Wizard Pair (Book 3)

by James Eggebeen

  Zhimosom probed Rotiaqua. She had a tiny core of Sulrad's magic in her. Not much, but it was there, inextricably twisted with her own magic.

  Zhimosom didn't know what to do. He couldn't separate Rotiaqua's magic from Sulrad. If he killed the Priest while Rotiaqua's magic was still in him, would that affect Rotiaqua?

  He couldn't take that chance. Zhimosom released his hold on Sulrad's magic. He felt it rush back into the Priest.

  Zhimosom pulled the knife from Sulrad.

  "We have to let him live." Zhimosom spat.

  "Why?" Rotiaqua stood firm still holding the knife in the Priest's back.

  "Because he has your magic in him, and you have his in you. I can't separate them out." Zhimosom stepped away from Sulrad and nodded to Rotiaqua.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Can't you feel it?" Zhimosom was sure. Now that he knew what to look for, it was as plain as could be. Rotiaqua and Sulrad were intertwined and inseparable.

  Rotiaqua slowly pulled the knife from Sulrad's back. The Priest slumped to the ground.

  "Don't think we won't kill you if we ever see you again" Zhimosom said.

  Before he was done speaking, Sulrad turned to a cloud of violet sparkles and vanished.

  Garlath

  Garlath left Amedon and traveled to Tustow, where he took up residence and set himself up as an Apothecary. He located a suitable room with plenty of space for his own work and a room where he could train a couple of young Wizards.

  He hoped he was right. If dragons were involved, the young couple would be drawn here eventually. This was where the Dragon Master was rumored to live. Garlath would have to find the Dragon Master and discover what he could about the prophecy, and how the Wizard and Sorceress would affect the dragons. Uskin's visions had made it clear that something was happening to the dragons.

  Garlath searched the nearby countryside for the Dragon Master, carefully probing for the magic he sought until he found it. It was close enough that Garlath could easily walk the distance. Garlath followed the scent of the Dragon Master as he made his way across the plain until he came to a rocky outcropping.

  The magic of the Dragon Master was strong, but the house nestled amongst the rocks looked rundown, almost as if it were abandoned. Without the scent of magic, Garlath would have mistaken it for the abode of some decrepit hermit.

  Garlath knocked hard, but no answer came. He reached out with his magic to find the old man asleep inside, so he entered.

  The interior of the abode was decorated with dragons. Dragons everywhere. Dragons were carved into door posts and lintels. Dragons perched on shelves. Dragons formed the legs of every chair and table in the room. Even the massive chair in which the old Wizard sat snoozing was formed in the likeness of a dragon. The old Wizard snored loud enough to wake any dragons that might have been nearby.

  "Em'hin! Are you Em'hin?" he asked. When the old man didn't answer, Garlath shook him gently. "Are you Em'hin?"

  The old man slowly opened his eyes. They were deep blue and milked over with age. He sat up, slowly coming awake. "What ... Who are you?"

  Garlath wondered what the old man had seen with those ancient eyes. He must barely be able to make out that Garlath stood before him. "Em'hin. I need your help."

  "Help?" Em'hin struggled to sit up.

  "I come from Amedon."

  "From Amedon, you say? I haven't been there in years. How is the place? Still crawling with young Wizards hoping to make their mark on the world?"

  Garlath laughed along with Em'hin. "Much the same."

  "Why do you disturb an old man's rest?"

  "I need your help. The Wizards' Council has located a pair. A Wizard and a Sorceress. They are somehow wrapped up with dragons."

  "Dragons," Em'hin mumbled. He reached out his hand. "Help me up, sonny, there's a staff over by the fireplace."

  Garlath fetched the staff for the old Wizard. Em'hin struggled to his feet and hobbled over to his kitchen where he stumbled about preparing tea. Em'hin felt his way around the kitchen more than saw it. Garlath wanted to help, but Em'hin pushed him out of the way.

  "I'm used to taking care of myself," Em'hin said. "What makes you think I can help you?"

  "You are the Dragon Master. You're the most knowledgeable man alive when it comes to dragons."

  "So?" Em'hin placed his hand over a pot of water that immediately began to boil. He stirred in the tea and spices and placed the pot on the table.

  "Uskin had a vision about this pair, and the dragons. She sensed that they are somehow tied up with the dragons. There's a scent of dragon in their magic."

  "Dragon, you say?" Em'hin turned his milky eyes on Garlath. "Seems to me I spoke to one of them lately."

  "You spoke to a dragon?" Garlath asked. He thought the dragons were all gone. How had Em'hin spoken to one?

  Em'hin motioned Garlath to sit and lowered himself onto the bench. "Yep ... he said there would be a couple of young Wizards along ... That's probably the ones you're talking about."

  "Yes. We believe they are going to come here, drawn by your magic."

  Em'hin held up his hand. "Slow down. How do you know these are the ones?"

  "The vision..."

  "Not so fast. I don’t need a couple of young Wizards showing up and poking around here. You keep them away from me until you're sure. You hear me?" Em'hin jabbed a gnarled finger at Garlath. "The only way I want them here is if the dragons send them. Not unless. If they tell you a dragon sent them, you bring them to me right away. Otherwise keep them away."

  "What can you tell me about the dragons?" Garlath asked.

  Em'hin's eyes filled with tears but he remained silent, gazing off in the distance.

  "What's wrong?" Garlath reached across the table to take the old Wizard's hand. He felt him shake as he spoke.

  "It will not end well ... That I should live to see this ... after all my long years." Em'hin sniffled and wiped his tears away with his gnarled hand.

  "What do you mean, 'it won't end well'?"

  "Not for the dragons and not for the Wizards." He shook his head. "So many deaths."

  "Please tell me more. I was sent here to search for the Wizard and Sorceress. They are tied up with the dragons. Please tell me what's going to happen."

  "I can't say. It's too painful. Go. Please leave me alone. I wish I had not lived to see this day."

  Garlath tried to get more out of the old Wizard, but he refused. Em'hin just covered his face with his hands and wept.

  Garlath left Em'hin to his tears and returned to the room he'd rented above the cobbler shop. He sat in his most comfortable chair, and let his mind wander. He thought of Uskin and reached out to contact her. She welcomed him to the lounge where she and Alwroth sat contemplating the afternoon's fire.

  Uskin was in her formal dress, her robe of rich brown accented by the fire. The crown on her head was a thick braid of multicolored ropes the color of brick red and studded with gems. She must have come from a formal meeting and not had time to take it off.

  Garlath had known Uskin for nigh on forty summers, but she still looked as if she were a woman of eighteen. The only signs of age on her face were tiny wrinkles that framed her eyes when she smiled.

  She smiled at him now.

  "I've just come from Em'hin," Garlath said. "He says a dragon contacted him and warned him about the pair. He said they should be along soon."

  "You are prepared for them?"

  "Yes. I believe I am." Garlath was reluctant to raise the topic of Em'hin's worries, but he knew Uskin would want to hear about it.

  "There's more," Garlath said.

  Uskin leaned forward. Her deep blue eyes sparkled with mischief just as they always did when he brought her unusual or exciting news. "Do tell."

  "Em'hin said that things would not end well for the dragons, or the Wizards. He was broken up over it. I could see that he felt it deeply."

  Uskin's brows wrinkled. "My visions hinted at something similar. Did he give you any deta
ils?"

  "No, he just said it was a tragedy and he wished he had not lived to see it."

  The sparkle was gone from her eyes now. Her face took on a serious cast. Uskin motioned to Alwroth. "We will have to search the library, see if there is anything in the prophesies or the histories of old that might shed some light on what's about to happen."

  "Why do you think something is about to happen?" Garlath asked.

  "The visions are stronger now than ever before. Something has happened that set this in motion. Don't you feel it?"

  "Em'hin was most distraught by the thought of the Wizard and Sorceress visiting him. He insisted I bring them by, but only if I was sure that they had been sent by a dragon."

  "How will you know?" Uskin asked.

  "He said that when they told me about the dragon, I should bring them to see him. That I must say nothing, not a hint, not a word, that might influence their behavior before that time."

  Uskin nodded. "Garlath, please be careful. These two are the center of a great storm ahead."

  "I will exercise the utmost care." Garlath relaxed and let the connection drop. Once more he was alone in his room with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company.

  Tustow

  Zhimosom and Rotiaqua fled the copse of trees where they'd defeated Zhimosom. They slept only briefly each night under trees or alongside hedges in their rush to escape Baron Rieck's realm. Zhimosom foraged and gathered nuts and berries and occasionally snuck into a field to grab vegetables when he was sure no one was looking. Finally, they waded across the river that bordered The Baron's land. Zhimosom breathed a sigh of relief.

  "Do you think we're safe?" Rotiaqua asked.

  "We'll never be safe as long as Sulrad lives, but we're safe enough for now."

  Zhimosom noticed that Rotiaqua sat staring back at the land across the river. "What's wrong?"

  "I may never see my home or my parents again," she said turning to him. Her eyes were red and tears trickled down her cheeks.

  "You never know what the future holds. You may see them again someday."

  "No. My father disowned me. Even if Sulrad were gone, father would not take me back. I'm just as much an orphan as you are now."

  Zhimosom sat next to her on the bank. "Don't think of it that way. My folks are dead. Yours are still alive. While they live, there is hope that your father will change his mind."

  Zhimosom wanted to distract Rotiaqua from the sad thoughts of her home.

  He hopped down from the bank and found a spot where the river flowed through a small jumble of rocks. Several fine looking fish swam in the shallows. Zhimosom smiled.

  "Come over here. Let me show you how to catch our next meal."

  "What meal?" Rotiaqua asked.

  "Fish. I'm going to show you how to catch them. It's easy."

  Zhimosom showed Rotiaqua how to tickle the fish and grab them before they got away. She caught on quickly and was particularly adept at it. She had three nice size trout resting on the grass in no time.

  Rotiaqua plopped herself down on the grass. "I'm getting tired of roots and berries. Those fish look good."

  Zhimosom made a small fire and placed the fish over the flames to roast.

  "I think we should follow the river for a few days. We can catch more fish along the way. I sure wish we had gotten a chance to provision a little for the trip. It would make the journey easier."

  "Journey where?" Rotiaqua asked. She perched on a rock near the fire, turning the fish as it roasted.

  Before Zhimosom could answer, a large shadow rushed past. Zhimosom looked up, but didn't see what made it before it was gone. He searched the sky, squinting against the low sun.

  "There." Rotiaqua pointed to a dot off in the distance. It was headed their way.

  It grew closer. Larger. As it approached, Zhimosom made out a bright red splotch in the sky, like fire. It grew larger and larger until it was unmistakable.

  A dragon.

  Coming right at them.

  "Run for cover!" Rotiaqua abandoned the cooking and ran for the protection of a rock outcropping beside the river.

  Zhimosom followed her. He peered around the edge of the rocks as the dragon passed once more. This time the beast came perilously close to the ground and Zhimosom smelled the odor of rotten eggs and swamp gas.

  As it skimmed above their heads, a stream of fire erupted in the chill air. Red and yellow shadows danced among the rocks, swinging wildly as the flaming dragon passed overhead.

  Zhimosom ducked back behind the boulder as the dragon swung back. This time, he heard the snapping rhythm of the dragon's wing beats. Just as the dragon drew near, it spread its wings wide and dropped to the ground. Its massive claws dug into the soft ground beside the stream as it braked to a halt.

  The dragon turned to the rock outcropping and stopped short of Zhimosom and Rotiaqua's hiding place. The dragon lowered its head.

  "Tustow," it rumbled.

  Zhimosom poked his head out to see the massive creature standing quietly on the grass. Its head was tilted to one side, as if examining him.

  "You can speak?" Zhimosom asked.

  "Of course I can speak." The dragon focused in on Zhimosom. "Tustow. Find the Wizard."

  Zhimosom's heart raced. The dragon had spoken to him. "What then?"

  "Find the Wizard in Tustow."

  With that, the dragon turned towards the setting sun. It took a few lumbering steps, spread its wings, and lifted into the still of the evening air.

  "What was that all about?" Rotiaqua shuddered and grasped Zhimosom's arm.

  "How will we find this Wizard in Tustow that it spoke of?"

  "Can we trust it?" she asked.

  "I don't know. I've never seen a dragon before, have you?"

  "A mini dragon, but not a real dragon, no."

  "I think we can trust it. I've heard dragons are wise. Besides, we don't have any real destination. Tustow is as good as any place else." Zhimosom peered off into the distance where the dragon had disappeared. There was nothing left but blue sky and a few puffy clouds.

  "How far is Tustow?" Zhimosom asked as he crept back to the fire to rescue their meal before it burned. His knowledge of geography included the farm and the road to the castle and not much else.

  "It's almost a moon's journey from here. I had to study maps when I was a little girl. Father said you have to know the terrain like the back of your hand."

  Zhimosom retrieved the fish from the fire. He pressed his finger into the soft flesh and decided they were perfectly cooked. "Eat hearty. It may be a while before we get fish again.”

  It took them the better part of two moons to travel to Tustow. Zhimosom taught Rotiaqua how to live off the land, where to find roots and which types of berries were edible and which were not.

  Rotiaqua trusted Zhimosom and grew comfortable with the outdoor life. The farther they got from the Baron's land, the more lighthearted she became.

  In the evenings, they practiced magic, strengthening their shields and developing new and useful spells. Zhimosom was beginning to see a pattern to some of the incantations they were able to devise. It seemed the more he learned, the easier it became to devise new spells.

  Rotiaqua even crafted a spell which helped them forage fruits and vegetables from farms along the way without being seen.

  Occasionally, they stopped at a farm where Zhimosom lent a hand with the work to earn a few coppers. Rotiaqua grudgingly helped out in the kitchen and even, on one occasion, the laundry. "I don't see why we have to work so hard for a few coppers."

  "We're going to need them once we get to town. You can't show up empty handed."

  "I have Golds." Rotiaqua tugged at her belt.

  "I told you they are not worth anything here. No one has enough silver to make change. You can't spend them."

  He looked her over. Her clothes were smudged and torn in places. Not the type of garb you normally see on the trail, and way too fine for a commoner.

  "We'll have to g
et you some more appropriate clothes before we reach the city. You can't go around looking like that."

  "I know. I look a mess." Rotiaqua twirled around letting her skirt flare out as she did. "My clothes are filthy and need to be mended. Do you think we can find someone to wash and mend them?"

  "I'm thinking that we need to get you something less regal."

  "What?" Rotiaqua stopped spinning and placed her hands on her hips.

  "You look too good for a commoner. If someone sees you dressed like that, they'll get suspicious. You don't know if your father or Sulrad have put the word out to watch for you. Maybe they are even offering a reward."

  "I don't imagine my father is offering anything to get me back. He was very upset that I'm a Sorceress and seemed almost happy to hand me over to the Temple." Rotiaqua shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  "I don't think he will take it lightly when he learns that you are no longer at the Temple. He must miss you."

  "You don't know my father. He's more worried about his honor than his family. We are in danger only because we dishonored him by escaping. I bear no illusions. He doesn't want me back for any other reason."

  "We still need to be careful. Sulrad may be looking for us. He seemed enamored with you."

  Rotiaqua blushed. "Sulrad wanted me to rule by his side." She made a face as if she'd eaten a rotten fruit.

  "Then we'd better blend in."

  When they reached the next farm, Zhimosom bartered Rotiaqua's fine clothes for two sets of homespun pants and shirt.

  "These itch," Rotiaqua complained as they walked along the narrow rutted road. The homespun clothes made her look like a proper peasant. The walking and sparse meals along the way had made her a little leaner, but didn't completely destroy her well fed look. Zhimosom was worried that it made her stand out, but the clothes helped.

  She had refused to part with her boots. Even though they were now well worn and dirty, the craftsmanship with which they were made spoke of wealth.

  "We need to blend in, look like the crowd." Zhimosom walked along swinging the staff he'd made for the hills and rough spots.