Lusam: The Dragon Mage Wars Book Four

by Dean Cadman

  Lord Zelroth slowly returned to his throne to watch the events unfold, still laughing at Lusam’s expense. Lusam couldn’t believe how stupid he had been. He’d walked straight into Lord Zelroth’s trap. Even after being warned time and time again by Renn and Neala, he still hadn’t listened. What in the Seven Hells had he been thinking? Had he really been naïve enough to believe that he could simply stroll into Lord Zelroth’s stronghold, rescue his mother, and kill a powerful mage who had managed to survive for countless centuries, then simply walk away again completely unscathed? And now through his stupidity, he would be forced to watch as Lord Zelroth tortured and killed his mother right in front of him.

  He prayed desperately to Aysha for her help, but knew deep down that the situation that he now found himself in was one of his own making, and therefore he would have to take responsibility for his own actions. He thought about blasting his way through the wall to bypass the magical barrier, but when he checked, he saw that it too was protected by the barrier, as were the stained glass windows. There simply was no way out for him.

  Lord Zelroth raised a finger into the air, then pointed it at Lusam. The ten Darkseed Elite guards who were standing behind his throne, immediately began to move forward and spread themselves out evenly on the other side of the barrier. They stood there for a few seconds, then as one, began to attack Lusam with a strange type of magical missile. It wasn’t fire or ice based like the ones he had seen before, but more like a ball of lightning. They impacted hard on his shield, and he staggered against their combined effect. For a moment he thought the magical barrier had been removed and sent a powerful missile of his own, only to see it impact harmlessly on the invisible barrier a few paces away. Lusam began to panic when he realised that the barrier had been created to allow their missiles to pass through it, but not his own. He even tried to emulate the type of missile they were using, but nothing he tried made any difference.

  The relentless strikes of their missiles dizzied him. He had wasted so much of his power reserves already by escaping the entity, and by attacking the barrier in the first place. Now he had no way to replenish those reserves, and they were decreasing rapidly. Several volleys later, and he was brought to his knees. He placed his hand to the stone floor, hoping to send out tendrils of power in search of a magic reserve to plunder, but some kind of enchantment in the stone floor prevented him.

  Lord Zelroth’s manic laugh echoed in his ears, as dark spots began to appear at the edges of his vision. Suddenly the multiple attacks stopped, and were replaced by a single missile every few seconds. He held onto his shield for as long as he could, but a few moments later he was all but drained of magic, and had to drop it or die. The missile hit him square in the chest, and an incredible pain erupted throughout his entire body. From his knees, he fell forward onto the solid stone floor, with not even enough strength to raise his hands and cushion the blow.

  He lay face down on the floor panting hard against the pain and exertion. Blood began to pool around his face from the damage to his nose and lips, and his head felt like it would split in two from the overuse of magic. He had suffered severe headaches before, but never had he been drained of magic so rapidly or violently. His vision blurred and darkened over and over, but he refused to be pulled under. His mother was there, and she still needed him.

  And now, he needed her.

  With sheer determination, Lusam managed to roll over onto his back, only to elicit a fresh wave of mockery from Lord Zelroth. He turned his head towards his mother, and saw the magical barrier vanish. A single Darkseed Elite walked towards him, and he desperately tried again to reach out and tap into his power, but he didn’t have enough magic left to bridge the gap between them. Satisfied that he was no longer a threat, the Darkseed Elite returned to the others.

  Lusam looked up blankly at the ceiling above, no longer even hearing the words of ridicule coming from Lord Zelroth. Pain thundered through his head, as he stared up at the beautifully painted image of an island on the ceiling high above him. He longed to be there, with its surrounding crystal blue waters, forests and high mountains. His eyes wandered over the image of a great temple perched on top of a high mountain, and its mighty dragon guardian wrapped impossibly around it. But his eyes were drawn to one particular corner of the image, where an archway of pure white light held two simple words: Pearl Isle

  He chuckled to himself mirthlessly, and the pain exploded once again inside his head. He recognised the name from the ancient journal he had discovered in Helveel, and knew without doubt that it was the location of the final Guardian book. Not that the information would do him any good now. Soon he would be dead, and Lord Zelroth would be free to ultimately reopen The Great Rift and release his God, Aamon. The world would end, and it was all because he had been too foolish to listen to his friends. His mind began to refocus on the present, and he started to hear Lord Zelroth’s words once more.

  “…you also failed pitifully with the trap you set for me in Coldmont. Did you really expect me to fall for such an obvious ruse?” Lord Zelroth said venomously. Lusam had no idea what he was talking about, but he didn’t have the energy say so.

  “I was going to make you watch from behind the barrier while I killed your mother, but I think it will be far more entertaining to watch her die in your arms. You’ll have to let me know how it feels to watch her die, and be so powerless to do anything about it.”

  Lusam knew that Lord Zelroth’s words were meant to cause him anguish and pain, and they were certainly effective at doing that. His insides churned at thought of watching his mother die at all, let alone seeing her die in his arms whilst he was powerless to prevent it. Tears rolled freely down his cheeks at the soon to be realised images in his mind. He battled against the incredible pain in his head, desperately trying to reach out towards any nearby power source, but he simply didn’t have enough magic left to do it.

  He attempted to sit up, but he almost passed out when he tried. All he could manage was to roll carefully onto his side, so he could see what was happening in the room. He could see one of the Inquisitors unchaining his unconscious mother from the metal rack, and begin dragging her towards him.

  “I thought you might like a few minutes to get to know each other before we get started. I’m quite sentimental that way, you understand,” he said, sneering at Lusam.

  “If you touch her, I’ll kill you,” Lusam said, trying his best to sound intimidating, and failing miserably. Lord Zelroth roared with laughter at his empty threat, then sent a painful ball of lightning towards him. Lusam screamed in agony, as his whole body spasmed violently at the impact. When the pain finally subsided, and his muscles relaxed again, he gasped for breath.

  “I think not, boy. But I will kill you, and you can be certain that it won’t be quick. After we are done here with your mother, you will become a temporary guest of my Inquisitors. At least until they torture the location of the Guardian book out of you. I know you have found a third book. One which I do not know the location of. And you will share that information with me, willingly, or otherwise. That, I promise you, boy,” he hissed venomously. As Lord Zelroth spoke his final words, his mother was unceremoniously dumped on the floor by the side of him.

  “Mother!” Lusam called out to her, ignoring the fresh wave of manic laughter coming from Lord Zelroth. Her eyes flickered open, then closed again, but Lusam saw the brief recognition in her eyes. He reached out and took hold of her hand.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. He felt her squeeze his hand gently, but she didn’t open her eyes or try to reply. Desperately he tried to reach out to her mind, but he didn’t even have enough magic left to do that.

  His failure was now complete.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Samara hit the ground hard, but the pain she felt paled into insignificance compared to what she had been forced to endure during her many years of captivity within Azmarin. She struggled very hard to control her emotions at seeing her son for the first time. All she
wanted to do was throw her arms around him and hug him tightly, but she knew that if she did, Lord Zelroth would immediately separate them again. She knew that was how his twisted mind worked. Any opportunity that he could gain to cause pain or distress he would take, and she knew the only reason he had placed her there, was to feed his sick desire to watch her son suffer.

  She hadn’t even known her son’s name until Lord Zelroth had spoken it a few moments ago. But she had heard of his incredible feats from a guard, who had incorrectly assumed that she was unconscious after a particularly gruelling torture session. He had been discussing a battle at Lamuria with another guard, and mentioned the appearance of a powerful young mage who had single-handedly wiped out their entire force. At first she had no idea it was her son they were speaking about, and was simply happy to know that Lord Zelroth finally had a worthy adversary in the world. It wasn’t until several days later, during one of her many torture sessions that Lord Zelroth attended, that she pieced the information together herself. Lord Zelroth attempted to elicit a reaction by informing her that her son was planning to rescue her, and that he intended to kill him while she watched. Of course, she feigned delirium as she often did, but it was when he made mention of how troublesome her son had been for him lately, that she suddenly realised the guards had been speaking about her son.

  For several months now, Samara’s body had slowly begun to build up a resistance to the magic dampening drugs they used daily in her food. Prisoners never usually survived long enough for that to happen, but she had been there for so many years now, that she had lost count a long time ago. She knew that Lord Zelroth had certain safeguards in place to alert him to the fact that a prisoner was using magic—because she had once seen it in action—which was why she had not attempted to reach for her magic inside her own cell. Her magic had been tantalisingly close to the surface for several months now, and she felt sure it was only a matter of time before she would have full access to it. Or at least enough to fully cleanse her body of the drug’s effects. Originally she had planned to wait for an opportunity to strike directly at Lord Zelroth, but now all that had changed with the arrival of her son.

  She feigned unconsciousness when the Inquisitors had first brought her into the throne room, and continued to do so until now. She gave Lusam’s hand the smallest of squeezes, and flickered her eyes as if struggling for consciousness. That briefest image of his face burned into her mind, and she almost lost control of her emotions. She prayed to Aysha for the strength to reach her magic, and the chance to save her son. She knew her chances of killing Lord Zelroth were extremely remote, and most likely non-existent with all of his Darkseed Elite guards around him. Their only job was to protect Lord Zelroth, and it was certain that they would be watching closely for any signs of danger, and would react quickly to the first signs of it.

  She carefully reached for her magic, but it remained just out of her grasp. Time and time again she desperately tried to touch it, and each time she was met with failure. The anguish she felt inside ate at her like nothing she had ever known in her life. For many years she had thought her son was lost to her, but here he was, risking his life to rescue her, and she couldn’t even do a thing to help him. She screamed with frustration inside, and plunged towards her magic with every fibre of her being, stretching her very soul to reach it—and she finally succeeded.

  The connection she made was tenuous at best, but it was definitely there. She faked a sudden spasm of her body, and buried her face into her son’s chest, so she could whisper the words of power without being seen or heard. She could feel the poison in her system drain away with every heartbeat. It had been so many years since she had felt her own magic, that it almost seemed unreal to her now. She spasmed again, returning her head and body back to their original positions so as not to make Lord Zelroth suspicious. She heard his cruel laughter, as he no doubt sat on his throne and watched Lusam’s distress with glee.

  “Mother!” he called out weakly, squeezing her hand. Lord Zelroth laughed again.

  She reached out towards him with her mind. “Lusam, can you hear me?” She felt the jolt of surprise run through him at hearing her voice, and prayed that Lord Zelroth hadn’t seen it too.

  “Mother, is that you?” Lusam replied.

  “Yes son, it’s me. You must listen to me very carefully, we don’t have much time. The moment Lord Zelroth knows that I’m awake, he will separate us again. You need to pretend to be upset and distressed for as long as you can. Only then will he be content to leave me here and watch you suffer,” she said, hoping that it wasn’t already too late. Lusam wailed out loud as if he was deeply distressed, and began to rock back and forth with an occasional sob. Lord Zelroth’s mirth was heard by all.

  “That’s good,” she said, faking another smaller spasm. “Oh, Lusam, I’m so proud of you. I really wish we had more time together. But I need you to listen carefully to me, and do exactly what I say. They keep us all drugged so we can’t use our magic, but I’ve managed to access mine. When they take me away from you, I will attack them, and I need you to run Lusam…”

  “No! They’ll kill you,” Lusam said, cutting her off mid-sentence.

  “Lusam, listen to me. I know what you did at Lamuria, and how important you are for Afaraon’s survival. If you die here, Lord Zelroth will win, and all of Afaraon will suffer the consequences. I would gladly give my life for Afaraon, but I would be at peace knowing that I sacrificed it for you, Lusam.”

  “No… you can’t. I won’t let you! All I need is to steal some of their magic, and I can save us both,” Lusam said desperately.

  “What do you mean ‘steal some of their magic’?”

  “If one of them comes close enough, I can drain them of their power. I could normally do it from here, but these stone flags have some kind of enchantment on them preventing me,” he replied, then suddenly realised that he could take power from his mother instead. “Mother, let me take some of your power, then I can attack them myself,”

  “No! They’ll kill you, Lusam. I don’t know how it’s even possible, but if I allow you to take some of my power, you must promise me that you will use it to escape. The only chance you’ll have is if I create a diversion for you to escape. If you try to attack them yourself, they will easily overpower you again, and we will both die. Please, Lusam, don’t make my sacrifice meaningless. I made the choice to die and save you many years ago at the time of your birth. Please, don’t deny me that choice again. Promise me, Lusam. Please… promise me.”

  “I can’t… please. Please don’t ask me to do this,” Lusam pleaded, with tears rolling down his cheeks.

  “You must Lusam. For me. For Afaraon. And mostly for you, my son. One day you will find love, and have children of your own. Then you’ll understand,” she said, fighting back her own tears so that Lord Zelroth didn’t discover their ruse. “Take it. Take it now, before it’s too late, Lusam.”

  His mother’s words reminded him of Neala, and the promise he had made to come back to her. It felt like his very soul was being torn in two. One half wanted to stay with his mother and fight, while the other wanted to return to Neala’s warm embrace. Never had he been forced to make a more heart-rending decision, than the one he faced now. He cried openly as he reached for his mother’s power, and took what he thought would be the least amount necessary to escape. He knew that the more he took, the less time she would survive against the powerful magi in the room, and felt a sense of shame at having to take any at all from her.

  “Remember to appear weak, Lusam. I love you, my son, and I’m so proud of you. Live for us both,” she said, squeezing his hand tightly, and rolling away from him. It took everything he had to remain still when they dragged her away from him. He rolled over weakly, and slowly got to his knees as if barely able to do so. Lord Zelroth’s manic laughter echoed within the large room. Lusam raised his head slowly, and held out a hand towards his mother.

  “I love you!” he called out after her, as she was dragged
away from him. She turned her head to look back over her shoulder at him and smiled. A smile he would remember for the rest of his life.

  Then it happened.

  She struck and killed three Darkseed Elite guards with a single shot. They had been watching Lusam, and never saw the missile coming. Everyone in the room immediately turned their attention to her, and Lusam got to his feet. Missile after missile struck her shield, and they soon brought her to her knees. Lusam backed up against the wall. He knew he should run, but he just couldn’t leave her to die like this.

  “RUN!” she screamed, as her shield failed. Lusam didn’t even see the missile heading towards him, and was blasted clean off his feet. He waited for the heavy impact against the stone wall, but it never came. Instead he crashed through the stained glass window, and started to plummet through the air towards the sea below. The impact of the missile had instantly drained the magic he had taken from his mother, and now he fell through the air with no way to levitate himself, or even raise a shield before he hit the water below.

  Free of the stronghold’s enchantments, he desperately reached out with his mind and pulled in what little magic there was from the air around him. It was a pitiful amount, and barely enough for him to raise even a weak shield around himself before hitting the water below. The impact was brutal, and his shield failed instantly, as he plunged deep into the shadowy waters below the stronghold. His vision and mind blurred as he sank through the cold dark water. He watched uncaring as streaks of light shot through the water all around him. The final image of his mother burned vividly into his mind, as he sank deeper towards his own death. All he wanted now was to die and join his mother in the afterlife at Aysha’s side, but her final words and wishes echoed loudly in his mind: ‘Live for both of us.’