Secrets of Magic (Soul of Magic Book 3)

SIX

Everon was everything it was known for and more, as Lucian soon observed when he, Kyra and the leader of the men in the forest who later introduced himself to them as Jurgen rode into the town. Everything in the town spoke of prosperity, strength, and of course, an independent land.

Truth be told, Everon itself as a place wasn't that much to the eyes. It was small in land mass compared to the other towns and kingdoms which Lucian had been to; and the pale-blonde warrior had been to quite a lot. Its structures, although portraying great effort and ingenuity, couldn’t stand near the jaw-dropping ones of the great kingdoms.

Unlike the great kingdoms, most structures in Everon was one-storey constructions; two at the most. They were made out of timbers which was obviously abundant in the dense forest surrounded the independent lands. The streets were lined in neat straight rows, the sign of every establishment put up front for every inhabitant to see although most people didn’t even seem to take a slight glance at it before entering; they probably already knew the places by heart by then that they would be able to recognise it even the dark of night and without a torch. The ground was mostly natural sand, brown and wet from the morning dew; but Lucian figured they would turn brown and coarse as soon as the sun was fully risen and the weather hotter.

However, while Everon might not be much of a comparison to the bigger established human states in terms of structure, its organization was definitely on par with them. Everywhere Lucian looked, he saw Everonians who were happy and contented with where they were.

And the town were quite self-sustaining too. The various establishments which the pale-blonde warrior saw was up and running and looked capable enough to cater to the town's every need. He figured that the whole arrangement was so, so as to presumably minimize the Everonians' interaction with the outside realm to the barest and thus, prevent any intruder who would seek to use that interaction to spy out their weaknesses.

Of course, the people's dedication to their greatest source of wealth- timber- couldn’t at all be overemphasised. In various designated places, able-bodied men stacked large amount of freshly cut timbers upon one another in readiness for their transport to the other parts of the realm. Each one of those points was patrolled by soldiers of six to eight men, all armed and ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. They would protect their citizens, and their wealth, at all costs.

But the major thing that really helped Everon sustain its independence was its defense; and every inhabitant of the town knew that too. Great and long, but not very high walls of stones protected the town with guards stationed at different points on them. They were armed with all manner of weapons, ranging from a simple dagger to a well-designed compound bow; whatever their defense required, they could match up.

The Everonians must have realised the advantage the forest provided them too as in addition to the normal military routine and practice, the soldiers of Everon could be seen training on how to engage in combat off the ground at a level so high as the top of a forest tree. "The first Duke of Everon, who was really a warrior at heart, devised this means of training," Jurgen explained to them, a look of pride on his face as he watched the men. "And it most definitely played a great part in keeping out invading forces during the Age of Divide, believe me."

In that moment, they arrived at a building about three floors high; seemly the only one of its kind in the town. Surprisingly, it was made out of stones instead of timber like the other buildings. It was fenced all around with a small, heavy, well-fortified timber wall patrolled from left to right by three guard groups of two. The building was obviously very important to the Everonians and as Lucian looked up to see the black banner with the drawing of tree hanging on its wall, he finally knew why; it was home to the Duke of Everon, Kyra’s adopted father.

Just then, a man of about fifty-two years of age with dark brown hair greying at the roots walked out of the building to stop at the iron gate built into the timber wall. He wore a brown tight leather jacket but simple fabric trousers with a black cloak draped over it; a broadsword hanging on his hip which he tapped absentmindedly as he waited for the incoming trio to reach him.

"Commander Karl," Kyra said the moment she recognized him, dismounting from her horse with a very happy smile on her face as she went to envelope him in an affectionate bear hug. "I’ve missed you so much."

"I can see that," he replied, smiling too. "And I also missed you too, my lady."

Lucian joined the hugging duo at that moment and extended a handshake to the Commander. “Lucian," he introduced himself.

“He’s a friend of mine,” Kyra explained. “The protector who has kept me safe these past two years.”

"The independent land of Everon thanks you, Lucian," said the commander, shaking Lucian enthusiastically and with a lot of gratitude in his smile. "Thank you for returning the lady back home safely.”

"Speaking of home, Karl," Kyra said, looking around as she noticed something. "Why are my uncle and aunt not out here?"

"About that," Karl replied as his previously cheery mood suddenly took a dark turn. "There is something you need to know."

***

Every step that Kyra took down the crypt filled her with so much dread and pain that it was a surprise that she could still manage to stand at all. Her uncle and aunt had passed away, that was what Karl had told her; dead for quite a while without even her knowledge.

In all honesty, Kyra and her foster parents weren't quite close. Sure, they took very good care since they took her in as their own when she was just a baby, gave her everything that she could ever need to grow up well and more, and they always seemed ready to be there for her whenever she needed them. But the Soul of magic just didn't feel the connection that most people felt with their parents; and even more so because she was a witch and she couldn't tell them. The Great Conflict was still very much then and Everon had no tolerance for wizards.

Anyway, the issues escalated to the point that Kyra had to run away from home;burning up a barn and almost injuring her uncle and aunt while she did it. And she never once thought to come back home until then.

"Lord Byron never remained the same after you left," Commander Karl said as he and Kyra walked down the rows of buried nobles of Everon in the crypt. "He kept falling in and out of illnesses, his strength waning more and more after each recovery. But his death came when he tripped and fell down the stairs about a year ago, bedridden for a day before he finally gave up the ghost. Some months later, Lady Hilda caught the flu from which she sadly never recovered. By their orders and the wishes of the Everonian people, I was made Commnader Regent and I've been watching over the town in their stead ever since, waiting for the time that you would come back home and take your rightful place as Duchess, just as my late Lord had said you would."

Kyra couldn't bring herself to correct the commander that what brought her back had nothing to do with love or a dead man’s wishful prophecy but a great trouble which almost took her life and still wanted to. Instead, she asked, "Did they suffer?"

"No, my lady, they didn't," he replied, although Kyra detected an undertone which made her suspect that he wasn't being truthful, at least not entirely.

Anyway, she let it go, choosing to hang on to the hope that perhaps she hadn't messed up as badly with her foster parents as she seemed to have been doing with every other thing quite lately.

Just then, they reached a headstone marked Lord Byron and another Lady Hilda; both headstones side by side with the statues of the lord and lady holding hands in front of them. "They had always said that they wanted to be buried side by side with the proof of their love shown to whoever sees them so, I thought of this," Karl explained, looking to Kyra for her approval and she nodded affirmative. In truth, it wasn’t really her decision to make; she was barely their relative as she was a real daughter to them. But the commander clearly needed her approval and so, she gave it.

"Can I have a moment with them alone?" she asked Karl after they had both whispered a silent prayer to the Creator for the souls of the dead as was customary.

"Of course, my lady," he replied, using the torch in his hand to light two others on the wall before taking his leave.

Kyra waited for the commander's footsteps to fade before her legs suddenly buckled under her and she knelt as she gave into what had been gnawing at her to do since learning about her foster parents; she cried. Her wail was so loud that the walls of the crypt seemed to echo it back to her with enormous reverberation.

Eventually, Kyra was able to get herself back under control and strangely enough, felt liberated afterwards.

The reason for the Soul of magic's cry was simple really; she was bad. She was a bad daughter to her foster parents, a bad friend to Lucian, a bad leader whose decisions and indecisions led to the opportunity of the betrayal that killed three High wizards, took away her power, and made her and Lucian fugitives.

"I'm going to fix all that I've spoiled," she said as she placed her hands on the headstones with a renewed determination coursing through her. "I promise."