by Greg Curtis
“No!” When his vision had recovered enough, and Afri could see him still standing right where he had been before, unharmed, the redness in his cheeks suddenly faded to a pasty white as he knew surprise and fear. No one and nothing should have survived his fireball, and to find that a weak druid as he thought of him had, was beyond belief. It was also unacceptable. Perhaps that should have told him something, but he was still angry. Too angry to learn his lesson. Angry and frightened, a dangerous combination.
Even before Alan could open his mouth to point out that he had failed against a mortal and yet he wished to test his strength against the dragons themselves, Afri had found every last fragment of his strength and formed it into a thunderbolt. A blast of lightning and thunder so powerful that it would have carved huge caverns into a mountain. But again, Alan found himself able to parry the blast almost by instinct. He had learned his lessons well and perhaps he did have some promise after all. His instructors had said as much; maybe he should have listened.
Almost without thinking about it, he transformed the bolt into what it had begun as, the friction of air moving against air, of wind against the land, and instantly a gale blew somewhere high over their heads while thunder echoed through the forests shaking even the ground, along with some more light to whiten the sky and blind them all. This time though Alan, expecting the blinding light, was better prepared, and he shut his eyes in time while the wind blew high overhead and the thunder eventually passed. When he opened them again through the green haze of his vision, he could see all the ancients still standing there, blinded, confused and frightened and desperately trying to work out what had happened. It was about time to tell them.
“You thought to harm me under a sign of truce. Twice.” He raised his voice so that all could hear, though not all would listen. Afri, curled up into a ball on the ground, exhausted from what he had given into his blasts, would never listen. Not to him.
“In doing so you show yourself an oath breaker.” And more importantly one who could not be trusted. Many of his people’s faces showed their disapproval of what Afri had done, and Alan knew he had lost influence with them because of it. That was good. Afri had entirely too much control over his people.
“You thought yourself invincible against a mere hedge wizard like myself. You are not. Not even when you strike first and without honour.” Another telling point, and he could see heads nodding. Power was everything to these ancients, and suddenly they were being shown that they didn’t have as much as they thought. They respected that, and for the first time perhaps, they respected him, at least enough to listen. But in the backs of their minds he knew that the other idea that was running through their thoughts was that they needed to find more power. It was their nature.
“People, your most powerful wizard thought he could destroy me. He could not. And yet you think to take on the might of the dragons themselves. Arrogance once more. Arrogance that once nearly destroyed the world. Arrogance that can never be allowed again. You have four days.” Finally he knew he’d scored a hit as he saw many faces fall as they knew the truth of his words. The thought of taking on the dragons themselves when their most powerful had failed against a hedge wizard was no longer quite so appealing.
“Ashiel, Afri is right in one thing at least. I do like you, and I would never wish to see you harmed or dead. For your sake, for the sake of your family, those who still survive and who are in New Huron, accept the will of the dragons. Do not make your kin grieve anew. And if you are true to your betrothed, you will make him do the same. If he loves you, if he wants your well-being to continue, he will go willingly and bring you with him in turn.” But Afri would never do that and they could all see it in him even as he lay on the ground, exhausted and filled with hatred. He would rather die, rather have Ashiel and everyone else die, than give up either his power or his vengeance.
“As for you Afri. I would beg you to think on this over the next few days. Your magic is strong in mortal terms, but it is not enough and it will not save you from the might of the dragons. But then it is not all that you are, and not all that you should be. In time, if you are wise and study hard, you will become strong again in magic, in the way that I am. You are young and dedicated, you may become even stronger than me.” He added the last realising that it was important to the Huron, that it might give them hope. Of course it wasn’t enough for Afri, and he could read the look of disgust written clearly in his face.
“Ashiel, though it hurts me to have to ask this of you, though I will miss the friendship that I once knew with your family as you blame me for this fate, I will ask that you embrace it regardless. And no matter the answer I accept that I will live alone, apart from your people. But at least I will live. It is time for you to make a similar choice for yourself and your loved ones.” Having said as much as he could to Afri, most of it wasted, he had to turn his back on him and return to those who really mattered.
“People! While the loss of your magic may seem cruel, it is necessary. Look at your village, your homes!” He indicated what they had wrought with a sweep of his arms and many heads turned to follow where he pointed, though he doubted many understood or saw what he saw.
“They are abominations! Offences against magic and life and the world itself.”
“There was no need to use so much magic just to build them, and in doing so you have taken more than the land around you can give easily. Already, the forest around you suffers. The trees are sickening, the life of the soil itself fades. Your village is an obscenity. Already you are destroying a part of the world again, repeating your old mistakes with every spell. But you do not feel it. You do not understand, and left to your own devices, you would take far more. You would destroy everything again even in peace.” Yet what did these people care of such things? They didn’t feel them, and they didn’t care. That was half their problem. The other half was that even if they had felt what they were doing they still would have done it. It was power that they worshipped and they had to have it. A few looked at the trees around them, but not many. Not nearly enough.
“How could you ever imagine that the dragons, your teachers, would ever accept such a thing? That they would allow you to finish what you began five thousand years before? That they would permit you to take and rip the magic loose from the world, to destroy everything anew? You know they won’t, and now you know that you cannot stand against them. You can’t even stand against me.” It was perhaps a risk to add the last, to call them weak, and many he feared would see it as a challenge, but it had to be done, and they had already seen their most powerful fall to him. He could feel the anger growing in many of them, but none attacked and he let that encourage him as he hurried on.
“Moreover, you should be running to the dragons. If it meant that by my sacrifice I could ensure the survival of my people, my family, my children, I would give up my very life.” Of course it wasn’t he who was being made to give up his magic, but it was true, and despite their terrible need for power, they were a loving people. He saw many more heads fall at his words. Maybe they might risk their own lives, but their families? That was another matter.
“When you do try and make your decision, do not turn to Afri for guidance. He is perhaps strong, but he is neither wise nor good. He has shown you that today. He is ruled by hatred, jealousy, a lust for power, and fear. Only a fool would follow him. If you need guidance, look to those among you who have the greatest wisdom, those who have the best hearts, those who have faith. Power and knowledge are but tools, and as you have seen today and during your wars, in the hands of the unwise, the crazy and the evil, not very good ones.”
“You have four days.”
His work done as best he could do it, the message given and his pleas for them to learn wisdom as well, Alan turned on his heels and left the village, heading for Han’gre, the black dragon who kept watch over the small renegade village and prevented the Hurons from fleeing. He also kept watch over Alan. Han’gre as a black was one of the most pow
erful of his people, and the chosen representative for Sera, who would never leave her mountain. He was also a friend, though once Alan would never have considered that possible. A mortal and a dragon; friends! But he was.
The dragon was always ready with a little wisdom when he needed it, a little humour as well, and despite his endless grumbling at being disturbed by little ones when he should be sleeping, he was happy to listen, even if his advice was usually not the best for a human. Dragons had a somewhat different understanding of the world, and much of what Alan considered a terrible wrong done to him, such as the damage to his home, he truly didn’t appreciate. To him a home was a chamber in a lair in a mountain, and they couldn’t really be damaged, and if someone had defaced his chamber he would have just sprayed it clean with his fire. When a house was made of wood however, that wasn’t a practical option.
Alan gave Han’gre his report and then transformed for the short flight back to his cottage, knowing that Sera would know all within the hour. All of her kind reported faithfully to her, not out of fear nor because she commanded it, but simply because she was their queen. The dragon’s respect for her was something no mortal could ever truly appreciate, and their obedience unquestioning. But then she in turn was a better ruler than any he had ever known, and she took great care of all her subjects, dragon and mortal alike. She even took care of him, checking up on his studies with his teachers, directing his learning, and while that seemed a little too much for a queen to do, he had to admit it felt good. Almost like having a mother again.
One thing was certain, his transformations were becoming quicker and easier since he had started his training. Sera had insisted on his practising that particular magic. He not only had several more shapes he could master, the cougar and griffin most useful among them, but the effort involved in shape-shifting had lessened. His teachers had been well pleased with his progress in magic at least. Given that he was only twenty nine, his mastery of elementals, illusion and shape-shifting was considered exceptional. He still had much more to learn in his command of nature, and the tomes he had been given to take home with him included many lessons and spells in the subject for him to study, particularly those in healing which they said was a great weakness of his.
The backpack they had given him was also a marvel. Designed so that he could wear it as a man, a roc, a cougar, a griffin or a stag, it was so much easier than trying to tie things to his ankles as he flew, and it could also hold a lot more than his leather wrapped swag yet not sway as he walked, galloped or flew. The straps simply adjusted by magic to fit whatever shape he wore. All he had to do was undress, pack everything away, put it on and transform.
If only he’d mastered the delicate art of landing, but that he hadn’t. In fact it seemed to him that the more the teachers taught him of the art, the worse he became. Still at least he was tough enough to take the impacts.
Tough enough even to return to his ruined home and continue work on it without spending his days cursing those who had damaged it. Maybe.
Chapter Twelve.
The following day Ashiel went to see Afri at his house, convinced that he was wrong. It wasn’t that she wanted to have her magic bound, but she knew enough to realize that as powerful as they were, they were no match for the dragons, and she wanted to live. They all did, even if most of the villagers wouldn’t admit it. Every day that had passed had been a day of silence, until yesterday when Alan had shown up Afri in individual combat, and since then the talk had not stopped. People had left overnight too, heading she hoped for New Huron though she suspected some were just running. Either way they wouldn’t be there to die with them in a few more days, and that was good.
Afri of course was furious. Those had been some powerful blasts he had thrown at the druid and to have them fail so badly had shocked him. He had spent most of the rest of the day recovering and complaining, and in her opinion, moaning. But then he had spent most of the days until then the same. Ever since the dragons had arrived and given them their ultimatum he had been bitter and angry. In truth he had been bitter long before that, but arrogant and powerful. He was the strongest of them, though Ashiel was slowly beginning to realize that that did not make him a good leader. It had once been enough; it no longer was.
Of course he blamed the dragons. He had claimed that they had given the druid some special magic to resist him. Because it was obvious to him that the pathetic tree wizard as he called him didn’t have the strength within himself. He should have died. But that was the other thing that had shocked Ashiel. He had tried to kill Alan. In cold blood, with no excuse, no reason other than his hatred. That should not have happened, and once, in the old world it never would have. The elders would have stopped it, he would have been disciplined, harshly. But now, here, he was the closest thing they had to an elder, and this was his law. Strike first, strike hard, and kill whoever. The fact that it had failed was shocking. The fact that he had lost so much self-control and restraint, was worse. And the fact that he felt no shame for his actions; there were no words to describe how bad that was.
Maybe the war had changed him. After all he had seen more of the war than she had, having remained awake for longer. They said that battle hardened a man. But in her heart she knew the truth. He was a bad man. Arrogant, uncaring, greedy and cruel. He had always been such. And he was her betrothed. That seemed so unfair.
Still a debt was a debt, and she owed him a life debt, her mother’s life, and such was the way of things among her people. It was only what was expected. And maybe, just maybe it would give her an ability to influence his decisions where others had none. After all one’s betrothed had some rights.
She stopped at the front gate to his house, stunned as usual by his display of power. The house was immense as befitted a master wizard, and the stone it was built from had been torn from the bowels of the world and shaped into a home while still screaming in pain. Once she wouldn’t have heard that scream. Or maybe she just wouldn’t have cared. And then there was his garden, slabs of precious stones laid as tiles, sculptures of fire and light, massive objects of rare ores and glowing gems that floated above them, all set out to draw the eye and remind the casual visitor of Afri’s power. It wasn’t the castle he had had back in the last world, but they had been here only a few months, and in time she knew it would become that, if they had the time.
Yet the thing that caught her eye for once wasn’t the overstated grandeur of the house, it was the land around it. The trees were starting to wilt, their leaves turning brown and the grass was already disappearing, leaving dirt behind, dead dirt. That she knew would never have been allowed in Alan’s home. Where he lived the trees sang with vitality, the gardens glowed with health and the food that came from his garden was as tasty and life giving as anything she had ever eaten. And the home, simple as it was, spoke of beauty and oneness with the world around it. And strangely, though it was simple and rude, and though she had had to do chores there that she’d never before done in her life, she would have far rather spent her days there than anywhere near Afri’s home.
That though, was not her choice.
Summoning her nerve she pushed open the gate and approached the door, rapping on it with her knuckles, surprised at how unyielding it was. Harder than even diamond, it actually hurt to knock on it.
The door opened immediately and Afri stood just inside, waiting for her, and she knew he’d seen her coming and waited. But it wasn’t a considerate gesture his being prompt to open the door; he didn’t know what consideration was. It was something else. The sight of him made her shudder. There was something even more wrong with him than before. Still, she controlled her nerves as she stood there and even managed a polite smile.
“Afri we must speak of the dragons’ demands.” It was important she knew that she spoke of the dragons and not Alan. Though she still believed he was responsible for their suffering in some way, to even mention his name near Afri was likely to result in a pointless screaming match. Whatever else he was,
her betrothed was jealous. This time though he surprised her with his calm.
“Of course my dear. Please come in.” He smiled at her and for some reason it seemed more like a sneer as he took her hand and led her inside. And his hand, it was cold, strangely, impossibly cold, almost as though he’d just pulled it out of a river of ice. Yet he was a master of fire, the one person who should never be cold.
Inside the house was the same as it had been, and yet not. The walls still shone with the same polished beauty of the stone, the expensive elegantly carved furniture he’d bought from the gnomes still stood where it had, and the huge fireplaces that graced both ends of his main room, still burnt as furiously as ever. But the room like him felt cold. So cold that it made her shiver and pull her robe a little tighter around her shoulders.
And then there was a smell. A bad smell. She couldn’t place it, though it reminded her somewhat of the sickly sweet smell of silage and dying things, and she didn’t like it. Maybe something had gone bad, though there were no flies buzzing around. Not that she could see.
