by Sam Ferguson
Dremathor smiled and whispered the name to himself a few times. Then he went to speak with Aparen while Njar remained behind.
“What happened to you?” Aparen said as he watched Dremathor walk slowly toward him.
“I have a deal for you,” Dremathor said. “I have given Njar a powerful object. It will grant you all of my powers.”
Aparen’s eyes widened. “Why would you do that?” he asked.
“Call it a bargain,” Dremathor replied. “I offer you all of my powers, as well as additional boons to your magical abilities if you will grant me two things.”
Aparen stood up quickly, obviously intrigued by the offer. “What is your price?”
“The first is that you complete your training with Njar, he has a lot to teach you, and he will have a very important task for you to do when you are ready.”
Aparen nodded quickly. “I am already doing that, so what is the second part?”
Dremathor paused, studying the young man before him for a moment. “The second part is that you let Erik Lokton live.”
Aparen’s face grew red. He grimaced and eyed Dremathor from head to toe. “Njar put you up to this didn’t he?” Aparen turned and pointed at the satyr. “You said the choice was mine to make!”
Njar didn’t respond. He stood silently near the stump.
Dremathor, strengthened by his anger, reached out and grabbed Aparen by the neck and pulled him in close, squeezing tightly. “You will let him live, or you get nothing!” he growled. Dremathor then shoved Aparen into a nearby tree and folded his arms, the veins in his neck and forehead throbbing and his lips curled up into a snarling scowl.
“What does it matter to you?” Aparen asked as he rubbed his neck.
“He is my son,” Dremathor answered.
Aparen cocked his head and glanced to Njar. The satyr nodded and stepped in closer.
“If it is balance you seek, Aparen, then perhaps we can add to the bargain,” the satyr offered.
Aparen didn’t say anything.
Njar moved to Dremathor. “Aparen blames Erik for the death of his brother and father. I have shown him the error of his thinking, but still he harbors anger and his heart calls for blood to satisfy his anger.”
Dremathor looked to Njar, and then he locked eyes with Aparen. “Give me a wizard’s oath that you will not kill Erik, and I will give you what you seek.”
“How could you do that?” Aparen asked.
Dremathor stepped in close and held out his hand. “I am Erik’s father. I will give you not only my power, and the other powers I spoke of, but I will also give you my life. I will take his place, and you will have the sacrifice your heart desires.”
Aparen frowned. “What is a wizard’s oath?”
Dremathor explained how to make the mark on his palm and speak the words of a binding wizard’s oath. Then he restated his proposition and held his hand out. “Will you make the deal?”
“You would take his place?” Aparen asked.
Dremathor nodded.
Aparen nodded and took Dremathor’s outstretched hand to shake it. “I will agree to let your son live in return for the power you offered me, but I do not want your life.”
Dremathor smiled and nodded. Aparen made the oath and Njar accepted it, as Dremathor no longer had other magical abilities. Then they sent Aparen back to the tower for the rest of the day while Dremathor and Njar remained in the glade.
“It would appear your training is having a positive effect,” Dremathor noted.
Njar smiled and held the obsidian vial in is hand as he looked at it. “The boy chose well. A short few weeks ago I am certain he would have happily taken your blood.” Njar turned to Dremathor and the smile vanished. “Though I suppose either way you must make that sacrifice in order to transfer the immunity.”
Dremathor nodded. “If you capture my soul along with the others, my immunity will transfer to Aparen when he absorbs the powers contained in the vial.”
Njar nodded. “We can wait,” he offered. “We don’t have to do it now.”
Dremathor shook his head. “Better to do it now.” He knelt down before the satyr and clasped his hands behind his back. “Thank you, Njar, for everything.”
The satyr placed one hand on Dremathor’s forehead. “I will show you now what Aparen will do for the realm, so you know your sacrifice is not in vain.” Njar paused, and then looked down to Dremathor and sighed. “Afterward, I will show you where your son grew up, and I will show you who he can become. Then I will finish the ritual and transfer your immunity into the vial.”
Dremathor smiled. “Then let me see,” he said. “I created so much sorrow for so many, I should like to know the good that is to come.”
About the Author
Sam Ferguson has a sword collection so large that Wolverine has blade-envy.
He once fought a bull with nothing but a fencing panel and won.
He has enough sons to create his own 3 on 3 football game and still be all-time QB.
When Russian, Latvian, and Hungarian didn't confuse him enough, he moved to Yerevan so he could learn Armenian.
He once drove through an earthquake while all others were too afraid to come out from hiding.
He used to hunt cougar with a baseball bat.
While others use a .22 for target practice, he uses a Russian RPD.
He can curl more than 200 lbs, without cheating.
He also draws the BEST darn stick-figures you have EVER seen!
Now, he won't admit to being Batman, but no one has ever seen him and Batman in the same room at the same time...
When he is taking a break from being awesome, he is usually at home with his wife and kids and learning from them how to become even AWESOMER!
(Yes, "awesomer" is a word. The toddler says so!)
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