The Sorceress of Aspenwood Trilogy Pack

by Sam Ferguson

  “Has anyone strange come to see you today?” Njar asked.

  Leatherback shook his enormous head.

  “What about last night or the day before?” Njar pressed.

  “I flew with Kyra to hunt down a pack of fire drakes in the north. I also met with the Keeper of Secrets, and the priests from Valtuu Temple, but nobody I would call strange.”

  Njar’s eyes darted to the staff made from the aspen wood. “Did you take that with you?”

  Leatherback nodded. “Kyra placed it in the holster herself. She has not forgotten your warning.”

  Njar nodded. Despite the answers, the satyr couldn’t shake the uneasiness he felt. It was almost as if evil eyes were upon him. The satyr turned around in place, ignoring Leatherback as the dragon asked him about his wounds. Seeing nothing but empty forest, Njar turned back to Leatherback and shook his head.

  “Something is not right,” he said. “Come, bend your head down to me,” Njar said.

  Leatherback hesitated.

  Njar narrowed his golden eyes on the dragon. Had Nagar’s Blight found the animal at last?

  “Bend down to me,” Njar said, more forcefully this time.

  Leatherback let out a throaty, short growl, but did as he was told.

  Njar reached his hand out and placed it upon Leatherback’s forehead. As he called upon the very energy flowing throughout the world of Terramyr, he focused his mind and closed his eyes. He would use the world’s energy to scan Leatherback. A green mist rose up from the moist dirt inside the grove, rising until Njar was waist deep in the magical energy.

  Leatherback took in a deep breath and seemed to calm, for he became still, allowing himself to be inspected.

  Njar followed the energy with his mind, flowing through and around Leatherback. As he made the third round of scans, coursing the energy through the dragon’s breast again, he found the source of his worry. There was an impurity inside the dragon’s heart, something dark, albeit small and hardly detectable. He pulled back from the dragon and opened his eyes, but did not altogether dismiss the green energy swirling around them. If Leatherback rejected his treatment, or tried to flee or fight back, Njar would need all of the energy in the glade.

  Leatherback opened his eyes and the two studied each other for several moments. The satyr tried to guess what the dragon might be thinking, and for a moment he almost let his fear of the blight control him. Then, he remembered Leatherback’s loyalty to Kyra. His hope for the dragon pushed his fear of the blight out of his mind and he smiled and spoke to break the silence.

  “Leatherback, there is a dark energy within you,” Njar said.

  “Is it the blight?” Leatherback asked, fear evident in his usually confident voice.

  Njar shrugged and answered honestly. “I cannot tell. If it is the blight, then there is little I can do to purge it from you, but if it is something else, then there may be a way for me to remove it.” Njar narrowed his golden eyes and stared at the dragon’s scaly breast. “Perhaps even if it is the blight, we may have caught it early enough to pull it out of you. Do you trust me?”

  “Will it hurt?” Leatherback asked.

  Njar nodded. “It is not terrible, but it will not be pleasant either. I will immerse you in the Pools of Fate. There is a powerful magic there, along with the energy within Viverandon. If this darkness can be cleansed from you, then this is the best way I know to try.”

  Leatherback nodded. “Very well.”

  Njar summoned a massive portal that dwarfed the entire glade of aspens and appeared with the roar of thunder. The ground vibrated and heat emanated from the opening along with blinding light. Then, Njar focused the energy of the glade and formed a kind of flexible coating around Leatherback. It wouldn’t be enough to cleanse the dragon in any degree, but the energy would prevent any additional outside forces from coming into the dragon’s heart.

  The satyr then stepped through and motioned for Leatherback to follow him.

  The dragon lowered his head and pulled his wings in close to his body, stepping through carefully.

  Njar then directed him to the Pools of Fate, which were only a few dragon paces beyond the portal. “Go into the pool, and I will begin the incantation.”

  The satyr began chanting the ancient phrases taught to him by his predecessor. Green and blue mists rose from the grasses around the pool, gently swirling upward and mingling with each other without mixing together. Next a blanket of golden yellow flew in from the north, covering the sky above them and then stretching down to seal the area like a magical, translucent dome.

  Leatherback stepped into the waters and the liquid turned dark blue, and then became a rich purple that stretched out from each of Leatherback’s legs as he stepped into the pool. A silver mist rose up from the waters, slithering around Leatherback’s body until the dragon was in the middle of the pool, then it faded back down to the surface of the water and spread out over the entire body of water.

  “Prepare yourself,” Njar warned as he finished the preparatory chants. The air inside the glowing dome became thick and heavy, turning red and letting very little light through. The colored mists swirled in furiously, rising up into the air and then falling down upon Leatherback. The Pools of Fate seemed to fight against the dragon then, shooting water up in steaming geysers and forming limbs of purple water that reached out and struck Leatherback in the side and belly until he dropped into the pool. Njar could hear the creature roaring and yelling, but he paid it no mind. If the darkness was to be cleansed, then this was the only way.

  Njar had to continue.

  The dragon struggled mightily, managing to pull his head out of the water three times while the liquid wrestled with him. A flash of orange light shot out from the dragon’s mouth, flames splatting against the inside of the golden dome and spreading out harmlessly along its inner surface. Then, a great column of purple water poured into Leatherback’s mouth and the dragon was pulled under the surface once more.

  The silver mist closed over the surface of the water, and then solidified as if it were a living surface of lightning. It buzzed and hummed as flashes of light appeared from within the dark purple depths of the pool.

  The green and blue mists also became hard, forming spikes that dangled in the air above the silver surface. Then, one by one the spikes fell, colliding with the silver surface and creating terrible thunder that nearly deafened Njar. As each spike fell, it joined with the silver essence, rather than breaking through. Soon it became a blinking grid of all sorts of colors, and a strange melody began to play out over the Pools of Fate.

  The spectacle continued for nearly an hour, until the last of the colored spikes had fallen. Then, the multi-colored surface receded from the water and the darkness cleared. The liquid regained its natural blue state, and Njar was able to see down to Leatherback.

  The dragon rose up from the depths, but did not gasp for breath when he emerged. Instead, he shook his head and body, and climbed out onto the opposite bank.

  Njar used his powers to scan Leatherback once more, a process that was much easier here, at the Pools of Fate, and found that it had indeed been removed.

  “It is gone,” Njar spoke.

  Leatherback snorted, and then slowly lowered himself to the ground.

  “No, my friend, it is best to rest in the aspen grove,” Njar said. “Come, I will reopen the portal.”

  Njar had to lend Leatherback some of his magical energy, but the two were back through the portal and in the aspen grove soon enough. The satyr helped the dragon find a comfortable sleeping position, and then bolstered the wards on the grove once more before returning to Viverandon.

  “Sleep well, my friend,” Njar said as he slipped back through his portal.

  Leatherback didn’t answer, for he was already asleep.

  Never one to leave things to chance, Njar decided to call upon the Pools of Fate one last time. He had to make sure that the threat had been dealt with.

  He moved to the edge of the waters a
nd touched the liquid with his staff. “I have asked much of you today,” he said to the pool. “However, I must ask for one last vision, and then I shall let you sleep as well.”

  The silver mist rose from the water and formed into a ball. Njar watched intently, hoping that this vision would show him he had averted the threat.

  Instead, the ball formed into a face, and it laughed at him. The pool turned dark once more, but this time it was void of all color and light. The mist reached out and grabbed the satyr before he could react. It constricted his arms and shook the staff free from his grasp. It picked him up into the air and then slammed him down.

  Njar wailed in pain as he felt his legs break.

  A tendril of the dark mist quickly gagged him, and then it lifted him upright once more, placing just enough pressure on his legs to cause him terrible pain.

  “The great Njar and his Pools of Fate,” a smooth voice called out from the direction of the water.

  Njar watched in horror as a form rose from the surface of the pool and stepped out to stand near him. Even without seeing Severin’s fangs, Njar could feel the danger he was in. His mind raced for a way to fight back, but the mist was squeezing the breath out of him and the pain in his legs broke his focus.

  “I’m not going to kill you,” Severin said in a whisper, as calm as if they were discussing a simple business matter. “I want you to watch everything that happens to your precious sorceress friend and her dragon.”

  Njar tried to shake free, but he felt the mist bend his head to the side, exposing his neck.

  “Hold still,” Severin said. “I just need a portion of your essence, and then I shall imprison you in your cursed Pools of Fate, where you will be able to see only what I show you.”

  A searing, hot pain ripped through Njar’s neck then as the long fangs dove into his flesh. He grew nauseated, and then his head became fuzzy. The satyr all but forgot about the pain in his legs as some of his very essence was pulled from him. Then, as if he were nothing more than a doll stuffed with straw, the mist tossed him into the air toward the middle of the pool. He barely registered the slap of the water as he splashed through the surface. The dark, bitter cold liquid pulled him down into the depths.

  The magical pool kept him alive, refusing to allow him such an easy escape as drowning. Instead, the waters became like air for him, and sustained his body while simultaneously seizing hold of it and shackling him to the bottom of the pool.

  Then, a light appeared directly above him. A golden sphere showed him two visions. The first was of Severin. The vampire, now finished with Njar and the Pools of Fate, shifted and transformed himself to look exactly like the satyr, and then he turned and walked away in the night, heading for the settlement of Viverandon.

  Pain and anguish stabbed at Njar’s heart as he realized how badly he had failed his kin folk. He had meant to protect them, but his blind ambition to heal the dragon had let a demon into Viverandon.

  He tried to close his eyes, but the waters held them open, forcing him to watch the next vision.

  He tried to scream and wrestle himself free as he watched Kyra and Leatherback die at Severin’s hands, but the waters kept him silent and still. The golden orb grew then and came closer to Njar’s face. It then replayed the two visions over and over, never ceasing.

  Chapter 11

  Severin, disguised as Njar, looked around the peaceful village and laughed on the inside. The moon was high in the sky, and the satyrs were asleep. The temptation to wreak havoc among them was almost too much to refuse. It would be so easy. He could slip in and out of any home in the form of Viverandon’s chief.

  Though it was not necessary for him to receive an invitation in order to enter a home, as so many of the superstitious believed, being invited in did allow for the charms and illusions which he conjured to continue functioning at full strength. Sometimes, it even enhanced them, as had been the case with the dragon slayers’ camp. None of those poor fools had suspected anything amiss about him.

  Still, tarrying here would cost him precious time. In order for the rest of his plan to work, he needed to be back in the Middle Kingdom before dawn.

  He walked through the village, taking note of each house he passed. He made a note of the buildings he might like to visit after this ordeal with Kyra, the daughter of Bhaltair, was over. Bringing down the Pools of Fate was a monumental achievement, but he wanted the pleasure of slaying the other satyrs as well. Destroying their sacred village would be a most delicious victory.

  The only trouble was finding his way out.

  He had heard from others more knowledgeable on the subject that Viverandon was a magical place, existing on the plane of the living within and subject to the flow of time on Terramyr, but not exactly occupying a particular space. It was said that the way in and out was limited for those without precise magic, or special key words gain favor of the great tree, Nonac, which was rumored to guard the gateway to Viverandon.

  Severin wanted to travel faster, but he dared not change out of his current form until he was safely out of Viverandon. Fooling a village of satyrs was one thing, but risking being seen transforming and then needing to fight their combined might was quite another. Therefore, he confined himself to walking, though he did not keep up the satyr’s limp.

  After a while, he came to an enormous tree sitting on the edge of a vast forest. The lowest branch on the gigantic oak tree looked to be six feet in diameter. Even with his understanding of magical creatures, Severin marveled that the tree was able to stand. A single leaf on the tree was half his size.

  “So, this is Nonac,” the vampire said. He approached the tree and studied it carefully, checking the area for magical wards. Not seeing any, he moved in close and placed his hand upon Nonac’s trunk. The oak did not move.

  Frustrated, Severin moved to walk around the tree. As he did so, the ground itself shifted and moved along with him. Wherever he went, Nonac stood in his way, refusing to let him pass.

  Severin silently berated himself. He should have spent more time with Njar and scanned the satyr’s essence for memories and spells. He was debating whether to go back and fish Njar out of the Pools of Fate when another satyr approached.

  “Njar, what are you doing out so late?” the white-furred satyr asked.

  Severin smiled and spoke in Njar’s voice. “Trouble is afoot,” he said. “I saw a vision in the Pools of Fate, and have come to test Nonac.”

  The other satyr nodded grimly. “I have felt a heaviness in the air tonight,” he admitted. “You don’t think Nonac is sick or weak, do you? She has stood valiantly for thousands of years.”

  Severin took in a breath and turned back to the tree, then shook his head. “I am not sure.” He then turned back to the satyr. “I have tested Nonac for weakness, but something still feels wrong.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Severin shrugged. “Nonac will not open for me,” he said, hoping his ruse would get the other to open the gateway.

  The white satyr frowned and cocked his head to the side. “But you haven’t played the pipes,” he said. “You have only been using your hands, and trying to walk around it.”

  Severin felt the fool now. He had revealed too much. His eyes flickered down to the pipes hanging from the satyr’s belt and he nodded with a smile. “No, I have not played my pipes this time, but I have played them earlier, and Nonac would not open the way. Of course, I was able to use my portal to leave, but I knew I needed to come back and check on Nonac after I returned.” He pointed to the white satyr’s pipes. “When was the last time you tried to play the pipes?”

  The ruse worked. The white satyr looked down and took his pipes in hand. “Not for a few days, but I could try now if you like.”

  Severin nodded. “Play, and see if Nonac responds for you.”

  The satyr played a tune on his pipes and then pressed his forehead to the tree. The tree groaned and lifted itself from the ground, exposing massive roots and pulling dirt up. The taproot was a
ctually two giant roots entwined together. Slowly, they untwisted and opened up to what appeared to be nothing more than the forest beyond. The satyr turned around and shrugged.

  Severin rushed forward. He seized the unsuspecting satyr by the throat and the two of them shot through the opening. A great rush of air fought against them, but Severin used his magic to accelerate them through as the tree began to close itself even before Severin had reached the other side.

  Rather than dispose of the white satyr on the other side of the portal, Severin transformed back into his vampire form and bit into the satyr’s neck. He then used his strength to break the satyr’s neck and dropped him down where the tree would fall.

  Nonac scraped Severin’s foot as it closed behind him, but the vampire had escaped. His breathing slowed as he looked back to the massive tree and sneered. In his left hand he held the white satyr’s pipes. Now he knew the tune as well. More than that, he had taken enough essence from the white satyr to be able to find his way back.

  Severin laughed as he transformed himself into a large raven and leapt up into the sky.

  Viverandon was a dead city. They just didn’t know it yet.

  Hours later, Severin landed in the same valley where he had found the dragon slayers. With his keen sense of sight, he could see them packing their belongings and preparing to leave. His raven form let out a pleased ca-caw!

  Oh how he loved these games!

  He set down some hundred yards away and then transformed back into the form of Alistair. He thought to conjure the same mule he had before, but then a fun plan entered his mind and he thought better of it. He smiled evilly as he made his way to the campfire glowing in the distance.

  As he neared, he could hear them shouting and cursing their luck. Not surprisingly, they blamed the merchant they knew as Alistair for stealing the bodies of the fire drakes. Severin couldn’t fault them for that, for they weren’t wrong. Still, he delighted in taking offense, even if fairly given, and used the insults to fuel his next performance.