by Mike Shelton
So, taking the last step down the dais, she paused in front of the man who had called himself General Trevis. But she knew now that he was so much more than just a general.
A whisper escaped her throat as she said, “Who are you?”
With slow hands, the man reached up to his hood and threw it back behind his head. Then he brought his face up and peered into her eyes.
His brown eyes blinked and then turned a golden color. She had seen similar eyes before. They had been the eyes of the man that had stood right in front of Lan.
“The Chameleon?” Breelyn asked.
The man now laughed—a booming sound that rocked the walls. “Oh, no, my dear elf maiden. That one is my brother. He hides and slithers around, taking on the forms of others. I am simply known as the General now, one who is building an army to crush all those that oppose us.”
“Us?” Breelyn squeaked out.
The General’s mouth grew into a wide smile. “Yes, there are three of us. My oldest brother, the Sentinel, gathers power for us on an island in the Realm. My second oldest brother, the Chameleon, which you have met, sows discord now in the Sanctuary of Quentis. And I, the youngest, am consolidating power in the western lands. I will march my army through each land until all bow to us.”
“To what end?” she asked.
“We will conquer the entire Western Continent and then give it all to our father, who we will rule forever and ever.”
“Your father?” Breelyn’s mind finally began to think on its own. What had she done? She felt drawn to the General’s dark power but knew now that it wasn’t right—but, was it too late?
“Our father was the last wizard king of Alaris over one hundred and fifty years ago. He began to raise an army, with plans to take over all the lands around Alaris.” The General brought his hands out to his sides, and then disgust crossed his face. “But wizards from Elvyn and Mahli and other kingdoms fought back, killed my father, and, with the power of the Dragon Orb, put a barrier around Alaris for all these years. Now that the barrier is down, we can bring him back.”
“Bring him back from the dead?” Breelyn asked, taking a step away from him, horrified at the thought. “You can’t do that.”
“Ahh, but we can. Once we control the powers of the dragons and Cremelinos—the power to bind—we will bring his soul back from the darkness and into the world once again. It will be glorious!”
“But the dragon riders will never allow it,” Breelyn said as she began to think clearly again. She could feel that Miriel was coming closer. “We will fight back. You can’t control us.”
The General laughed again, a low, menacing laugh. “We can’t control you? Think again, you puny, pathetic elf. Your power is nothing compared to ours. Look at your hair, your clothes, your knife, and your heart.”
Breelyn looked at them all and then gasped. All of these were almost totally black now. “No,” she said. “What have you done to me?”
She reached out with her magic. But before she could do anything, the General flashed his hands in the air, and a thick, black fog enveloped Breelyn, choking off her powers. She gasped for air and then crumpled to the floor.
The General leaned over her and said, “You can fight me and lose all your powers, girl. Or join with me and save your precious king. I might even be benevolent enough to allow him to continue to rule Elvyn under me. We will need good administrators to do our bidding.”
Breelyn lay on the floor, her powers totally gone, her bond with her dragon only barely there, in the back of her mind. All she could feel was the power in the obsidian knife. She could throw it at the General, kill him right now, and be freed from his evil plans. But what would happen to Lan? Lan meant more to Breelyn than her own life, and the king of Elvyn meant more to their people than one of his protectors.
She lifted her head off the floor, tears streaming down her face, and said, “You will save Lan? You promise?”
The General kneeled down in front of Breelyn and brought his hands out in front of him, grabbing a hold of hers with a soft touch. He stared into her eyes, golden flames dancing around within his own.
“If you join me, Breelyn Mier, dragon rider and Elvyn protector, I will spare your land from the destruction that is to come, and your king, Lanwaithian, will rule for a long, long time.”
As Breelyn came up onto her knees, still holding the General’s hands, her soul broke, but her tears stopped.
“I will do it,” she said. With these words, power flooded back into her. Not the power she had been born with or the power of the dragon bond but a dark, awesome, destructive power—the power of hate.
The General stood and smiled. Turning back toward the throne room doors, he began walking away, the click of his boots fading down the long room. As he put his hand on the doors, he turned back to Breelyn and said, “We will speak again tomorrow, for we have much to do. I need to let my brothers know.”
With that, he exited the room, and then Breelyn crashed to the floor. “Oh, Bakari, my Dragon King,” she whispered. “What have I done?”
Just then Breelyn heard a loud, wailing roar from outside the castle walls. She knew who it was, but she couldn’t sense her dragon inside of her anymore. She only prayed that Miriel would leave her alone here and return to safety. Eventually, Breelyn closed her eyes and fell asleep on the cold throne room floor.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Roland didn’t know how much time had passed since his body had collapsed. Sometimes he was conscious, and other times, not. His soul or spirit floated in another realm—next to or in or around the stream of magic. He couldn’t tell for sure. He glanced down and studied his own appearance, holding out his arm in front of himself. He still wore his golden cloak, and his flesh seemed solid enough, although it glowed and was slightly—ever so slightly—translucent.
He ran his hand down over his chest and stomach and back up again. He felt solid. It wasn’t as if he could move his hand through his body. He jumped up a little and floated a bit higher than usual before alighting back down to the ground with a soft landing.
Where am I? he thought to himself, but his thought carried outside of himself, echoing off of some unseen walls. Looking around himself, Roland squinted and tried to determine what he was seeing. A dark gray mist obscured his vision. But, as he walked, spots of light flashed around him at times.
“Hello?” he called out, not really expecting an answer but deciding that he needed to do something.
He thought back to what had happened at the Citadel. The wizards from Quentis were nothing but pawns of the real darkness—The Chameleon and his brothers. But someone else crept through the realm of magic also. A greater evil than even the three of them. As Roland had lain hidden, he had felt that evil presence lurking around and searching for him. So far, Roland had stayed unnoticed.
As Roland walked forward, another gleam of light flashed closer to him. With hardly a thought, he reached out to it and grabbed hold. Light flared up inside him and encompassed him, shutting the darkness away for a moment.
Whether only in his mind or actually in his spirit, Roland was suddenly transported someplace else. Looking around himself, he tried to figure out where he was now—a cobblestone courtyard, with palms and other large, leafy plants standing in groupings around its edges. Tall, white walls with opened windows surrounded the courtyard. The slight scent of an ocean breeze tickled Roland’s nose.
Looking around, he saw two people, who seemed to be fighting at the far end of the space. Without actually stepping forward, he moved closer. He arched his eyebrows in surprise.
“Alli!” he said out loud, but neither Alli nor the man she fought seemed to hear him. Roland watched for a moment and then realized that the two were only sparring. But he was mesmerized by their forms.
Alli, as usual, danced gracefully around her opponent—a man with an olive complexion and dark hair. The man’s eyes held Alli in his gaze, and a smile of joy filled his face.
A low growl erupted
from Roland’s throat. Who was this man?
Alli laughed and lunged underneath a sword stroke, then somersaulted across the cobblestones past the man’s feet. Coming up behind him, she knocked his head with the hilt of her sword.
Roland smiled. He wished she had hit the man harder.
With one swift motion, the man turned and grabbed Alli’s arm, pulling her in closer. As he stared into Alli’s eyes, Alli froze for a moment in his gaze. Then, slipping a leg around hers, the man brought Alli to the ground. A grunt of frustration came from Alli. But it was not like her to be taken in so easily. The man was distracting her.
Alli stood up, her back a few feet from one of the walls. The man smiled, and Roland frowned again. It was not fair for someone to look so good. The man walked steadily and slowly toward Alli.
Alli could be infuriating, he knew, but, over the past six months, he had developed a deep friendship—if not something more—with the young Battlemaster. She was fierce in battle, but sensitive to a fault to those that needed her help.
Roland could see Alli’s chest heaving with exertion, and he wondered if she would be taken in again. But a last-minute glimmer in her eye told him otherwise. A glimmer that he had seen many times.
At that moment, her nose wrinkled up slightly, another sign that Roland had learned to love. It meant she was having fun but was about to finish things off.
“Ready to end this, Kas?” she asked.
The man laughed, deeply and full of joy. “You are yielding to me, Alli?”
Now it was time for Alli to laugh. She jumped into the air and landed on the edge of a huge fern pot, balancing on the toes of her right foot. Then she leaped to the side, taking two steps along the wall, and jumped again, somersaulting in the air, to land behind the man she had called Kas. She reached around him with bare her hands and grabbed his sword from his hand. Spinning him around to face her, she brought her sword up to his neck and held it tight.
Roland smiled, for the man appeared to be in fear of his life.
“Yield?” Alli’s eyes twinkled with amusement.
The man submitted. So Alli pushed him back playfully and lowered her sword arm.
“I don’t know how you did it,” the man said. “No one beats me like that.”
“And I didn’t even use my magic.”
Kas laughed. “Mercy, Alli. You are a dangerous woman indeed.”
“Only if you oppose me.” Alli grew serious. “Now, I need to leave.”
“Leave?” Kas walked closer to Alli. “Leave where?”
“You father wants to see me,” she said.
“My father?” Kas furrowed his dark brows. “Why would he want to do that?”
Alli smiled again and shrugged her shoulders. “You’ll have to ask him.” She gave Kas a short bow and said, “Thanks for the exercise, Your Highness.”
Your Highness? Roland thought. The last that he knew, Alli was in Quentis. Who was this Kas?
Then the scene started to fade around him.
“Alli!” Roland called out. “Alli!”
Alli cocked her head to one side and turned around as if she had heard him, but then she shrugged her shoulders, and the scene faded away.
Roland stood once again in the darkness, the flash of light floating away from him.
Seeing another light flash in front of him, Roland reached out for it. This one didn’t flash as brightly as the last one. But the same thing happened as before. The darkness faded away, and he stood once more in the light. He instantly knew where he was—the throne room in Cassian.
Roland had lived there for two years, prior to coming back to the Citadel. He had trained in Cassian as a counselor apprentice wizard. He smiled at the familiar surroundings. Mericus, king for the last few months, had changed very little, only there was now an actual throne in the room—one that hadn’t been there when the Chief Judge had ruled Alaris—a throne that Mericus now sat on.
Suddenly, Roland figured it out. The flashes of light in the darkness must be wizards. The brighter the light, the more powerful the wizard. A few thoughts came to him at once. He could find Tam and see what was happening in the Citadel or search for Bakari and ask for his help—again. Roland frowned a bit at that. He had always been so much more powerful than his timid scholar wizard friend, who was now a dragon rider. But Roland had seemed to need his friend’s help more often than the other way around these days.
He walked around the throne room of Cassian a bit more, watching Mericus deal with a trade delegation from Tillimot. The sea-based nation had plenty of new types of food to sell to their northern neighbors. Since the barrier around Alaris had fallen, many of the neighboring nations were clamoring for new trade provisions—an opportunity for many merchants to become rich through trade.
Roland willed himself back out of the vision, and soon he stood again in the darkness of the magic stream. He was beginning to learn the rules of this place. His thoughts ruled here.
So he thought about the Citadel, and he traveled once again without moving his feet. Dozens of lights flashed around him. That made sense, since the Citadel housed many wizards and apprentices at any time.
Now to find the right light, he thought as he reached his mind out.
Opening his mind, Roland felt the different magical signatures of each of his wizards and apprentices. Finally, he focused on Tam: a young wizard that had served him well.
Tam’s light came to Roland, and he grabbed it. As before, he was pulled into the light and found himself in a room that was dimly lit. Glancing around, Roland almost jumped. This was his room. His own bedroom in the Citadel. Tam stood before him in the dark.
What was Tam doing in his room? Was Tam moving in already, with Roland barely gone?
A woman opened the door and walked in. It was Selena, a promising scholar apprentice. Tam looked up at her, and Roland noticed the bags under his friend’s eyes.
“How is he?” the woman asked in sympathy.
Tam motioned Selena to join him, and they walked over to Roland’s bed. Roland followed them, curious as to what they were doing in his room. Then he followed Tam’s gaze to the bed.
“Whoa!” Roland said out loud, for he stood staring down at his own body, lying still on his comfortable bed. A warm quilt was pulled up to his chin, and his head sat on a fluffy pillow—his favorite one. A small tube sat over his mouth, attached to an accordion-like box that was pumping up and down.
Roland shook his head back and forth. This is freaky! He didn’t want to see himself lying there like that. Am I really dead?
“Tam?” Roland yelled at the wizard. “What is this?”
Tam brought his head up and glanced around. “Did you hear something?”
“No.” Selena appeared concerned. “You stay here too long, Tam. You need rest.” She put a hand tenderly on his arm.
“I can’t leave him, Selena. What if he wakes up?” Tam reached over and touched the apparatus next to Roland’s body. “What if this stops working? It’s all that’s keeping him alive.”
“Others can watch over him. The council needs you,” Selena said. “I have heard that some of the older wizards are already trying to take power for themselves.”
Roland grunted. Figures. Wizards were drawn to power. And Roland’s absence had left a power vacuum to fill.
Tam just shook his head. “What will Alli do to me if Roland dies while she is gone?”
Selena smiled. “You may be right. I wouldn’t want to face that. She is fiercely loyal to him.”
Roland frowned, remembering the recent scene of Alli fighting—and maybe flirting—with the beautiful man in Quentis. Was Alli thoroughly loyal to Roland and the Citadel? His heart hoped so.
Selena gave Tam a small peck on the cheek, and Tam blushed.
Roland grinned. When had that happened? Were these two now an item?
Selena closed the door behind her as she left, and Tam stood in front of Roland’s body again.
“Roland, High Wizard, are you still ali
ve somewhere in there?” Tam asked.
“I’m here, Tam,” Roland said.
But Tam did not react.
So Roland reached out tentatively to touch his own body. He wondered if he could. Slowly, he moved forward and ran his fingers over the top of his own head. When he did, a small light flared up around the body lying on the bed.
Tam jumped back. “What was that?” he said. “Roland, is that you?”
Roland smiled. Maybe he could get back into his body again. He took his own head on the pillow and held it between his two spiritual hands. Light flared up again, and he felt a connection.
“Tam,” he said to the wizard.
Tam considered Roland’s face. “Are you really there?” Tam asked. Then a big grin spread across his face. “I knew you weren’t gone. You are too powerful—or maybe just too stubborn for that.”
At that moment, Roland felt a darkness move across the scene. He was being pulled back.
“No!” Roland screamed.
He stood halfway between the two worlds, and a deep voice called out to him, saying, “Roland Tyre, come to me!”
The voice was powerful and deep, but the power it held was almost overwhelming. He felt his spirit-self wanting to move away back into the darkness. But he kept his hands on his physical head to maintain contact with the real world.
“You cannot hide forever,” the deep voice said again.
“Who are you?” Roland called out.
“I think you know who I am.”
Roland wasn’t sure how it all worked. But the wizards from Quentis had talked about the father of the Chameleon. Was this him? Could Roland withstand his power? He realized that, as long as he kept his hands on his physical head, he must be hidden from the evil man.
“I already have Breelyn,” the voice said, and Roland’s hold on the physical world slipped. “And soon I will have Bakari and Jaimon. With the dragon riders on my side, nothing can stop me from coming back into the world.”
The voice hadn’t mentioned Alli. For that, Roland was thankful. Also, Roland knew that there were other powerful wizards in each of the lands. He had felt them. And, wasn’t Bakari going to find another dragon rider?
