The Revelations of Lancelot Bordair

## Summary

Preceded by Family - An Illerian Tale. Happens in the middle of the Diary of Malaroy Vastile.

## Story

*Malaroy Vastile stared in the darkness at the small flickering light before him. Captivity, torture, wandering, and fighting, had lead him to this moment. Everything was for this single task, this single divinely-given burden.*

*“Please… don’t make me do this…” Malaroy whispered quietly to himself.*

*You must.*

*“Please… I won’t ever forgive myself… please no…”*

*Many will be damned to achieve this world’s salvation. I have foreseen this. You are but one who must suffer. Would you condemn existence for the sake of your own desires?*

*“No,” Malaroy murmured softly. He stared at the all-consuming light that flickered before him. It had taken him years to find this location, the Isle of the Winged Ones, Tuat’nau. It had been guarded by a magical, terrifying series of storms, waves that destroyed all the ships that dare brave the surface. All but the Dwarven craft he had stolen had been claimed by its depths. Even in that wine-dark see, he could still spot countless ships and crews that had met a terrible doom.*

*But even their violent ends were nothing compared to this in his mind.*

*He took a deep breath to steel himself and crept closer. The light was coming from a small hut, and Malaroy crept up and felt the cold stone under his hands. Years of stonework learning let him know immediately that this was made of some kind of volcanic rock, probably retrieved from one of the off-runs from the volcano that dominated the center of the island. He closed his eyes and concentrated on stilling his breathing, opening his ears to hear better. There was a man inside were talking.*

*“You gonna grow up and be strong, little guy?” There was a delighted gurgle of a baby in response. “That’s right, you sure are!”*

*“I’m more convinced he’s going to be a scholar,” a female voice said, probably the mother. “Honestly, I think he’s already starting to learn how to read. I caught him looking at your scrolls.”*

*“He won’t have much of a chance with those,” the man said. “They’re not much like modern writings.”*

*The woman laughed. “Even so, the fact he looks like he was trying gives me hope.”*

*“I just hope the little guy is okay through the night.”*

*“Come on, Eai’u, he will be fine. Let’s go to sleep.”*

*“Okay.” There was a moment of silence, then the creak of a crib. “Good night, little Tor’in,” the voice whispered. “Sleep well.”*

*There was the sound of muffled movement, and then silence.*

*It took nearly an hour for Malaroy to do what needed to come next. The Dwarf gingerly climbed in through the open window and used his Dwarven eyes to his advantage, peering through the gray dimness to spot the crib. In it was a small, peacefully sleeping dragon born. He walked over to the crib and with trembling hands, looked at him in the crib. “He’s so small…” Malaroy whispered. Tears started to form. “Please no… Please no…”*

*You must. We cannot risk the rebirth of Malstromus or Primus. They would destroy us.*

*Malaroy shook his head. “No… no… no… please no…”*

*You must!*

*“I can’t,” Malaroy whimpered.*

*Then the baby’s eyes opened. It let out a small cry.*

*Do it!*

*Malaroy’s hands shot forward, before he could think, before he could process, before he could stop, and snapped the child’s neck. He stumbled backward, looked over to see a door starting to open. Instinct guided him from that point on. Without thinking, he grabbed the child’s body from its crib and ran, sobbing, bolting out the front door, and towards the wilderness.*

*It wasn’t long before he heard an agonized cry, a bellowing roar. Then, there was the sound of a man, screaming, wailing.*

*Then, the sound of a great crack, and wingbeats.*

*Damn it, damn it, damn it, Malaroy thought. He looked up suddenly, he was in the woods, obscured from sight, under the cloak of darkness. The child’s limp body still hung limp like a little doll.  Malaroy kept running until he had reached his vessel, a battered, sturdy Dwarven submarine. He’d give the poor boy a proper burial at sea. His heart and stomach were on fire, like they had been split in twain and filled by dragon fire.*

*Then, a wail split the air.*

*Malaroy looked down and the child looked up at him, his neck perfectly straight. Malaroy doubled his speed and before he knew it, he was on the beach, his submarine waiting for him. He bound up to his row boat, got in, and heaved the oars for all he was worth. He looked up and saw a small blur heading towards him. He put more effort into rowing, his back straining, his arms popping. Soon, the oar boat smashed against the metal hull of the Dwarven sub. He grabbed the child and shot up the ladder, born of years of practice. He dropped down and pulled the hatch after himself, it sealing with a loud clang. “Dive!” he screamed. “Dive!”*

*The submarine’s crystalline engine let out a loud keen as it went into its highest frequency. In a matter of moments, it was beneath the waves.*

*Malaroy took a minute to catch his breath.  He looked down at the baby and saw the big eyes staring back at him, fully trusting, non-judgmental.*

*“Gods be damned…”*

*Malaroy looked up and tried to steady his shaking as his pilot lumbered into view.*

*“You couldn’t kill him then?”*

*Malaroy shook his head. “I tried… but he… refused to die.”*

*Jeremiah sighed, fiddling with his tie, adjusting his hair with a nervous hand. “Well… that’s a problem.”*

*“Not as much as a problem as when your wife finds out what we’ve done,” Malaroy said.*

*“I don’t have a choice,” Jeremiah said heavily. “If I’m to have any chance at uncorrupting my son…” He sat down in a nearby chair. “I should have never brought home that damn ring… It’s all my fault. She told me not to… I didn’t listen. I just wanted to get her something to remember him by… I was arrogant, insecure. How can I compete with a man she remembers from over a hundred years ago that she still thinks about? I just wanted to bury the past… I didn’t want any of this.”*

*Malaroy put a comforting hand on Jeremiah. “Neither did I,” he said somberly. “But this was the price we must face.”*

*“I killed those damn fiends years ago, Malaroy. Twenty Years, and they are still haunting me. I just wanted Lance to not turn out like… me… an abomination. Every time I look at him, I just see a younger me. I thought that maybe the ring would disrupt the magic… It just made him… unstable.”*

*Malaroy swallowed a few times. Jeremiah had left that bit out when they had talked four months earlier, during his second visit to the Manor, lead back to there by his unknown guide to accompany Jeremiah on this secretive voyage.*

*“We both have problems when it comes to family,” Malaroy said. “My own son has his head in the clouds half the time, talking about ‘Wee Jas.’ I don’t know what’s coming over him. I half-expect him to abandon the academy and flounce of to a temple at least twice a day.”*

*The two of them stared at each other in relative silence, the unspoken question hovering in the air before settling into Malaroy’s arms. “What do we do? It clearly won’t die…” he said.*

*“I’ll take him,” Jeremiah said. He stood and tenderly took the dragonborn from Malaroy’s arms. “I can raise him.”*

*Malaroy looked at Jeremiah, stunned. “So close to Lance? That’s dangerous! The poor thing could wind up dead!”*

*“I have a plan,” Jeremiah said. “I’ll take the ring and hide it.”*

*“Where?”*

*“There’s a monastery, very remote. The chances of the ring finding anyone who can activate it there is slim to none. There hasn’t been a Scion of Malstromus in millennia according to my parents.”*

*“But if they call forth the Grimoire…”*

*“No one can make that ring come to life,” Jeremiah assured him. “And the Grimoire can’t make its own body without a Scion. There’s no one with the Blood of the Harbingers anymore. The Elvish Empires saw to that over the years.”*

*“How will you hide him,” Malaroy said, gesturing to the child. “A dragonborn isn’t exactly common.”*

*Jeremiah fiddled with a vial around his neck for a moment before uncorking it.*

*“Polymorph?!” Malaroy. “You can’t be serious?!”*

*“I turned out fine,” Jeremiah said. “And I intend for this little guy to do the same, now that he’s our responsibility.” He tipped the vial of green, glowing liquid into the child’s mouth, and it began to change. Scales were replaced by pale skin. Darkish bits of hair started to sprout from its head. Its nose began to broaden, then shrink.  Soon, it looked like a cross between a half-orc and a half-elf was in his lap. “Now, we just need a name,” Jeremiah said.*

*“His parents called him “Tor’in,’” Malaroy suggested.*

*Jeremiah shook his head. “No. It can’t be obvious.” He thought for a moment, becoming distant, then suddenly brightening. “Ha. I’ve got the perfect name.”*

*“Are you sure?” Malaroy asked dryly.*

*“Says the man who named is son after himself,” Jeremiah said in response. “I think it’s a fine one.” The newborn started to cry and Jeremiah bounced it back into a doze, murmuring in a soothing voice “Isn’t that right, Gabriel?”*

\*\*\*

Gabriel stared at the basin in horror, then looked at his own shaking hands. “No…” he whispered. “No… this is a lie…”

“I haven’t lied to you so far,” the Dwarf said in a reasonable tone. “Now have I?” His roughly scared face split into a smile. “The real question is, you just found out you were stolen from your real parents, lied to your entire life, and were destined for something much greater than being the runner of some estate and a stabilizer for your little brother, his puppet. So, now what are you going to do?”

“My father… he has to pay for this…” Gabriel said slowly, clenching his fists, tears running down his face. “I’ll kill him!” He screamed. “I’ll kill him just like he tried to kill me!”

The Dwarf nodded, a shadowy smile reaching his eyes. “There’s a lad. Now you’re seeing reason. Your life was nice and orderly before he butted in with that foul wizard.”

“But… How…” Gabriel whispered. “How can I kill him? He’s so strong… and there’s my… *mother*… to consider…”

The Dwarf patted Gabriel consolingly on the back. “There there, lad. I’ll talk it over with you. I have some rather large influence and can help you set this all right. You aren’t alone in this anymore.” He gave Gabriel a hug that the young man returned, sobbing. After a few minutes the Dwarf patted him on the back and released the embrace.

“Now… I know you’re rather upset and that I have a habit of always winning, but how about we settle down a bit to think with a game?”

Gabriel wiped his eyes. “Okay…” he said in a shaky voice. “What do you want to play?”

The Dwarf snapped his fingers and a board appeared before him and pieces clattered together in a cloth sack as they popped into the center. The Dwarf gave him a small smile. “Ever heard of checkers?”