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  The Druids' Legacy

  The Crystal Trilogy Book 3

  Trenna McMullin

  Dedicated to:

  Karissa Garner and Katrina Brown, for hanging on with me from the very beginning all the way to the end.

  Prologue

  There is much we do not yet know.

  The past is muddy, our recollections dim. Too much knowledge has been lost, or perhaps never even discovered. We hope that with diligence and luck we can learn what is necessary to overcome this great blunder.

  There is much we cannot foresee.

  The future is not yet written, the fate of this world undecided. The Darkness closes around us, but we can see this: the Crystal will choose a final bearer, a Daughter of Light to champion our cause.

  Through the eons of time it has always been thus: Creation to combat Destruction, Order to moderate Chaos, Light to counter Darkness. This opposition creates balance, a balance on which the existence of our universe depends. A balance that was destroyed by one of our own.

  We will record all we know so that when the time comes She is ready.

  There is much we do not know, but we do know this:

  Balance must be restored.

  ~Book of the Druids, Volume 7

  Chapter 1: Obstacles

  Black water lapped innocently against the rocky shore, waves rolling in slowly and then fading back out again. A cloaked figure stood just beyond their reach, contemplating the water. A look of pure hatred twisted her otherwise beautiful features.

  Her servants had failed her. Once again the girl had managed against all odds to kill Ekzhad—this time with considerably more permanence...and now she was out there somewhere, discovering the lost city of the druids despite the obstacles placed in her way.

  Il’esandra ground her teeth in frustration. She could feel the darkness inside her yearning towards the center of the lake, but the barriers the ancient druids had invoked kept even her at bay. The Destroyer glanced down at her trembling hands and willed them to be still. That she could not reach the island was of no consequence; it was not yet time to confront the Daughter of Light directly. She knew that, somehow. The darkness pulled at her nonetheless.

  Ignoring the resistance inside her, the noblewoman turned away from the lake and sent her consciousness outward into the surrounding area. A contingent of trolls was already on their way, spurred on by one of Iregh’s clever spells. The girl may have already reached the druids’ city and learned whatever secrets those meddling zealots had stored there, but she couldn’t do much with it if she never left this forest.

  An icy smile spread across the woman’s features as she found what she was seeking. The trolls would be here in time to cause plenty of trouble. Something else grabbed her attention and the smile grew broader. In one of the nearby towns someone else was seeking the little band of traitors. Someone with a passion for justice which, given the slightest nudge, could be tipped into a thirst for revenge. She sent a little encouragement their way, and then opened her eyes.

  It was time to get out of the bug-infested forest and return to the palace. With the rebels openly advancing on the kingdom, her brother would need guidance in how to handle them. He was inclined to be too soft—especially now that he knew he would soon be a father. It had taken considerable effort on her part to get him to actively hunt down the rebel spies and have them publicly executed. She needed to stay close, where she could play on his fears and keep his tendency towards apathy from reasserting itself. A small sigh escaped the Destroyer’s lips as she left the lake behind. Her work was never finished…

  * * * * *

  Ky’ara pushed aside another tree branch and then stopped for a moment, resting against a tree trunk as she tried to catch her breath. Moving through the dense foliage was hard work. She wiped a hand across her forehead, brushing away the auburn locks that clung to her damp skin. Hiking in had been laborious, to be sure, but the anticipation of discovery had helped her ignore the physical effort. Now, as they left the lake and all its secrets behind, the weight of her recently obtained knowledge made every tree root and low-hanging branch seem like yet another barrier to completing her mission. Coming to the city of the druids to learn about the crystal’s origin and uses had been such a tantalizing prospect, yet now she found herself struggling with even more questions than before and facing a much more concrete deadline.

  Six months...she mused. It was such a short amount of time, and she still didn’t know how to defeat the Destroyer or use the crystal.

  Joran popped his head around the tree trunk and grinned. “Tired already?”

  She made a face at him and straightened up. “As if you couldn’t tell.”

  The link that magically bound them together was functioning just as well as it had before she’d spent a week in the Dreamworld. Just as he could certainly sense how she struggled to keep up the pace, she could sense the undercurrent of concern that he masked with his joking manner.

  “We’d better keep at it,” she said, “Lauryn and Sukylar are probably worried enough after waiting a week for us. If we take too long to get back to them they could be gone by the time we get there...and I don’t know about you, but I want my horse!”

  Joran started to reply, and then suddenly leapt in front of her, knife drawn. Before Ky’ara could react, a bolt of power blasted apart the foliage above them, sizzling as it passed just over their heads. A huge Elrackon crashed through the trees in its wake, and Ky’ara instantly threw a defensive shield around herself. Joran darted forward and buried his knife in the troll’s stomach. The monster roared in pain and tried to catch the boy as he nimbly ducked back to Ky’ara’s side.

  “Come on!” Joran grabbed Ky’ara’s hand and pulled her in the other direction as the wounded Elrackon charged towards them.

  “Where’s Taren?” Ky’ara asked breathlessly, dodging around a tree.

  “Dunno, but that reminds me,” Joran answered. He turned suddenly, catching the troll off-guard as he ducked back in to recover his knife, wrenching the monster off balance in the process.

  The Elrackon snarled as it struggled to regain its footing, lashing out and catching the boy across his shoulder with one of its clawed hands. Ky’ara saw her opening and lunged forward with a carefully aimed thrust, half-severing the monster’s head from its body as her sword pierced its throat.

  Joran looked at the spasming corpse with disgust and relief, glad Ky’ara didn’t expect him to do all the dirty-work by himself, like Keepers were supposed to. His heightened senses picked up the sounds of something else headed their way.

  “We gotta keep going,” he announced, kicking the body backwards off Ky’ara’s blade.

  This statement was punctuated by an angry roar from somewhere behind them. Ky’ara hesitated. “Taren…”

  “Would skin me alive for letting you get hurt if you hang around looking for him,” Joran pointed out, propelling her forward as he tried to calculate just how close the other trolls were.

  Too close.

  “He can take care of himself. Come on!” he said, feeling her resist his push.

  She finally allowed him to steer her away from the corpse.

  “We’re headed away from where we left the horses,” she pointed out as they made their way through the thick undergrowth.

  “For now I’m more concerned with staying alive,” Joran replied. The trolls were definitely getting closer. There were at least three Elrackon, possibly four...the last set of sounds was different though...Ah, Taren! He realized with relief. They hadn’t been very far apart to begin with, but when Ky’ara had started lagging, Taren had sent him back to see what was holding her up while he scouted ahead a bit. Apparently he’d run into trouble as well.

  “Don�
��t worry about finding Taren, he’s pretty close behind us,” Joran told Ky’ara. He realized his mistake almost instantly, as the girl he was supposed to be protecting grabbed a passing tree branch and used it to abruptly switch direction, heading straight back towards the trolls.

  “Ky’ara!” Joran shook his head in exasperation and turned around to chase her down.

  ‘What if he needs help?’ Ky’ara’s voice echoed in his head.

  ‘Do you not remember how easily he fights these things?’ Joran replied, also through their link. Mind-speaking was much more convenient than shouting at each other as they ran, and it meant he could save his breath for catching up to her.

  ‘Not particularly, no,’ Ky’ara said sarcastically, ‘especially since who knows how many there are out here right now. He may be good, but he’s not indestructible.’

  Before he could reply, the other three Elrackon came into view. Taren had distracted them from their pursuit and was swinging his broadsword ferociously to prevent them from injuring him. Ky’ara leapt into the fray. Joran rolled his eyes, joining her in keeping the other two trolls occupied while Taren dealt with the third. He would probably get another lecture for letting Ky’ara risk her safety by fighting the Elrackon, but what else was he supposed to do? The shades-cursed girl wouldn’t willingly stay out of it if she thought her precious Taren might get hurt, and somehow fighting her to keep her from fighting seemed counterproductive.

  Taren had finally managed to land a crippling blow against the troll’s right leg, and as the creature crashed to its knees he cut off its head with one massive swing. Joran sent his own adversary stumbling in Taren’s direction with a well-placed kick that took advantage of a tree root just behind the creature. He turned to help Ky’ara drive the third beast up against a tree. They had to end this quickly. Through their link he could feel her starting to slow down, her exhaustion overcoming the surge of adrenaline that had sustained her during the first few minutes of the encounter.

  The troll lashed towards her, and Joran dove in front of it, taking the brunt of the attack with the blade of his sword. His shoulder wrenched painfully as the force of the blow drove him sideways. Ignoring the injury, he dropped his sword and ducked under the creature’s outstretched arm, effectively tackling the beast as he lunged upwards to bury his knife in its throat.

  He felt Ky’ara grab the back of his tunic to keep him from toppling forward as the Elrackon crumpled.

  “Thanks.” He nodded appreciatively and then winced as his shoulder twinged in pain.

  Taren limped over to them, having just impaled the last troll with one of his thin swords. He had a long shallow gash on his thigh, but otherwise seemed uninjured. Joran braced himself for the criticism he was sure was coming, but Taren merely handed him a handkerchief and told him to wipe the blood off his face. The boy accepted the scrap of fabric hesitantly. Really? No lecture on not dropping his weapons? No remonstration for not keeping Ky’ara away? Not even a pointed glare for getting injured?

  His momentary grin was replaced by a startled yelp as Taren grabbed his unoccupied hand, pulling him forward, and swiftly wrenched his dislocated shoulder back in place. The pain dulled to a low throb, and Joran discovered he could move his arm again. So much for escaping discipline. Taren didn’t have to say anything—his medical care was punishment enough. Joran rotated the aching joint slowly, frowning at his trainer.

  “Have Ky’ara see to your other shoulder,” Taren said, ignoring the petulant look. “I’m going to get my bearings and see how close we are to the horses. Hopefully Lauryn and Sukylar haven’t encountered anything they couldn’t handle. I would hate to have to walk all the way back to Doraicolé.”

  “Wait just a minute,” Ky’ara protested, looking pointedly at the Keeper’s wound. “You need healing too, or soon you won’t be walking anywhere.”

  Taren grunted, but allowed her to murmur a quick healing spell over his cut before he turned away to survey the clearing.

  “Your turn.”

  Joran gratefully accepted Ky’ara’s ministrations as she turned her attention to where the first troll had clawed his shoulder.

  “You’re getting faster,” she said conversationally while she used her magic to inspect the scrapes for infection and then seal them up.

  “If I was faster I would’ve gotten out of the way before he hit me.”

  Joran grimaced slightly as he reached over to pull what was left of his tunic sleeve back over his shoulder. Ky’ara frowned, and motioned for him to turn so she could examine the shoulder Taren had so inelegantly forced back into position. Once again she used her healing Sight, this time to look inside his joint so she could repair any damaged ligaments and muscles. The throbbing faded almost instantly and Joran smiled, rotating his shoulder experimentally and then wrapping his arms around Ky’ara in a swift hug.

  “Thanks. I think we’ve both come a long way since the capital, eh?” he quirked one corner of his mouth into a smile and then busied himself retrieving his weapons and cleaning them as well as he could on the grass. They were both definitely different people than the immature boy and condescending noble who had met just over a year ago. Sometimes he could hardly believe it had only been a year...even when she Blocked him, and made it so he couldn’t sense her emotions clearly, being Linked to her made him feel like they’d known each other for a lifetime.

  “Like I needed another sister to boss me around,” he grumbled under his breath, belatedly realizing that Taren could probably hear him. He glanced sheepishly towards his teacher, but Taren showed no sign of having overheard his musing.

  “I think it’s time we moved on,” Taren announced, brushing dirt from the forest floor off his hands as he rose from a crouch.

  Ky’ara nodded, looking towards Joran, who motioned for her to go first. They headed back into the dense foliage, staying closer together this time. A wave of exhaustion suddenly pulsed through him, and Joran watched Ky’ara with concern. She couldn’t keep up this pace for long. They needed to get back to the others without another incident like the one they’d just endured. Whether it was the toll of the previous months of little sleep and hard travel finally catching up with her, or some effect of her extended stay in the Dreamworld, Ky’ara was clearly not well. Unfortunately, with other trolls likely nearby and nowhere safe to rest, there wasn’t much he could do about it. He was beginning to wonder, was feeling helpless just a constant part of being a Keeper?

  * * * * *

  The inn bustled with all manner of townsfolk: soldiers, laborers, and merchants alike came here to unwind after their various shifts, drowning their sorrows or celebrating the end of another monotonous day. It was remarkably less rowdy than the bars at home were, but even though the people were less inclined to shout at each other, it was still the best place to glean information...well, maybe not as good as a damp forest path. A half-visible footprint was far more reliable than the gab of drunks and barmaids, but she had to work with what was available. The trail had led her here.

  Norika Jun had been a tracker all her life. The daughter of an Elysian wanderer and a former Tiremian diplomat, she’d been exploring forests almost before she could even walk. Even when her little family had finally settled in Brume, she’d never stayed within the boundaries of the town. The day she’d turned sixteen she had joined the Patrol as a lowly border-scout. After seven grueling years of honing her skills and clawing her way up the ranks of an organization that mostly consisted of temperamental outlaws and well-seasoned trappers, she had finally earned the rank of “captain” and been given her own patrol unit. Her parents had been so proud. More importantly, her fellow scouts had finally stopped treating her like a little girl and given her a measure of respect. She wasn’t about to let one wrong judgement cost her all of that.

  Norika put down the cup of ale she was holding a little too forcefully, ignoring the looks the other customers shot her way. Just because her feet dangled when she sat on a barstool didn’t mean she was too young to dr
ink. The small bones and delicate features she’d inherited from her mother always made people assume she was ten years younger than she was. Well good. That meant they always underestimated her in a fight.

  Pushing her cup away, Norika stood and left the bar without sparing a glance for the other patrons. She’d already heard what little information they had to offer, and much as she wanted to stay and grind a few of those condescending faces into the floorboards, she was on a mission: find the deceitful piece of troll excrement that had murdered Vivek on her watch and bring him to justice.

  She smiled grimly, absently fingering one of the crossbow bolts strapped to her belt. Whatever-his-name-was would get a nasty surprise when she caught up with him. The man had fast reflexes—he was, after all, a master of the seventh tier (at least, if he had told the truth about that when she had granted him entrance to the Grey City almost a month ago)—she would just have to be faster.

  She’d picked up his trail leaving Brume the day after Vivek’s death had been discovered—the day she’d been publicly reprimanded for letting the murderer into the city, and stripped of her captaincy. Vivek was an unsavory lowlife who nearly everyone found disagreeable, but he was—had been—an important unsavory lowlife. He’d had powerful associates in Brume, powerful enough that they’d insisted on someone being punished for his death. Since the murderer was nowhere to be found, Nori had taken the fall. But she wasn’t about to let that injustice stand. She’d followed his trail to a burned out swamp and then spent weeks canvassing the nearby towns to try picking up any indication of where he’d disappeared to after that. If the rumors were right, he was likely with a band of rebels who’d evaded capture at a local inn a couple weeks ago.

  Heading to the northern gate, where the escapees had last been seen, Norika picked her way through the alleyways, her boots padding almost silently on the cobblestones. She tucked a strand of her nearly white-blonde hair behind her ear, annoyed that it had somehow escaped the high ponytail that held the rest away from her face. She’d tried short hair when she first joined the scouts, thinking it might make her look older. It had only made her look like a pretty nine-year-old boy, was even harder to keep out of her eyes, and required constant cutting. She’d eventually settled on an almost shoulder-length cut that was easy to tie back but not long enough to get in her way.