

  His other prized possession, a longsword he started forging when he turned 10 and had been re-forging ever since, rested against the bed. Like the dragon statuette, the sword appeared jet black wrapped in a matrix of scriptural text and artwork design. Though the sword had never met his own approval, many a knight had offered to buy it from him. The apprentice’s sword, asked about by knights for several years now, had become something of a draw for the forge. He picked it up and drew it from the matching scabbard his master had gifted him. It drew out silently only the razor edge gleaming in the light in contrast to the tine’s jet. “Maybe, just maybe” Malcor whispered. “My ticket out of Klenna.” As he partially resheathed it, he thought he heard a whisper say back to him, “Your ticket to destiny…”

  “Do you think the Queen pays attention to such hopes when not voiced as a prayer?” the blacksmith, his adopted father Ishan, asked from the room’s doorway. “She listens. Perhaps to you, more than most.” His Klennan lisp dragged the last part of the sentence out and turned it into a question.