Victor Deus (Heritage of the Blood Book 1) by Brent Lee Markee Read Free Book Online

were drunks and others who had not found a roof for the night curled up wherever they could best keep out the cool night air.
    Is this the kind of place that I am to leave my son? There is nothing but poverty and violence to be found on these streets. It's amazing that King Theromvore allows this to happen. He looked down to the sleeping child in his arms and was suddenly oddly optimistic. You are the son of a former Captain of the High Elven Court, if anyone can survive, or even thrive in such a place it will be you. Who would look for our son in such a place? This is one of the few places that you will be safe from those that would do you harm or use you in their own evil schemes.
    As he turned another corner he noticed the horizon was beginning to fight back the dark of night, and knew he did not have much longer. If he didn't find the Mystic quickly he would have to find some young couple to take care of his boy. Thieves and scoundrels made up the majority of the people in this part of town, but he knew there were those who were simply down on their luck out here as well. I may have to abandon you my son, but I would die before I left you with some common criminal.
    As he looked about himself he knew that finding an honest couple in this part of town would be like trying to find an honest man in a merchant's guild. They were there, but you were more than likely to lose quite a bit of coin before you found them. He could sense more people becoming aware of his presence, and knew it would become even more dangerous the closer it came to morning.
    Everyone knew about the Mystic that helped out the people that lived near the Docks Ward, but no one knew exactly where they lived. If you had sick and your need was great enough they would show up and heal them if it was within their power. The elite of the city referred to the Mystic as “A Sheppard amongst a flock of sheep that should have been put down from sickness a long time ago.” He had heard more than one of the City Watch say how they would like to know who the Mystic was so they could buy the man a drink for saving their ass. Some in the Mages guild or amongst the Clergy of the city called the Mystic a rogue. The most interesting thing that he had heard and what had given him the most hope was the speculation among the people that the Mystic was a Half-Elf.
    As the seconds began to tick loudly through his head his mind once again turned to the matter at hand. How do you find someone powerful that seems not to want to be found? Of course, this question has been asked a thousand times in every generation by every sentient race since the beginning of time. It was all unfolding like some fireside tale, one of those stories where the orphan is raised by the cranky old whatever and becomes the hero of the land. He knew that some of those stories were based on things that had actually happened, so it was not unheard of, however unlikely it was. Lagelion also knew how cruel and dangerous of a place the world could be, so the only thing he expected was for his son to survive.
    Again his mind turned to the fact that he wouldn't be there to tell his son these types of stories, and to watch the wonder in his eyes as he discovered men like Alexander Dalton and Tyrdra the Red. All of his hope rested in the hands of a Mystic he had never met, and who very well might not exist. It would not be the first time the downtrodden had created a bright shining hero of the people to raise their spirits. Someone to give them the hope that if things got really bad there was hope for a hand to come out of the darkness to set them back on the right path.
    The rays of the sun were starting to break through the horizon, and he could feel his hope begin to drain. Ok, since this is unfolding like a folk legend or a traveler's tale I should think like a story teller. Usually in these types of stories the wise man knows more about the traveler who is coming to them for help than the person who is doing