Retrieving the Stone of Loraine from its case, she was ready. Jalene hesitated, this was a powerful spell, and she would pay a heavy price for its enactment later. Fortifying herself, she reached down for her glass of wine and drank the last of it. Then she began the complicated incantation, using her fingers to bind the lines of power together and speaking the ancient words.
The Stone of Loraine began to glow brilliantly, almost pulsing like a human heart as it gathered strength. A nebulous red radiance formed around Jalene’s flickering fingertips. She felt the powerful spell reach out, combing the land, finding the Worldfire poison, drawing it into itself, and forcing the stone to even greater brilliance.
For long minutes, Jalene stood caught up in the rapture of the spell and the power it was drawing to feed itself as it reached as far as the Crystal River, cleansing the blighted land of the Worldfire poison. The entire area to the west and northwest of Draydon became free for miles for the first time in nearly three thousand years of the deadly poisonous scourge left over from the all-consuming Worldfire.
As the spell finally played itself out, Jalene stumbled over to a well-cushioned sofa to collapse and lay there, pale and breathing heavily. The spell had nearly drained her. In moments, Jalene was asleep, falling into a deep, exhausted and troubled slumber. The Stone of Loraine lay across her breasts glowing dully, rising and falling slowly with her steady breathing.
-
Lynol was studying with Malcon in the underground crypt when she sensed the sudden flowing of power from Jalene’s use of the Stone of Loraine. Instantly her body tensed and her eyes narrowed. “She is using her sorcery again,” Lynol informed Malcon, amazed at the strength of the spell she sensed. Lynol wondered worriedly why Jalene was using such a powerful spell. What could she be up to? Did it involve Gilmreth? “It’s a very powerful spell!” Lynol cast her mind toward Firestorm Mountain and sensed the dragon still asleep in his lair. Whatever the sorceress was doing, it didn’t involve Gilmreth. Since Malcon began teaching her whatever had been blocking her from sensing the other sorceress had vanished. Lynol strongly suspected it was because her own powers had increased.
“Your ability to detect the subtle variations created when another sorceress weaves a spell is truly amazing,” Malcon’s glowing figure commented, gazing at his young protégé. “It’s something that I couldn’t do, nor could Lys as she got older. From the rumors you have reported, she may well possess the stone. Several travelers have reported seeing her brandishing a scepter with a brilliant red ruby! If that’s true, then she does indeed possess it.”
“The dragon is still asleep in his lair,” Lynol reported. “The spell isn’t aimed at Gilmreth.”
“She has been using her sorcery quite often in and around Draydon,” replied Malcon, nodding his head in thought.
“The last few traders to pass through Galvin reported that Gilmreth has been seen quite regularly over most of the towns and villages on the far side of the mountains,” said Lynol, walking over to the long stone wall that was covered with shelves and held numerous priceless books and scrolls.
“She is using the dragon to frighten the people into obeying her,” Malcon commented with a deep frown. “Using the dragon this way is extremely dangerous. She is playing with fire.”
“Why has Gilmreth not made an appearance over the villages on our side of the mountain?” asked Lynol, looking inquiringly at Malcon.
She had been worried for months about the dragon making an appearance. Each night, before she went to sleep, she would check to make sure Gilmreth was safely in his lair. On those nights when he wasn’t, Lynol slept very little.
She was worried that if the deadly dragon did make an appearance, she might have to confront him prematurely. Malcon had repeatedly told Lynol she wasn’t ready. That they must wait for the right time. Even if the dragon did appear they dared not challenge it, but Lynol wasn’t sure she could just stand idly by and do nothing. She was in the same quandary that Lys had been.
Malcon paused, considering the question briefly, his spectral form hovering in the blue radiance of the dais. “Lys and my true self inflicted a lot of pain upon the dragon. When my true self met the dragon in his lair, the dragon had to recognize who the sorcerer was and where he came from. Perhaps the dragon prefers to do his hunting elsewhere for now. Gilmreth might feel the pickings are easier and safer on the far side of the mountain.”
“After all these years, you believe the dragon still remembers?” asked Lynol, still gazing at her spectral mentor.
Could Gilmreth still remember what Lys and Malcon had done? Then she recalled the image she had seen in the dragon’s mind the first time he’d partially awoke. The image had been that of Malcon, she knew that now without any doubt. Perhaps the dragon did remember.
“Keep in mind Lynol, the dragons were created to be servants of the sorcerers of the Golden Age,” Malcon spoke, his eyes gazing into hers. “They were supposed to be semi-intelligent. Who knows what Gilmreth may remember? Also, keep in mind the dragon has slept all this time. To the dragon it may seem like only a few days ago when I put him to sleep.”
Lynol sighed, hoping Malcon was correct. Finding the book she was searching for, Lynol returned to the large table in front of the glowing dais, which was covered haphazardly with other opened books and scrolls. Malcon had been teaching Lynol how to control the different elements of fire, earth, wind, and water. The waterspout she had caused to fall upon Kalvin was an excellent example of her control over water.
Lynol had been amazed at the sheer number of books and scrolls on the shelves that were devoted to sorcery. There was so much to learn and so little time. Opening the book, she turned to the spell Malcon wanted her to work on today. It was a simple one designed to call up storms. She was to use her amulet to see if she could create a small shower above the farm. The weather had been extremely dry for months, and a little rain was sorely needed.
“So this spell will make it rain,” Lynol said thoughtfully as she read over the spell. It seemed easy enough. She touched her amulet, wondering if her sorcery would be strong enough to enact this particular spell.
“You should be able to summon up a small shower with your current abilities,” replied Malcon, nodding. “It will result in a light rain that will last for several minutes and will be an excellent test for us to measure your current progress. It will also give us a better understanding on how powerful you have become in your abilities.”
“Well, we could sure use the rain,” Lynol commented. Many of the local farmers were complaining about their crops drying up. Food was going to be even scarcer, particularly with a reduction in trade with Draydon.
“Remember, Lynol,” Malcon spoke softly, watching her. “The stronger the spell, the more strength it requires. That’s why we have been gradually working up to stronger and stronger spells with your amulet. As it becomes more in tune with your body, the energy it draws from you to weave a spell becomes less. The amulet itself begins to serve as a focus, magnifying your inner strength. You will need to step outside the crypt to enact this spell.”
Reading over the spell several more times, Lynol stood up and walked up the narrow flight of steps carrying the book. No spells could be cast in the crypt and be expected to work outside due to its protective shielding.
Reaching the entrance, Lynol stepped outside into the late afternoon sunlight and looked toward Firestorm Mountain. Already, the first long dark fingers of purple shadow lay across the base of the mountains.
She placed the spell book upon a small, waist-high stone. Grasping her amulet with her left hand, she moved her right hand through the complicated gestures to link the energy lines together for the spell. She spoke the words, molding the energy with her voice. A nebulous, glowing lattice of connected shimmering blue energy formed around her fingertips. She could now sense the energy lines she was joining if she closed her eyes, and sometimes she thought she could see the actual woven pattern of the completed spell. Within her mind
, she could sense the changing energy patterns as she connected them into the weave indicated in the ancient spell book. When she felt she was ready she reached out with her mind, projecting the spell toward the sky above the mountain, commanding it to bring rain.
Above the distant slopes of Firestorm Mountain, the sky slowly darkened as clouds began to form. In just a few short minutes, towering thunderheads began rising swiftly into the air as the sky became overcast. Bursts of ragged lightning began jutting down to strike the desolate slopes. The clouds spread, and thunder rumbled as heavy rain began to fall.
-
In his lair under the mountain, Gilmreth stirred as he felt the storm now beginning to rage above, with rain and small hail battering the slopes. Raising his head, the dragon sent a burst of angry red flame against the distant wall of his lair. The dragon felt uneasy about the storm; it didn’t feel natural. The dragon still dimly remembered the pain inflicted upon it so long ago by lightning. The east side of the mountain was dangerous in Gilmreth’s deranged mind. For now the dragon would stay away from those villages lest an ancient sorcerer still lived. Laying his head back down, Gilmreth closed his eyes and fell back into an uneasy, nearly dreamless sleep.
-
Lynol stared with mute fascination at the huge storm, which continued to gather strength upon the slopes of the mountain. The sky began to turn black and fierce lightning could be seen coming down in sheets in the distance. This isn’t good, she thought, looking guiltily about. She had planned on only a small shower, not a raging thunderstorm! Malcon had said it would only be a light rain.
It had been years since a storm of this magnitude had come down from the mountains. Firestorm Mountain was rapidly being covered, and the storm was still growing. Lynol fought down growing panic, and a hollow feeling of worry grew as she gazed at the growing, darkening storm.
Taking the book, she ran back down the steps knowing that, in a few more minutes, the storm would be upon them. She had to find out from Malcon what to do. Should she try to disperse the storm? Why had it gotten so large? Malcon had said she only had the power to create a small shower. What was coming down from the mountain was obviously not a small shower!
“Malcon, the storm is too large!” Lynol breathed nervously, as she burst into the underground room hurriedly rushing up to the spectral figure, which had been patiently waiting.
“Really?” the glowing figure said, surprised as he gazed at Lynol. “Show me in your mind the storm as you saw it last.”
Lynol projected a mental picture of the storm toward the glowing figure. Malcon had taught this trick to her earlier since the dais prevented him from sensing anything above ground much more than a few feet away from the Sylvar Stone. “What should I do? I didn’t intend for the storm to be so large! What if the other sorceress detects it?”
“Truly amazing,” Malcon commented, pleasantly surprised, seeing the storm that Lynol projected and wondering how this had happened. “Your power is becoming much more focused than I had realized. You shouldn’t have been able to create a storm of such strength. We must take time to study how you created such a powerful storm; perhaps it is the result of unusually intense focus. As for the other sorceress, she probably doesn’t have the ability to detect the use of your powers at such a distance. That ability is extremely rare, almost unheard of. I don’t believe we have anything to fear, but we shall be watchful just in case. This storm is quite amazing.”
Malcon’s gaze turned briefly toward her amulet, his face becoming touched with growing curiosity. It was evidentially much more powerful than he had originally believed. But how could that be? The blue sapphire Lynol used for an amulet had never been exposed to another sorcerer before.
“But what should I do about the storm?” Lynol asked, concerned, her face filling with growing impatience. “Should I try to stop it?”
“Don’t fret, my dear,” responded Malcon, forcing a reassuring smile. “The storm will rapidly dissipate once it comes down from the mountain. Also, a heavy, soaking rain will be good for the land.”
Lynol rushed back up the stairs, leaving Malcon standing on the glowing dais watching her retreat. Quickly sealing the entrance behind her, she ran hurriedly to the house. In the distance, she could hear the heavy rumble of thunder. She wanted to have everything closed before the approaching storm struck. Already, a cold splattering of isolated raindrops were falling. The warm afternoon air was turning cooler, and the sun was now hidden behind the blackening clouds.
She knew Kalvin was out working in the fields with his father. He’s going to be angry, Lynol thought worriedly. Kalvin was bound to realize who had created this suddenly approaching downpour. She just knew Kalvin and his father were going to be very thoroughly soaked unless they could find some type of shelter very quickly. She would never hear the end of this from Kalvin. He’s going to think I did this on purpose, Lynol thought anxiously.
-
Damon came out onto the porch looking up at the sky, a look of pleasant surprise appeared on his face as he saw the raindrops beginning to fall. It had been so long since the last rain. Damon looked at the dark gray clouds in surprise. Thunder echoed hollowly in the distance. Rain was becoming a seldom occurrence in this parched land, with just barely enough to allow them to eke out a small crop each year. Seeing Lynol coming hurriedly from behind the garden where the Sylvar Stone stood, a dawning look of comprehension spread across Damon’s face.
“Is this storm yours?” asked Damon, glancing at the lightning that was coming rapidly closer as a heavy gust of cold wind sent a concealing sheet of rain across the lower meadow. There was the accompanying rolling growl of thunder. The sky was darker, lower, and menacing.
“Yes,” Lynol yelled in the rapidly rising wind as she ran up onto the porch. “I didn’t mean for it to get this big. It was just supposed to be a small shower.” Lynol shivered as the air was quickly growing colder and the wind started to howl even more.
Damon went back into the house behind Lynol, securing the door behind them. Then the two rushed through the house making sure all the windows and shutters were shut and firmly secured. The rumbling of thunder echoed loudly through the air. Lynol and her father stopped to stand together at the large window, which faced Firestorm Mountain. They watched as the rain began coming down in driving sheets, hiding the mountain and the lower meadow itself. A brilliant light turned the dark sky blue-white for a moment, followed instantly by a loud clap of thunder so close it seemed simultaneous. The jagged bolt of lightning had struck a tree close to the pond.
“It hasn’t rained like this in years,” murmured Damon, watching the heavy downpour in elation. “Sorcery handled properly could mean so much to our people.”
“I just hope no one washes away,” Lynol muttered quietly, thinking about Kalvin and concerned about the severity of the storm.
Kalvin was really going to be upset with her! How was she ever going to explain this? She knew she would have to make it up to him, somehow. Perhaps another apple pie was called for; probably more than one. Lynol sighed as she gazed out the window.
Damon began to laugh. “Don’t worry, Lynol, everything will be fine. A hard rain like this is good for the land occasionally. I promise it won’t hurt anything.” Damon reached over and gave her a gentle pat on the back of her shoulder.
“Perhaps,” Lynol replied doubtfully, watching the storm and picturing Kalvin dripping wet out in the fields.
Lightning flashed nearby, the immediate rumble of thunder drowning out Damon’s reply. Lynol and her father stood at the window watching the storm as a heavy cascade of raindrops began pelting the window, driven by the wind. Outside, a thunderbolt seared across the sky, glaring light stabbed into the room, followed by the loud clap of thunder. The rain began to hammer down in earnest upon the roof. Almost unconsciously, Lynol stepped away from the window and closer to her father. It’s really raining hard, she thought as she continued to watch the storm worriedly.
Sometime later, which see
med like an eternity to Lynol but was actually a short span of time, the rain slowly ceased. The sun came back out from behind the clouds. Soon it would be sitting behind Firestorm Mountain. Lynol felt relieved that the storm was finally over. It hadn’t been as bad as she had feared. Perhaps Kalvin wouldn’t be too upset. She hoped he had made it to cover and not gotten too wet.
Stepping back out onto the porch, Lynol and her father took a deep breath of the clean, fresh air, with the sweet scent of recent rain still lingering. Down in the meadow, the cattle could be seen grazing, and their horses were standing together at the top of the meadow as if nothing had happened.
“See? Even the animals enjoyed the rain,” her father said reassuringly to Lynol, pointing at the animals in the meadow. “This will help the crops and our vegetables, which reminds me; Aldin, Kalvin, and I are going into Galvin tomorrow with some vegetables and other trading goods.”
“Why are all three of you going together?” Lynol asked, surprised at her father’s announcement.
Very seldom did they go in at the same time. She would like to see Kalvin to apologize for the storm. She wondered if she should have an apple pie ready to be used as a peace offering.
“Addison has been doing a lot of complaining about us and the Gors, even about the Mystols. I don’t want to take any chances on there being any trouble. With all three of us we shouldn’t have any problems with the man,” her father replied. “You might as well come too. Gwen would love to see you, and after all it’s been awhile since you have been to Galvin; your studying has been keeping you busy. A little time off to see Gwen might be good for you.”
Later that night, Lynol lay in bed gazing out her window at the myriad of bright stars visible above Firestorm Mountain. The steady chirping of crickets and the cool breeze flowing in through her open bedroom window soon lulled her to sleep. But even in her dreams there were dragons; sometimes it was Gilmreth, other times there were different dragons. Tonight it was a white dragon. Turning on her side and pulling the blankets up around her, the dreams continued.
Gilmreth the Awakening Page 25
