Myrmidya: Warding the Magic

By Matt Di Spirito

Magic is a living force with a will of its own. Nothing is forgotten; everything returns in time.

Ke'argis is summoned to a birth in the village of Sedryn, and he is ill prepared for the event. Born with magic in his blood, the babe becomes the focal point for ancient and terrible forces beyond the knowledge or ability of Ke'argis. His protective wards cannot hold back the flood of magic rushing to claim the baby's mind and body. In a desperate final act, Ke'argis saves the child and flees into the mountains. Adopting the boy as his own, Ke'argis labors to protect and teach young Sedrik about magic... but the child's unquenchable power threatens not only the village, but the precarious peace established after the last cataclysm.

Nine hundred years before the boy's birth, the eighth cataclysm shook the world and threw down civilization. In its aftermath, human wizards swore to keep magic a secret, locked away and taught only to a certain few, chosen to protect mankind from the influence of magic itself. The power of magic could not longer be trusted in the hands of humanity.

As Sedrik ages, magic is drawn to him; the ability to call upon arcane symbols endangers Sedrik and everyone around him. Ke'argis seeks shelter in an ancient place. Yet even there the boy cannot escape the call of magic. Driven from the sanctuary, Sedrik flees into the world beyond. Ke'argis vows to pursue him to the ends of the world; he vows to save his son from the burden laid upon him.

Others are watching young Sedrik, as well. The Elves will not allow humans to gain the power once wielded--power which brought ruin to all. Yet the Elves bear a dark secret and it may determine the course of Ke'argis, Sedrik, and magic itself. Events are in motion, driven on by the memories carried in the flow of magic.

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"Warding the Magic" is the first full-length story set in the world of Myrmidya. It follows the tale of Ke'argis and Sedrik, humans gifted with a measure of magical ability. Magic is a living force in Myrmidya; it remembers all that has happened and sets events in motion.

Included in this book are appendices describing the creation, races, history, and general information about the world of Myrmidya. A map of the region described in the story is also included, along with a map of the known world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matt Di Spirito
• Release date: Apr 7, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458199966

Matt Di Spirito

Well, I'm just an average joe. I don't have a great career or do anything that contributes to society in a meaningful way. I go to work, pay my bills, and raise my family.Life is an interesting journey. I've spent time in the military; it wasn't my cup of tea, but it was a worthwhile experience. I went to college for a few years, acquiring the credits for an Associates' degree in General Studies. There weren't too many subjects I didn't take. That's my life story: experience. I'm interested in so many things, it can be hard to focus on one thing for too long.My myriad hobbies include writing stories, reading books and e-books, surfing the web, watching blu-ray movies, drawing, discussing philosophy or religion or politics, playing xbox games, dungeons and dragons, and probably a few more. If only I could figure out how to make money off of hobbies!Writing is a hobby I've enjoyed since I became literate. Notebooks went hand-in-hand with computers. I used to write down little stories about my action figures, scenarios about school mates, and anything else to cross my mind. I used to make up games for my friends to play, and roll dice to find out who would win. Creativity, imagination, and technology are intertwined--at least to me.Smashwords, Amazon's createspace, and kindle publishing opened the door for self-publishing, especially for authors--like myself--with little or no start-up capital. For all the woes of technology, there are some wonders to be had.

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MYRMIDYA

Warding the Magic

By Matt Di Spirito

© 2011 Matt Di Spirito

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced without the consent of the author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, places, or events is coincidental.

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedicated to my wife, for all her loving criticisms.

You kept me humble, baby.

CONTENTS

Map

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

Author's Notes

Appendix A: Forge Song

Appendix B: Myrmidyan Quotes

Appendix C: About the World

Appendix D: Peoples of Myrmidya

North-west region of the Hearthland

Being the central landmass of Myrmidya

(merr-mid-ee-uh)

c.902 of the ninth age

PROLOGUE

It's raining again.

Ke'argis picked his way down the muddy, uneven path. His deerskin shoes stuck in the ground at each step, popping free with a squishy sucking sound. Tattered at the edges, his calf-length charcoal robe clung to his body. He was soaked.

Adjusting a travel-worn pack, Ke'argis pulled a dripping length of hair behind his ear and paused to glance at the sky. Brooding black clouds muscled in, pushing the cotton-colored strands to the north.

And it's going to rain for a long time.

The cottage was a hundred paces or so ahead. A small pen abutted the east side; four small goats clustered together behind the wooden fencing. Brilliant emerald-green moss covered the foundation of the house, reaching up the walls in splotchy patches.

Ke'argis wiped the beading moisture from his beard and tightened the toggles at the neck of his robe. For a moment, he closed both eyes, mumbling in a language he only vaguely understood, and took a long, slow breath.

The cottage door groaned, swinging outward. Ke'argis opened his eyes.

A heavy-set balding man stooped under the doorframe and stepped outside. He shut the door and stomped through the mud towards Ke'argis, who waited patiently in the steadily increasing downpour.

Well met, the big man said, holding up his left hand.

Ke'argis nodded, thrusting both hands into the sleeves of his robe.

You came in time—but just. The man stopped ten paces from Ke'argis. Her labor is intensifying and the father grows fearful.

Has any part of the child left its mother?

No. The big man mopped his hairless crown with one hand. But I think it won't be long now.

And the midwife? What does she say? Ke'argis glanced at the cottage: there were many gathering. To his eyes, dim shapes and cords of multi-colored mist coiled and pressed on the stone walls.

There is no midwife, warder. She died in her sleep several weeks ago.

I see. And he did; he saw the ghosts of unknown things and heard the whisper of indecipherable languages. Then is there one capable of delivering the child?

You're looking at him, the heavy man said, seeming none too pleased with the job. I'm called Aiden. My woman was the midwife. She passed on her lore to my keeping.

Ke'argis turned his gaze from the cottage to Aiden. The man's eyes widened and he shrank back, bringing up a hand to cover his face.

Warder, your eyes—avert your gaze, I beg you!

My apologies, Aiden. Ke' argis looked to the ground. Lead me to the cottage. I will follow your prints in the mud.

Aiden turned and stepped briskly to the door.

Ke'argis stepped up into the cottage. The broad-beamed roof brushed his head; Aiden stooped, being several hands taller than the walls.

Fire danced in the bricked alcove on the west wall, and candles flickered on shelves. A single bed rested against the north wall; on the bed was a dark-haired woman, pale of skin, with honey-colored eyes.

She glared at Ke'argis, locking eyes, and breathed evenly through her nose.

Warder, a young man addressed Ke'argis, dipping his head to avoid eye contact. I am called Enos, the son of Nelsim. I am husband to Taya. He looked to the pregnant woman; she kept her eyes fixed on Ke'argis.

This is your first child, Enos? The warder asked.

Yes. We built up a modest living before dec—

The circumstances of your life do not concern me, Enos. Ke'argis interrupted. He lifted the leather bag from his shoulder, placing it on the floor next to the door. You have two important tasks this evening: comfort your wife and keep the fire high. It may grow cold and your child will need warmth from both sources.

Pardon, warder? I don't understand. Enos knitted his brows.

Ke'argis smiled politely. And you don't need to. Be with your wife and tend the fire. Do you understand?

Enos nodded.

Superb. The warder squeezed the husband's shoulder, ushering him to the bedside.

Ke'argis met Taya's gaze. Something passed between them. Aiden and Enos turned from the warder's eyes, shuddering, but Taya only blinked. Tears erupted from her eyes and her lips trembled, wrinkling her chin.

You are strong, lady. Ke'argis turned away, picking up his bag, and mumbled a string of phrases. Why do you test yourself?

I see, she whispered.

Ke'argis spun around, suddenly and with a light in his eyes.

Do you know what you say? He stooped down, stretching a hand over Taya's forehead.

I do, warder. The shapes and colors, strands of mist moving like snakes… She lowered her head to the pillow, grimacing and clutching her stomach.

What is it, warder? Aiden leaned in from the foot of the bed.

That is what I seek to discover, goodman. Ke'argis ran his hands over Taya's face, neck, and arms. His eyes closed and lips moved; his hands stopped at her wrist. He took her hand and rotated the arm, pressing fingers lightly to her flesh.

Taya cried out, arching her back, and clutched the bedposts.

There is little time, Aiden said, lifting the blanket and checking the child's disposition. The child comes.

Enos held his wife's hand, kissed her fingers, and brought a waterskin to Taya's lips, urging her to drink.

Taya, Ke'argis murmured in her ear, you carry something in your veins. He pressed his lips close to her ear. If there is magic in your blood, then your child will bring it into this world. The first breath will be as a bright flame in utter darkness.

She clenched her teeth. Protect my child, please!

Ke'argis felt his lips dry up. His tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. This is fear, he thought. He clasped her hand and whispered, I will try, lady.

The warder opened his bag and took out a hide-bound book, three pouches, quills of various lengths, and a stoppered vial of black ink.

Taya screamed, pounding her fists against the straw-stuffed mattress.

Enos kissed her brow; he looked near to crying.

Aiden sat upon a stool at the end of the bed, pressing Taya's legs back and pushing lightly on her stomach. Sweat poured down his face.

Ke'argis opened the book; its spine crackled as he leafed through the pages. He stopped at a blank page and placed the book on the floor in front of the door. Twisting it slowly, Ke'argis pulled the plug from the ink and put it down next to the book. Several quills were placed alongside the ink.

One by one, the candles dimmed and winked out. In the hearth, the flames danced wildly and the logs snapped and cracked, sending a shower of sparks up into the chimney.

Enos, mind the fire! Ke'argis barked.

Enos looked up at the warder, eyes pleading, and opened his mouth to speak.

Do not think! Do not talk! Ke'argis pointed at the fire. Go!

He turned back to the book, focusing his attention. Arcane words flowed from his lips, though he scarcely understood how to pronounce them. The room vanished from his periphery: there was only the blank page.

"Kneel before me!"

The hoarse, grating voice echoed from left to right across the cabin. Ke'argis focused on the page: symbols swam into view, bubbling up from the depths of the stained parchment.

"It will all be undone," a somber voice called from the corner of the room. Streaks of violet light raced over the floor, intertwining and splicing, moving towards the bed.

Ke'argis traced the first symbol, moving the quill with methodical quickness. Another coalesced in the corner of the page; it rotated, pointing a triangular rune towards the center of the parchment. The warder dipped his quill and copied the markings.

"No other shall reign in my stead! Relinquish the throne!"

The cottage shook. Dust fell from the rafters.

Dimly, Ke'argis heard the sounds of war and dying soldiers. Terrible thundering and explosions rolled through his awareness.

More and more shapes, diagrams, and runes floated onto the page. They rotated, slid, and locked into position; Ke'argis picked up a new quill and traced them with practiced precision. Yet he had never seen so many—never was a warding spell so complex… so dangerous.

Showers of red and white sparks cascaded down the walls. Deep blue light poked through the cracks in the walls, shooting out in luminous lances. A cacophony of whispering voices rose in the room, drowning out all other noises.

"Let them come. Let them take it. Through them, I will live forever." A sibilant voice—a snake's voice—crept up Ke'argis's spine.

He focused on the page: it was almost complete. Two more runes to draw. He plunged the pen into the vial, tapped off the excess, and pressed it to the page.

Hands grabbed his sleeve, shaking: the ink dripped from the quill, splashing on the corner of the page. The warder stared in horror. He dropped the pen and turned. Enos stood behind him, a frantic look in his eye.

Aiden says the baby is stuck! Taya is having trouble breathing! He pulled on Ke'argis's robe. Please, warder! You must know some way to help her!

Ke'argis rose and grabbed Enos by the wrist. Enos flinched.

Your eyes… what is wrong with them?

You see things not meant to be seen, you fool! Ke'argis shoved him back. The child is in terrible danger because of your weakness!

The warder glanced at Aiden. The surrogate midwife was bent over between Taya's legs, his arms wet with fluid and blood.

Enos cowered, tripping over himself as he slunk to the fireplace.

Ke'argis turned back to the page, settling his mind and focusing.

"The thread is undone. Life and magic are severed." The voice was rich and powerful, commanding attention; Ke'argis strained to block out the words.

Purple-tinted fog rolled into the cottage; it seeped through the doorframe, windowpanes, and up from the floorboards. Pink tendrils stretched out from the mist, coiling around the vial of ink, quills, and the incomplete page.

He saw the outlines of beings, too slim and frail of form to be men. Ghostly silhouettes glided into the room, watching the birth.

The cottage door was torn from the hinges with a rending snap; it flew out into the darkening eve. Rising from the floor on a pillar of purple-pink mist, the incomplete spellbook was sucked out of the cottage, hurtling into the air.

Ke'argis reached for it, but he was cast back and sprawled on the floor. Many hands pressed him down. Orbs of blue light, streaks of silver, and rippling amber waves filled the room; whispering voices mingled with ominous howls and calls.

"We no longer need your kind!"

"Follow me, my sons, and nothing can stop us."

"At the core of every soul is darkness."

"When the time is right, all things return."

Although the voices spoke in turn, the tones blended together in a verse.

Ke'argis struggled to shift his body under the pressing hands; he squirmed to the side and grasped the three small pouches he had taken from his bag.

Slipping a knot loose, Ke'argis poured the contents into his left hand. Speaking a single syllable, he tossed the ash into the air. The weight upon his body ceased. He sprung up and saw the babe pulled free from his mother.

And he felt the irresistible surge—the rush of power, of magic, move to touch the child… to fill him with forces that may kill or curse him.

Ke'argis trembled violently; the two pouches in his hand, filled with fragile crystals and jagged stones, clacked together. His knees wobbled; breath came in shallow gasps.

Normally, the warder strained to detect the faintest hint of magic in a village; even amongst a bustling town, there were few traces of arcane energy to be found during a birth. Here, in this cottage, Ke'argis struggled to suppress the lightning-like waves washing over him. The very air was charged and full of power.

For most newborns, a few symbols sufficed to ward off wild magic such as animal spirits or mischievous fey; the spell intended to protect this babe ran to forty symbols before being interrupted. There was no lore—oral or recorded—that spoke of such a complicated ward being cast. No living warder, nor any in living memory, had exceeded a ten-symbol spell.

Ke'argis watched the newborn, coated in its mother's blood, lying passively in Aiden's burly arms. Enos, the father, kneeled by the fireplace, his face etched in a mixture of awe and terror. Taya moaned, her chest rising and falling in uneven heaves.

Then the child opened its eyes.

Those terrible, piercing eyes.

Everything in the cottage stopped; it was silent and still.

My son, Taya breathed, stretching her arms towards the babe.

He cried then: a sorrowful sound, pulling in the wind of this world for the first time. His arms reached to the sides, grasping at the air.

It all poured into him: voices fell into his mouth, shards and waves of light spun into his eyes and the purple-pink mists soaked through his flesh.

And more came, rolling through the rain-streaked land and descending from the iron-gray skies.

Give me the child! Ke'argis roared, stepping forward to pull the babe from Aiden. The midwife recoiled, circling the bed to give the babe to its mother.

Ke'argis jerked forward, propelled by a torrent of magic. He fell to one knee, grasping the bedside.

Taya, the warder spoke solemnly to the mother, "you must give him to me. Whatever blood is in his veins, the magic of our world