Sands of Nezza

by M. L. Forman

  “What does it say?” asked Stonebill.

  “It says that they are ready to move into position as soon as I conjure up the fog. Rallian asks that I have the fog move in front of Talbot’s army until they are close enough to keep Lazar’s army from escaping. When the fog stops moving, they will stop also. I think I can get Talbot’s army close to the main road.”

  “They will make noise,” Stonebill warned. “If they come too close to Lazar’s army, someone may hear their approach.”

  “Not if the fog also blocks any sound,” said Alex. “Rest on the wall, my friend, I will need to move both of my arms.”

  Stonebill fluttered away, and Alex lifted his arms above his head. The spell was something he’d read about but never actually tried, and he hoped it would be everything he needed it to be now. Slowly, as he worked the magic and concentrated on what he needed, thin wisps of mist began to form on the open plain in front of him. The wisps soon became pockets of fog, and after a few more minutes, the pockets moved together, forming cloudlike mounds. Alex continued to work his magic until the land to the south of Lazar’s army had vanished, replaced by a solid wall of white.

  Alex lowered his arms and leaned against his staff. As he rested, Stonebill returned to his shoulder, landing gently.

  “Do you like it?” Alex asked.

  “An impressive feat,” said Stonebill. “Few wizards could conjure up such a fog without completely draining themselves. I can see that this took power out of you, but already that power has been replaced.”

  Alex knew where his renewed power came from: it was the power of the dragon. He had been looking for ways to use it with his normal magic, and summoning the fog had been the perfect opportunity to blend the two.

  When morning came, Alex was still standing at the end of the wall. Caftan and Shelnor soon joined him, eager to see what was about to happen. Stonebill was circling overhead, and the men of Caftan and Shelnor’s armies moved forward. They were ready for battle, but Alex still hoped a battle could be avoided. Hathnor was sitting in a chair that had been brought out for him, even though he insisted he was strong enough to stand.

  “It is time,” said Alex, stepping forward.

  Lifting his staff, Alex concentrated on the shadow army of Lazar. He felt the magic that Magnus had used, and as he lowered his staff, the first rays of sunlight fell on the open plain. The massive force that had been Lazar’s army vanished in the light, and the fog Alex had conjured drifted away in the morning breeze.

  “That’s cut them down to size,” said Hathnor.

  “It won’t take long for them to see their situation,” said Alex. “I think the flag of truce will appear shortly.”

  “Only this time it will be King Rallian who offers terms,” said Shelnor.

  “When the flag of truce appears, you should ride forward with us,” Caftan said to Alex.

  “Yes,” said Alex. “I think the king will expect me to be there.”

  In less than half an hour, the flag of truce appeared. This time the flag did not move toward the gap of Luthan, but instead moved to a point west of Lazar’s army. It was clear that Athron wanted the leaders of both sides to come forward.

  “I should go as well,” said Hathnor, trying to get up.

  “Stay for now,” said Alex. “Your wound still needs time to heal.”

  Hathnor bowed in acceptance of Alex’s words and returned to his chair.

  Alex climbed onto his horse and rode forward with Caftan, Shelnor, and their personal guards. When they reached the company sent from Lazar’s army, Alex could see the fear in their faces. Lord Talbot and his company arrived soon after Alex and the others. Alex noticed that Rallian remained hidden, his head covered by a heavy cloak.

  “So, you are all in it together,” said Athron. “Summoned up some demon to fight against us—that’s what the men are saying. With that fog moving in, and the breaking of Magnus’s spell, I can see they are right.”

  “It was no demon that did these things, Athron,” Lord Talbot answered. “A true wizard has come to Nezza, and he fights for what is right.”

  “What is right,” Athron repeated, his tone bitter. “How can we guess what he fights for? Lazar would have us believe that Magnus fights for what is right, though I doubt that as much as I doubt your wizard.”

  “What would you fight for, Athron?” Talbot asked. “Why have you come so far north? We have had peace with Karmus for many years, yet now you come looking for war.”

  “We know what you did, Talbot,” Athron answered hotly. “By the ancients, I swear we’ll have revenge on you for Rallian’s death.”

  “So, Lazar claims that I had Rallian killed,” said Talbot with a harsh laugh. “I thought you a wiser man, Athron. I never thought you would be taken in by Lazar’s lies.”

  “Lies or truth, it matters little now,” said Athron. “You’ve won the day—what terms do you offer? I’ll not waste my men in a hopeless fight.”

  “Since when does a general of Karmus surrender his troops to the lord of Karmus?” Rallian asked.

  “Lord of Karmus?” Athron repeated, turning to see who had spoken.

  “That’s right, Athron—the lord of Karmus,” said Rallian, pulling off his cloak.

  “Lord Rallian,” Athron stuttered. The general dropped to one knee in front of his lord, almost unable to speak. “By the ancients, we thought you dead, my lord. Lazar told us you died and that Lord Talbot was responsible.”

  “Yet now you see I am alive and that Lord Talbot is my true and trusted friend,” said Rallian. “So tell me, Athron, where do you stand now?”

  “I am yours to command, my lord,” answered Athron without hesitation. “If I had known you were alive, I would have done all I could to find you.”

  “He speaks truly and from his heart,” said Alex, stepping toward Rallian.

  “Yes, I believe he does,” agreed Rallian. “Though he should learn not to call my friends demons.”

  “Forgive my words, my lord, I did not know—”

  “Enough,” Rallian interrupted. “I know you will do as I command, Athron, but what about your army?”

  “My lord?” Athron questioned.

  “Whom will they serve?” asked Rallian. “Will they fight for the king of Nezza, or will they fight for the traitor Lazar?”

  “My lord, that is a difficult question,” said Athron. “I believe that most will follow you gladly, though I fear some will say they follow but will instead seek to betray you to Lazar.”

  “I see,” said Rallian.

  “There is something more to consider, my lord,” Athron continued. “Most of these men, true or not, have families in or near Karmus. If Lazar discovers that we have joined you, he will seek revenge on those most dear to us.”

  “Yes, that does seem like something my uncle would do,” said Rallian.

  “Then we must find a way to free their families without Lazar knowing his men have joined us,” said Alex, watching Rallian.

  “But how?” Rallian asked. “If we march south to Karmus, Lazar’s spies will inform him of our approach.”

  “We can send word to Lazar that Caftan and Shelnor have stepped aside and that Athron is moving forward to fight Lord Talbot. Then we can march south and slip into Karmus without Lazar knowing,” Alex said. “I will summon a storm to help hide us from Lazar’s spies. Of course, we will have to travel in the rain, but that is a small price to pay for the lives of your loyal subjects.”

  “Yes, a very small price,” Rallian agreed.

  “My lord, if I might speak,” said Talbot. “You should let yourself be known to all of Athron’s army. Those who wish to join you will come south with us. Those who do not, we can leave here under guard.”

  “There is wisdom in that,” said Athron. “I know those who are most likely to betray us to Lazar. I can have them remain here as guards—or prisoners.”

  “First, pick one of your men who Lazar will trust,” said Alex, considering how best to make his plan work.
“We will send him south with word of your victory and of your intended move.”

  “But he will know our victory is a lie,” Athron pointed out. “It would be better to send someone we know is loyal to King Rallian.”

  “No,” said Alex. “I will speak to the man we send, and he will believe the story that he tells to Lazar.”

  “You can control men’s minds?” Rallian asked.

  “I can make them see what I wish them to see,” answered Alex. “I do not do this lightly, and I only do it now because we are in great need. We must save the families of the men who will be true to you.”

  “Very well, assemble your men, Lord Athron,” Rallian commanded. “I will speak to them. Any who are willing to swear allegiance to me will be welcome in our company.”

  “As you wish, my king,” said Athron, bowing.

  Rallian decided to stand on the wall Alex had made in order to speak to the army. He wanted as many of the soldiers as possible to see him. Alex knew it was necessary, but he worried that Rallian was making himself an easy target.

  “I must let them see me,” said Rallian firmly. “How else can I ask them to follow me?”

  Rallian climbed the steps to the top of the wall as Athron moved his army forward. Alex was relieved to see that none of the soldiers carried their weapons. Still, he stood at the end of the wall, watching. If any kind of weapon flew toward Rallian, Alex would be able to stop it before it reached its mark.

  Rallian’s speech to the army was moving, and almost every soldier agreed to take an oath of allegiance. After the final tally, Rallian had added nine thousand men to his army, which meant that his entire army was well over thirty-five thousand strong.

  Athron had chosen a man he knew to be one of Lazar’s spies as the messenger, and the man seemed more than willing to accept the task of taking word to Lazar.

  “What will you tell Lord Lazar?” Alex asked.

  “I am to say that Caftan and Shelnor have moved aside,” the man recited. “Lord Athron and the army are continuing toward Talbas.”

  “And?” Alex prodded, working his magic.

  “All is well with the northern army. We will have revenge on Talbas for Rallian’s death,” said the man, his eyes slightly out of focus.

  “Is that true?” Alex asked.

  “On my life, it is true,” the man answered.

  “Then go swiftly,” said Alex, moving toward the door of the tent. “Lazar must have word as soon as possible. Tell him that his army is true and marches to Talbas.”

  “I will go as quickly as possible,” the man repeated. He climbed onto a horse and sped off to the south.

  Alex watched the messenger leave. Lazar would believe this man. Even Magnus would be hard-pressed to detect the false story because the magic that created it would grow weaker as the messenger’s own belief in the story grew stronger. That was perhaps the best part of this plan.

  That night there was a grand feast, and Alex and his friends were all together in King Rallian’s tent. Rallian insisted that Alex tell the story of his own first adventure, starting from the beginning, and reluctantly Alex agreed. Alex was about to begin his tale when a dust-covered messenger arrived from Ossbo.

  “What word?” Shelnor questioned, his smile fading as he looked at the messenger.

  “My lord, the great city of Ossbo is in need,” answered the messenger in a weak voice. “The armies of Lord Bray have marched north into our lands. When I left the city they were only five days away, and it has taken me six days to get here.”

  “I should have remembered Bray,” said Alex angrily. “He does whatever Lazar tells him to do—obviously Lazar has sent him against you.”

  “I must go at once,” said Shelnor. He turned to Rallian. “My lord, give me leave to take my army to Ossbo. I left only five hundred men to defend the city. They cannot hold it for long.”

  “This will make our plans for Karmus more difficult,” Talbot commented, glancing at Rallian as he spoke.

  “We must send aid to Ossbo,” said Rallian. “I’ll not leave the lands that are loyal to me open to attack.”

  “King Rallian,” said Alex, “Shelnor has taken an oath to go south with you. I would not have him break his oath. Leave this fight to me.”

  “But what can you do?” Shelnor asked. “I know you are a wizard and have great power, but what can you do against an army?”

  “I will drive them back,” answered Alex as flames of anger started growing inside him. “I will make them wish they never marched north.”

  “You will call a dragon,” said Skeld. “The oracle called you a dragon lord. You will call a dragon to defeat the army of Bray.”

  “Yes,” said Alex.

  “Dragon lord?” Rallian questioned.

  “A wizard who can command dragons,” Alex answered without explaining.

  “But how—?” Shelnor asked.

  “I can do it—do not fear,” said Alex.

  “The prophecy,” murmured Talbot.

  “Prophecy? What prophecy?” Alex asked.

  “The dragon will come and the true king with him,” Talbot began. “When the desert river flows, and the eastern wind blows. Then the ring will come again, and the wars will find their end.”

  “The desert river flows,” said Virgil. “We saw you break the curse on the river.”

  “And the eastern wind is about to start blowing,” said Alex.

  “I will go south with you, my king,” Shelnor declared. “As I have sworn.”

  “And Ossbo?” asked the messenger.

  “The dragon will come, and with him, the king,” answered Shelnor.

  “I will prepare the fastest horses,” said Caftan, moving toward the tent door.

  “No,” Alex called out. “I can travel faster than any horse of this land.”

  “But how will you reach Ossbo if not on horseback?” Talbot questioned.

  Alex didn’t answer but headed for the door.

  “Wait, Master Taylor,” said Shelnor. “Take my ring. My family will know for certain that you come from me if you have it.”

  “Thank you, Lord Shelnor, and do not fear. Your city will be safe.” Alex left the tent, followed by Rallian and the others. Stonebill fluttered down onto his shoulder.

  “I will come with you,” said the bird.

  “You will be hard-pressed to keep pace,” said Alex. “No, I would rather you fly south with Rallian and the army. Bring me word when they are five days from Karmus.”

  “As you wish,” said Stonebill.

  “I still don’t see how you’re going to get to Ossbo without a horse,” said Rallian.

  “First things first,” said Alex, remembering he needed to summon a storm to hide the armies of the north. “The storm will last until I rejoin you near Karmus. Avoid cities and towns as much as possible, and march as fast as you can in the rain.”

  “But there is no storm,” said Caftan, looking up at the clear sky.

  Alex lifted his staff and pointed it toward the east, speaking the magic words softly. Tempe had told him that the rains would come late this year, and now he understood why. Using both his wizard and his dragon magic, he reached out and summoned the rain that was already there. He poured the power of the dragon into the magic, knowing he would need that power to make the storm last. The tents of the army fluttered in the breeze, and Rallian and the others looked to the east. Alex lowered his staff, and as it touched the ground, a blast of wind came howling out of the east.

  “When you see the dragon, look for me,” Alex shouted over the wind.

  With his final words, Alex changed himself into an eagle and rose above the camp of King Rallian. He looked down at the stunned faces of his friends, and with an angry screech, he shot like an arrow toward the city of Ossbo.

  Chapter Twenty

  The Dragon of Ossbo

  The wind grew stronger as Alex flew east, but he didn’t change his shape again until he was well away from the camp. When he did change, it was into his sec
ond true form. As a massive true silver dragon, he moved faster than any bird could fly. He was able to outrace the storm he had summoned and cross the land between Luthan and Ossbo in far less time than it had taken the messenger. The joy of being a dragon filled him, and as he followed the road toward Ossbo, his anger toward the armies of Bray burned hotter inside of him.

  There was something more than anger in Alex’s mind. There was the feeling of connection to the land and the magic of Nezza that he had felt before when in his dragon form. The great dragon Salinor had told him a little about the connection, hinting that Alex would learn more in time. Now new feelings came to Alex’s mind, feelings of sorrow and of a great hope—sorrow for the wars that had gone on for so long, and hope that a true king would return and restore order and peace once more. There was also hope that the magic of Nezza would be free to help the people of this land after being held back for so long.

  Alex accepted his feelings and focused his mind on what lay ahead of him. He knew that Bray’s army would be terrified when he arrived, and so would the people of Ossbo. The people of Ossbo would see what he did to the army attacking them, and he hoped that would take away some of their fear.

  It took Alex a little more than an hour to fly over the land that had taken the messenger six days to cross. It was raining hard by the time the city of Ossbo came into his view. He saw that part of the city was burning. Bray’s army had set up catapults and was shooting huge jars of burning liquid over the city walls. Alex let out a thundering roar as he swooped down on the unsuspecting army that surrounded the city.

  With his first pass, Alex let loose a jet of flame. A cloud of steam rose from the wet ground as the dragon fire spread out like water. The catapults burned, and the jars of liquid exploded, spreading the fire into the invading army’s camp. He could hear terrified yells, mixed with the pained cries of those caught in the flames. Alex felt no mercy for the injured as the rage of the dragon took control of his mind.

  He dove again, blasting the tents of the army with fire and ripping them away with his claws. This army would pay for their evil deeds and for the evil of their weak lord. It was time for the wars of Nezza to come to an end. If the lords of Nezza would not end the wars, then the dragon would.