Eric leaned forward. “This says only Soliander could open the gate, or someone with a soclarin item, which again means him, unless someone stole something of his.”
“Well, with him being missing,” added Matt, “it’s obviously not him, and since he’s not around to guard his stuff, someone might’ve tried to steal something of his.”
Morven shook his head, a brown lock of hair falling off his shoulder, green eyes moving from one champion to another. “The magical protection around his dwellings is reputed to be truly formidable and includes demons and the like. It would be madness to try.”
Fingering the staff, Matt said, “I guess all we need to close the gate is this.”
“Possibly,” agreed Lorian, “but the staff usually facilitates spell casting and does not replace it. There might be more needed still.” He frowned. “Since you have it, and the rest of you have their remaining items, they clearly do not also have them. It does not bode well for them.”
“Maybe the spell is in one of the books.” Matt pulled out one bound in red and silver and started flipping through it despite the unfamiliar language. Archaic-looking symbols graced many pages amidst probable directions and maybe ingredients for potions, identifiable by the quantities listed. Depictions of dragons, unicorns, monsters, and other mythical beasts – or maybe not so mythical – adorned the pages. Most of the text was in one of two scripts, the first aggressive and somehow suggestive of being ancient, the second smooth, elegant, and flowing, beautiful to look at even if not understood.
Lorian, who sat next to him, said quietly, “It is written in elvish.”
“Why elvish?”
“It is common among human wizards to write spells in another language so that ordinary folk cannot understand them, whether it be the incantations or the accompanying descriptions. Most humans cannot read elvish.”
“Yes, it’s working, because I can’t read any of it. These books aren’t going to help me much.”
“I can teach you both elvish and the language of magic, Nu’Eiro.”
Matt perked up. “Really?” Then his face fell. “How can I learn anything useful in a few days?”
“There are magical means to acquire the ability quickly,” replied Lorian.
“That reminds me,” Eric began, “I’ve been meaning to ask how we can all speak English, our language back on Earth, and you guys do, too. I know the worlds are connected, but it seems a huge coincidence.”
The elf nodded. “You are not speaking English. Just as I can cast a spell to allow you to speak and understand another language, the summoning spell has this built into it. Soliander added this to make it easier for them. Otherwise they might often arrive somewhere and be unable to communicate. The summoners must specify what language is expected and the spell adjusts accordingly.”
“This summoning spell sounds incredible,” Matt remarked.
“It is, and among the most sophisticated spells ever cast. It is one reason the soclarin ore was needed to enable it.”
Eric asked, “So then what language are we speaking?”
“Vortunon, the common tongue of this continent, of the same name.”
“But I feel like I’m speaking English.”
“That I cannot explain, but I would imagine that, now that you are aware of the difference, you could speak in English and switch back to Vortunen if you tried.”
They exchanged a look, with Matt the first to say something in English. The others followed suit, then switched back to Vortunen.
Eric asked, “So if we’re summoned elsewhere, we might gain the ability to speak that language?”
“Yes.”
“Is this permanent?”
“I do not know.”
“So if elves summon us…”
“You gain elvish.”
Matt said, “Wow. That’s awesome. I want to learn how to do this kind of spell.”
Lorian chuckled. “As would many. First, I must test your affinity for magic to see whether you have anything more than the rudimentary powers everyone possesses. Otherwise there won’t be much point in instructing you. I brought materials to administer the test.” Lorian looked around the inn and added, “Now would be a good time if you are agreeable to it, but not here. Let us go upstairs.”
Matt nodded and rose, taking the books and staff with him. Eric got up to go, too, gesturing for the others to remain. Matt looked at him inquisitively.
“No going off by ourselves, remember?”
Matt shrugged. Lorian appeared trustworthy but being cautious didn’t hurt. Neither would a witness. Minutes later, Lorian and Matt sat facing each other in the elf’s room, Eric watching with his back to the closed door. The floor creaked as he shifted to brighten a wall lantern. They weren’t used to it being so dark inside at night. They needed to maximize the daylight hours, rising early. Being a night owl lost its appeal when there was nothing to do and you couldn’t see anything.
From a woolen bag, Lorian retrieved a rectangular tray of black metal divided into four recessed squares, a split, recessed circle in the center. The elf placed the tray on a three-legged stool before pulling six glass vials out, one holding a deep red sand he poured into one corner, where it flattened by itself to form a level surface. That got Matt’s attention. They had yet to witness anything supernatural after the summoning. Sparkling light danced from within the next vial as Lorian poured it into an adjacent space, where the liquid softly glowed. Another bottle of clear liquid seemed unremarkable until he poured it and it ignited into a low, golden flame. The next glass held a swirling, smoky atmosphere that drifted down to the fourth quadrangle, softly stirring as if alive.
“The four elements,” realized Matt, wanting to touch them.
“Yes,” Lorian approved.
“And in the center?”
“The essences of magic and spirit.” Lorian held up a glass with a thick, glowing, golden liquid. It wasn’t smooth like a fluid, but multifaceted like crushed foil. It slowly oozed into one half of the center circle, looking for all-the-world like solid gold. The last vial held a similar, shimmering liquid like molten silver.
“Which is which?” Matt asked, staring.
“The silver of the moons is of the spirit, which is why silver weapons hurt the undead. Magic, the fire of the soul, is golden.” He took the tray in both hands and uttered several phrases that didn’t sound elven from they’d heard today as the elves spoke among themselves. The tray glowed briefly. Then Lorian pulled out a small knife and gestured for Matt’s hand, which the techie warily extended. “I need six drops of your blood, one at a time for each test.”
“Why?” Matt asked, feeling lightheaded as the blade approached his fingertip. He’d seemingly been born averse to the sight of blood.
“It is the gateway to the soul,” Lorian answered, “for how is the soul released except by the shedding or stilling of blood? It connects body and soul, and being part of both, allows us to touch your soul’s magic energy through the flesh.” He reached for Matt’s hand and chose one finger to hold steady. The knife snaked out to slice a small cut before the wizard-to-be could flinch. Lorian pulled Matt’s finger over the sand and gave a short squeeze. A single drop fell to the sand. After a moment, the red sand rose to form an elegant house, which then dissolved into a village of many houses, then a city, a continent, and finally a small planet showing continents and rotating on its axis.
“What does it mean?” Matt asked, the blood forgotten.
Lorian’s wide eyes fell on him. “You have a strong connection to the earth. The weakest would see only a hut form, or a house. The stronger see a town, a city, maybe a kingdom.”
Matt wasn’t sure he wanted to understand the implication. “But, this shows a planet.”
The elf nodded slowly. “I have only seen one stronger, showing many planets. It was Soliander himself.”
Matt whispered, “Wow.”
Eric shifted and Matt glanced at him, seeing a look of concern he didn’t share. The ro
gue said, “I’d like the results of your testing known only to us.”
Lorian said, “Very wise. Agreed. Let us proceed.”
He pulled Matt’s finger over the tray again, this time to the fire, which had been softly crackling. Another drop of blood fell, landing with a sizzle. The flames turned dark red, then brightened to orange, yellow, and finally a white so bright it hurt the eyes. Matt leaned back from the heat as arcs of white flame lashed out like a solar flare. Though the test concluded and cooled, the globe still spun slowly. A sun had formed.
“That was awesome.” Matt breathed, anxious to see what the other tests did.
“Great power over fire,” observed the elf, gesturing for him to proceed.
This time Matt squeezed out a drop himself. The fog stirred as shapes began to form. First were archaic-looking symbols he didn’t recognize, then a dragon flying through the clouds, and finally his own face staring back. A swirl struck the visage and tore it apart, a spinning vortex growing wider as others formed, the tornadoes merging to form a huge hole of swirling blackness, the roaring air and thunder audible as cracks of lightning flashed light upon the watchers.
Matt recognized a hurricane from TV. A glance at Lorian confirmed his high level of affinity for air, too. “What did the symbols mean?”
“Symbols?” The elf looked confused. “Where?”
“In the fog,” Matt answered. “It was right at the start, before my face appeared.”
Lorian and Eric exchanged a look. Matt realized from their glances that only he had seen them. “Describe them,” commanded the elf.
“On the left was a circle with a man inside it, lightning surrounding it. In the middle was a square with each line bowed inward toward a little star-like point in the middle, with something sticking out of it. The right one showed one sword piercing two hearts, each with a drop of blood falling from it. What do they mean?”
“I’m not sure,” evaded Lorian, frowning. “The first two are unknown. The last is bleak.”
“Meaning?” Eric asked.
“Death,” Lorian announced, “though that could be death of an idea or a cause, not necessarily the one who sees the symbol. It can also mean rebirth. Its meaning is possibly changed by the others, but I do not understand them. What seems clear is that two lives will be at stake.”
Matt sighed. Things kept getting more complicated. Hopefully this wasn’t some sort of omen, especially since his life was likely one of those at stake.
“Please continue,” suggested Lorian.
Matt squeezed a drop into the crystal water, which splashed upward to form a fountain from the blowhole of a whale that materialized beneath it. As the water descended, it formed a wooden ship-of-the-line as the whale vanished. The ship’s sails unfurled with a snap and it surged forward on the wind, slicing through the white-tipped waves. Dolphins leapt ahead of it.
“That’s amazing,” said Matt.
“You can master water, if you desire,” said Lorian, appearing impressed.
Matt wondered if he was jealous and how much power the elf had. Something occurred to the young wizard. “These keep showing great things, but what happens when someone is not gifted?”
“It varies from person to person,” the elf replied, green eyes thoughtful, “and can sometimes be interpreted as fortune telling, though that is not its purpose and it cannot be taken literally. In the case of water, I once saw a whirlpool open and swallow the ship depicted. The fog has shown someone lost within, walking in circles, unable to find their way. The fire has shown nothing but charred ash. The signs of weakness or failure can be subtle, since these can be overcome and are uncertain, but the signs of power are unmistakable.”
Eric asked, “How much interpretation is involved. What is the chance you are wrong?”
“It’s always a possibility, but I see only signs of great potential here.”
Lorian nodded at Matt, who squeezed a drop onto the silver, which reached up to catch the blood, then lay still. Smoke stirred on its cold, silvery surface, forming a floating torso and ghostly head with wild hair, two arms reaching toward Matt as the figure howled and shrieked. Two pinpoints of hateful red light looked into his. Then it stopped as if truly seeing the wizard for the first time. It became a peaceful, hooded figure with a bowed head and arms outstretched in supplication. But when its eyes, now blue, looked at Matt again, the figure turned and hurled itself away, slamming into an invisible wall along which it desperately slid, searching for escape. A low, terror-filled moan filled the room and gave way to a whimper as it raised one hand as if to ward off a blow.
“The dead will respect and fear you,” remarked Lorian in amazement, “not the other way around. I have never seen such a reaction.”
Matt wasn’t so sure about that. The first figure had certainly made an impression on him. Then again, so had the last.
Lorian gestured to the gold liquid. “The final test, for magic, is the most important.”
Too distracted by the fantastic to be concerned about blood, Matt eagerly squeezed out a last drop. It landed with a clink as if striking solid metal, and there it stuck, still shaped like a droplet. The gold beneath it simmered as if melting, the blood drop smoldering, then oozing out across the now molten surface and sinking. A hooded, robed, golden figure rose from within, carrying a staff topped with a crystal that burst forth with golden light that swirled around the room before settling on Matt as the figure knelt and bowed. It wasn’t as spectacular, but Lorian gasped.
“The master wizard has bowed to you!” The elf’s eyes were wide and he looked from Matt to Eric with what seemed like alarm. “I would not tell even your friends of these results. Even if you trust them with your life, others have means of extracting information from even the most determined captives.”
Matt raised an eyebrow at Eric and received a nod of agreement. The young wizard trusted his opinion above all others. Both leery and eager, Matt asked, “Will you be able to teach me anything between now and the castle?”
“Certainly,” the elf replied, thinking safety had to prevail, more so in Matt’s case than usual. “We must prevent witnesses, however. After all, Soliander is not in need of instruction. Keep this private as well. We must be very careful, not only with the knowledge of your potential, but of your need for training.”
“How dangerous is Matt?” Eric asked, arms folded, and the wizard-to-be looked at him in surprise. A look at Lorian showed the elf wasn’t surprised by the question. He pursed his lips and appeared to choose his words carefully.
“Right now, he is not, and we must ensure that only those he wishes to harm are affected by anything he does.”
Eric nodded and seemed to have heard what he expected.
They returned to the common room long enough for Lorian to suggest everyone retire for the night. As they filed back upstairs, Matt realized they hadn’t divvied up the rooms yet, so he suggested Eric stay with him. He wanted to talk about the test and what it meant. He also felt safer with Eric around than anyone else. He’d always respected his friend, but after that martial arts display when they’d met the elf, this had soared. If they had a leader, it was Eric, who was more decisive than everyone else and more able to handle himself. Then again, after what Matt had learned about his potential, maybe he’d soon be the strongest of them all. He went to bed intending to fantasize his way into sleep and dreams of power.
Chapter 9 – Arundell
Across the hall, Anna couldn’t say the accommodations surprised her. The low, rickety cot was a far cry from the previous night’s lodging. Getting accustomed to the lack of amenities would only worsen once the camping started, as she assumed it would in a day or two. The idea that it was all downhill from here and that she should be pleased right now made her smirk. Ryan had closed the door and dropped a sack of supplies beside his bed.
“Do you need help with your armor?” she asked, moving closer in the dim light.
“Not really, but you can help.”
“Ok
ay, what do I do?”
He showed her how to loosen the straps and unhook pieces, and as she removed the big back plate, she placed it on his bed, across from hers. She hadn’t shared a room with any of the four before but trusted them, maybe Ryan more than the others. Or at least Eric. When a guy flirted with you as much as the rogue, you couldn’t help wondering if there was something to it, even though he did it to every girl. That didn’t necessarily mean it didn’t mean anything.
“I think you can handle the rest. I’m going to change out of this robe. Just don’t turn around.”
“You don’t want me to step outside?”
“No. I trust you. And I don’t think I want to be alone except when using a chamber pot, and even then…”
Anna quickly changed into a sleeping gown with one eye on her companion, who never peeked, as expected. He had the honor part of being a knight down, at least. He busied himself stowing armor pieces in the sack.
“Okay,” she started, “I’m done. Do you need any more help?”
He shook his head. “A man should take care of his own armor.”
She rolled her eyes. “You and your ‘man’s work’. When are you going to join the rest of us in the 21st century?”
Indicating their surroundings, he remarked, “It’s more like 13th century, so maybe I’m just being hip.”
Amused, she said, “Next you’ll tell me that women want a man to take care of them. We can take care of ourselves perfectly fine, you know.”
“Maybe, but women like it when a man takes care of them, whether they admit it or not, and to be honest, I prefer the kind of women who admit it.”
“Would you feel better if this quest was to rescue a princess?”
“Actually yes, I would,” he admitted, closing the sack of armor. “Not only would I not have to kill a dragon, but she’d be grateful instead of resentful or something.”
She teased, “Ah, I see. You just want her to sleep with you after you rescue her.”
The Dragon Gate (The Dragon Gate Series Book 1) Page 9
