Lusam: The Dragon Mage Wars Book Four

by Dean Cadman

  Renn’s recent words echoed in his mind: ‘they’ve made their choice, now they will have to deal with the consequences of that choice.’ Somehow that didn’t seem enough to justify what he had done here today. He would have to live with the consequences of his actions for the rest of his life. He just hoped that was something that he could ‘deal with’.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Lusam levitated himself slowly towards the shoreline. People had gathered on the docks to watch the unfolding spectacle in the bay, and now scattered in fear at his approach. Only one old man remained standing on the dock, either because he was unafraid, or simply unable to flee Lusam’s advance. When Lusam’s feet touched the dockside, the old man said something to him, and looked towards the imposing sight of Irragin above them. Even though Lusam couldn’t understand what he had said, his tone suggested one of warning, rather than threat. Lusam smiled at the old man and nodded, then turned towards Irragin. If there was one thing which might possibly justify his actions today, it would be ridding the world of Lord Zelroth once and for all. Something which he fully intended to do.

  The road leading up to the massive gates of Irragin was steep and rocky. It had been constructed using thousands of large white pebbles, and was slick with algae from the recent storms. Halfway up the steep road, Lusam noticed a rocky beach far below and to his right, and immediately recognised it as the source of the large white pebbles underfoot. He could also see the towering black pinnacle of rock, but their small boat was nowhere to be seen. He knew the rock was much larger than it appeared to be from where he was standing, and that the boat was no doubt tucked in tight behind it, out of view.

  Irragin was a truly impressive place. At first glance it appeared to have been carved directly out of the mountainside, but Lusam knew that wasn’t entirely true because of what Renn had previously told him. A great battle had taken place there between the two Gods, Aamon and Erebi. It had occurred during the first days of the ancient God’s Wars, and a large part of the mountainside had been destroyed by Aamon when he’d killed his brother Erebi, who had been attempting to hide inside the mountain. Following that, it had become a place of pilgrimage for many centuries. Then, much later, after The Dragon-Mage Wars had ended, and the Thulian forces had been defeated, Afaraon built the outpost known as Irragin there. Later still, Lord Zelroth had claimed it as his own seat of power, and renamed it Azmarin.

  As the road curved towards the main gates of Irragin, Lusam could clearly see the steep vertical sides of the stronghold plunging down into the sea far below. The smooth black granite of the mountain rose vertically out of the sea for several hundred feet, before merging with the massive walls of the stronghold. Lusam couldn’t tell if the mountainside was naturally smooth, or if it had been artificially made to be that way. Although there were several windows on that side of the stronghold, no one could possibly hope to reach them by climbing the smooth vertical rock face from the sea below. For a moment Lusam considered entering Irragin through one of those windows, but quickly realised there was little point. Lord Zelroth already knew he was coming, and trying to gain the advantage of surprise was simply not necessary—he didn’t want it, nor require it.

  As he drew closer to Irragin’s massive gates, his mind began to race at thought of finally rescuing his mother. Then his heart lurched as he suddenly realised that he might already be too late, and she could already be dead. He had no idea what he would do if that turned out to be the case, or how it would affect him knowing that he had arrived there too late to save her. He shook the terrible thoughts from his mind, and reminded himself that Lord Zelroth had kept her alive since shortly after his own birth. There was no reason to believe that he even knew she was his mother, so why would he suddenly choose to kill her after keeping her alive for so long?

  The very thought of the number of years of torture and torment his mother had endured to survive so long, sickened him. Lord Zelroth would pay a very high price indeed for what he had done to her. He would make sure of that.

  As he approached the massive gates of Irragin, he could see the shimmering power of magic ripple across their surface.

  “They’re obviously enchanted by some kind of protection spell. Probably similar in nature to the doors at the High Temple in Lamuria,” he thought to himself, as he began to build up a massive force of power to blow them off their hinges. Just as he was about to release his blast of power, one of the massive gates swung open and a mage in black robes walked out. He didn’t even notice Lusam at first as he absent-mindedly read the small scroll he was holding, but when he did, his eyes went wide at the sight of him. Lusam hadn’t bothered hiding the strength of his aura again, and no doubt the mage had just witnessed it for himself.

  Lusam stepped towards the open gate and the man cowered away from him. He knew how the hierarchy worked in the Thule Empire, and judging by the weak strength of the man’s crimson aura, he was likely little more than a clerk or messenger. Lusam thought about killing him before he could alert anyone else to his presence there, but decided against it. He wasn’t sure that the man would even want to admit to what amounted to opening the front door for him anyway, but even if he did, it would make little difference.

  He stepped through the open doorway into a massive entrance hall, and the door closed behind him with a dull echoing thud. The entrance hall was richly decorated with paintings and wall hangings, and several large crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling above. A wide staircase leading up dominated the centre of the room. Its ornately carved spindles and shiny metal hand rails seemed out of place inside the black granite stronghold. The luxuriously thick red carpet which covered the stairs made anything at the Royal Palace in Lamuria look decidedly drab in comparison.

  Lusam had no idea where he would find Lord Zelroth within Irragin, or his mother for that matter, and was about to start opening doors randomly, when he came face to face with a woman exiting an adjoining room. She was startled by his presence, but she didn’t call out for help. It was immediately apparent by the strength of her aura that she wasn’t capable of performing any magic, and when he looked closer, he realised that she also wasn’t wearing a Necromatic ring. Whoever she was, she wasn’t a citizen of the Thule Empire. His best guess would that she was some kind of slave, but there was no way of knowing for sure. He held up a finger to his lips, and she immediately nodded, indicating that she understood.

  “Zelroth?” he whispered, gesticulating with his hands. She pointed up the staircase, and motioned towards the back of the stronghold, then without waiting for a reply, she spun on her heels and disappeared back through the door she had just come from. Lusam heard a bolt slide into place as she barricaded herself inside the room. He turned towards the wide staircase and smiled to himself, as he suddenly realised for the first time that it might not only be his mother that he was freeing from tyranny by killing Lord Zelroth.

  As he climbed the wide staircase he began to wonder why he hadn’t encountered any guards yet. Surely a stronghold such as Irragin should have been much better guarded than it was? All he had seen so far was a lowly cleric and a servant. Something didn’t feel quite right to him.

  At the top of the staircase he found himself in a large antechamber with two huge doors at the far end of the room. The doors were very finely decorated which suggested to him that he was on the right track to find Lord Zelroth. He approached the doors and listened for any signs of movement from the other side, but all was quiet. He attempted to use his mage-sight to see beyond the doors, but some kind of enchantment seemed to be blocking him. Taking a deep breath and strengthening his shield, he reached for the door handle and pushed open the huge door.

  “Ah, there you are, at last. You’ve certainly kept us all waiting. Please… come inside. We have a lot to discuss,” someone said with a faint Thulian accent. Lusam immediately traced where the voice was coming from, and saw a man in black robes sitting on what looked like a throne in the centre of the massive room. His black ro
bes were edged in gold and silver stitching, and the hood of his robe covered his head completely, placing his face in deep shadow. His strange looking throne appeared to have been created from bleached bones of some kind, and positively hummed with magic. As did the golden base it was sitting on. Three golden steps led up to the throne, and each were intricately carved with symbols of power. What purpose they served Lusam didn’t know, or care.

  Even before Lusam stepped inside the room he felt the strange, but familiar insect-like feeling in his mind of someone trying to read his thoughts. He slammed up his mental defences, but whoever it was, they were no match for him. He could see the thin tendril of power leading all the way back to a mage dressed in red robes at the back of the room, and immediately recognised him as one of Lord Zelroth’s Inquisitors. Without a second thought, he sent a massive pulse-of-power along the Inquisitor’s connection to him, and liquefied his brain. The Inquisitor stiffened momentarily, then fell face first onto the solid stone floor, spilling the contents of his head across the floor. His death-pulse was a powerful one, and would have been felt a great distance away.

  Lusam clearly saw Lord Zelroth react to the death-pulse of his Inquisitor, even though he tried hard to hide it. It was only the slightest movement of his hands which gave away his true feelings at what Lusam had just done, as he momentarily gripped the arms of his throne a little tighter than he had intended. Lusam grinned widely at him, hoping to provoke him further, but he remained openly impassive. He still couldn’t see Lord Zelroth’s face within the deep shadow of his hood, but he felt confident that he would no longer be smiling.

  Lord Zelroth was flanked by ten of his Darkseed Elite guards, each one a powerful mage in their own right. But it was Lord Zelroth’s crimson aura which stood out the most inside the room. Lusam had seen it before, in Coldmont, but he had not had the chance to study it there. Now, as he looked at it closer, he could see that Lord Zelroth was only as powerful as he had been after reading the second Guardian book in Coldmont, and nowhere near as powerful as he was right now.

  Lusam’s smile widened, and he stepped into the room.

  The door closed behind him with a dull thud, and when he glanced back over his shoulder, he could clearly see that a magical barrier had been erected to prevent his escape. It amused him that Lord Zelroth would even consider that he might want to run. Ignoring the barrier, he stepped further into the massive throne room.

  It reminded him somewhat of Coldmont, but on a slightly smaller scale, and it was in far better condition. The artwork adorning the walls was truly exquisite. The detail of the images were so lifelike, it almost felt like he was looking through an open doorway to another time. Incredibly, they had even incorporated the windows he had seen from the outside into the murals. The delicate stained glass windows became part of the overall image, expertly lighting various areas of the mural. Whoever had conceived it, was truly an artist without equal.

  He traced the images from where they started at the creation of the world, through various wars and conflicts, right up until the point of the Guardians closing The Great Rift and trapping Aamon inside the Netherworld. What puzzled him the most, however, was an image which was obviously still being worked on. It appeared to depict the reopening of The Great Rift, and the release of Aamon.

  “Beautiful aren’t they?” Lord Zelroth said, in a much less friendly tone than he had used before.

  “Very. But I think you may have been a little premature on that last image,” Lusam replied, nodding towards the final unfinished mural.

  Lord Zelroth laughed, but it didn’t contain much humour. “Oh, I think not, boy,” he replied menacingly. “But regardless, I think we should get back to the business at hand. Just lately you seem to have been getting in the way of my plans a little.”

  “I’m happy to have been such a problem for you,” Lusam replied sarcastically.

  “Oh no, I didn’t say you were a problem for me. You have been nothing more than a minor inconvenience for me, boy. You have only delayed my plans, at best. And after I kill you today, I will resume those plans post-haste, of that, I can assure you. But first, I have something that you should see,” Lord Zelroth said, as another pair of huge doors swung open at the far end of the room.

  Lord Zelroth spoke a word of power, and a second magical barrier appeared in front of him, isolating Lusam between the two barriers, and cutting him off from everyone else in the room. Before he could respond, two Inquisitors wearing red robes wheeled something into the room through the two massive doors. It was a type of metal framed rack, and attached to it was what looked like the remains of a woman’s body. It was hard to tell for sure, because whoever the poor soul had been, they were no longer recognisable due to the fact that they had been completely skinned. The sight of the mutilated body made Lusam dry-retch, and Lord Zelroth laughed manically at his sudden reaction. The Inquisitors wheeled the contraption towards him, and left it right in front of the magical barrier for him to see.

  “Now, I think it’s time for our formal introductions. You already know my name, and I yours, courtesy of my spies in Afaraon. But I feel that I must also introduce you to this lady, who I’m afraid never gave her name, so here goes. Lady, meet Lusam, and Lusam… meet your mother.”

  Lusam heart pounded in his chest, and his stomach churned violently as he stared in disbelief at the grisly sight before him. “No… no… NO!” he cried out, sending a huge blast of magic towards Lord Zelroth, only to see it impact harmlessly on his magical barrier. Missile after missile he sent towards him, with a rage beyond anything he had ever felt before in his life. And Lord Zelroth laughed openly at his efforts.

  Lord Zelroth stood up from his throne and slowly descended the three golden steps to the floor below, then he walked right up to the barrier, and waited for Lusam to stop his crazed attack. Lusam’s chest heaved with the effort he had just put into his assault, but it seemed to have had no effect on Lord Zelroth whatsoever. Now that he was closer, Lusam could see the evil looking grin on his face, but his eyes remained hidden within the dark shadows of his hood.

  The two massive doors at the far end of the room swung open once more, but Lusam kept his deadly stare firmly on Lord Zelroth before him.

  “You see, that was no fun at all, was it?” Lord Zelroth said as if he had just been disappointed somehow. Lusam seethed, as his mind tried to come to terms with what Lord Zelroth had done to his mother.

  “Oh, don’t worry, boy, that’s not really your mother there… yet,” he said, looking at the skinless corpse. “You see, I was going to kill her and display her body to you just like that. But as you can see, that would have only entertained me for the briefest of time. So, I thought it would be far more entertaining to make you watch as I had her tortured and killed, instead.” A wicked grin spread across Lord Zelroth’s face, as he saw Lusam trying to gain a grasp of the situation. Lusam’s eyes snapped to the remains of the woman before him, then to the movement at the far end of the room. Coming towards him were two more Inquisitors pushing another of the strange metal racks. And on that rack, was the woman he had seen in his vision—his mother.

  “Mother!” he screamed out, and was relieved to see her try and move her head. Lusam’s rage at what he saw reached dizzying new heights, and he physically shook trying to contain himself. The two Inquisitors wheeled the contraption next to the remains of the other woman, then took their places at each side of it.

  “Now, shall we try the introductions again?” Lord Zelroth asked in a jovial tone. He walked over to Lusam’s mother and grabbed her firmly by the chin. She had obviously been tortured, and was barely conscious. But she still struggled against his vile touch.

  “Say hello to your son, Lusam,” Lord Zelroth said, roughly turning her head towards him. She struggled to open her eyes, and tried to mouth something, but she didn’t have the strength. Tears ran freely down Lusam’s cheeks at the sight of his mother, and what had been done to her. He would do far more than kill Lord Zelroth, he wou
ld make him suffer just like he had made his mother suffer.

  Lusam gritted his teeth, and plunged his hand into the magical barrier, fully intending to drain Lord Zelroth right where he stood. But instead, his consciousness was suddenly seized and dragged into the barrier by some incredible force. He recognised it immediately as being like the entity within the walls of Helveel, and struggled violently to free himself from its iron grip. He could sense its massive power reserves, and knew that his own were dwarfed by comparison. The intense hatred which the entity felt for him washed over his mind, and he had to fight hard to keep it from overwhelming him. He was far stronger now than he had been when he faced the entity in Helveel, but even so, the new entity still had the upper hand.

  It took a huge amount of magical effort to stop it from dragging him completely under, and even more to try and free himself from its iron grip. Slowly, he managed to build up a massive charge of power, then used it to mentally repel against the entity as hard as he could. It felt like he had suddenly been ejected by the entity, and flew across the room, crashing down hard on the solid stone floor. Lord Zelroth laughed manically at him, as he lay there dazed, trying to work out what had just happened to him.

  Lusam used his mage-sight to study the lines-of-power emanating from Lord Zelroth, and his heart suddenly lurched inside his chest. The power for the magical barrier was coming from Lord Zelroth, but he in turn was drawing power directly from his throne. Or more precisely, from something underneath his throne. The sudden realisation of his situation hit him like a thunderbolt. Somewhere under his throne, Lord Zelroth had access to the immense power reserves of an entity, just like the one in Helveel. He knew that he couldn’t make contact with it, to drain its power in the normal way he would do with a mage. Nor could he hope to exhaust its massive power reserves by simply attacking the barrier. The reality was that he was now stuck between the two barriers.