Heir to the Sundered Crown by Matthew Olney Page B

several generations. It is a gift that enables you to do magic without the need for spells or incantations.”
    Luxon raised his head and looked at his master in confusion.
    “How...how is that possible?” he asked dumbfounded.
    Thanos smiled “The magic within you is like a second skin Luxon. It is a reflex to you just like when you blink or your knee jerks when hit with a healers hammer.
    ‘To me, and everyone else, magic is something that we must spend decades in near constant practise to bring such power out in us. It is a gift Luxon, one that is both wondrous and terrifying in equal measure.”
    Luxon frowned at that. “Terrifying? I don’t like the sound of that.” He muttered. A thought entered his mind. “If magic is like a reflex to me then why has it only come to me like that now?”
    The grandmaster sat on the crystal table his legs swinging just above the floor.
    “Your life was in danger it is as simple as that. Is it not a reflex to fight or flee when threatened?” Thanos stood once more and began pacing up and down the chamber.
    “Your gift is dangerous if not controlled. I emptied the chamber because I did not want your abilities to become common knowledge. Unsavoury folk of all kinds would no doubt attempt to take advantage of your gifts.
    ‘In that respect I will be taking you on as my apprentice in order to teach you how to control your power. As for Accadus and his oafs they will be expelled from this city and returned to Retbit. Too many times have I had to deal with the consequences of that boy’s misdemeanours.’  
    Luxon was stunned. He was being left off, and he was going to obtain the rank of apprentice, an apprentice to grandmaster Thanos no less! He didn’t know what to say, instead he smiled.
    ***
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    7.
    Mountains of Eclin
    In the scarce scrub of the mountain pass two rangers watched and waited. Howling winds battered the senses and the blizzard caused a near whiteout. Dressed in their grey robes and cowl they were almost indistinguishable amongst the landscape.
    Carlock shifted uncomfortably, his hands tensing and un-tensing on the shaft of his longbow. His silent companion was as still as a statue his grey and hard eyes never leaving the scene unfolding on the plain far below.
    “How much longer must we wait Woven? It’s been hours now.” He mumbled to the stern looking older man. Woven glanced at his comrade with an annoyed look on his face.
    “We wait until they’ve all passed. Down there is an army of which we have never seen before.” Woven growled.
    The two rangers had been dispatched to the mountain regions after reports flooded in of massacres and a terrifying enemy. For days the region of Eclin had been besieged, towns and cities north of the mountains had fallen silent as thousands of refugees fled the horror that was quickly consuming the land.
    Baron Lido had ordered his forces to defend and barricade the mountain passes that led to the south and to Delfinnia’s capital and heartlands.
    The reports of spectres and monsters had at first been scorned as mere panic induced rumour, but after survivors from the garrisons of the mountain forts collaborated with the testimony of the refugees, panic had truly set in.
    Down in the valley a seemingly never-ending column of black armoured figures marched. Their destination, the barricade at Fuio pass.
    “They look like men to me,” said Carlock as he shifted slightly.
    “Yes… wait look there;’ Whispered Woven. “By Niveren it can’t be.”
    There, unbelievably, was a shambling horde of people. At first glance they looked like prisoners of war, men and women. But to Woven’s keen eyes he could see what they truly were. The faint stains of red on the snow around them were the first clue. It was blood. Many were headless, stumbling and staggering as they followed the armoured troops.
    Then came the sound. It was the moans and cries of souls in torment emanating from those walking