Death Comes To All (Book 1) (2 page)

“OK
mommy.”

“Some
people don't want to live separate like we do. They live in the trade
cities that were built over the ruins of the human cities that once
existed. In these cities the races live together. The mages keep a
tight control over the cities and those that live there. They don't
want anyone to take control away from them. Some of the mages are
good people, and use both their power and their magic to help the
people in their cities and their lands, but in many places the mages
have been corrupted by the power that they have had for so long. They
only care about themselves, making themselves richer and more
powerful.”

“Did
you come from one of those cities mommy?”

“I
came from far away,” she answered in a vague sort of way. She
rarely talked much about her past, not even to her family. “I've
been to some of those cities though, before I came here and met your
father. Don't worry love, I'm staying right here. I'm never going to
leave you and your father. I'm happy here. Now please let me finish
sweetie, OK? I'll stop telling it to you if you interrupt me again.”

“No!
Don't stop mommy! I won't stop you again, I promise!”

“I
know sweetie. So, where was I? Oh yes, that's right. Most of the new
races couldn't use any magic at all, and those that could only had a
fraction of the power that the human mages had. Without magic there
was nothing anyone could do about the mages rule. The races could
rule themselves now if the mages would let them. They no longer have
to be watched over.

“In
order for them to be able to rule themselves though, the mages would
have to give up control, and they will never be willing to do that.
The mages have the power to keep the others in line. Few people are
brave or foolish enough to oppose them.

“Not
everyone is willing to fall in line. There are always those that
disagree with the control that the mages wield. Sometimes people
fight back against the mages, and there are even some mages that
think it's time for the people to be allowed to rule themselves. They
think that the mages should use their powers to help everyone,
instead of just controlling them. Maybe someday I'll tell you about
one of the mages that was like that, that wanted to help everyone
instead of ruling them. But not tonight dear. Now lay down so I can
give you a kiss goodnight and tuck you in again.”

“No
mommy, not yet! Could you tell me about the different races?”

“I
just told you about them last night sweetie.”

“I
know, but I want to hear about them again.”

“Not
tonight. It's time for bed now.”

Katrina
gave her son a kiss on the forehead and tucked him in tightly. She
watched him for several minutes, noting the change in his breathing
that told her he had fallen asleep.

“Goodnight,
my dear Drom,” she said softly to her sleeping boy. “May
all your dreams be sweet, my dear one, and may all of them come
true.”

Chapter
One

From
the very first, Drom knew he would never forget the first time he met
Garan, or the man who was first introduced to him as Garan. Not in a
thousand years. For the rest of his life he would think back upon the
night that would change his life forever.

Anyone
who didn’t know Drom would have wondered, and with good reason,
what a young sorvinian man was doing at the Staghorn Inn on a night
like that to begin with. Most sorvinians would never have strayed
from their farms long enough to have made it that far.

Of
course, Drom was nothing like most sorvinians.

While
Drom's father was sorvinian, his mother was human. Growing up in a
farming community of sorvinian children had been brutal for Drom, who
looked different from all the other children. Those children all
looked like the bulls that the sorvinian race had been created from,
while Drom looked neither human nor sorvinian, at least not enough to
pass as either one of them completely.

Drom
had inherited his father’s sorvinian ears, and like his father
he was covered in short, coarse fur from head to foot, but the
similarities ended there. His nose and mouth looked human, instead of
the wide, bovine muzzle that his father sported, but unlike his
mother’s small features his were wide and distorted.

He
would always be seen as different. Not just different but downright
ugly, at least in his opinion. He simply didn’t fit in. When he
became older and his horns, the pride of any sorvinian man, didn’t
grow in at all, it became even worse for him.

Unlike
other sorvinians, he hated the idea of living out his entire life on
a farm, watching crops grow. He longed for the adventure that lived
in the stories that the traders would tell him when they came to buy
his father’s crops. His mother had taught him to read and
write, something that few of the traders seemed to know, but the
handful of books his mother lovingly cared for only left him hungry
for more adventure than what those well known pages could offer.

That
was how he had come to the decision that it was time to leave the
farming life behind, at least for a while, and see what the rest of
the world had to offer. His father disapproved, but was good enough
not to say anything about it. His mother kissed him goodbye and, with
only a small pack of supplies and a hand-drawn map his mother had
given him, he headed south toward the distant city of Port Dayton.

Which
was how he now found himself in the Staghorn Inn, one of the more
disreputable places in the city. Its only advantage was that it was
cheap. According to the city guards he had talked to on his way in it
had the cheapest ale and the cheapest rooms, perfect for anyone brave
or stupid enough to walk through its doors.

Drom
was brave, at least in his own opinion, but he didn't consider
himself stupid. He was, however, dangerously low on funds. His
parents hadn't given him much to see him on his way. After paying the
taxes to the mage they barely made enough for their own needs. He had
enough for food and lodgings at the Staghorn for five days, perhaps a
week if he stretched it out. Until he found some sort of work he knew
he would have to be frugal with what little he had.

The
place seems clean at least
, he thought as he looked around the
room.

The
lights were dim, although Drom suspected that most of the customers
preferred it that way. The majority of the light in the room came
from the small fireplace set halfway across the room from the bar.
The few small oil lamps scattered around the rest of the room gave
off little light, but it was enough, just barely, for Drom to see by.

The
bar room was large, with thick, unpainted wooden walls. The heads of
various animals, mostly deer with large, multi-pointed antlers and
glass eyes that gazed unblinkingly at the patrons around the room,
decorated the walls. Drom was grateful that the two round wooden
tables gave incoming patrons a clear pathway to the bar. Judging by
the smell of stale beer and unwashed bodies that assailed his senses
as soon as he walked in, he believed it better to avoid brushing
against his fellow patrons as much as he could.

Perhaps
a half dozen more tables, square instead of round but otherwise
unremarkable, were set against the walls. At the wall opposite the
door a long, wooden bar spread out, taking up half the length of the
back wall from the right corner to well passed the center of the
room. Drom kept his eyes down, avoiding eye contact with everyone, as
he walked straight to the bar and sat down in one of the
uncomfortable, backless bar stools.

Behind
the bar stood a large canis, a cunning race with the large muzzle,
pointed ears, and long grey fur of a wolf. According to Drom's mother
the canis had once hunted and fed off of sorvinians, as well as
several of the other races, during the time before the Age of
Learning began, but that had been thousands of years ago.

Looking
at the bartender now, who stood a good six inches taller than his own
six foot two frame, Drom felt a certain irrational fear, remembering
his mother's nightly stories. That sort of thing didn't happen
anymore though, he knew, if it ever really had. The intelligent races
no longer hunted and killed each other, at least not openly, and this
bartender was more interested in Drom's coin than in his hide.

"I'll
take an ale and a plate of greens," Drom said to the bartender,
trying to keep his voice from wavering.

It
would hardly do to act like a frightened rabbit in a place like this.

"That's
two coppers for the ale, one copper more for the greens," the
canis replied. "It'll be a few minutes for the food," he
added as he set down a large mug of ale on the bar directly in front
of where Drom sat. The bartender didn't walk away, but waited
expectantly for his payment.

Obviously
this establishment expected payment up front.

Drom
put the copper coins on the table and turned away from the bar to
look around the room. The bartender swept up the three coins, mumbled
something about the lack of a tip, and stalked off through a door at
the end of the bar, presumably to get Drom's dinner.

No
wonder the ale here is so cheap
, he thought to himself after
taking a long pull from the mug.

It
was room temperature at best, although the taste was not as bad as he
had expected. Glancing around, it seemed like the rest of the
customers were enjoying it well enough. To Drom, who had never seen
any race other than a few human traders and other sorvinians, it was
exactly the sort of thing he hoped to find in this port city.

At
one of the round tables a pair of sloveckii drank and gambled over a
set of red dice, their thick reptilian tails swinging side to side
from underneath their coarse wool tunics. Behind them stood a group
of three dreks, a race of beings who could quickly and easily be
distinguished by their massive ears, both wider and longer than their
shoulders, and equally long noses that hung down passed their chests.
All three were dressed in long, flowing, blue robes made of light
silk and a red silk sash. It seemed like they were also betting on
the outcome of the dice, or perhaps on how long it would take before
the two sloveckii started brawling over the game. They were known for
their quick tempers, Drom had heard.

At a
table not far from the dice game sat two of the elvish races, named
so by the mages, or so his mother had told him. It was said they were
given that name because they resembled tales of creatures that
existed in ancient human folklore, but since the origins of those
tales had long since disappeared no one could be certain of how true
that was. They wore loose clothing of a light green color. Drom could
not tell what it had been made of, but as the two moved the cloth
shimmered around them like wet leaves in the sunlight.

Perhaps
the clothing was magical in nature
, Drom thought.

The
most noticeable feature on the two of them, a man and a woman, was
their hair, which flowed down halfway to their waists. It was a deep,
vibrant red, with orange and yellow streaks intermittent throughout.
It would stay that color until winter, Drom knew from his mother's
teachings, and then the color would disappear completely, leaving it
a stark, bright white. In spring it would become light green blended
with a light brown, like the color of tanned leather, turning darker
in the summer and then back to its current color again in autumn. The
shifting colors helped them stay invisible in the treetops where they
made their hidden homes.

Sitting
in the far corner of the room, in perhaps the darkest corner, sat two
more figures, a man and a woman. The man appeared human, and the
woman, at least Drom believed her thin, curvy figure to appear
female, he couldn't even make a guess at, since her face was
completely concealed under a thick black hood. Both were dressed in a
black tunic and trousers, with a thick, blood red belt around their
waists. Like everyone in the room, except for Drom, they carried
swords fastened to their hips.

The
woman's weapon was very thin, ornately carved around the hilt, and
something on the crosspiece glinted in the dim light like jewels.
Drom couldn't tell what kind of jewels they might have been in the
dark room. The man's weapon, in contrast, didn't seem to have any
sort of ornamentation at all. The thick blade, covered in its sheath,
had only a small, unadorned crosspiece painted with a flat black
color. The grip appeared to be nothing more than a piece of black
cloth wrapping the metal underneath.

While
the woman’s features were hidden from Drom's eyes, Drom could
see the man fairly well. His skin a was a dark, golden copper,
obviously a man who spent time often in the sun, with jet black hair
that fell just passed his shoulders. He was clean shaven, with a
thin, hawk-like nose and angular features. It was not, however, the
man that held Drom's gaze for so long, but the animal that sat on his
shoulder, with its tail wrapped tightly around his neck.

It
was a dragonling, a rare creature created by magic long ago. A few of
the richest, most powerful mages kept them as pets, or so Drom had
been told by one of the laborers that came through his father's farm.

Certainly
this man couldn't be one of those
, Drom thought.

The powerful mages rarely left their castles. Even if they did go
out, they certainly wouldn't be found in the Staghorn. There are few
places where rumor had it wild dragonlings could be found. Drom
guessed that the man must have located and tamed one of those.

The
animal itself was exceptionally beautiful. It had deep blue scales
that glistened in the dim light like sapphires, and an orange crest,
edged in deep red, that ran down its back and around its head.