Dark Legacy Ch. 1a

In life, days go by one by one, and for most of us, it’s usually the same thing over and over. Nothing really changes in those lives, and eventually everything becomes routine. You feel safe and secure because everything always works out the same way. But there will always be that one day where that one thing happens that just shakes your quiet, repetitive life so hard that you’re left in shock as you stare at the shattered remains of your life left behind by that devastating hurricane. That day happened when I was twelve years old.

My name is Draco; Draco Cyriius. I was born and grew up in a large village built around a Sorcerite temple. Sorcerites were like knights, except they didn’t belong to any king or lord. They held their own rule, and were completely committed to one purpose: keeping peace around the known world. Their greatest concern these days was the ever-thinner line of peace between humans and demons. All of them were expert in their fields, whether it be sword, archery, or magic.

My father’s name is Walker Cyriius, a well-respected and skilled warrior and Sorcerite. His reputation was known throughout the lands as one of the bravest in the eastern lands. My mother was Fiona Cyriius. She was a very kind and proud person, but was not very popular to most of the other mothers. There was not a thing that could bring someone to dislike my mother. It was just the simple fact that she was a demon.

If you do the math, you can probably deduce that this would make me a demon. While such a pairing is not unheard of, it is very uncommon and looked down upon greatly by society. Had it not been for his reputation, my father would have been banished. My mother was not so lucky. Her clan disowned her when they heard about the news. They met during one of my father’s expeditions.

I have a twin brother as well; Bahaumut. We’re nothing alike, but we get along well.

The morning started like any other. I awoke to the scent of breakfast. It was just another morning like every day. I looked to the bed beside me and saw that Bahaumut was not there. As always, he was up earlier than I was. Our room was small and simple; two small beds with a chest at the foot of them. I rolled out of bed and kicked the chest open. Inside were all my belongings.

I changed out of my night clothes and put on my school clothes. Both Bahaumut and I attended Sorcerite training in the temple. Both our parents wanted us to be Sorcerites. But I didn’t feel that my future rested there. A Sorcerite had so many codes to live by that it didn’t appeal to me. But at the time, I could think of no better profession, so in the mean time, it was my only course of action.

Bahaumut, on the other hand, ate the stuff up. I was certain that he would be a Sorcerite one day. And although he appeared to follow all the rules and be obedient, I knew otherwise. I would know. Pull up the third floorboard to the right and you would find a stash of herbs and spell books. I know it's there because I was the one who pulled up the floorboard and dug the hole.

Bahaumut practiced the art of black magic in his free time. Mother forbids it. Mother also forbids me to play with her twin daggers; called dai-blades; and keeps them locked away in a box with an enchanted lock on it. Bahaumut is the only one who knows the enchantment to open. So in return for making him a hiding spot for his magic, he lets me access the box.

I left the room and entered the kitchen. Mother was cleaning while Bahaumut was finishing his breakfast. “You missed breakfast,” he said.

He was right. If I had breakfast, I would be late for class. I hated it when he was right. I made a face at him.

“Knock it off you two. Draco, you know I wouldn’t let you go without eating.” She handed me something folded in a cloth. I looked inside and saw an egg sandwich inside.

“Thanks mom!” I bit into it. It was delicious.

Even by demon standards, she was a lovely person. Many demons had the ability to take on human form. As demons, our race closely resembled a mix between a wolf and a human. Everything about us was human, except for fur and wolf-like facial features such as a long snout and wolf-like ears. My mother had silver hair and fur, and light purple eyes. She was slender and very graceful. I got most of my features from her. But my hair was not silver, but gray; and my eyes were a darker tint of purple.

She was also very quick. Once I knocked the wooden knife holder, spilling out all the knives. In a flash, she managed to catch all twelve of them before they hit the floor without as much as a scratch. Sometimes I wondered what she used to do before she became a housewife.

“Okay you two, time for school. Hurry or you’ll be late.” She shooed us out the door and Bahaumut and I started to walk to the temple. I at my sandwich and stuffed the cloth in my pocket. The day was beautiful. The sky was clear and a light, refreshing breeze blew through the village. Morning dew still covered the grass and shimmered like a million jewels. The day looked promising.

“Draco, can I ask you a favor?” Bahaumut said as we cut between two houses.

“Sure.”

“I’m running out of supplies. I need to run out to the forest and pick some more. I also need to get inside the Archives.”

I caught on to what he needed. “We’ll go to the Archives right after school. I’ll tell Mom that you stayed behind for extra study when I get home.”

“Thank you.”

A bright display of orange caught my eye. I looked over and saw a large tree heavy with oranges. They seemed to glow like little fires under the morning sun. The branches reached past the low fence that enclosed the yard it was in.

“Bahaumut, look!” I quipped. “Kirk’s tree is growing oranges!”

It wasn’t uncommon for my appetite to dictate most of my thoughts.

Bahaumut shook his head in disapproval. “If we are late for magic lessons again, mother will scold us.”

I ignored him as I always did and approached the tree, looking longingly at the oranges that hung just out of reach. I crouched over and pressed my hands to the ground. I focused on my magic and with a dull flash, the ground beneath me rose a few feet and lifted me high enough to grab for the oranges.      

“Draco, you know what mother told you about practicing wild magic.”

“And you know what mother said about you practicing black magic.” I shot back. Bahaumut stayed silent. Sometimes Bahaumut could be a little hypocritical. But I understood that since he was the older one by five seconds, he felt the need to at least try and keep me out of trouble. He failed miserably.

I got off of my makeshift stand and tossed an orange to Bahaumut. “Why do you think mom doesn’t plant an orange tree?”

“Probably because she doesn’t like oranges,” Bahaumut shrugged.

In the distance, the bells at the temple began to toll. “Now we’re late.” Bahaumut complained, and we broke into a run to the temple.

We ran through the temple’s front entrance and navigated the halls to the class room, avoiding Masters and Journeymen as we went.

Once at the door to the classroom, I heard Bahaumut whisper a few words. His shadow spell. I watched him melt into the shadows and ooze halfway to his desk before he reappeared ran out. He quickly sat down while the teacher’s back was turned. The teacher faced the board a second time and I made a break for my desk. I made it just as the teacher turned back.

The class for the morning was the Fundamentals of Magic. It was a boring class, but not as boring as History. Our teacher was an old and slightly senile Master who smelled a lot like mothballs up close.

“Good morning class,” he said. He got a half-hearted, bored reply. He didn’t seem to notice. “This morning we are going to learn about the different classes of magic.”

Oh, yawn. I could already feel myself slowly slipping away to sleep.

“Now, as you all should know by now, there are four main categories of magic. Can anyone tell be what they are?”

Some redheaded girl in the front raised her hand and she was called upon. “White, red, black, and wild,” she said.

“That is correct. Good job. The different forms of magic are divided into those four categories. We’ll start off with white magic. White magic is any magic used to heal or protect something. Spells such as healing wounds or creating barriers are considered white magic.” On his desk was a large array of objects and instruments. One of them was a jar with a toad and a few twigs and branches in it. He opened the jar and placed the toad on the table. He set his hand over it and the toad briefly glowed.

“Now, please observe.” He reached behind his desk and pulled out a mason’s hammer. He raised it above his head and brought it down on the toad as hard as he could, which wasn’t very hard. The hammer bounced off the toad and it glowed again. “That is an example of the usefulness of white magic.”

“Now can anyone tell me about black magic?”

Someone up front raised their hand. “To break things?”

“Not quite, but close. Black magic utilizes magical energy; mana; to harm or destroy, and can even manifest mana into a physical force. It can also be used to summon spirits, an art that is forbidden by the Temple. Many people also argue whether or not necromancy is black or white magic, since you are essentially healing someone of death.”

I set my chin down on my hands. “Red magic is a little more complex, and it has many subdivisions. It uses mana to influence objects. Alchemy, and enchantings are examples of red magic.”

“Wild magic is the most difficult of all forms of magic. It requires the user to integrate their mana with natural elements in order to influence it. It requires large amounts of mana, and great control. Wild magic is very unstable and can sometimes backfire on its user if they attempt something beyond their level of control. But if they can master the ability, they can control elements.”

He was right about control. Countless times I have come home with multiple cuts and bruises because I was trying to do things like control the wind to cut things, or raise the earth like I did this morning. I tried my best to hide them from Mother. She would have a conniption if she found out. Father would be upset too, but he tended not to overreact as much as mom.

“Now, can anyone tell me…?” I never heard the question. My eyes closed and I drifted to sleep.

It felt like I slept for five minutes, but before I knew it, Bahaumut was poking me to wake up. I blinked my eyes and wiped the drool from the side of my face.

“Class over?”

He nodded and walked off. I stood up, stretched, and followed out.

After magic lessons came my favorite class: fighting. In the Temple, Associates took all forms of lessons. Once we graduated from that status and became Apprentices, we could choose the courses we wanted to focus on, such as magic or combat. After that came Journeyman, Master, and finally Elder, which was the highest one can reach.

I walked down to the training field behind the Temple. There was a Master there waiting for us. He wasn’t as old as the other teacher, but he was at least middle aged. I was disappointed. There were two teachers for this class. The younger one was always there when we actually did sparring exercises. When this one was here, it was going to be a spoken lesson on the art of combat. I sat on the grass with the others and got myself ready for another nap.

After classes, I met up with Bahaumut and we made our way to the Archive; after school was always the best time to break in. During this time, the instructors were cleaning up and preparing for their next class, and if we were spotted in the halls, no one would question what we were doing there.

The Archives were locked with a pad lock. Only Journeymen and higher carried the key. When we reached the door, Bahaumut went to the end of the hall and stood guard. He knew the routine. I reaching into my pocket and pulled out my lock pick probe. I carried it around with me everywhere I went, like a good luck charm. It was, after all, lucky. There wasn’t a lock in the world I couldn’t break into with this.

I inserted the pick and started to tweak the tumblers. One by one, they fell into place. This was going to be easy as always.

I heard footsteps and turned to find Bahaumut running towards me. I crouched down and he threw himself over me. The world around me took an abstract view, like I suddenly dived in a pool of colored water. From the end of the hall, a Master stepped in and walked towards us. He passed without as much as a glance our way. Thanks to Bahaumut’s shadow spell, we were nearly invisible to the naked eye as long as we were within contact of a shadow.

When the Master turned the corner and disappeared from sight, Bahaumut let me up. The world returned to normal. “You have got to teach me how to do that some day. I could use it so much more than you can.”

I went back to the lock and in moments cracked it open. I pulled it off the latch and set it aside. With the lock off, no one would come in and investigate. After all, only Journeymen and Masters could get in. If it was open, then that would mean it was occupied. I pushed open the doors and let Bahaumut inside.

He said, “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He paused in the doorway as if he just remembered something. He reached into his pocket and handed me a piece of paper. There was a glyph written on it.

“What’s this?”

“It will temporarily remove the enchantment on Mother’s dagger case. I learned how to make it last night in one of my books.”

“Sweet!” I looked it over. “Umm…how do I use it?”

“Just touch the box with it. One use only thought.”

“Thanks. Make sure you lock up when you’re done.” The Archive was the only place Bahaumut could obtain information to study black magic. I preferred my wild magic there were no books or scrolls for wild magic; the technique was something that could not be taught through books.

Bahaumut nodded and disappear in the shelves of books. The Archive was a creepy place. It was ill-lit and smelled of old and musty books. The lanterns that burned inside sent creepy shadows across the cold, stone walls.

I left Bahaumut there and headed home. I knew that if I went home, I would have to do my chores, but I needed to cover for Bahaumut. I was willing to bite the bullet for that.

I walked in the front door and found father at the table, sharpening his large broadsword at the table. The sword was legendary, known as the Dark Legacy. It was when he was on a quest for it he met Mother.

“How was school today?” he asked as I entered. He slid the whetstone down the edge of the blade.

“Boring.”

“Nothing has changed since I went to school there it seems.” He laughed.

My father was a proud man, and was well-respected. He was well known around the Sorcerite Temples. He had black hair that was graying near the front, but a strong face that did not betray his aging. He came from a line or warriors, and because of this he had no surviving family besides the one that lived in this house. He was a smart and practical person. It wasn’t hard to see that it was he who Bahaumut took after.

“Where’s Bahaumut?” he asked.

I answered, “He stayed behind to study.”

He nodded. Sometimes I wondered if Father knew that Bahaumut and I went behind Mother and his back to practice our magic. If he didn’t know, he definitely suspected something was up. There were too many signs for someone like him not to catch on to. But then I also wondered if he even cared. After all, not practicing that kind of magic was Mother’s rule, not his. But he never argued with Mother. He would only lose anyways.

Mother had her reasons for banning the use of black and wild magic, and they were understandable. She banned wild magic because I tended to hurt myself and black magic because she was probably afraid that Bahaumut would become drunk with the power like most do and end up evil or something.

Both Bahaumut and I knew the risks of practicing our magic. We were willing to risk it. Besides, I was certain Bahaumut had enough willpower to not turn to the dark side. He wasn’t an idiot.

“Well, you better get your chores done. Your mom will be home soon,” he said.

I sighed. “Alright. Then can I go out and play?”

“I don’t see why not.”

I smiled in anticipation and ran off to do my chores. My daily chores included feeding the cows and chickens and shoveling out the stable. It was Bahaumut’s job to milk the cows, collect the eggs, and clean the coop. He would have to do that when he got home. Once I finished, I checked inside. Dad wasn’t at the table. His gear was put away, and his sword was resting against the wall. I left it alone. If I knocked it over, I would have a hard time putting it back. It was nearly two feet taller than I was, and must weigh more than I did. Only Bahaumut was able to lift it off the ground, and even then he had to rest it on his shoulders.

I looked inside the storeroom and kitchen. Mother wasn’t there. They must both be out. I grinned and went to my parents’ bedroom. Sitting on top of the mantel was a square box with a small lock in the lid. I took the paper Bahaumut gave me out of my pocket and pressed it against the lock. The paper disintegrated in my grasp and the lock came undone.

I lifted the lid and looked inside. Sitting inside was a pair of twin daggers. The blades were a little over a foot long, double edged, and made of a black metal that was unknown to me. The hilt had a small hand guard, but it was more from protecting the hand from slipping and catching the blade than defending against an enemies attack. The blade was extremely sharp, and never dulled. At the end of the hilt was a ring. It was there as a finger grip and allowed you to spin the blades. The sheaths were made of some kind of light stone.

I was about to pick up the blades when I heard the door open. Quickly, I closed the box and heard the lock click. It was a wasted chance. Oh well. I walked out and found that mom had returned. She carried an armful of vegetables.

“Oh, you’re home,” she smiled when she saw me. “I thought you’d be out playing by the time I got home.

“I just got done with my chores and was on my way out.”

“Okay then, have fun.”

I left the house, disappointed that I had wasted a chance to practice with the blades. I left for the field, where my friends usually had a wrestling game or something going on.

That night, Bahaumut wasn’t there for dinner. By the time I was in bed, he still hadn’t arrived. I told my parents that he was helping out at the temple, but once bed time came around, they started to get worried.

Father went to the Temple to see if he was there. Mother came in to tuck me in to sleep. Where was he? He always came back in time to keep our parents from worrying. I couldn’t cover for him past this point. I found that I too was worried about him. Something wasn’t right.

Mother kissed me on the cheek as she pulled the blanket over me. I could see in her eyes that she was worried sick. But she tried her best to hide it. “Goodnight sweetie.”

“Goodnight mom.” She extinguished the lamp on the dresser and closed the door behind her.

Moonlight was the only thing lighting the room now as it seeped through the window. I looked to Bahaumut's bed. He was in trouble for sure. And knowing him, he would fess up. But not all the way. Bahaumut was not like me. He didn’t like lying. He was a fan of bending the truth, or giving only some of it. Besides, I was sure he was fine. He’ll be back any time now.

Reassured by the gullibility that comes with childhood, I fell quickly to sleep.

© draco-joe. All rights reserved by the author.