“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 Asrion then.” Kaxen could barely hear Morgoran over the ringing in his ears.
Aurelie 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,” Kaxen said, clutching his aching head.
“Fawlsbane!” Morgoran sounded alarmed. “I am sure it was just a dream brought on by your experience here.”
Aurelie pushed through. “Kaxen, 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?”
Kaxen 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, Kaxen pushed away from Morgoran. “He gave me the location of the Tome of Enlightenment. Now, do you believe?”
“Now wait just a moment, Kaxen. Not only gods have that location. I think you might have been fooled.”
Kaxen 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 Kaxen yanked it through the air, catching it and holding it tightly in his hand. He closed his eyes, concentrated on the Sacred Land, 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, Kaxen beheld the familiar desolation of the Sacred Land.
Chapter 18
Kaxen 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 Sacred Land. 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 Sacred Land. 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 Sacred Land 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. Kaxen 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,” Kaxen 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, Kaxen 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 improvements 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,” Kaxen said. The man just grunted.
Kaxen found Esperdahl supervising construction not far down the road from the grumpy old man. “Hail, Esperdahl,” Kaxen said when he reached earshot.
Esperdahl recognized him immediately. “Kaxen, good to see you, lad.” He looked at the scabbard on Kaxen’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 Kaxen.
“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?”
Kaxen 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.” Kaxen followed Esperdahl as he led them to the temple and into his private chambers. The older man closed the heavy wooden door after Kaxen 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.”
Kaxen’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!”
Kaxen unsheathed Dranmalin. “Aye, you had to win our trust somehow. What better way than with gifts? Of course, with your gifts, Krullen Thul an
d 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,” Kaxen 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 seasons; 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 Kaxen, and Dranmalin sang out for the block. “Impossible. I enchanted that sword,” Esperdahl exclaimed.
“I re-enchanted it,” Kaxen 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. Kaxen was surprised he recognized them. He remembered his youthful sword training well. First was the backward crane; Kaxen blocked it with the crossover. Next, Esperdahl tried the box maneuver. Kaxen 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 Kaxen knocked his sword aside and held Dranmalin to Esperdahl’s throat.
“Tell me where Toborne is hiding,” Kaxen insisted.
“Never!”
Words came to Kaxen’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.”
Kaxen 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, Kaxen seared Esperdahl’s head from his shoulders. “I cannot let you rebuild Signal Hill.”
Kaxen 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 Sacred Land 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 eating.”
“You might after you smell the food.”
“All right, bring it in.”
Deylia brought in a tray of 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?”
“Somewhat. Isheza the Bold was the last ruler of Ishrak because General Sythril had soothsayers curse him and his army on the fields of Roan. Isheza died the night before a great battle was supposed to take place with the Sythian army, and as a consequence, the Ishraki army retreated. General Sythril pursued them against the soothsayer’s warnings and somehow became part of the curse himself.”
“Close enough, I suppose. There is a little more to it than that. It is true that Ishrak was cursed and fell to ruin, which is why this is such a splendid hiding place for mindwielders, but what you left out is that prominent features of this old kingdom were changed based on the curse. For example, the Great Ishraki Plains became known as the Plain of Storms because of the constant, never-ending thunderstorms that ravaged it.”
“Aye, and the Mountains of Madness. I remember,” Rennon assured him.
“The storm has stopped. I thought the cure might have this consequence, but I wasn’t sure.”
“What do you mean, it stopped?” Deylia asked.
“The skies are calm, completely cloud-covered, but calm. With the madness gone, there is no need to project the energy out onto the plain.”
Rennon took another bite of bacon. “That’s good news.”
“It’s also a beacon that something has changed. The storm was a deterrent. It was a grand reminder of the curse, and because of it, people feared to enter the kingdom of Ishrak. With it gone, who knows, peo
ple may venture in and stick their noses where they don’t belong.”
“So you never thought of this before now? So what if they come?”
Theosus fidgeted as if he was trying to figure out how to carefully structure his words. “For many seasons, I have searched as an apothecary for a cure to the madness that plagued mindwielders. I dreamed of the day when I could cure, or find a cure, for my people here in this ruined city. In my dream, I would establish a new Ishrak. None of the reality has followed the dream. I fear we are in danger if we stay here. Without the Plain of Storms, we are vulnerable here. We need to go north.”
“I must have cured a hundred people over the last day and night. I figured they would go home now and live out their lives.”
“I am afraid that isn’t possible. Most of these people are known to be some kind of wielder, and some were rescued from death just as you were. Going home for many of them would mean death or exile.”
“They are exiles right now, Theosus,” Rennon stated flatly.
“What do you propose I do, mindhealer?”
“Don’t call me that,” Rennon said, pointing his finger at Theosus.
Theosus cleared his throat. “There are two other reasons why I came to you today. Would you hear them?”
Rennon put his forehead in his hands as if he might be suffering a headache. “You are here, so you may as well.”
“The Enforcers have been slowly disbanding since the battle at Brightonhold, but the far reaches of the Enforcers’ power have not yet heard of the incident. In northern Ardenia, there are an unusual number of wielders imprisoned. They are being tortured and killed. My sources tell me they are mostly mindwielders rounded up within the Trigothian kingdoms and sent there for judgment. I mean to go there and liberate them.”
“Now wait a moment. You aren’t proposing that I take over here while you go crusading?”
“No, I would never do such a thing. I am proposing we all go together to liberate our brothers and sisters. We are now a force of strong mindwielders, and—”
On the Wings of Dragons: Path of the Wielders 3 Page 19
