The Dragon's Test (Book 3)

by Sam Ferguson

  “Run, you infernal roaches,” she growled. “Silverfang, it is time to return.” She pointed her right hand to the field and a column of golden light beamed down from the night sky. A tremendous howl tore through the air and the great wolf stood snarling in the field. It tore off after the nearest Blacktongue, taking him down to the ground effortlessly before launching at a group of four enemies.

  Another arrow sliced through the air at her, but the whirlwind under Lady Dimwater grew and covered her entirely, tearing the arrow from its trajectory and protecting Dimwater. She held her left hand up in the air above her and called forth a hail of yellow and white fireballs. They streaked through the air, trailing thick smoke and sizzling as they crashed down into the fleeing forces. Then she reached out with her right hand and summoned the soul flame.

  From her peripheral she saw a group of temple warriors coming around the wall to engage the enemy and she held off casting the soul flame. “Get back!” she yelled. Her voice boomed out across the field with an other-worldly quality that made the men shrink away from her in fear. As soon as they disappeared behind the wall she threw the soul flame. The barely visible fire descended down and ripped into the nearest Blacktongue. He cried out in pain and fell to the ground. The fire grew in size and spread to the next enemy, burning his soul out from his body before moving on to devour many more enemies before the entire Blacktongue force was destroyed.

  Lady Dimwater turned back to the courtyard in front of the temple and the whirlwind gently set her down. Marlin stood there watching her.

  “You are tired,” he said.

  She eyed him, but said nothing. As the last support from the whirlwind dissipated, she slumped slightly under the full weight of her body. She groaned and struggled to straighten up all the way.

  “You should not have expended yourself so,” Marlin said. “It wasn’t necessary.”

  “I didn’t just want to win,” Lady Dimwater said coolly. “I wanted to send a message.” She walked past Marlin and into the temple. Silverfang howled in the distance. Dimwater paused and turned back to the doorway. “Go to Erik,” she whispered to the wolf. She didn’t hear the wolf, or see anything, but she could feel his departure. A smile crept over her weary face and she nodded happily to herself.

  *****

  Eldrik looked to his left at Silvi. She smiled at him, but it was not as warm and playful as it had been before. Her eyes seemed colder, and distant. He glanced over his shoulder and took heart at the sight of his father’s men riding with him.

  “There are the others,” Silvi said, pointing to a group of men coming out from the forest. Merriam led them atop a great chestnut colored horse.

  “I see them,” Eldrik said with a nod. The two groups joined unceremoniously, and without more than a wave from Eldrik. Merriam brought her horse in along Silvi’s left side and the warlocks, dressed in leather armor, fell in line with Eldrik’s warriors.

  “Nice to see you again, Eldrik,” Merriam said.

  Eldrik kept his eyes forward. His mother’s last words kept ringing in his ears.

  “You are with the witches, aren’t you?” she had shouted when he came to the house. “You have to put away this foolishness, they mean only to harm you!” He had tried to convince her that he knew no witches, but she would not listen. He had never been good at lying to his mother. She always seemed to know the truth behind his words. Yet, she had let him go, and she allowed every warrior to go with him who chose to. Now, with the warlocks embedded with his own warriors there were about one hundred and fifty altogether. A sizeable army for any lad in his late teens. Eldrik wondered whether his mother had been right. Would the witches turn on him, as she insisted? Silvi had reassured him that they were loyal allies, that they were sworn to serve him as he was now their patriarch.

  A couple days ago he would have listened unquestioningly, but now he was not so sure. Still, he was in too deep to turn back now. Senator Bracken expected him. They emerged from the forest road to find a grassy hill before them. A pair of sentries waved white and purple banners and motioned for them to come forward. Eldrik led the company up, keeping his eye to the vast smoke rising up into the purple and pink sky as the sun descended below the horizon to the west. His mouth dropped open when he crested the hill.

  Before him he saw a vast field of burning brush, littered with corpses and smothered in a thick smoke that stung his eyes and burned his lungs. A ring of hot fire encircled the manor, and a hill of bodies lay in an open area between two ditches alight with orange flames. The groans and shouts of dying men filled his ears and sent a chill down his spine. He might have turned back and rode away were it not for the push of the throng behind him.

  “Come,” Merriam said. “The senator expects us.”

  A scout ran up to him and saluted. “Master Eldrik, Senator Bracken awaits you in his tent. The others may find food and rest at the rear of the camp.” The scout pointed to a ring of wooden spikes hastily planted in the dirt near the western edge of the field. “Come, I will show you to Senator Bracken.”

  “I will take the men to make camp,” Merriam said as she waved to the warlocks. “Follow me,” she commanded. The warlocks obeyed instantly, but the warriors from House Cedreau waited. Eldrik eyed Merriam warily, making a point of withholding his consent for a few moments before finally gesturing for his men to go with her. Merriam arched a brow at him, but she kept her mouth shut.

  “It is not wise to taunt bears,” Silvi commented quietly after Merriam was far enough away.

  “A bear is no threat to the hunter once it has been treed,” Eldrik replied callously.

  Silvi pursed her lips and looked at him keenly. “You have changed,” she said.

  Eldrik regarded her coolly. “I am here to restore my father’s honor, and to exact justice for the blood shed by House Lokton. I have no use for her, or for Hairen.”

  “They gave you a great gift,” Silvi reminded him.

  Eldrik shrugged. “Let’s go.” He said nothing else to her as they dismounted and followed the scout through the camp. Many soldiers wore full helmets covering their faces, but the faces that he could see hardly paid him any mind. Many were injured, with scorch marks or blood smudged across their armor. Some had great gashes in their arms and were being sewn up as he walked by. None of them greeted him. None of them even seemed to register his arrival.

  A pair of heavy-set pikemen stood in front of a large, round canvas tent. The flaps were down, blocking any view of what was inside. The guards lowered their weapons, crossing them over the entrance. “State your name and business,” one of them said.

  Eldrik produced Bracken’s letter. “I am Eldrik Cedreau, here at Senator Bracken’s request.”

  Barely had the words left his lips when the tent flaps flew open and a man dressed in white robes with purple stripes around the sleeves came bursting out from the tent. “Here is the hero of the senate!” he said with arms flung out wide. He brushed the guards aside roughly and came forward to embrace Eldrik, kissing him once on each cheek. “The hero who brought down the escaped lion. How was your journey?”

  Eldrik was taken aback by the greeting, and unsure how to answer. He stammered and stuttered through a garbled reply and then Silvi put her hand on the small of his back and stepped forward to speak for him.

  “We had no troubles,” she said.

  Bracken looked to her and smiled. “Good, good,” he said. “Come inside the tent, let us speak in private.” He turned on his heels and motioned for them to follow as he ducked under the opening again. Silvi gently pushed Eldrik forward and the tent flaps slapped down after they were inside.

  Eldrik looked around and saw a crude, yet sturdy, wooden table in the middle of the tent, near the single upright support, and covered with a map of the kingdom. A cot was situated near the far edge of the tent, littered with straw and a fur blanket. A pair of leather boots sat by the foot of the bed and a sword rested over the toes of the boots. Otherwise the tent was empty, not at all what
he expected for a senator.

  “I apologize,” Bracken said with a gesture to the space around him. “The haste and rigor of war have forced me to forego the pleasures and comforts I would normally be able to offer to my guests.”

  Eldrik nodded and went to the map. He looked down and traced his finger from Drakei Glazei to Lokton Manor. “You were at the senate hall when Lepkin attacked?” he asked.

  “I was,” Bracken said as he instinctively moved a hand up to hover over one of the great scars on his chest from the assault. “He almost killed me, in fact,” he said grimly. “That is why the senate could not delay in responding to the threat.” He came forward to the table and leaned on his palms, towering over the map.

  “How is it that you are attacking from the west?” Eldrik asked. “If you came directly here from Drakei Glazei, then you should be attacking from the northeast.”

  Bracken offered a half smile and pointed at Eldrik. “An astute observation,” he said. Bracken straightened and looked evenly into Eldrik’s eyes for a moment. “I am not without magic tricks of my own,” he said.

  Eldrik returned the gaze and took in a deep breath as he thought about it. “You are a warlock,” he said after a few moments.

  Bracken smiled and gave a single nod.

  Eldrik glanced to Silvi and then back to Bracken. “That is your connection with Hairen, and the coven, isn’t it?” The young man shook his head, feeling stupid for not seeing it before now. “So I am a pawn,” he muttered.

  “No,” Bracken said flatly. “You are no pawn.”

  “You sent Merriam to find me, didn’t you?” Eldrik asked.

  Silvi started to step forward but Bracken held his hand up and shook his head. “The truth is that you and I have a common enemy. We both wish to see House Lokton razed to the ground. You want justice for the wrongs Erik and his father committed, and I need them removed in order to see my own goals fulfilled.” The senator folded his arms across his chest and studied the young man intently.

  “What are your goals?” Eldrik demanded. “I would know your intent before I commit my house to your service.”

  “Oh, it is a bit too late for that,” Bracken sniggered. “Your warriors are here and when the sun rises we will launch an offensive, and your men will be alongside mine.”

  “No,” Eldrik said. “I want no more of this. My mother was right. You have no love for House Cedreau, you have only treachery for me!” He turned to leave but a sudden, unseen force knocked him to the ground and pinned him flat, squeezing the air from his lungs. His eyes watered and burned as he struggled against the spell.

  “Gondok’hr, that is enough!” Silvi shouted. She rushed in to help Eldrik up, but she could not counter the spell.

  “You have grown fond of him,” the warlock noted. He flicked his wrist and the spell evaporated. Eldrik bolted upright, coughing and gasping for air as he clutched his throat and wiped his eyes. Silvi helped him back to his feet and whispered into his ear. The young man nodded and turned back to Gondok’hr.

  “So, your name is not Bracken,” he noted.

  The warlock scoffed and shook his head. “I am no senator,” he said. “The men around you are also not the king’s army. They are a mix of guards, soldiers, and brigands, reanimated with magic by a master necromancer.”

  “You can raise the dead?” Eldrik asked with sudden interest.

  Gondok’hr shook his head. “I cannot, but the one I serve can,” he said cryptically. He stepped in close. “I know your pain,” he said. His breath was hot and smelled of garlic, but despite that Eldrik didn’t turn away. There was something in the way the warlock looked at him that held his interest. “My family was taken from me, a long time ago,” he said. “I serve in order to bring them back, to make my family whole again. If you serve with me, you will not only be able to grow in magical power and restore your family’s former glory, you can ask the one we serve to repair the rift in your heart.” Gondok’hr poked Eldrik in the chest.

  “How can he?” Eldrik asked. “My father and brother lie deep in the dirt.”

  “The one we serve desires Erik’s head. Accomplish that, and all shall be restored.”

  Eldrik felt torn. His heart begged him to rush out and lay waste to Lokton Manor. Even as extraordinary as it sounded, a chance of bringing his father and brother back from the realm of the dead was enough to stoke the fires in his soul. His mother’s warning voice was still there, echoing in the back of his mind, but its influence was waning. “How do I know I can trust you?” he asked.

  Gondok’hr smiled. “I am the patriarch of the coven to which you have been brought into,” he said. “The other warlocks have pledged loyalty to you, but they are not your true followers until I make them so.”

  Eldrik was confused. He decided it must be some sort of trick. “No, there was a ceremony where they all pledged their lives to me,” Eldrik said defiantly.

  “But did they tell you their names?” Gondok’hr asked with a finger in the air. “In order to be the patriarch, you must be able to summon any member of the coven at any time.”

  Eldrik took a step back. “Do you know their names?” he asked.

  Gondok’hr smiled. “Alrek De’nezir, I summon thee!”

  A flash of smoke and light appeared on Gondok’hr’s right and one of the warlocks appeared, kneeling subserviently to Gondok’hr. Eldrik recognized the warlock from the coven, but had been told the man’s name was Alerik, not Alrek. Eldrik watched closely the interaction between the two.

  “Master, what is thy wish?” the warlock asked.

  Gondok’hr pointed to Eldrik. “This is your new master now. He is to be revered and served as patriarch of the coven. He knows your name and can summon you at will.”

  The warlock looked up to Eldrik and nodded. “Very well,” he said.

  Gondok’hr stepped forward. “Command him to disappear,” he told Eldrik.

  Eldrik glanced between the two and nodded. “You are free to return to where you were, Alrek De’nezir,” he said.

  Alrek nodded and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

  “Now,” Gondok’hr began with a hand pointing to the spot where Alrek had just been. “I can show you the power of knowing their names.” He placed a thumb on Eldrik’s forehead and leaned his own head back, closing his eyes.

  A stream of images flooded into Eldrik’s mind. All at once he saw every instance when Gondok’hr had summoned another member of the coven. Each image flashed simultaneously, and yet was distinct enough for him to clearly understand every memory as it transferred to him. In a mere matter of seconds, Eldrik’s knowledge seemed to gain the experience of several decades. Then the connection broke and he was left to himself. He stumbled backward and reached out for Silvi, who quickly caught him and steadied him.

  “Easy now,” she said. “You could have warned him,” she said, turning an angry glare to Gondok’hr.

  The warlock shrugged. “We have little time,” he said. “Now there is one more thing I wish to show you.” He stepped up to Eldrik again. The young man flinched and pulled his head away. “Very well, I can show you in a different way,” he said. “There is a principle that governs the darker arts,” he said. “A matriarch is necessary to give life to the coven. That is, a witch of sufficient power can imbue a new initiate with the power and gift of magic if he does not already possess it. She has to use rites and rituals, of course, but that is their function in the coven. Without a matriarch, a coven is dead and barren.” He looked to Silvi and then smiled. “Whatever you do, Silvi should stay with you. You will be stronger with her near, than without her.”

  “But I am not the matriarch,” Silvi interjected. “Hairen is.”

  Gondok’hr’s lips curled wickedly. “Her time is at an end.” He said.”

  “What do you mean?” a voice came from the front of the tent. The three of them turned to see Merriam standing there. “Have you seen her death?”

  “I have,” Gondok’hr replied evenly. “She dies tonigh
t.”

  Merriam shuddered and shook her head. “No, come Silvi, we must go and protect her.”

  “It will do no good, I have foreseen her death,” Gondok’hr said.

  Merriam wouldn’t listen. “We must try!” she shouted back. She summoned forth a portal and jumped through it. Silvi started to follow after her but Gondok’hr grabbed her arm. The vice-like grip held her in place while he wove a spell and closed the portal.

  “What have you done?” she asked.

  Gondok’hr laughed. “I have done nothing,” he said. “Hairen’s fate is sealed. I saw it in vision long ago.”

  “Then why did you let Merriam leave?” she pressed.

  “As I was saying, there must be a matriarch for the coven to survive.” He turned back to Eldrik. “Merriam does not have your trust, and she never would. So, she has been sent to join Hairen’s fate.”

  Silvi blanched, but remained tight-lipped.

  “So what does the patriarch do, if the matriarch is to give life?” Eldrik asked.

  “The patriarch has two roles,” Gondok’hr said. “The first is to protect life, which he does through glimpses into the future. The second is to take life, which he can do in a variety of ways. You told your true name to Silvi, yes?” Gondok’hr asked. Eldrik squirmed inside and fear gripped his heart. “You don’t have to answer, I know you did. It is natural and the proper way for beings like us. You cannot progress without it. However, you need not fear her. She can only summon your presence. As matriarch, it would be unnatural for her to do anything other than give life to the coven, so she is unable to use your true name against you. However, you have the ability to use it against others.”