The Darkness Within Read online

  The Darkness Within

  __________________

  E.M. Aguilar

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  The Darkness Within (The Drakus Mage 1)

  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

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 55

  CHAPTER 56

  CHAPTER 57

  About the Writer

  The Darkness Within

  Copyright©: Eric Aguilar

  Published: 20, February 2012

  All rights reserved

  The right of Eric Aguilar to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by his in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold 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 Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Design by E.M. Aguilar

  Cover Art by E.M. Aguilar

  Edited by ebookediting.com

  This book is dedicated to my wife and her family because without their love and support this book will not be possible.

  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 coul
d 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 ent
ered 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.