Serpent in the Mist

by Cleave Bourbon

  “Wait, why not just get rid of them and make them leave me completely?”

  “Because they will all impart knowledge into you once they are absorbed. It would be like having hundreds of masters teaching you how to wield all at once, rather than one master over hundreds of years. It is to our advantage.”

  “Don’t I have a say in this?”

  Fawlsbane Vex sat back like he had not considered that before. “All right, aye, you have a say. What say you?”

  Devyn thought for a long moment before answering. “Before I answer, why are you going to give me the location of the tome?”

  “Ah, a good question. Because one wielder should not have so much of an advantage over another. I am sure you have heard of the wild magic.” Devyn nodded. “There is no defense. The tome will tell those with the wild magic how to use it and others how to defend against it. You will have this knowledge to give. There are ways to use the tome to hurt people, and I am sure that you will not use it in such a way. You will find and liberate the Silver Drake, spread the knowledge of the tome, and restore balance and order to the Blight. You will do this with whatever it takes.”

  “You say one wielder should not have the advantage, yet that is what you are doing by giving me the tome.”

  The old man wrinkled his nose. “We can bandy about with words if you like, but I have other things to do, better things. I meant one type of wielder, of course. I would think you could understand that. You come from a distinguished line of wielders, which I have trusted for thousands of years. I will go on trusting you as I can see aspects of you that no one else would be able. However, you are, no doubt, going to have to do some things in my service when you leave here that others will see as downright evil. You must not waver. It is a tremendous burden, but that is why you will bond with the essences. You will have all the combined knowledge and strength of all the wielders before you. How much you will keep of the Devyn Adair you are now is up to your strength of will.”

  “I must say, I have always been interested in wielding, and the prospect of being the most powerful wielder alive is tempting.”

  “Now, don’t go thinking you are some kind of deity. You will have the knowledge, but you will not have the other wielders’ experiences. You will have to watch yourself. You will make horrible mistakes with just as horrible of consequences if you run around full of yourself. Always remember that with every decision that you lack experience, seek out those whose experience can help you.” He vacillated. “Choose your allies carefully. There will be those who will not understand or believe you. There will be those who will try to stop you or control you. Look for those with the experience to help you but not get in your way. If anyone becomes an obstacle to your grand purpose, eliminate the obstacle. One more issue, you have knowledge at your disposal, but you cannot access all of it. Your mind cannot handle such things. Take care to access what you need. The essence you have absorbed is a shadow of the wielder it once belonged to, and sometimes shadows lie. I can make a shadow puppet against a wall in the shape of a bird, but it is not an actual bird; it is an illusion.”

  “All right, I am ready.”

  “Excellent,” the old man said. He held up the walking stick, and Devyn could feel the essence flowing through him. After a few moments, Devyn not only was aware of his newfound knowledge but also of the location of the tome. He opened his eyes to talk to the old man and realized he was waking up in the chamber in the Hall of Ancients. Morgoran was standing over him.

  “Thank the gods you have come around,” he said. “All of the wielders’ essences bonded with you. I wasn’t sure if you would survive.” He shouted back to where Brynna and Kerad were praying. “Kerad, come here.”

  Brynna appeared at the chamber door. “He left, sir. He said he had something urgent to attend to right away.”

  “That’s odd. Well, go fetch Vesperin then.” Devyn could barely hear Morgoran over the ringing in his ears.

  Kelle was there. He thought he imagined her voice at first, but then he saw her behind Morgoran, the old wielder not letting her get to him, as she clearly was trying.

  “I survived thanks to Fawlsbane Vex,” Devyn said, clutching his aching head.

  “Fawlsbane!” Morgoran sounded alarmed. “I am sure it was just a dream brought on by your experience here.”

  Kelle pushed through. “Devyn, are you hurt?”

  “No, I’m not hurt, and no, it wasn’t a dream. Fawlsbane came to me and talked to me.”

  “You have been knocked unconscious, and you are telling me you talked to Fawlsbane Vex, Father of Dragons?” Morgoran said.

  “Aye, why is that so hard to believe?”

  Devyn saw Morgoran give Erinthill a sideways glance that he didn’t like while he was helping him get up off the floor. “Fawlsbane warned me about this. He said others may not understand. He said they would try to stop me.”

  “What are you talking about, boy? You were just invaded by hundreds of wielders. Did it ever occur to you that some would try to trick you? Not all of those essences are from friendly people.”

  After he was on his feet, Devyn pushed away from Morgoran. “He gave me the location of the Tome of Enlightenment. Now do you believe?”

  “Now wait just a moment, Devyn. Not only gods have that location. I think you might have been fooled.”

  Devyn could see Morgoran’s error. Fawlsbane said that he might encounter resistance. He used his new knowledge of magic and levitated Morgoran’s Lora Daine. Morgoran grabbed for the stone, but Devyn yanked it through the air, catching it and holding it tightly in his hand. He closed his eyes, concentrated on the Blight, and released essence into the stone. He opened his eyes again to see Morgoran’s angry expression as he lunged to stop him. The moment in time was frozen with Morgoran in mid-stride. The next moment, Devyn beheld the familiar desolation of the Blight.

  Chapter 18: The Tome of Enlightenment

  Devyn turned the Lora Daine over and over in his hand. A handy bit of magic, he thought. He stood in front of the ruins of Brightonhold Keep in the Blight. He put the dragon stone in the pouch he carried around his waist and headed for the rich source of essence he felt was further into the Blight. He felt stronger than ever, and his mind raced with the possibilities. All of the essences that stabilized and focused his mind he controlled and used to his will. What he could not imagine before became possible to him now.

  The Blight buckled beneath his feet, and he could feel the power of the land surging just below the surface, but there was one place in particular where essence bubbled in overwhelming abundance. This was the spot he traveled to now. A battle of magic occurred here with a ferocity unrivaled in other known battles. The land had been utterly stripped. Now the essence came back tenfold. Devyn stood in the center of the essence node and started drawing power. When he felt he could take no more, he gnashed his teeth and drew in that much more again, and then again and again. He took out the Lora Daine and held it in both hands. “No more!” he commanded and released the essence. A surge of power cascaded through the stone. He watched as the stone glowed brightly and then went dark. The power he released destroyed it. “No more travel by Lora Daine for anyone for a while,” he said aloud. “That should slow down the dragons and anyone else possessing a dragon stone,” Devyn snickered.

  He looked around on the ground nearby and selected a gnarled old tree branch. Again he drew in essence, stripped and tempered the wood with a thought until it was strong and sturdy, stamped it hard on the ground, and began walking. He scoured the landscape for the familiar landmarks and obtained his directional bearings. Signal Hill, as he remembered it, was only a few hours’ walk. After about an hour had passed, Devyn realized he was off course because he was unfamiliar with some of the rock outcroppings, but he kept his eye on the sun and soldiered on. Before long, he found his way again, and soon the familiar gates of Signal Hill were mere steps before him. They had been cleaned and repaired. As he moved through the gates, he could see many improveme
nts in the works. Esperdahl was true to his word and was rebuilding. Men were hammering and mending a roof on a nearby house. One paused to wave at him for no particular reason as he passed by. He stopped beside a man mending a fence.

  “Excuse me, sir, but could you tell me where I might find Esperdahl?”

  The man looked up from his fence mending with a slight scowl. “I don’t know, boy, go try the Temple of Loracia and the armory. He is usually there most of the day.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Devyn said. The man just grunted.

  Devyn found Esperdahl supervising construction not far down the road from the grumpy old man. “Hail, Esperdahl,” Devyn said when he reached earshot.

  Esperdahl recognized him immediately. “Devyn, good to see you, lad.” He looked at the scabbard on Devyn’s side. “I see you have not lost Dranmalin.”

  “Aye, it never leaves my sight nowadays.”

  “Where are the rest?” Esperdahl asked as he looked behind Devyn.

  “They are out west. I ventured here on my own.”

  “Oh.” The white-haired man in yellow and white robes scratched his head. “What brings you to me then?”

  Devyn glanced around at the workers. “Is there a place we might go where I might speak to you privately?”

  “Aye, this way. We can speak in the temple. It is nearly refurbished since the last time you were here.” Devyn followed Esperdahl as he led them to the temple and into his private chambers. The older man closed the heavy wooden door after Devyn had entered and motioned for him to sit in one of the comfortable chairs in the main living area. Esperdahl picked up a pipe from beside his chair and put it to his mouth.

  “May I get you anything? A glass of water, perhaps?”

  “No, thank you. I am not thirsty.”

  Esperdahl lit the pipe. “This room is about as private as I can get around here these days. What may I help you with?”

  “Very well, right to the point then. What I am about to ask may seem a bit strange, but hear me out.”

  “Aye, go on.”

  “I need to ask you about a book, an ancient tome called the Tome of Enlightenment.”

  “I have heard of it,” Esperdahl said. “It has been lost for ages. It is supposed to be the tome Fawlsbane Vex gave to man to teach him how to wield essence among other things.”

  “Is it a real book or a myth?”

  “It is difficult to say. Most of the priesthood claims it to be absolutely real. I have no opinion on the matter. Why ask about the tome?”

  “Let us just say that I have reason to believe the tome is real.”

  “Oh, interesting. What brings you to that conclusion?” Esperdahl said, letting his pipe smoke snake from between his lips.

  “It is a curious thing, the trials within the Hall of Ancients. You took the trials, did you not?”

  “Trials? You mean the trials the ritual wielders endure on the Isle of Doom? I am a man of Loracia. I have never been to the Isle of Doom.”

  Devyn’s disbelief was apparent in his expression. “Esperdahl, you have served your masters well, but your lies are becoming bothersome.”

  “I am sure I don’t know what you mean.”

  “It was you who replaced Lady Shey and had her captured in the armory.”

  “I gave you and your party powerful gifts. How dare you accuse me!”

  Devyn unsheathed Dranmalin. “Aye, you had to win our trust somehow. What better way than with gifts? Of course, with your gifts, Drasmyd Duil and Dramyd kind seemed to find us easier than ever before, attacking in numbers.”

  Esperdahl’s demeanor sharpened. “How could you possibly know that? You cannot be everywhere at once.”

  “There you are, betrayer,” Devyn quipped.

  “You cannot betray those you were never loyal to in the first place.” He set down the pipe, and a fiery, ethereal sword extended from his right hand. “You were just a foolish boy when you passed through here. Something has changed in you.”

  “I have seen thousands of minds from thousands of years; little is hidden from me now. That is how I know you took the trials, wielder, and I know your master is Toborne. You are rebuilding Signal Hill to serve as his outpost and armory for a new war, but that’s not your only purpose for rebuilding this village, is it? I know Toborne also seeks the Tome of Enlightenment, and I know your research here, in the guise of rebuilding, has given you an idea of where it is. I can’t let you give him that information, at least, not any more than you already have. So, tell me, where is Toborne?”

  “You will die!” Esperdahl lunged toward Devyn, and Dranmalin sang out for the block. “Impossible. I enchanted that sword,” Esperdahl exclaimed.

  “I re-enchanted it,” Devyn said as he returned Esperdahl’s attack. “Dranmalin is a real dragon-forged sword. Your taint did not take.” He lunged forward, clipping Esperdahl on the shoulder. “You were clever to block your essence; surely you knew that I would detect it once I assimilated it into my own.”

  “You were never supposed to absorb my essence. I saw to it that no apprentice could ever use it. Why did it choose to help you? I had to release it into the chamber, but it was supposed to avoid being useful.”

  “Where is Toborne? You can’t keep me from finding him forever.”

  “I will never tell you,” Esperdahl said before he launched into a sequence of swordplay maneuvers. Devyn was surprised he recognized them. He remembered his youthful sword training well. First was the backward crane; Devyn blocked it with the crossover. Next, Esperdahl tried the box maneuver. Devyn blocked the move and countered, jabbing the point of his sword into Esperdahl’s chest. The man screamed in pain and frustration. He lunged forward, and Devyn knocked his sword aside and held Dranmalin to Esperdahl’s throat.

  “Tell me where Toborne is hiding,” Devyn insisted.

  “Never!”

  Words came to Devyn’s mind, and he spoke them. “Demina hathule forele.” Dranmalin began to glow red and become smoldering hot. “I will sear your head from your worthless body.”

  “Impossible. Only dragon knights can speak commands to their swords.”

  Devyn moved Dranmalin to touch Esperdahl’s neck, and the flesh singed with a putrid smell.

  “By’temog in Ishrak. The tome is rumored to be hidden at By’temog. Toborne plans to go there after it, but he will not go until he has a way to get rid of General Sythril. The tome is supposed to be guarded by the dead and by General Sythril’s bitter spirit. Anyone who gets too near succumbs to the curse as he did.”

  “Thank you.” In one fluid motion, Devyn seared Esperdahl’s head from his shoulders. “I cannot let you rebuild Signal Hill.”

  Devyn exited the town hall and willed it to burn. It burst into flames behind him. Men charged toward him but were no match for Dranmalin. He flung them back, often with one blow. As he walked down the main thoroughfare, each building exploded as he drew in essence and directed it so. The essence of the Blight had already reached a point higher than he expected, and he used it effortlessly. When he passed the main gate, he paused. He looked upon them and drew in essence. He gritted his teeth as he released the power and melted the gates utterly off their hinges. He strolled away, refraining from looking back beyond the gates at the burning village.

  THE FIRST LIGHT OF morning on Rennon’s face woke him from his deep slumber. He felt a sickly, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had been up well into the night, curing the afflicted persons put before him in the ruined great hall. He felt sick because he could admit to himself that he had no idea what he was doing. The afflicted seemed to be cured, but the taint that he could see with his mind—what was it? Pain, a possession of spirits, some kind of dark magic? What if his cure backfired and all the pain came back? He heard someone come to his door.

  “Rennon.” It was Deylia. “Are you awake yet?” She spoke softly in case he was still sleeping. “I brought you breakfast.”

  “I am awake, Deylia,” he responded, “but I don’t feel much like ea
ting.”

  “You might after you smell the food.”

  “All right, bring it in.”

  Deylia brought in a tray with fruit, eggs, bacon, and sausage.

  Deylia was right; as soon as he smelled the food, he was hungry. He dug into the eggs first. “Where did this food come from? These people were all sick yesterday.”

  “Theosus has it brought in every week. Some of the people here help take care of the rest. I met a few of them. They are all the nicest people. Of course, they all adore you now.”

  “For what?” he said between mouthfuls of eggs. “I didn’t even know what I was doing. Everyone cured today may be just as ill tomorrow.”

  “If it does come back, we will deal with it then.” She spun around, letting her hair fan out. “I have not felt so good in so long. It’s a miracle.”

  “I would watch it with the miracle talk. You are going to get me into trouble.”

  “It’s too late. That’s already what they are saying.” She stopped to look Rennon in the eye. “I will be the first to let you know if I feel the effects of the illness again.”

  There came a knock at the shabby door, followed by Theosus poking his head into the room. “I hope I am not disturbing you.”

  “No, not at all. Please barge right in,” Rennon said.

  “My apologies, but I wouldn’t have barged in if it was not urgent.”

  Rennon took a bite of bacon. “You have certainly changed your demeanor overnight. No more aggressive orders?”

  Theosus stepped into the room. “I only did what was necessary to help my people.”

  Rennon scoffed. “Your people? Have you seen yourself lately?”

  “There is no time for this foolishness, but yes, these are my people, whom I have sworn to protect as my race originally swore an oath to do. Now will you be quiet and let me talk?”

  Rennon gestured with a nod.

  “Good. I am not certain of your history knowledge, but I am sure you know the story of Isheza the Bold and General Brenlan Sythril, right?”