Book 1 - Prologue (2/2)
”As I told you before, you have only to bury your pain deep inside you, somewhere no one can ever hope to reach it-not even yourself.”
That sounded so easy. Yet, how did one bury such tormenting grief? Such devastating memories? How did one battle the horrendous agony? He would do anything, anything at all, to find peace.
”How?” he asked his tutor.
”You will discover that answer on your own.”
Magic and power began swirling more intently around them, undulating, begging for some type of release. The air expanded, coagulated, leaving a heady fragrance of darkness and danger. A surge of energy ricocheted across the walls like a bolt of lightning, then erupted in a colorful array of liquid sparks.
Darius stilled as horror, dread and yes, antic.i.p.ation sliced a path through him.
”A traveler will enter soon,” Javar said, already tense and eager.
With shaky fingers, Darius gripped the hilt of his sword.
”They always experience disorientation at first emergence. You must use that to your advantage and destroy them the moment they exit.”
”I'm not ready. I cannot-”
”You are and you will,” Javar said, a steely edge to his tone. ”There are two portals, the one you are to guard here and the one I guard on the other side of the city. I am not asking you to do anything I would not-and have not done-myself.”
In the next instant, a tall man stepped from the mists. His eyes were squeezed shut, his face pale, and his clothing disheveled. His hair was thick and silvered, and his tanned skin was lined with deep wrinkles. He had the look of a scholar, not of war or evil.
Still trembling, Darius unsheathed his weapon. He almost doubled over from the sheer force of his conflicting emotions. A part of him continued to scream to run away, to refuse this task, but he forced himself to remain. He would do this because Javar was right. Travelers were the enemy, no matter who they were, no matter what their purpose.
No matter their appearance.
”Do it, Darius,” Javar growled. ”Do it now.”
The traveler's gaze jolted open. Their eyes suddenly clashed together, dragon gold against human green. Resolve against fear. Life against death.
Darius raised his blade, paused only a moment-then struck. Blood splattered his bare chest and forearms like poisoned rain. A gargled gasp parted the man's lips, then slowly, so slowly, his lifeless body sank to the ground.
For several long, agonizing moments, Darius stood frozen by the fruit of his actions. What have I done? What have I done ! He dropped the sword, distantly hearing a clang as the metal thudded into the dirt.
He hunched over and vomited.
Surprisingly, as he emptied his stomach, he lost the agony inside him. He lost his regret and sadness. Frigid ice enclosed his chest and what was left of his soul. He welcomed and embraced the numbness until he felt only a strange void. All of his heartache-gone. All of his suffering-gone.
I have done my duty.
”I am proud of you, boy.” Javar slapped his shoulder in a rare show of affection. ”You are ready to take your vows as Guardian.”
As Darius's shaking ceased, he straightened and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. ”Yes,” he said starkly, determinedly, craving more of this detachment. ”I am ready.”
”Do it, then.”
Without pausing for thought, he sank to his knees. ”In this place I will dwell, destroying the surface dwellers who pa.s.s through the mist. This I vow upon my life. This I vow upon my death.” As he spoke the words, they mystically appeared on his chest and back, black and red symbols that stretched from one shoulder to the other and glowed with inner fire. ”I exist for no other purpose. I am Guardian of the Mist.”
Javar held his stare for a long while, then nodded with satisfaction. ”Your eyes have changed color to mirror the mist. The two of you are one. This is good, boy. This is good.”
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