The Curse of Credesar, Part 1

  Chapter 4: Departure

  "I told you something was wrong about all this," Master Lendrith said. Kelden once again stood before him in the Low Room. "First Theodus' strange reaction to the high council's words, and now the Thelaran keepers saying they've been blinded somehow."

  "But what can I do?" Kelden asked.

  "The Garn Abbane proved you have Credesar inside you," said Lendrith, "regardless of anything else. The only hope you have is to go to Frindagan Tower and seek an end to the demon. I promise you I'll look into this matter while you're gone."

  "Thank you," said Kelden. "I just want to..." Kelden let his words trail off, unsure of how to say them.

  Lendrith nodded. "I understand, but save your thanks until I've done something to earn it."

  "You're a great teacher," Kelden said. "Valganleer's best."

  Lendrith's face reddened and he cleared his throat. "I appreciate that, my boy. And if it's any consolation, you're one of the most talented students I've ever taught blood lore to. It would be a shame indeed if I didn't get to finish molding you into a true master of our calling. Regardless, until Credesar is destroyed you can never return here."

  But none of this is my fault! Kelden thought bitterly. He was being forced out of the safest, most comfortable home one could find on Americk Dreeth--sent into the vile wastelands that yawned like a hungry mouth waiting for human sustenance.

  "I have some items for you," said Lendrith, handing him a pack. "In here you'll find a food maker and a water maker, a greenstone book to record your journey that also contains a map of the safest route to Frindagan, two vials of Ulsef blood, which can cure almost any known disease, a feeder torch that can be used as an effective weapon, and one very important blood potion of shielding."

  Kelden was speechless with gratitude for a few moments. "How did you get a hold of all that?" he asked excitedly. "A food and water maker? Aren't those supposed to be only for the high council when they journey between towers?"

  "The council is loaning you most of these items," said Lendrith. "They want you to survive, for they believe your death might free Credesar into the world. They don't really know for sure, but they certainly don't want to take any chances."

  "Where did the blood potion of shielding come from?" asked Kelden. "Is it your own?" He knew that only a respected teacher of blood lore could possess such a potion--a reward for years of service in molding young minds. It made the user nearly invulnerable to sorcery and physical injury for a short time.

  The old man nodded. "The only one I'll ever own, but I give it willingly. If you don't end up using it, though--I wouldn't mind having it back. I like to keep it with me when I journey between towers."

  Kelden's optimism was stronger than at any point since the whole ordeal had begun. He believed his chances of survival had increased dramatically now that he was equipped with some of Valganleer's most prized items.

  Lendrith closed his eyes, his face becoming a solid mass of lines and wrinkles. A couple of moments drifted by, while Kelden sat and watched him, wondering what his master was pondering. At last Lendrith opened his eyes.

  "You can find survival advice in the greenstone book," Lendrith said. "Bits of wisdom added by the high council. But ultimately, your own instincts will make the difference on this journey. Never let down your guard, and never fully trust anyone you meet. On Americk Dreeth, the second most dangerous creatures to worms are beings like you and I. Galds are even more dangerous than humans, and Torrigs are the worst. But if you stay away from the old Halstarion factories, like you should, you won't meet any Torrigs."

  "I know about the Galds," said Kelden, thinking back to the days when he'd hunted rats for their blood. The Galds--tall, warlike mutants who hated humans--had been a constant threat. Kelden had fought with them before, wounding one with a club and taking a dagger to the shoulder himself before his father and brother had put spears through both of the attackers. He remembered the vicious hatred burning in their black, bulbous eyes and the feelings of terror they had inspired within him.

  Remembering the incident made Kelden think of his family. They were rat trappers, used to hard living and watching people die. They knew nothing of moral values or laws--just raw survival. His parents had beaten him when they felt the need, and they hadn't shed a tear when his brother died from a snakebite. But the teachers and seers of Valganleer had quickly showed him a world where much more existed--power beyond his imagination, honor and justice, and evil born out of deep selfishness. Kelden came to wonder if his parents had simply lacked an opportunity to expand their minds, and if that was what made them who they were.

  Lendrith stood up and placed a hand on Kelden's shoulder. "Good luck, my boy. And make sure not to forget Theodus! You'll need your link."

  "Goodbye, Master Lendrith," said Kelden.

  "I think you'll see this through somehow," said Lendrith, but he couldn't hide the troubled glint in his eyes.