Book of One 04: A Child of Fire

by Baker, Jordan

  "What truth, Dakar?"

  "Cerric is not all powerful. While he may be a god, his power grows weak with distance and when he focuses it elsewhere. There are limits to his power, though he seeks to expand them. I believe he is searching for ancient weapons from the second age, called godswords, used by the gods of that time when they warred against one another."

  "I think you are right, though you are late to the ball," Calexis said. "Cerric has plundered the treasure of Kandara, and I believe he has found more than a few of these godswords of which you speak."

  "If that is true, then his power will only continue to grow."

  "Why did the gods use these weapons and not regular swords?" Calexis asked, intentionally not mentioning axes or daggers, thinking of the short blade tucked against her thigh.

  "In a book I found, a kind of prophecy by a lost race of seers called the Mistrani, there is mention of the godswords being hidden by the few gods who survived the wars of the second age."

  "How can it be a prophecy if it is about the past?" Calexis asked.

  "That is what they called it. The Mistrani were seers, who could look not forward, but back through the sands of time. According to various records, they wrote many histories, but most of them are believe lost. The book I did find was only by chance, for it was misplaced on the wrong shelf by a foolish young mage, long ago. Luckily, I remembered where I had left it, for all of the other books on the subject appear to have been removed by someone."

  "Someone? Who would hide all the books related to these weapons?"

  "I do not know and it matters not. What matters is the knowledge I have gained. You asked why the gods used these weapons. If my understanding of the Mistrani book is correct, these godswords allow the wielder to take the power of those who are killed by the blades. It has something to do with powerful gemstones and a metal called silvergold. I do not know how the godswords were made or by whom, but I have heard of silvergold and it is believed that only the gods themselves could work with such a metal. Items made of it are often called gifts from the gods."

  "I too have heard this legend, but usually people refer to small things like pendants or rings, supposed items of worship, blessed by the gods, they say."

  "These godswords are similar, though they are much more interesting. I believe that with such a weapon, a person could even take the power of a god."

  "It is a wonder that Cerric would go looking for such weapons," Calexis commented. "You would think he would rather they remain lost or buried."

  "His thirst for power overrules all things, Calexis. And with such weapons, Cerric can grow even more powerful. With the link that was created by the book, he may draw power from me and the other mages, but that power is only borrowed and it drains us much faster than if we were to use our magic ourselves. If he had a godword, he could just kill us and take our power directly, adding it to his own, and I fear that may be his plan."

  "If your description of these godswords is correct, then Cerric already possesses many of them. I would tread lightly around him, if I were you."

  "Agreed," Dakar said. "That is why I have taken every part of myself that asks questions, doubts, and thinks independently and separated it from the rest of my mind. When I return control of my thoughts to the other part that is completely under the god's command, I will be completely unaware of everything we have discussed and completely subservient to him. And I warn you, do not trust me when I am in that state."

  "Why are you telling me all of this?" Calexis asked.

  "You fear him," Dakar said. "And you do not like fearing things. Also, even though you act as though you do not care, you are worried about your son, Draxis, who I understand was left for dead on the battlefield despite his bravery in attempting to fight the dragon, king Eric. One would think he would deserve some acknowledgement, even a word of favor, but he lost, and that is all that matters, that he was weaker and no longer worthy. Yet, some part of you still wonders what has become of him, and you even think of your daughter, who you treated as worthlessly as Cerric has treated your son. You are not without regret, though you are too prideful and ambitious to let such things deter you from your path.

  "That much I gleaned from your mind, Calexis. You are a lustful and prideful woman, and I do not say that as an insult for I am surely guilty of the same in my own quest for power. We are very much alike in that regard, and even Cerric, the man, is little different, though he is petty in his nature, but this god that has taken hold of him is something else entirely. There is nothing within him except emptiness and shadows, and hatred. We are merely his playthings and even when he appears to be pleased by us, when he rewards us for our loyalty and efforts, there is no truth to his words. They are little more than manipulation as we are orchestrated toward some end, one that I believe will be our doom if he is not stopped."

  "You take a very great risk, Dakar," Calexis told him, struggling to control the emotions that had risen within her. She did not want to talk of her children or the misgivings she kept buried deep within her thoughts. She had learned long ago, that to waver, to show emotion, was a sign of weakness, and loyalty to others, even family, was a thing too easily exploited by those who would seek to manipulate a person. She was irritated that Dakar had managed to learn such things from her and wondered that his magical ability at seeing might even be greater than Cerric's powers and the power of the god within him. She focused on the mage, wondering what might be the reason for his change of heart and why, of all people, he would confide in her. "To trust me with these thoughts, you must be truly desperate."

  "No, Calexis," Dakar said, with a look of what might almost be regret. "I am not desperate, I am simply resigned to the truth of what I have learned. If Cerric and the god within him are not stopped, then nothing changes for me. I am already doomed, bound in subservience through the magic of the book and the god's own power. Since I have already lost, there is nothing for me to lose. I tell you these things for you are not entirely under his power. I do not know how or why, though it may be some aspect of your own power or, perhaps that which you gained from the Darga, but Cerric cannot read you, nor can he control you. The Darga are similar in that they are resistant to many forms of magic, so it is likely their power that has saved you."

  "Then I am fortunate," Calexis said with a slight smile, though her concern remained.

  "Perhaps, but since you cannot be controlled, you are also a threat. That may be what makes you interesting to him, but when he no longer finds you amusing or if you provoke his ire, then your fate will be short and very likely unpleasant." Dakar turned his head and looked toward the door. "Cerric approaches and I must return to my other self. If you wish to speak to me again, merely ask me for my thoughts and that will bring my inner self forward."

  "Thank you, Dakar, for your trust," Calexis said, pondering what he had told her. "We are not allies, perhaps we have a common cause."

  Dakar's eyes returned to their natural state, still dark but without the inky shimmer of power, as the door of the chamber opened and Cerric entered the room.

  "Dakar," he said and the mage stood from his seat. "Conspiring with my lady wife, I see."

  "Your highness," Dakar said with a deep bow. "Your soldiers informed me that you were occupied elsewhere and her highness, Queen Calexis has been gracious enough to entertain me with stories of the battle and your victory over the dragon king. I regret that I was not here to share in your triumph."

  "It was but one of many battles to come," Cerric said. "Did your search through the mages' library uncover anything useful?"

  "No," Dakar said. "As I am sure you already know, I had hoped to learn what it was you were searching for when you emptied the armories of Maramyr. I presume you seek some kind of weapon from the past."

  "Very good." Cerric nodded. "You presumed correctly, though it no longer matters. I have found what I sought." He put his hand on the hilt of the sword that hung from his waist and slowly drew the blade from its scabbard. "Thi
s is a godsword, Dakar, a weapon from the second age. Do you know what a godsword is?"

  "I do not," Dakar replied. "Though I would imagine from the name it is the sword of a god."

  "That is exactly what it is and I have discovered its purpose. Were I to strike you with it, and if I so desired, this blade would take your power and give it to me, and not just your energy, but the very essence of your abilities."

  "A dangerous weapon in the wrong hands," Dakar commented.

  "Yes, very much so," Cerric agreed. "I can see why they remained hidden for so long. Though I doubt that many would have understood how to use weapons such as these, even if someone were to possess one."

  "There is some magic to their use, then?" Dakar asked, curiously.

  "Of a sort, yes. I had to kill several dozen soldiers and a few elves to learn the trick, though I am curious what the effect would be were I to kill a mage with it. Should I test this blade?"

  "If you wish, my lord, though I would prefer that you might find someone other than myself for the task."

  "I do not doubt that." Cerric laughed and slid his sword back into its scabbard then he walked over to a nearby table and poured himself a cup of wine. "I have decided to hold a celebration and a tournament at Maramyr. You and Berant will make the arrangements. We will find the greatest fighters in the land and the victors shall become my warriors, to lead my army in the war against the elves."

  "The forests of Elvanar are well guarded, my lord," Dakar said. "The elves have powerful magic as well."

  "That is why we must create warriors strong enough to defeat them," Cerric said. "With the power of these godswords, the elves will be little more than fodder for our army."

  "When do we return to Maramyr, husband?" Calexis asked.

  "I have made Mirdel the Steward of Kandara, so tonight we will feast our victory and toast the duke's good fortune then we will leave for Maramyr on the morrow. It will be a hard ride, for I wish to waste little time returning. The sooner we hold the tournament, the sooner we can resume our campaign." Cerric seemed very pleased with himself. "Calexis, see to the feast. Dakar, you will accompany me. I wish to torture the young Akandar some more, and your assistance might prove useful."

  "Yes, my lord," Dakar said.

  "Does my husband plan to spend the night drinking and feasting?" Calexis asked, boldly. "I had hoped we might have some time to celebrate together."

  "There will be plenty of time for that once we have returned to Maramyr," Cerric told her then he turned to the mage priest. "Come, the son of the dragon awaits."

  Dakar followed the god-king out of the room, leaving Calexis behind. She was frustrated that Cerric had once again rebuffed her attempt to get him to bed. By the time they reached Maramyr, the opportunity to get with child would have passed and the hard ride over the mountain pass would make it that much more difficult. Calexis knew it was becoming less likely that her plan would succeed but she thought about what Dakar had told her and wondered about the dagger she had found. If she could learn the trick of it, perhaps she too could become powerful, though the thought of challenging Cerric was extremely daunting. If what Dakar had said was true, then perhaps she might at least become his equal.

  *****

  Draxis walked from the trees toward the Darga encampment with the giant axe resting on his shoulder. The group of warriors looked to number around a hundred strong and Draxis wondered that they had broken away from the main force, though it was not unexpected that they would have fallen into disarray when their leader was defeated on the battlefield. The Darga saw him coming and several of them walked out to greet him.

  "Draxis," said one of the warriors, a Darga with dark black scales over dark green skin. He looked somewhat familiar. "The dragon did not kill you."

  "No," Draxis said. "I am not that easy to kill. What is your name, warrior?"

  "Kelak," he said, then he gestured to the two other Darga with him, one a brownish green female and the other a male, who looked younger and, from his coloring, a mix of the other two. "This is Tanak, my mate, and our son Konak."

  "What clan are you?" Draxis asked.

  "Brown clan, but not now. We start our own clan. Dragon clan."

  "Dragon clan?"

  "Yes," Kelak hissed. "We will raid the battlefield and take the body of the dragon and feast upon it. It will make us strong."

  "You want to eat the dragon?" Draxis knew about the Darga belief that eating the heart of a fallen enemy would give a warrior the strength of the vanquished foe. It was an old tradition, a ritual he had been told that the Darga had not practiced for many generations, since it did not actually accomplish anything except prompting further bloodshed and grudges between the clans. "The dragon is dead, and he was defeated by Cerric."

  "And he leaves the body to waste," Kelak said. "We would feast upon it and gain much strength."

  "No, Kelak," Draxis said. "You will not gain any strength except that which you gain from a belly full of meat."

  "We must become stronger," Konak said. "There are challenges to lead the clans."

  "Are there?" Draxis asked rhetorically. "The clans have a leader."

  "A leader must not be defeated," Tanak said. "Draxis was defeated by the dragon. We will take the power of the dragon and then we will be stronger than Draxis."

  "Is that so?" Draxis asked. "You can eat all the dragon hearts and gnaw on all the dragon bones you want, and you will never be stronger than me."

  Draxis swung the axe down from his shoulder and rested the head of the weapon on the ground and leaned his hand on the large green jewel embedded in the end of its shaft. It was hardly a defensive pose and the Darga could sense his confidence, while Draxis could clearly see their unease at encountering the half-Darga prince, who had killed the leaders of the black and brown tribes, becoming their leader. The rest of the Darga began to filter out of the camp, joining the three who faced Draxis, most out of curiosity and some in solidarity with their new clan.

  "Draxis is not Darga," Kelak said. "Draxis is half-blood, raised by the human queen and her mage priests. Draxis does not know the stories, the old ways."

  "Oh?" Draxis was irritated by the defiance in Kelak's voice, but he was curious about what he might not have been told by the mages. "What are these old ways?"

  Kelak snorted and glanced at the other Darga, who had gathered around.

  "Darga were dragonkind," he said. "Darga were cast out by the others, our power taken, our bodies made small and weak. Darga were cursed, made to think small thoughts, to not fly, to die young, but Darga remember."

  "What do you remember, Darga?"

  "Stories of power, of fire and sky. Old ways give great power to the strong, power of dragons."

  "And if you eat the dragon, you will get your power back," Draxis said, his tone deadpan with skepticism. "You are foolish Darga. That dragon is nothing more than a corpse, and the other creature, the duke is the same. I took his head myself and when he died, he died like anything else. His blood spilled and his breath stopped."

  "Draxis did not eat the heart. Draxis did not gain the power," Kelak said. "Who is foolish?"

  "I wish I could have the power of the duke," Draxis said. "He was a powerful foe, as powerful as all of you, and I killed him just the same." Draxis felt something under his hand and he lifted it off the green gem and he saw some kind of energy swirling around inside it. It distracted him from his growing anger at Kelak's insolence, but his instincts brought his attention back as he sensed a growing aggression from among the force of Darga warriors who now stood before him.

  "Draxis is powerful," Kelak said, his eyes betraying his hunger. "Draxis' heart would make Darga powerful."

  "Now you want to eat me instead?" Draxis laughed. "If eating the heart of a foe would make you more powerful, don't you think the Darga would have done this? How many years, how many generations have the Darga lived in the swamps and the forests to the east, with no greater power than the generations before them? And don't you t
hink that I wouldn't eat every single one of your hearts if doing such a thing would gain me more power?"

  The Darga stepped back uneasily, sensing the threat in his voice. Draxis felt the gem under his hand begin to hum slightly and he wondered if Boric's weapon might have some kind of enchantment to it.

  "Kill many Darga or kill one dragon," Kelak responded. "Or kill Draxis first, then eat the dragon."

  Draxis hefted the axe into his hands. It was heavy, and though he was not as strong as Boric, he could still swing it easily.

  "I should assume that you no longer consider me your leader," Draxis said. "If you really want to eat my heart, then I dare you to try."

  "Draxis cannot kill every Darga," Kelak said, holding out his claws and stepping toward him.

  "You don't think so? I would kill a thousand Darga if it would make me as powerful as a dragon," Draxis said then he dashed toward Kelak.

  With a powerful swing of the great axe, he cut the Darga in two. Surprised at how easily the blade cleaved through Kelak's armored skin, Draxis did not notice the shaft of the weapon as it began to vibrate. He continued his swing and smashed it into the side of another Darga then used the heavy axe as a counterweight to swing himself around two more Darga who leapt at him. The axe hummed with energy as the second Darga died and Draxis felt the weapon grow warm in his hands. Draxis leapt backward as several clawed hands slashed at him and he swung the axe again, killing several more of the creatures in one stroke. The Darga tried to surround him, to overpower him, but he swung the weapon in a wide arc, keeping them at bay. Surprisingly, with every swing, the axe felt lighter, though Draxis quickly realized that it was not the weapon that was changing, it was he, who was becoming stronger. With his Darga sight, he could see energy running down the length of the axe and into the jewel at the end of its shaft. He could feel the energy flowing into him and he could feel himself becoming stronger with every Darga he killed.