The Second Symbol

by Lana Axe

  The staircase turned once to the left before spilling out onto the second floor. The beam of silver light shone down the end of the hallway. Along the walls hung paintings, some as tall as a man, others no larger than his hand. Some depicted strange runes, only a few of which he recognized. Others were paintings of plants with detailed cross sections. Ivdir was definitely a learned man.

  Pausing before a series of six paintings, Taren observed the night sky from various angles. Unfamiliar patterns were charted in the stars, swirling mists and stars creating beauty like no other. One long painting showed the different phases of the moon, but the moon was more oblong than round, and it cast an eerie red glow. Where could the painter possibly have traveled to see such sights?

  The next painting Taren encountered stopped him in his tracks. Life-size, yet not imposing, it hung near the end of the passage. A gentle face stared back at him, kind and intelligent, warm yet demanding. An elderly man, white-haired with soft blue eyes. It was Imrit, his beloved master. Instantly Taren’s apprehension melted. Whoever Ivdir was, he must have been a friend to Imrit. Why else depict him so true to life? It had obviously been painted with great care. Even the celestial symbols on his robe were perfect. Imrit must have sat for this sometime before inviting Taren into his home. Though not a youthful portrait, he appeared vibrant and full of life. It pained Taren’s heart to look upon it.

  Turning away, he faced the opposite wall. Another life-size painting hung before him. Swallowing a gasp, he looked into his own dark eyes. His face was clean-shaven, a touch of the sun upon his nose and cheeks. The green robe depicted was the same as the one he wore this very moment. How did this man know him? And why would he commission such a painting?

  The question burned on Taren’s tongue as he dashed down the hallway, anxious to follow the silver light. It came to a halt outside a set of carved wooden doors. They opened untouched, allowing Taren access to the vast library inside. It stretched on, seemingly for miles, the scent of parchment heavy in the air. Shuffling feet echoed in the distance, moving closer with each step.

  “Master Taren? Is that you?” a voice called.

  Taren remained silent, straining to see the man who had spoken.

  “I wanted to summon you earlier, but I had to be sure first. There was much to do.”

  A man appeared between two bookcases, a long candlestick lit with blue magefire held in his hand. He was about Taren’s height, slight of build, and appeared to be in his midforties. He wore an indigo robe adorned with golden suns, moons, and stars. Taren did not recognize the man, but his clothing was extremely familiar.

  “It’s good to see you again,” the man said, a smile spreading across his face. “I’ve missed you terribly, but now we can continue our work.”

  Setting his candle aside, the man approached Taren and grabbed him, hugging him to his chest. Taren recoiled, unsure what to make of the gesture.

  “Are you Lord Ivdir?” he asked, taking a step back.

  The man chuckled. “I suppose I am,” he replied.

  Taren searched his memory, hoping to place the man’s face. There was something familiar about his eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. Somehow this man knew him, and also knew his former master. “How do you know me?” Taren asked directly.

  “Search your heart, Taren,” the man said, his tone soft. “I know you well. After all, I’m the man who took you in, nurtured your magical abilities, and sent you on the journey of a lifetime.”

  Taren stared at the man’s face, his eyes surveying every feature. Ivdir began to change, the middle-aged visage dropping away, replaced by a most familiar face. Nearly falling over, Taren reached out to the man before him, who gladly took his hands. “Master Imrit?” he whispered.

  The old man’s bright eyes sparkled. “It is me,” he said. “Back from the grave.”

  Dumbfounded, Taren placed a hand on his master’s cheek. He wanted to tell him how much he had missed him, to let him know that he thought of him as a father. But the words stuck in his throat.

  “I suppose I have some explaining to do,” Imrit said. “Come, have a seat.” He motioned to a pair of chairs near a long wooden table.

  Without hesitation, Taren obeyed his former master. Following him to the table, he took a seat next to the old man. An oversize volume written in vibrantly colored runes lay open before them, its edges embellished with gold.

  Imrit closed the book and focused his attention on his former apprentice. “Many years before taking you in, I had already obtained a symbol of my own,” he explained.

  Taren cocked his head to the side, puzzled. “Then why did you need me to obtain another?”

  “Having already bonded with one symbol, I couldn’t possibly hope to bond with another,” Imrit replied. “My wish was that one of my apprentices would successfully retrieve the other and bond with it. That way we could unlock its mysteries together.” He reached for Taren’s arm. “May I?”

  Pushing back the sleeve of his robe, Taren allowed the old man to look upon the markings on his arm.

  “Splendid,” Imrit commented.

  “I notice you have no marks,” Taren said, looking over the man’s exposed arms.

  “My symbol works differently from yours,” he replied.

  Taren wasn’t convinced. As far as he knew, this could all be a ruse. Some enchantment could be altering this man’s appearance. He might not be Imrit at all. Pulling his arm away, he repositioned his sleeve.

  “This is all hard for you to believe,” Imrit said. “I understand.” Clearing his throat, he asked, “Do you remember me telling you about the symbol’s gift of immortality?”

  Taren nodded. It was Imrit’s obsession, and he would not have forgotten it. He had begged the dying old man to take the symbol. When he refused, Taren’s heart was broken. He was forced to suffer the loss of his mentor.

  “I knew the symbol would maintain my life, but I didn’t know how it would go about it,” Imrit explained. “I did die, at least I think I did,” he said, tapping a finger against his lower lip. “I have flashes of memory from the Realm of the Dead. My soul wandered aimlessly, formless and alone. My next memory is back here, in the world of the living. I was still formless, but my mind was once again intact.”

  “And you chose this new existence as a noble lord?” Taren asked.

  “Indeed,” Imrit replied. “Nobility would allow me the funds to continue my work. The problem was obtaining a body.”

  The realization hit Taren hard. “You killed someone.”

  “You make it sound like a murder,” Imrit replied. “It was nothing like that. I spent months selecting the right person.”

  “Ivdir,” Taren said, wondering how his master could take a life and then usurp a man’s body.

  “Yes, Ivdir,” Imrit replied. “But you have to let me explain my choice. Ivdir was a vile man. He kidnapped young women from the countryside, torturing them and locking them in his dungeons. I will spare you the details of his atrocities, but I witnessed them firsthand. Those images will never leave me.” He looked down at the ground a moment before continuing. “In my altered state, I saw his true mind. Ivdir took great pleasure in his crimes. My only regret is not stopping him sooner. I could have saved a few lives, but I wasn’t successful at my first attempt to infiltrate his body. He killed three victims before I figured out the correct way.”

  “So you made yourself judge, jury, and executioner,” Taren replied, wondering if he would have done the same given the choice.

  “I did,” Imrit replied. “And I do not regret it. Ivdir got what he had coming. I took over his body, altering his persona. With the help of a few de-aging spells, I presented myself as his son, the new lord of the manor. My neighbors no longer fear me, and I’ve opened the land to tenant farmers. You probably saw some of those farms on your way in. The people are prospering under my care.”

  “I don’t doubt that,” Taren said.

  “I swear to you it’s true, Taren,” Imrit said. “Use the symbol
’s power. Search my mind with your magic. You’ll see every word I’ve spoken is true. I am your mentor, your dearest friend.”

  Pulling insight from his magical stores, Taren reached out to the man before him. A tingling ran through his right arm, the symbol’s power attempting to take hold. Memories of Imrit flooded his mind, moments shared between the two passing before his eyes. It had to be Imrit. Taren shook his head to clear the visions away. The symbol had played tricks on him before. How could he be certain?

  Seeing his hesitation, Imrit said, “I know the symbol has altered your perception and wreaked havoc on your magical abilities. The same things have happened to me. But together, we can overcome it. I can show you how.”

  Taren desperately wanted to believe him. Drawn by an unseen force, Taren reached his right hand to Imrit’s left. The two locked together, the marks on Taren’s arm swirling and shifting. Flecks of gold formed between them, sparkling and dancing in the candlelight. A golden glow enveloped Imrit’s hand, the symbol becoming visible. The pair sat entranced as the two symbols showed themselves, each acknowledging the power of the other. As their hands separated, the image faded into nothing.

  “It is you,” Taren said, tears welling in his eyes.

  Imrit reached out and held his former apprentice tightly. “I’ve missed you,” he said.

  The wound left behind by Imrit’s death began to heal, replaced by the pure love of a child for his father. A gentle soul had returned from the beyond, thanks to the power of the symbol. Though he had fought with its powers these past two years, Taren now felt nothing but gratitude. The symbol had given him a gift beyond measure.

  “Now if you’re willing to help me,” Imrit began, “there is still much to do. I haven’t spent this time in idleness. Far from it. I have solutions for both of us.”

  “Of course I’ll help,” Taren replied.

  “You’ve had trouble using the symbol, no doubt,” Imrit said.

  “I’ve hardly been able to use it since the bonding,” he admitted. “It has its own mind, choosing its own path regardless of my intentions.”

  Nodding, Imrit asked, “Has it augmented your magical stores?”

  “Yes,” Taren replied.

  Wagging a finger, Imrit laughed. “But the symbol is a fickle thing. That’s why we have to tame it. No longer will the symbols rule over us. We shall unlock their true potential and bend them to our will.”

  “I remember someone else who tried to rule over the symbol,” Taren cautioned. “It didn’t end well for her.” He spoke, of course, of his symbol’s former owner—the one whom it had abandoned to come to him.

  “No it didn’t end well for her at all,” Imrit agreed. “That isn’t my intention anyway. My ideas are quite different.”

  “I was thinking of a potion,” Taren offered. “One that might somehow affect the symbol.”

  Imrit scratched at his chin. “I’m sure if anyone could find such a thing, it would be you. But that’s not my line of thinking either. We will work in conjunction with the symbol, never attempting to alter what it was meant to be. It is a bonding, one more intimate than what you’ve already experienced. The symbol has not yet been restored to full power. I know a way to change that. Trust me, and say you’ll take this journey with me.”

  “There’s nothing that would please me more, Master,” Taren said.

  “We’re equals, Taren. You may call me Imrit.”

  Smiling, Taren said, “Of course.” That would take some getting used to. “Now tell me about this journey. Where will we be going?”

  With a grin, Imrit opened the colorful volume before him. Flipping to the appropriate page, he pointed to an illustration of an island. Colorful sea monsters appeared in the ocean surrounding it, the image of a dragon flying high above. “Here,” he said.

  Taren peered down at the image. “Where, exactly, is that?”

  “Ayumai,” Imrit replied.

  “And what is there that will be helpful?” Taren asked, wishing he could pry the information from the old man’s mind. His gleaming eyes revealed he was dying to explain it.

  “The symbols were forged in fire, direct from a dragon’s own fiery breath,” Imrit stated. “Eons ago, there was an alliance between an ancient race of elves and a family of dragons. That’s how the symbols came to be. The dragons were no craftsmen, and the elves didn’t possess the type of magic the dragons held. But together, they could create something of unimaginable power.”

  “So we’re going to find these elves?” Taren wondered.

  “Not exactly,” Imrit replied. “As far as I can tell, they’ve all gone.”

  “Dead?”

  “Dead or moved on to someplace else,” Imrit said with a shrug. “I don’t think we need them. All we need is the dragon.”

  “The dragon whose breath forged our symbols?” That didn’t sound feasible to Taren. “I thought the dragons were all gone.”

  “Most of them are,” Imrit replied. “But they remain in the most remote reaches of Nōl’Deron, guarding their hoards, and biding their time. I have information that one resides on Ayumai.”

  “So you’re planning to ask this dragon for some sort of favor?” Taren didn’t quite understand.

  “Yes,” Imrit replied. “I’m going to ask her for a look at her hoard. See, I have reason to believe a very valuable tome lies within her cave. I’ve tracked it for years, ever since I obtained my symbol. I’ve exhausted all other possibilities, and it’s the only logical choice remaining. The tome must be there.”

  “What’s in this tome?” Taren asked.

  “It describes exactly how the symbols were forged, the materials used, and the enchantments placed upon them.”

  “And you think we can repeat the process to unlock its power?” Taren allowed himself to hope.

  “I think we will find enough information in those pages to unlock the symbols’ secrets.” The old man sounded sure of himself. “It’s the chance of a lifetime, Taren. I know this will work.”

  “What if the dragon refuses to give it to us?”

  “Then we’ll have to find a way to make her,” Imrit replied impatiently.

  “I won’t kill a dragon,” Taren stated. He had never killed anything, and he wasn’t about to begin by killing one of the most majestic creatures ever to come into the world. Not to mention they were incredibly rare.

  “What if unlocking the symbol requires her death?” Imrit asked. His eyes spoke volumes. He was willing to do whatever it took to fulfill a lifelong obsession.

  Without hesitation, Taren replied, “I still won’t do it.”

  Imrit waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t even know how to go about killing a dragon. Death and destruction aren’t the tools of my trade. Such things are best left to dark wizards in their towers.” He paused a moment to think. “Perhaps we could enchant her, convince her to give us the tome through some spell.”

  “Or we can try asking her nicely,” Taren suggested.

  “Dragons have little interest in puny humans like ourselves,” Imrit replied. “There is a group of elves on that island who worships the dragon. Maybe she’ll listen to them if we can convince them to speak on our behalf.”

  “It’s worth a try,” Taren replied. A thought occurred, and he asked, “Or would it be better to have someone of dragonkind ask her?”

  “You know where we can find a second dragon?” Imrit’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Not exactly,” he replied. “I mean another reptile.”

  “You’re going to train a lizard to talk?” Imrit asked.

  Taren laughed. “No, a bipedal reptile. My friend, Zamna, is a La’kertan. He helped me find the symbol, and he saved my life.”

  The old man’s eyes danced with delight. “You might be onto something there, my boy. But you must be able to trust him with your life. This is no small favor you’re asking of him. Facing this dragon could be extremely dangerous.”

  Taren replied, “I trust him completely, as I trust you.”


  “Splendid,” Imrit replied. “Is this La’kertan a sorcerer? Having another wizard around could complicate matters. It creates competition that we can’t afford.”

  “He’s no wizard,” Taren replied. “He’s a murderer.”

  Chapter 4

  “You have strange friends, my boy,” Imrit commented. “But if you say you trust him, then I shall as well.”

  “I believe we will find him on the isle of La’kerta,” Taren said. “At least I hope we will. Come to think of it, he might not be that easy to find.” Taren regretted his loss of the symbol’s teleport powers. La’kerta was a good distance away, and making the journey without knowing Zamna’s whereabouts seemed foolish.

  “It’s a long trip to Ayumai,” Imrit replied. “Stopping by La’kerta won’t take us far out of the way. If your friend is there, it will be worth the time spent to retrieve him.” The old man gave his former apprentice a trusting smile. “If, as you say, this Zamna can be helpful to us, then we have to make the effort to find him.”

  Taren remembered clearly that Zamna planned to return to his home island after finishing some business. Whatever that business was, he was bound to be finished with it after two years. Unfortunately, the two had not spoken since parting ways. Still, Taren was hopeful he’d find Zamna on La’kerta. At the very least, he could locate his family and inquire of them.

  “I need to return to the cottage,” Taren said. “I have to let Vita know I’ll be away, and I should probably bring some supplies. It’s going to be a long journey.”

  Nodding, Imrit said, “I can show you a spell to speed your horse. It’s water magic, though.” He gave a quiet laugh. “Not your specialty, but I think you can handle it.”

  With little talent for water and fire magic, Taren had focused his energy on mastering earth. He had a good knowledge of air magic as well, though he hadn’t mastered it. Imrit could cast master level spells in all the schools, though his mastery was air, followed by water. “I’d love to learn,” Taren said. It was just like old times, the master teaching the student.