Pseudo-Dragon (The Blue Dragon's Geas Book 4)

by Matthynssens, Cheryl

  “I care about what happens to Mesi, but it is doubtful she will ever have me now after what I did. I just want her to be happy.” Alador conceded. “Maybe some things, no matter how perfect they seem, are just not meant to be.” Alador moved to the window to stare at absolutely nothing.

  Henrick moved to him and put a hand on his shoulder gently. “Still growing up I see. I am sorry you didn’t have more time, son. I know this year has been a hard one for you.” Henrick squeezed Alador’s shoulder before moving back to the center of his version of packing.

  Alador shifted uncomfortably at the familial attention. “Yes, well, it's not as if I ever had a choice in the matter.” Alador gave his father a grim smile then moved to pile of discarded books. “What of these?” He picked up one and leafed through the fragile pages, then closed the book as it was a familiar story.

  “Common enough tomes.” Henrick waved his hands at the pile at Alador’s feet. “I will have the servants organize and shelve them just in case you test high enough to take over the manor. They normally are filled quickly, but given hints from my brother, I think it will remain open for a time. I am fairly certain that if you can test out at the fifth tier then Luthian will grant you this residence.”

  Henrick moved to his side. “Are you ready for that?” He asked with genuine concern.

  Alador tossed the book in his hands back onto the pile. “I don’t know. I’ve never even seen one.” Alador turned to look at him, clasping his hands behind him. “What does a testing entail?”

  Henrick nodded towards the chairs where, as usual, food and drink were laid out. Alador did not think there was hardly a time when his father did not have food laid out. He smiled at the normalcy of little things in the midst of upheaval.

  “All of you, see to other tasks for now.” Henrick called over to the servants. Henrick poured them each a drink as the servants scurried out of the room. He offered one to Alador before he sat down. Once the door shut, Henrick swiveled to Alador with a much more serious demeanor.

  “The first few tests are easy. First tier testing is merely your range of common cantrips. Anyone with any magical nature at all, usually passes this test. Then for the second tier, it moves on to easy spells such as your ability to change clothes. You must demonstrate three spells, minimum, to gain second tier status.” Henrick paused to take a drink and give Alador a chance to absorb this information.

  Alador nodded. That would be simple enough, he thought. He had mostly mastered the simple tasks necessary for a battle mage. He could focus on those spells since as a member of the Blackguard he would not be expected to know much more. It would help not to tip his hand too soon. “Go on.” He had slipped into a chair next to Henrick paying rapt attention.

  Henrick smiled. “The third tier is the ability to manipulate your sphere spells. In your case, creating ice or fog. A pool of water is present so that you can demonstrate your ability to move and master the nature of your sphere.”

  Alador smiled. That would make it easier, having water close at hand. He had used fog to help bring down the guards at the stable, and his ability to create and reverse water movement had become quite easy. His first ability to heat water came almost naturally now. Furthermore, he had finally learned to part water so that man or beast could walk through as long as he held the spell.

  “These tests seem too easy.” Alador looked at Henrick with a bit of concern. There had to be a catch.

  “The first three tiers are easy. That is why so many people choose to live in the city within those tiers. It is common spells for common people.” Henrick took sip staring past Alador. “It is the last two tiers you must worry about. Many mages just chose to stop at the third tier and not press on.”

  Alador swallowed at the serious tone that his father had taken. “What is the fourth tier test?”

  Henrick refocused on Alador. His tone became that of a teacher, firm and focused. “It is defense. You will have ten spells from differing mages cast upon you. If you can remain on your feet and deflect or absorb these spells you have earned the fourth tier. A good mage must be able to defend himself at all costs or he is useless.”

  “I would have thought that the last tier test.” Alador was surprised to find out that this was only to the fourth tier. “If battle is the fourth tier, then what by the gods is the fifth tier?”

  “Battle is not the fourth tier, defense is. You merely are expected to keep the spells from hitting you or damaging you so much that you cannot cast.” Henrick smiled coldly. “It is a cruel system. I did not say it was a fair one.” Henrick leaned forward, holding Alador’s gaze. “They do keep a healing mage on hand for those that fail.”

  “Then what is the last test?” Alador could not imagine anything more than this.

  “It actually comes with a choice. You can demonstrate a spell of magnitude, one that most cannot master. For example, you could use your weather spell for this test. It is a hard task and as you know, few master it.” Henrick tone was tinged with pride and as he spoke he toasted his son.

  Alador knew he had far from mastered the spell. He knew how to cast it, but every time he did, he felt the edges of something wild that threatened to seize control. “You spoke of a choice. What is the other possibility?” Alador was not sure he wanted to show the council what he could do.

  “You are given a choice to fight one of the ruling mages of any sphere. It is a battle to submission. If you give in, before your opponent, well then you are forever limited to the fourth tier.” Henrick reached over and popped a piece of fruit in his mouth.

  Alador dwelt on this revelation for a long moment. “So what if neither mage submits?” He asked, trying to discern the best route for his own testing. He was beginning to regret not paying more attention to the men and women at the meetings Luthian had forced him to attend.

  Henrick stared into his glass not speaking for a long moment. When he did finally answer, he responded with the answer that Alador had deep down expected. “Then one of them dies.” Henrick did not look up from the amber liquid in his hand.

  Alador downed his glass at this revelation. He got up and refilled his glass, taking the decanter over to fill Henrick’s. Neither man spoke. Alador was absorbing this news, and Henrick was giving him the time to adjust.

  “So it is to risk death or expose the level of my power.” Alador weighed these options. “I am not sure which the wiser course is,” he mused. “Which did you choose?” He refilled his father’s cup then returned the decanter.

  Henrick sat back in his chair, legs crossed as he stared into his cup. “I find it is never good to let the enemy know everything you can do. So the question is debatable. Show one spell of great power, or defeat an enemy with a barrage of lesser skills. I chose to barrage an opponent with a range of lower spells.”

  Alador had retaken his seat as his father spoke. “Did he yield?” Alador asked curiously, leaning forward in his chair.

  “No.” Henrick stated. “Pride on the fifth tier is often a dangerous thing. To be bested by a testing mage is to cast doubt on one’s own skill. Many would rather die than admit a younger mage had better skill.” Henrick’s gaze took on a faraway gaze. “Or that they were wrong in the course of their own path.”

  His last words did not quite make sense to Alador. He did not really want to take either path that his father had laid out for the final test. “Would it be better for me to just test out at the fourth tier?” Alador asked curiously. “I could just ensure that I fail in my defense.” He sat back running one hand across his face as he considered the weight of that decision.

  “You could.” Henrick admitted. “But it will not place you where you wish to be in Luthian’s circle as you wish. However, it would let you hide the true level of your skill.” Henrick smiled into his glass and took a slow drink. He looked up at Alador with a face that clearly held amusement. “Except,” he pointed the glass at him. “You declared at the ball that you were a master of your sphere.” Henrick stood, contemplatin
g as he slowly circled the chairs to move to Alador’s far side. “Many are going to come to this testing to see if a Daezun can really be a master of his sphere. There is much resting on your test for the future of all half Daezun that can cast.”

  Alador sat back as the realization of what his father was saying hit him. He HAD declared himself Luthian’s heir and master of his sphere. For the sake of all future Daezun and for his place as heir, he had to pass the fifth test. “I am not sure which route to take.” He looked up at Henrick who stood by his chair. “What do you suggest?”

  Henrick smirked. “Has the world gone mad? Did Alador, son of Henrick Guldalian, just ask for someone’s opinion before he rashly charged into the fray?”

  Alador rolled his eyes and took a drink. “Don’t be a korpen’s ass and rub it in.” He leaned across the table that had been between their chairs and grabbed a sweet cake and sat to munching on it, not deigning to answer his father further.

  Henrick moved back around and sat down. “I suggest you don’t show the weather spell. It will cause concern in council, and for any highly tested Lerdenian for that matter, if it is learned that you have mastered such a powerful spell. I would find another spell of similar weight or fight for your position.” Henrick looked over at Alador.

  Alador threw up his hands in defeat. “What spell could I possibly cast that would have as much weight as that?” Alador did not even feel he had that spell mastered. The thought of learning something of even close to that level of effort seemed a daunting task.

  “Ah, well there is that. Perhaps I can help by giving you a small gift.” Henrick sat his glass down and stood. “Come, I should show you this in case you gain the manor house anyway.”

  Henrick led Alador to a section of the wall still filled with books. “See here?” He pointed to an old skull that sat at the end of one shelf.

  Alador looked at the skull curiously as Henrick stuck his fingers in both eyes and pushed down. There was the sound of a click then Henrick pulled the shelf out. It swung slightly open revealing a small room with a table behind the tall bookcase. There were three large tomes on the table. Light stones were strategically placed on the walls about the table. “These are my spell books. I will be taking two with me. This one...” he picked up a large black book that was at least three inches thick filled with old parchment and some pieces were sticking out here and there. “... Is for you.”

  Alador took the book reverently. “Where did it come from?”

  “Well,” Henrick grinned mischievously. “You must promise never to reveal it to Luthian.”

  “Of course,” Alador said caressing the old leather with genuine care.

  “It is Rydanth Guldalian’s spell book.” Henrick eyed it with a bit of disdain.

  “You mean ... the betrayer?” Alador dropped the book onto the table in shock, his disgust dripping from his tone.

  “Yes, but he was one of the greatest mages of all our history. He ruled far beyond the normal life span. He was never once bested in a tier test.” Henrick admitted. “Though you may not like the man who held it, Alador, the value of its contents are certain.”

  “It seems vile to even touch anything of his.” Alador whispered coldly.

  “If a man killed your brother with a sword, would you not grab that same sword to kill him if you could?” Henrick asked quietly.

  “Of course.” Alador looked up at his father.

  “It is not the sword or the book that is evil my son, but rather the man who wields them.” Henrick searched Alador’s face for understanding.

  Alador slowly nodded as he reached out and touched the book again. “How did you get this without Luthian’s knowledge?” Alador looked up at Henrick in amazement. “He would kill you for this book alone.”

  Henrick reached out and touched the cover. “In the first great war, the dragons were so angry at the betrayal that they attempted to take back all the knowledge that they had shared over time.” He moved to the next book that was bound with a green cover. His fingers clenched against the top of the book. “Many of the magi's spell books were discovered, torn from alcoves and laboratories. Literally no stone was left unturned once a mage’s holding was found.” The sheer anger emanating from his father caused Alador to take a step to the side. Henrick looked up at Alador as his voice became low and cold. “There was a great battle between Rydanth and the leader of the red flight. The dragon won,” Henrick took a breath. “But he was unable to kill Rydanth.”

  Henrick moved to the book with the red cover. “The aged dragon took Rydanth’s spell book. It has been passed down to each flight leader to hold until the time was right that such knowledge should be revealed.” Henrick looked down at the red book as he opened it fondly.

  Alador listened in amazement. “That does not explain how you came upon it.” He pointed out with a bit of anticipation.

  Henrick smiled at him. “I talked Keensight out of it after you convinced him you were dragonsworn. He told me to give it to you when you stopped acting like a petulant child.” Henrick laughed. “I think now might be that time, though…” He looked at Alador. “...One never knows with you,” he quipped.

  “All these years it has been held by dragons?” Alador looked at the book in amazement letting his father’s quip slide off him. “Did you open it?” He surveyed his father’s face for some hint as to what lay beneath the aged cover.

  Henrick smiled. “I am a mage, what do you think?” He stood upright eyeing the book.

  “I think you have read it cover to cover.” Alador chuckled as he caressed the strange cover’s texture. “Does it really contain things you didn’t know?” He looked back up at Henrick as he asked.

  Henrick slowly closed his own spell book as his voice took on a serious warning tone. “It contains things you will wish you did not know. There is another class of magic user. They call themselves warlocks. They cast dark spells using blood and spirits of the dead.” Henrick looked at the strange symbol etched into the cover. “Necromancy and much more.” He looked back up at Alador. “Rydanth was a cruel and cold man.” Henrick closed his eyes as if to center himself before going on to whisper in the small confines. “Be careful Alador, what lies within this book is the power over death, but it comes at high costs. However, there is magic within that book that may be of use to you as well.”

  Alador looked at the book with apprehension as he pulled his hands off it; he suddenly felt as if something cold and evil had touched him. “If such is in it, why would you give it to me?” He looked up at Henrick.

  “It is your legacy as the oldest, magic-using Guldalian remaining of your generation.” Henrick stated softly. “And a chance to either prove that blood will win out or clear our family name.” Henrick moved to him and squeezed his shoulder. “I will leave you alone.”

  Alador was left alone in the small alcove with the three magic books. Henrick had not hidden the other two away from him. He looked at all three, but the one before him was why Henrick had shown him the hidden alcove. He ran his fingers over the unknown symbol in its center. It seemed to glow as he did so. His hand trembled as he peeled back the strange-textured, black leather cover.

  Chapter Six

  Alador was so lost in his exploration of the pages of the book that he had not noticed the passage of time. There was nothing in his world but the horror that lay within those pages. There were spells to animate the dead in a manner that one could control them for a short time. There were spells to take away the will of another, spells that were prohibited by the Lerdenian mages.

  “I know it is fascinating reading, but dinner is on the table. I thought maybe you should take a break.” Henrick’s voice broke through the swirling mass of dark information.

  Alador spun as power surged within him. He had not heard the man enter and the sudden voice brought forth the power instinctually. “Don’t do that,” he hissed. “How long have you been there?” he snapped out in anger. He had been so absorbed in the book that he had let another s
neak up on him and he did not like it.

  “Not terribly long. However, given the depth of your attention, I was hoping to gather your notice gradually. When it wasn’t working, I spoke.” Henrick had his hands out to either side. “I apologize.”

  “There are spells,” Alador slowly closed the book then looked over at Henrick. “That should never be cast in this book,” he whispered to his father. His mind swirled with confusion. He felt anger and deep resentment for his ancestor. But there was also a sense of fascination, and Henrick had been right in that there were spells he could use. One that stuck out at the moment was a spell that would allow him to spy upon Luthian for short periods of time.

  Henrick moved to him. “Things that should never have been done,” he agreed. “But that Dethara teaches many of her high priests. After her appearance at the ball, I thought you should know what we are up against.”

  The alcove was suddenly warm and oppressive. Alador licked his dry lips and his voice rasped as he asked, “Why does this knowledge even exist?” He felt a desperate need to purge it somehow, as if just knowing such things existed had stained his soul.

  “There is a time and place for many things. Sometimes, the most horrible things are created with the best intentions.” Henrick laid a hand on the black book. “Some men are so evil that they twist what is right and good into something dark and foreboding in the hopes of more power.”

  Alador nodded. “Luthian cannot get this book,” he added, his tone adamant. “We should burn it.”

  “There are many spells in there of value. The spell to give Renamaum his last goodbye is within those pages.” Henrick tapped the book, his finger still laying upon it.

  “Then it should be rewritten, things of use pulled out and the rest burned.” Alador stared at the book.