“How does the zombie take over the new body?” asked Olag.
“Once it gets hold of the new body, the spirit residing within the zombie’s body slips into the new host and drives out the living spirit within,” answered Amelia. “Usually there is a battle for the host body, but the attacking spirit is powerful due to desperation, and the original spirit is unprepared for such an attack. It gets ejected and fed to the bat things, who give it a zombie body to inhabit for eternity, because it has received an untimely death.”
Sherman shuddered. “That’s not a fate I would want to endure.”
“Me neither,” said Harran.
“That’s the price you could pay for wanting to go back in time,” said Amelia. “You take a great chance if you want to alter things in the past.”
After they had eaten, Kazin suggested they rest for a while as he needed to regain his strength before carrying on. He explained that traveling in the late evening was best since they would be less noticeable as he flew around in dragon form.
Amelia agreed, pointing out that if they were in the right time in history, dragons were known to be seen frequently and many villages had sentries watch for them in order to alert their archers and mages to spring to the defense of the city should one be spotted. Once near a city, they would be wise to land before being spotted, and then walk the rest of the way like ordinary travelers so as not to attract more attention.
Kazin agreed and found a comfortable spot to lie down. In minutes he was asleep.
Harran agreed to take the first watch and made his way a short distance back up the mountain so as to have a better vantage point. He chose a location where he could oversee the camp and any access points should an intruder come along.
Amelia volunteered to clear up the dishes and then climbed up to join the dwarf. She found him to be more amicable than the others and wanted to get to know him better. She sat down beside him on a moss-covered log and sat silently for a while. Then she broke the stillness - the wind had died down somewhat - and asked him about his name. “Harran, is your last name - Mapmaker - related to your career?”
Harran turned to regard the young spell caster. “It was. Several generations before me also had that name. We were gifted with an exceptional ability to make maps of the underground passages in the mountains. Our skill with map making was highly sought after by high-ranking dwarves. I was the king’s personal mapmaker - a distinct honour among my people.”
“You said ‘was’,” said Amelia. “Don’t you make maps anymore?”
Harran chuckled. This girl was young but astute. “I do, but only as a hobby. I am the leader of my people now.”
“What do they call you now?” asked Amelia.
“King Dracon.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s short for ‘dragon conch.’ It’s an artifact I acquired that, when blown, calls all dwarves within earshot to arms. It is powerful enough to break any spell any dwarf is under and rallies them to my side.”
“So your name changes with your job,” concluded Amelia.
Harran nodded. “My earlier ancestors were known as Tunnelmaker before we switched specialties and became Mapmakers.”
“Do you have mapmakers that work for you now?” asked Amelia.
“Yes,” said Harran. “One of my chief mapmakers is called Rebecca Mapmaker. She happens to have an uncanny ability to find gem deposits.”
“That’s interesting,” mused Amelia. She lapsed into silence to digest this information.
They shared other stories for a few hours before Harran tensed and pointed into the distance. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked suddenly.
Amelia looked where he pointed and squinted. “Yes,” she said finally. “That appears to be a dragon.”
A moment later, the beast dove to an unknown destination and disappeared from view behind some trees. A few moments later it reappeared and flew around in a tight arc and descended again. Then it reappeared and repeated its tactic. After it rose from the treetops the next time, smoke could be seen rising after it. The dragon did not give up. It dove two more times before departing the scene. It appeared to have a large object in its mouth as it flew away. By now the black billows were rising from the forest floor.
“We should alert the others,” said Harran, rising.
“One moment,” interrupted Amelia. She took out her orb and concentrated. The milky surface swirled but Harran could not make any sense of the patterns and designs it emitted.
After a full minute of watching the orb, Amelia looked up at the dwarf and shook her head. “We won’t be able to do anything about what just happened without altering things. It’s best to let it be.”
“I’ll let Kazin decide that,” growled the dwarf. He tromped down the mountainside.
Amelia got up and followed. She was surprised at the trust the dwarf had in the old mage. She concluded they must have been through a lot of adventures together.
The camp was aroused and Harran relayed what he had seen. Kazin looked across the forest below and could see what he was talking about. The black smoke was rising and blowing to the southeast. He listened with interest as Amelia told him what her orb had relayed to her. Then he nodded in satisfaction. “Amelia’s right. We can’t run to the aid of everyone who is in trouble like we are used to doing. It is not up to us to interfere, even though it feels wrong. That’s going to be the hardest part of this quest. We are not supposed to be here, so we shouldn’t intervene.”
Sherman was about to object but Kazin raised his hand. “We can, however, investigate what happened and learn from it. We might even be able to offer minor assistance as long as it doesn’t change history.” He looked questioningly at Amelia, who nodded.
“I can determine in advance if that’s acceptable. The orb has allowed me to do minor things before without incident.”
“That settles it then,” said Kazin. He glanced across at the smoke, which was not as black and billowing as before. “It would be safer to walk from here. I’ll fly us down to the base of the mountain. The sun is on the other side of the mountain now, so we will be covered from being spotted by its shadow.” He turned to Sherman. “How long do you figure it will take us to reach that village?”
The warrior squinted in the direction of the smoke. “I’d say we will arrive at sundown if we leave right away.”
“Alright,” said Kazin. “Let’s pack up.”
As the others went to collect their gear, Sherman came up to his old friend. “Kazin, can we talk a minute? Alone?”
“Sure,” said Kazin. He led Sherman a short distance away. When he turned to the warrior, he was disturbed by the big man’s agitated expression. “What is it?” he asked in concern.
“I - well,” Sherman hesitated and looked down. Then he steeled himself and looked up into the old mage’s blue eyes. “You’re going to hate me.”
“Why?” asked Kazin quietly.
Sherman slowly drew his sword from its scabbard and held it out for the mage to see.
“What is it?” asked Kazin, confused.
“Can’t you see?” asked Sherman. His hand began to tremble. “It’s the wrong one!”
It took a moment for Kazin to grasp what his friend was saying. Then it dawned on him. He bent closer to examine the weapon. It was indeed the wrong sword. “No!” he whispered in dismay. His eyes were wide as he looked into Sherman’s face. “How is that possible?”
Sherman swallowed. “I don’t know,” he stammered. “I - I guess I was in such a rush to help you in this quest. I was excited. I didn’t check to see if it was the right sword.” He patted the scabbard at his side. “This is the right scabbard. Somehow the magical sword must have been switched with this one. I haven’t used the magical sword in so long, I -,” he broke off, helpless to continue.
Kazin let out a long sigh. “Well, it
makes no difference now. You have what you have. We’ll have to carry on without it. I only hope it isn’t the object that is the cause of our troubles.”
Sherman clenched his teeth in anger. “I should have noticed. The magical sword was lighter than this one. I should have noticed that right away.” He shook his head.
“Don’t beat yourself up about it, Sherman,” said Kazin, seeing his friend’s anguish. “You probably didn’t notice because every sword feels light to you. With your strength, it’s not a surprise. You could carry ten swords and they would all feel light to you. Besides, the hilt on this sword and the magical one both look very similar. I had to look closely to see it myself.”
“But our quest could be a waste of time,” lamented Sherman.
“It’s not a waste of time,” said Kazin sternly. “We have a lot of things to investigate before we call it quits. I still think it’s someone, and not something, that is the cause of our trouble.”
“It’s probably me,” muttered Sherman.
Kazin put a reassuring hand on Sherman’s shoulder. “I seriously doubt that, Sherm. If anything, you’re the one who’s going to correct the problem.”
Sherman smiled wanly.
While everyone was packing, Amelia pulled Harran aside. “Is Kazin going to transform into a dragon?”
Harran nodded and regarded the red-haired mage. He realized she had never experienced Kazin’s transformation before. “Yes. It’s a little intimidating at first.” He paused. “Come to think of it, it’s always a little intimidating. You never really get used to it.”
“Are we going to - to ride him?” Amelia looked nervous.
The dwarf winked at her. “Don’t worry. We won’t let you fall off.”
Amelia took a deep breath and looked over at the dragon mage who was conversing with the big warrior. “Oooh!” she said breathlessly.
Chapter 6
Sir Galado awoke with a pounding headache. He opened his eyes but everything was dark. Slowly, his eyes became accustomed to the dark and he noticed a faint glow on his right. It was the sword. Then everything came back to him in a flash.
He had been riding on the back of the griffin moving at incredible speed, the wind rushing loudly in his ears. The griffin had flown in a straight path, sure of its destination - or so he had hoped. After a few hours, they had reached the north shores of North Lake where the griffin had landed to give the soldier a break to rest and eat. Then they had been off again. From the air, the lake had seemed to stretch on forever. After another several hours, the griffin had shrieked, causing the dozing Galado to look ahead. In the distance, he could vaguely make out the form of a dragon as it dove straight down toward the surface of the lake. Then it had vanished from sight. Since Kazin was the only known dragon mage of his time, Sir Galado had assumed it was he and Sherman who were the ones who had gone down. The griffin never slowed until it reached the spot where the dragon had last been seen. It had then begun circling the area where the dragon had gone down. Below, Sir Galado could make out a giant whirlpool. It swirled with tremendous force, drawing in the surrounding water into ever faster spirals until it vanished in its center. He had wondered at the sheer size of the whirlpool. How the lake had managed to retain its water level with this whirlpool sucking so much of it away was beyond him. The griffin had then circled closer to the whirlpool where Galado could hear it rumbling like an angry beast. How could anyone - including Kazin in his dragon form - possibly survive such a force of nature without getting crushed? He had suddenly realized his mission was a failure. He had been too late. There was no way he could reach Sherman now.
He had looked at the sword safely strapped to his side and had moved to straighten it on his hip. A sudden movement by the griffin had caught him unawares and Sir Galado lost his hold on the great beast. Helpless, he had fallen toward the hungry whirlpool. The griffin had given one last cry - barely audible above the roar of the whirlpool - before Sir Galado plunged into its depths. Then everything had gone black.
Now, he looked around using the faint light of the sword, thankful he was still miraculously alive. There was nothing but darkness on all sides. He reached into his pack, which was half slung over one arm and soaking wet from the water, while, amazingly, his clothing was dry. After a brief search in the faint light from the light of the sword, he withdrew some wildhorn leaves. They were called that because each wildhorn plant consisted of two leaves curved up like a minotaur’s horns. These plants were unique in that they allowed anyone who ate them to temporarily see better in the dark. They were poisonous if too many were ingested at once, and the elves - whose eyesight was already very good - could not tolerate them at all. Any elf who ate these leaves could go blind with just a few.
Moments after eating some of the leaves, Sir Galado could sense, more than see, that his eyesight had sharpened. But it was still dark.
“Now what?” he muttered. He rubbed the back of his head and felt a large welt where he had obviously bumped it against something. He rose unsteadily to his feet and looked at the floor, but could not see what it was made of. It was smooth and dark, and the light from his sword would not reflect off it. As he moved his sword around to see his immediate vicinity, he noticed it went slightly brighter when he held it off to one side. It would go dimmer when he swung it in a different direction. Electing to use that as a guide, he moved forward slowly in the direction in which the sword gave off the most light.
He walked for a good twenty minutes in this way and finally came to a door set in a frame in the middle of nowhere. Sir Galado examined the door closely and examined the inscriptions across the top on both sides. The warnings made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Should he open it? The side indicating the past was likely the side Sherman would have used. The big warrior had said he was going back in time. Sir Galado looked behind him uncertainly but knew he could not go back. He couldn’t stay in this dark place forever either. He had no choice but to carry on, and that meant to step through the door to the past. He could only hope he would wind up where Sherman had gone.
He cautiously approached the door and grasped the knob. It was stuck. He tried harder to turn the knob and was about to give up when the sword in his free hand flashed. With sudden ease, the knob turned and the door swung open. Cautiously, Sir Galado stepped through.
It was lighter here, kind of white and foggy. The ledge was small and two posts beckoned to one side. The posts led to a swinging bridge that swayed in some unseen breeze. The creaking noise it made was a little unnerving, but Sir Galado was not fearful. He had encountered such things previously in his lifetime. What did cause him fear was the obviously magical aura of this place. He didn’t like magic because of what it had done to those he cared for. To him, it was a force of evil. Nevertheless, he had to cross the bridge. He glanced back and noticed the door had vanished. Brushing aside any foreboding feelings, he stepped onto the bridge.
The silence was broken two or three times by an eerie shriek, but Sir Galado kept going. He didn’t want to tarry here any longer than necessary. He was a good three quarters of the way across when he stumbled over a broken slat. It snapped off the rest of the way with a loud ‘crack’ and then all hell broke loose. Black bat things dove down on him and threatened to knock him over the rope railing of the swing bridge. The bridge shook with approaching footsteps and some zombies appeared from beyond the mist like some hideous apparitions.
Before they got close, a dark cloud swung down toward the man. To the cloud, this was almost too fortuitous to comprehend. Here was the opportunity it had been waiting for! Without thinking about it, the cloud dove toward the man, hoping to take control of the man and control the body for its own nefarious ends. But the cloud had missed examining the man for magical energy, otherwise it would have noticed that the sword the man wielded was created from a powerful magic. As it closed on the man, the cloud was inextricably drawn into the tip of the sword,
where it was absorbed without resistance. As the cloud encountered the good spirits housed within, it clashed with the good magic. The sword swirled as the balance of good and evil fought for dominance. To Galado, with his limited experience and understanding of magic, the sword was reacting magically to the danger he now faced.
The zombies were now nearly upon him, and further contemplation of the sword was removed from Galado’s mind. He swung the magical sword easily, striking several bat things before having to contend with the approaching zombies. As his sword struck each of the zombies, a shadowy wisp of light emerged from the falling bodies to be drawn into the sword’s edge. These auras added to the dark portion of the sword’s swirling colours, making the sword coalesce with more darkness than light.
Seeing this enraged the bat things and threw them into a frenzy. The spirits under their control were being stolen one by one and drawn into Sir Galado’s sword! They attacked the hapless soldier with such vehemence he had to retreat. As he backed away from the approaching throng on the bridge and the aerial foes, he didn’t notice the lone zombie who approached from the destination side of the bridge. It quietly laid a hand on the soldier’s shoulder and squeezed with incredible strength until it drew blood. Sir Galado opened his mouth in agony but no sound came out. The zombie moaned and released its spirit into the soldier’s open mouth as its old host body collapsed. Sir Galado’s mind exploded into a thousand tiny lights as the spirit fought him for control of his body. He mindlessly thrashed about with his sword, taking down two more bat things and drawing the spirits from several more zombies into his sword in the process.
Spirit Blade: Book III of the Dragon Mage Trilogy Page 7
