The Darkness Within: The Drakus Mage, #1

By E. M. Aguilar

Cyrus Boris a school teacher from a small village takes a journey to the royal magistrate to investigate the murders of his students. On his way to the city, he learns he inherited an uncontrollable magic capable of unfathomable power. Yet, dark forces are at work in the kingdom and he will need to navigate away from beasts and bandits to enter the capital. This is just the beginning of his adventure. He realizes in order to solve the mystery of his students deaths, he must confront his own demons in order to defeat his own darkness growing within him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E. M. Aguilar
• Release date: Apr 27, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386258339

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Cyrus shuffled his way through the King’s Road. At intervals, his walking stick crunched on the broken cobblestone ground. The sun descended to the horizon. He stood in front of two paths: one snaking toward the right and the other twisting toward the left. Cyrus took out his crumpled map from his traveling pack and scanned along his route. There was no indication the King’s Road split into two trails at this point. He swiped his brow and felt the cool rush of the night’s air touch his skin. Cyrus was a young man in his twenties. He was medium built with short black hair.

Blue darkness descended upon the land. He heard something far, in the distance. A child was crying. He sprinted through trees and bushes. The sound became more urgent. He took several different turns until he realized he was just a few feet away from a sobbing boy. Cyrus barreled through the last wall of plants and saw a frightened boy clutching a broken doll. Cyrus felt iciness in the pit of his stomach.

The child said, Mister, what are you doing?

My name is Cyrus. Do not be afraid.

You do not belong here.

A scream pierced throughout the forest. Cyrus tried to get closer to the child, but the child moved away. Cyrus concentrated and felt his magic fill his being. An orb of fire about the size of a fist glowed in mid-air. The child shrank.

It’s okay, Cyrus said. We have to leave.

No, the child said.

The noise got closer. The child fidgeted with his hands. Cyrus noticed the child’s body was odd. The kid’s spine was crooked and his head hung to the side.

Are you hurt? Cyrus said.

I do not feel anything anymore. They told me I cannot go see my parents, the lad said.

Who told you that?

The Necromage, the child said.

Cyrus recognized the name. The Necromage was the keeper of the dead. He was supposed to be a master necromancer who made a deal with Death to be immortal. However, he was deceived. He now lives in the shadow of death and life.

The Necromage is only a legend, Cyrus said. He is not real.

Yup, he is real.

Silence hung in the air.

Who was making that noise? Cyrus said.

A banshee. She is here to get me, the child said, wiping tears from his eyes.

A glowing woman came into sight.

Gerald, please come with me. You have to stay with us. You do not belong in the land of the living, she said.

The lady was beautiful. Her face was flawless with high cheekbones and large lips. However, her eyes were gone. Two gaping holes stared back at him.

Gerald, the banshee said, you are dead. Let the mage release his guardianship over you.

I am not a mage, Cyrus said.

The banshee bent over and produced another bloodcurdling scream.

The eyeless sockets seemed to stare at him and said, You do not belong in these woods.

Where am I? Cyrus asked.

The haunted forest, the banshee said. Only the dead can travel here.

I do not know how I got here, he said.

You cannot leave. You have to talk to my master, she said.

No, Gerald said, I want to see my mommy.

The banshee gave the lad a frightful grin.

Cyrus said, Gerald, listen to the lady. You cannot go back alone. I will go back with you.

Will you? Gerald said.

What is your doll’s name?

Tom, Gerald said.

Cyrus said, Tom said he wants to go back.

No, he didn’t, Gerald said.

Ask him.

Gerald stared at the doll and said, We will go back, if you go with me.

It’s a deal. Maybe, the Necromage can help you find your parents, he said.

Cyrus and Gerald followed the banshee through the forest. The half-moons shone through the trees. Cyrus saw specters through the bushes, forms that defied his imagination.

Gerald, Cyrus said, How did you die if you don’t mind me asking?

Gerald said, I fell down a cliff.

Is it different being dead? he said.

Gerald furrowed his brow and said, Well, I don’t feel anything. I just want to see my parents, one more time.

It must be difficult. Hey, at least the banshee stopped screaming, he said.

Gerald smiled. The banshee turned around and smirked at him.

THEY CROSSED A LEAGUE. When Cyrus glanced at the banshee, colors swirled around her. Cyrus had the ability to see magical energies. The former court master mage called this, Wizard’s sight. Besides this magical power, he could only conjure glowing illusionary spheres. Any first-level apprentice could conjure this spell. He could even make rough shapes out of these magical globes.

Gerald, what is your favorite animal? Cyrus asked.

A dragon, Gerald said. Or a unicorn.

Cyrus focused and his glowing orb changed into a rough shape of a dragon.

Wow, Gerald said. Can you make it move its wings?

The dragon's wings started moving.

Wow! Gerald said. What else can you do?

Cyrus wondered the same thing.

Stop! the banshee said. We are here.

They stood in front of a grove of tall cedar trees so dense that he could not see through them. The plants shimmered. His Wizard’s sight picked up a small tremor. A blue glowing hue rippled around the foliage. The trees changed into strong granite walls rising high into the sky. Cyrus was dumbfounded. A yawning portcullis beckoned them inside.

The banshee said, What is your name, mage?

Cyrus.

Beyond these walls are the halls of the dead, tread carefully. Your power cannot match the Necromage, she said.

A heavy mist shrouded the forms within. A slight breeze stirred the fog. They stood along rows upon rows of graves, thousands of them. Amid the tombs, spirits floated, talking to each other. Cyrus’s body shook. The spirits, as if noticing his discomfort, started coming towards him. His heart thundered as the phantoms crowded around him.

A voice cracked through the cemetery, Do not touch him! He is under my protection!

The spirits flew away.

They followed the banshee up a long path through the graves. He saw a large edifice of a castle on top of a hill. Its design was in an ancient gothic tradition of pointed spires and jagged spikes. Ancient knights stood inside the entrance, pointing their spears at him.

The master wants to see these two, the banshee said.

The knights lowered their weapons and stood against the walls.

This way, the banshee said.

They walked into an immense central courtyard. Cyrus’s boots clicked upon the inlaid granite stones. His Wizard’s sight saw power emanating from the very walls, dark and powerful. He trailed the banshee up to a tall stately building. He sensed magical energy so strong that he almost doubled over in pain. A door, of strong cedar wood with metal bars, stood ajar. A man dressed in livery waited for them. He bowed.

The man said, You can leave now banshee.

She turned back. Cyrus and Gerald shadowed the man through several hallways and doorways. Their path stopped at a hall with thousands of torches held by sconces attached to the walls. Even with all the light, the hallway was dim. It was as if the darkness swallowed the light. They walked through this passage and into a chamber with a large dome ceiling. Several paths branched from this room, and the manservant took a turn toward the left. They followed and found a similar hallway as before with thousands of torches along the walls. The manservant’s pace started to become faster even though he walked at the same rate. Cyrus tried to keep up. The manservant and Gerald were gone. The lights darkened.

Welcome Cyrus, a voice said.

Cyrus scanned around the room. He could not see the other end because darkness swirled around the edges. People stared at a high dais. Their backs were facing him. Upon this platform was a large gilded chair. A figure, dressed in a scarlet robe with gold intricate patterns, sat upon the throne. His cowl was over his head, obscuring his face.

Please come forward, the figure said.

The people turned toward Cyrus. They were all dressed in the fine clothes of the aristocratic class. He stood on a velvet carpet, which reached toward the platform.

Do you know me? the figure said.

You are the Necromage, Cyrus said.

The figure chuckled and said, Yes, but do you know my given name.

No, sir, Cyrus said. Why did you bring me here?

Because of your father, the Necromage paused and said, your real father.

Cyrus said, I do not know my real father. My foster dad is the only dad I know or care about.

The Necromage removed his hood. He was the manservant. Purple veins peppered his skin. He had long silvery hair tied in a ponytail that streamed along his right shoulder.

My given name was Solaran. I knew your father during the Dark Wars, Solaran said.

The Dark Wars were a thousand years ago. How can this be? I would be a thousand years old, Cyrus said.

I do not know. You must be hungry, Solaran said.

Yes, I haven’t eaten since this afternoon, he said.

Solaran waved his arms in a concentric pattern. The room diminished from Cyrus eyes. He felt disoriented. A bright light flashed and he stood before a long table. A grand feast was before him: roasted beef, succulent hams, buttered turnips, broiled duck, and loaves of warm bread.

The Necromage said, Go ahead and eat, the dead do not dine.

Cyrus ate, choosing different types of delicacies and savoring every single bite. Cyrus stopped while he was spearing an apple cobbler with his fork and said, Solaran, do you know about the murders of the children at my town, Platos?

Solaran smiled at him and said, Ghastly killings. I have seen some of the victims pass through death's doorway.

Do you know who did these crimes? Cyrus asked.

Ah, I only dwell between the edges of death and life. I do not know or care, Solaran said.

I seek justice.

The Necromage said, Beware, Cyrus, what you seek. I feel the taint of black magic upon the victims. It lingers on like bittersweet perfume. Justice can be mistaken for vengeance. Why do you care for these children? They are not your offspring.

I care because these children do not have anybody to fight for them.

Your father also had strong convictions about such trivial matters, Solaran said.

Necromage, I do not mean any disrespect. But, I do not care about my real father, he said.

Your father sacrificed everything to have you live, Solaran said,

I do not care.

Ah, you should, Solaran said.

Cyrus said, Why am I here?

Solaran held up a charm fastened on a silver chain. He said, This is for you. I promised your father, I would give it to you when you were ready.

Cyrus grasped the charm. It was round and smooth, about the size of his hand. There were no discernible markings of any kind written on the surface.

What is this? he said.

You will understand in time. And before you go, your dad wanted to say that he was sorry, Solaran said.

Cyrus slumped to the ground.

CHAPTER 2

Cyrus felt warmth on his face, and then a bright light illuminated his eyes. He found himself lying on a blanket of grass. He had a horrible nightmare last night. He shook the foreboding feeling of death, grabbed his walking cane and traveling pack, and proceeded toward the King’s Road. The blue cobblestone road was near where he slept. A few yards away, Cyrus saw a sign amid some bushes. He got closer to the sign, and it read The Last Inn written on a wooden board. The wind swayed amid the trees. The scent of wildflowers perfumed the air. He used his Wizard sight to gaze upon the forest. He saw the forces of nature play along the road. The sun’s reddish glow infused the air swarming and touching every single leaf, tree, and rock. He felt the cycle of death and life among the falling branches and bushes. He could stay gazing at this dusty road for the whole day, but he needed some breakfast.

He heard the tavern before he reached it. The snicker of horses and the sounds of men drinking alerted him that he was getting closer. He wondered if everything that happened last night was a dream. He could have dozed off on the road. He was lucky no highwaymen or robbers took his belongings.

The bar came into view. Two large trees sheltered it. The main building connected to a two-story dwelling. A stable was on the far side. Even at this point on the day, Cyrus could hear loud men cursing and singing. His stomach grumbled again. He never entered these establishments, but he was hungry. Again, he thought last night was just a dream because he was so famished. The white paint covering the walls of the building was peeling and the sign with the name of the tavern was almost unrecognizable.

He walked inside and saw a bar on his left with a tall dark, gray-haired man standing behind the counter. The barkeep’s eyes were dark as midnight and his brow wrinkled with impatience. Cyrus saw the denizens of the tavern hunkered in their chairs drinking and laughing.

The barkeep said, Sir, what can we do for you? Do not worry about the drunken fellows. They are lumbermen from the deepest woods. They are back from a long month of work. They always do this. They get piss drunk and pass out.

Cyrus said, Some food and ale, sir.

Call me Barthol, the barkeep said.

Thank you, he said.

A young, dark girl came up next to him.

Barthol said, Marianne, please show this man a seat and get some food and ale for him.

The girl nodded and ushered Cyrus through the throng of people. She smiled at him several times, while she swatted away the hands of the lumbermen.

Sit here, she said, I will be back with your food.

Cyrus didn’t touch his food. It was just a crust of bread, some runny eggs and a piece of cold bacon. One of the men of the tavern stared at him. He hid in a long black robe. Cyrus could not see his eyes, but he knew the man was staring at him. Cyrus waved his thoughts away. He was being paranoid.

Cyrus still sensed the black-robed person scrutinizing him and was about to confront this interloper but when he glanced back, he was gone. Foolish, he thought. Cyrus grabbed his traveling pack to view his map. He found something odd, a round stone. It was the charm from his dream. His mind went blank for a second. He pieced together the conversation he had with the Necromage. This charm was something from his father. It was pure gold and gave off a luminous glow. He saw his reflection on the surface.

Nice stone, a man said.

The man was dressed in a brown frayed robe with mud stains at the bottom. His face was long with an amused grin.

Do I know you? Cyrus said.

You should remember me. I wrestled you down to the ground. It was that darn princess, he said, she can make you do anything.

Meza? Cyrus said.

The one and only, Meza said.

I have not seen you since...

Since the funeral, Meza said.

Cyrus shook his hand and invited him to sit.

Do not show your charm around here. It is not safe, Meza said while looking around the room.

So, what have you being doing?

Meza said, I am now a full mage. I finished my magical studies after Master Darthel died. I owed it to him.

Cyrus said, Master Darthel was a great Wizard.

Yes, Meza paused and said, Cyrus, what happened to you? I have not seen you at the capital. I thought you and the princess had something.

Cyrus said, No. I am now a teacher at the town of Plathos.

Meza said, Master Darthel always thought you could have made a great wizard, if only you concentrated more on his teachings than on the princess.

Cyrus said, I know. I tried to learn, but I my magic is limited.

Bah, you have more magic than most people, Meza said.

He said, Do you miss the former king and queen?

I haven’t thought about them for years, Cyrus said.

But you have thought about the princess, Meza said.

Meza, that was a long time ago. Besides I am a commoner, and she’s a princess, he said.

I remember how you followed her around like a lost puppy, Meza said.

They both sat silently thinking of better times. Cyrus didn't want to think about the princess. His body was warm and he clenched his shoulders.

Meza, what are you doing out here? Doesn’t the emperor need good mages? Cyrus said.

Meza sighed and said, Emperor Hawkney has his own mages, dark magicians.

The emperor will never use black mages and their dark magic, since his brother was murdered, Cyrus said.

Things have changed, Cyrus. The emperor will deny he employs these blasted mages. But I have seen them, Meza said.

He said, I do not believe these rumors.

Do not speak anymore, Meza hissed and said, So, where are you headed?

I am going to the capital to seek help for some strange murders happening at my village, he said.

Cyrus, let’s talk about this outside, Meza said.

He paid the barmaid for the food, and they took their belongings and left the tavern. The sun’s light blinded them. They walked a few yards away.

Cyrus said, Why all the secrecy?

You have been away far too long. You should not go to the capital. Meza said.

I’m determined to go, he said.

Bah, by the God’s Thunder you are a stubborn one. Well, I’d better accompanied you, Meza said.

I’m not sure, he said.

Meza said, I’ll be happy to show you the quickest way to the capital.

Sure, you can come, Cyrus said, wondering why he gave in so easily.

Meza said, First, you are taking the wrong path.

They walked enjoying the warm day. Cyrus wondered if it was a good idea to let Meza come along. Meza should be at the capital with the Mages Guild not out here wandering around. He remembered mages needed constant meditation to perform their magic and needed a place to hone their skills.

The tavern back there was a den of thieves, Meza said, and the emperor’s spies are everywhere.

I have nothing to hide. I am loyal to the crown. Cyrus said.

The emperor is not a good ruler liked King David, Meza said.

He said, Yet, he is the emperor and the descendent of the Rowan blood line.

Times are changing, Meza said.

Cyrus said, You speak treason.

Meza said, Are the murders you spoke of before all children?

Cyrus nodded.

Meza said, I can tell you these murders are happening all over the kingdom.

I cannot believe you. Cyrus said.

Yes, it is true. I have been traveling from different towns, and they are all are having unexplained murders. Something is not right. The constables are not investigating. Something bigger is happening, Meza said.

Why are the constables not doing anything? This does not make sense, he said.

The emperor is turning his back on his people, Meza said.

Then it is more imperative for me to go to the capital, he said.

Meza said, You’re determined. I can tell you that.

I have to try.

Can I see the charm? Meza said.

He held the chain while the medallion moved back and forth. It glistened in the sun.

Where did you get this? Meza said.

My father gave this to me, he said.

I have seen this before. I think it was from a magical book, Meza said.

Do you know what it is? Cyrus said.

I think it is an ancient object of power. I can research this more at the Wizards Guilds, Meza said.

Meza reached out and touched the smooth surface of the medallion. He flinched.

What, what? Meza said.

Are you ok? he said.

Meza did not answer him. His eyes closed and he swayed and fell.

Meza said, Ah.

Cyrus knelt and shook him. Meza came out of his trance and said, The charm did something. I felt some kind of presence.

The medallion had fallen out of Meza’s hands. Cyrus could not find the charm anywhere. Something pricked his skin. The medallion hung around his neck.

Meza said, Hah, I knew the charm was magical.

CHAPTER 3

Cyrus and Meza advanced on the Kings Road. They talked about the old times with the princess and Meza’s former master, Darthel. Cyrus had a feeling Meza had not been telling him everything. He remembered Meza survived the massacre of the king’s court. After the funeral, Meza left the capitol and nobody knew what happened to him. Cyrus did not know what to make of this. Meza was too eager to join with him. It was just too convenient. It seemed planned.

Meza said, Cyrus, somebody has been following us since the inn.

What?

At first, I thought it was a wolf. But, when we stopped, I saw some men. They are bandits, Meza said.

What can we do? he said.

Can you defend yourself? Meza said.

Yes, I can wield this walking stick, he said.

They have not attacked yet. They are waiting for something. We are close to the capital walls. I think we can make it, Meza said. See that bush there? When we reach it jump into the shadows.

They moved toward the large shrubbery. When they were hidden from view, Meza grabbed him and pulled him into the darkness. Cyrus felt Meza casting a spell. He saw two figures appear. They were illusions of themselves. They kept on walking up the path. Meza stared behind them trying to seek who was following them. They slid down a ravine. Cyrus saw the men appear. They were dressed in black and green clothes. Each of their faces was grim. Cyrus wanted to run, but Meza held him back. They waited in the shadows. After a few minutes, these bandits passed them. Cyrus sighed in relief when they tracked the illusions.

Why are they following us?

Meza said, It could be that pretty trinket you have around your neck. Do you recognize some of them? They are from the tavern.

I was foolish back there, Cyrus said.

No, just naive, Meza said.

I have a plan. I think if I could find the old Shepherd’s trail, we could bypass these bandits and make it to the capital, Meza said.

Meza led him through a series of hills and trees, going almost opposite to the capital. Cyrus was wondering if there was a trail. He realized he didn’t know Meza. He remembered the Meza of his youth was a bully, constantly showing off his magic. The afternoon sun descended to the horizon. Meza began to run.

Meza said, Sorry, but we had to reach this path before nightfall. Can you travel more?

Yes, is there something out here? Cyrus said.

You do not want to know. Quick, we have to make it to the capital’s walls. My illusions stopped an hour ago, Meza said.

Meza started to run again. Cyrus followed as best as he could. The city’s walls rose in the distance. The sky faded into the night. They kept on moving, until Meza stopped and peered into the forest.

Cyrus, the bandits found us.

In front of them stood a group of men, one person was holding a large torch. He was taller and clearly the leader. Meza crouched summoning a spell. He twisted his right hand and nothing happened.

The bandit holding the torch said, Mage, you cannot cast a spell on us.

The bandit opened his hand. Cyrus saw a round crystal. It was a disarming stone. It nullifies magic. The bandits surrounded them and pushed them to the ground. Cyrus and Meza's hands and ankles were bound with ropes.

Hurry, the bandit leader said. Get their money.

What should we do with them? a man said.

The leader said, Leave them. The Trollics will find them.

Meza squirmed and said, Do not leave us. We will not tell anybody.

The leader said, Search them. They might be hiding something.

Rough hands grabbed Cyrus. The men search through his tunic and breeches.

Stop moving, the man said.

The bandit’s foul breath made him gag.

Hold him, the other bandit said.

What are you hiding? the foul-breathed man said.

Nothing, Cyrus said.

Shut up, the bandit said and spit in his face.

You think you are better than us, the man said.

Cyrus shook his head no.

The bandit said, I know your kind. You are those people who never look our way.

Stop it, the leader said. We are bandits not by choice but by the emperors taxes and laws.

Hey, let’s get this over with, Meza said.

The leader demanded, Where is the gold medallion?

The bandit kept inspecting his clothes and traveling pack. They could not see the medallion hanging around his neck. The disarming stone should have cancelled the charm’s magic. Cyrus was amazed and hid his emotions. The bandit next to him got angry and pulled out a long wicked knife.

He said, Where is it!

The leader said, Hurry! The Trollics are coming.

The bandits gave up and took their money, clothes and some of Meza’s magical powders.

Do not leave us, Meza said again.

A bandit came up to Meza and struck him hard in the face. Cyrus could hear the crack of the punch as it landed. Meza slumped and fell unconscious to the ground.

The leader said, Let’s go.

When the bandits disappeared, Cyrus turned toward his side and got to his knees. Cyrus nudged him, but he didn’t awaken. He needed to get out of these ropes. He looked around for a jagged rock or boulder. He heard something rustling from behind him.

Cyrus turned toward the noise and saw a small creature appear. The beast was covered in brown coarse hair and walked upright on two legs. Its face was misshapen. The creature sniffed the air, stared at him, and made guttural noises. Something else came through the bushes. It was larger than the small beast. The bigger creature moved in large lumbering steps. Cyrus could not see them until the moonlight shone over the figures. The larger Trollics were a mass of muscle and round knobs. He did not see any heads or arms but a large razor mouth on the creature’s chest. The creature snarled.

Something unexpected happened. Cyrus felt cold water pour over him. It was as if a cool summer rain showered around the meadow. The Trollics stopped. Cyrus did not see any water drops. He was puzzled. The cool water turned into searing heat. Glowing fire embers appeared around him. He was not in pain but in ecstasy. He was in complete rapture. He was more alive than he had ever been. He started to float off the ground. The embers changed into glowing spheres. Blue lightning swirled around them. This was real