“Just push it down. There might be a bit of resistance, but it will move. Then step back and tell me what you see.”
The boy pushed the lever and slowly backed away.
The box whirred, and the pin began to move.
As it did, Kelnor’s magic flared.
The box was trying to draw magic from him.
He grasped his magic as it tried to rush forth.
It fought him.
Was this the way of it? Had the apprentice drawn on his master’s power when he wielded the staff, or had the staff been imbued with more power than Kelnor had placed in the crystal?
Never mind. He could consider that later. For now, he had a test to perform.
He held his magic back. What was the use of his apparatus if the thing simply drew on his magic?
The pin raced around the path, tracing out the spell, leaving a trace of vermillion light in the air like a glowing thread. But no fire.
“Wow. That was amazing,” the boy said.
“What did you see?”
“Light. The box makes light,” the boy said. “It’s magic.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I did magic. Does that mean I am a wizard?” The boy’s voice wavered as he spoke.
“No. I’m a wizard.”
“You’re sure you didn’t make me into a wizard?”
“I assure you, you’re not a wizard.” Kelnor gently guided the boy to the door and opened it. “Thank you. You’ve been most helpful.”
“You’re sure I’m not a wizard? They don’t like wizards around here.”
“I’m certain.” Kelnor closed the door in the boy’s face. The lad had seen the light, but no fire.
Was it because Kelnor had restricted his magic? Could he imbue the crystal with enough magic to make the spell work? Why the blood? To tie it to him?
He wondered.
There were texts in the great library that revealed tantalizing bits of tales, but nothing that truly explained what had happened. Even the text that told the story of the erstwhile apprentice had never revealed how the magic worked. It seemed that the writer simply assumed the reader either understood it or was not to be trusted with such information.
He wished he was back in Amedon. He was only truly comfortable in the library. The world had never treated him with kindness. Not that he was revered in Amedon. He was only a lowly researcher. A wizard with little power of his own.
He pushed the thoughts away.
It would take him another day to rest up enough to return to Amedon. His magic was low. He could feel it. Entering the void without power was something that he would avoid at all costs. Perhaps he could find an inn or a tavern that served a passable sweet meat pie. He was tired and drained and lacked the focus and attention needed to assure his safety as he crossed the void. He shuddered at the thought. The void frightened him more than he let on.
He would find an inn later.
That would distract him from his current troubles.
He sat down on the bed. Perhaps a nap? He always felt better after a nap. It sharpened his mind.
He lay down and let his thought drift.
Soon he was in a dream. He knew it was a dream. Everything had a surreal look to it. Colors were brighter. Sounds crisper. Smells more pronounced. In his dream, he was back in the library. He’d found a scroll that explained in great detail how the spells he envisioned worked. It was ancient and powerful knowledge. It would make him the most powerful wizard in Amedon. He would be feared and respected, if only he could see what was on the scroll. As of late, his eyesight had been deteriorating. He peered at the scroll, but even as the characters came into focus, they shifted, changing their pattern into something unrecognizable.
“Hold still,” he muttered.
He leaned in closer to the scroll.
The characters shifted.
He squinted. What was that? It appeared as if the characters said he should leave. Run away. Get out. Why was that? What did it mean?
The room shook as someone banged on the door.
Kelnor struggled to see what was making the noise. There were no doors near him in the library.
His muddled brain fought to escape the dream.
He was in bed.
In a room.
In the inn.
The door rattled as someone pounded on it.
“Get out here, you witch,” a voice screamed through the door. “We’re going to burn you at the stake.”
The door.
It rattled again.
With a crack of splintering wood, the door flew open.
A huge man in a black robe stood in the doorframe. He held a truncheon in his left hand. A long knife hung from his belt.
“You’re coming with me, you witch. We won’t have your kind in our town.”
“I’m no witch,” Kelnor protested.
“I said get up.” The man grabbed Kelnor’s arm and dragged him from the bed. “You’re coming with me.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Kelnor glanced around the room. His apparatus was on the table, his pack beside it.
He twisted in the man’s grip.
The thug must have expected him to rush the door, because the man stepped into the doorway, blocking the exit. “You’re not getting past me.”
Kelnor backed against the wall and shouted. “Non est similis est in dome saum.”
The merest hint of the portal appeared.
Kelnor lurched for the table and grabbed the apparatus. From there, he lurched for the bed, sliding beneath it.
“You have to come out some time. Don’t make me come get you.”
Kelnor curled into a ball beneath the bed, waiting as the portal grew with agonizing slowness. By the time the portal was large enough to use, the man had indeed lost patience. He reached beneath the bed, a large hand closing on Kelnor’s arm.
Kelnor panicked. What was the use of a portal if he couldn’t reach it?
He twisted in the larger man’s grip.
His assailant had the grip of a blacksmith.
Now what?
Kelnor’s mind raced. He’d been taught. The classes in the martial arts had been his least favorite, but what had they taught him? Find the weakness. Use it against his opponent. But the man appeared to have no weakness.
Kelnor’s thoughts raced.
The man was confident of his superior strength.
Kelnor could use that.
The man had a grip on Kelnor’s arm.
He twisted into the larger man, raising a knee into his assailant’s flesh.
The larger man flinched and loosened his grip on Kelnor’s arm.
It had worked.
Kelnor twisted into the man, then away.
His arm came free of the grip, sending a sharp pain up his arm.
He dove through the portal and landed on his side in a dirt road.
He rolled, protecting his pack.
The apparatus in his hand flew to the ground.
The portal closed behind him.
“Of all the bad luck,” Kelnor muttered. He’d entered the void with no clear idea where he’d meant to go. His magic was low. It was the stuff of his worst nightmare. There were tales of wizards who had done just the same thing. Tales that more often than not told of the horrors that those few wizards who made it out had experienced. Now it had happened to him. He was in the void with no clear exit.
What now?
He brushed the dirt from his clothes, retrieved his pack, and stowed the apparatus in it. He had provisions. Enough for a few days, but no more. He would have to find his way out. He couldn’t stay here.
But where was here?
He walked along the path.
It was damp.
The landscape was shrouded in mist.
Where was he?
He pushed on.
Nothing but mist.
He pushed on.
His legs were growing tired, when he saw something through the mist. It was a cliff with shelves o
f rock projecting from it. Each shelf was about as deep as his height and just as wide. Water poured from the top of the cliff and splashed onto the rock ledges. It had done so for so long that the ledges were now shallow pools of water.
Crisp blue water.
The water steamed as it rushed over the edge of the uppermost ledge to pummel down to the one below. The water must have contained minerals. The ledges were hung with a myriad of pure white stalactites that reached almost to the ledge below.
But that wasn’t the strangest thing.
There was magic here. Real magic. Powerful magic.
He recognized this place. He’d never been here before, but he’d seen it in sketches in some of the scrolls. He was in Rohir. These were the famed pools of Rohir.
Kelnor stepped closer to one of the pools.
The water was hot, but not too hot.
He dipped his hand into the water and sniffed it.
Nothing.
He licked his finger.
Salt.
So that was what the crystals were made of. But if the water carried magic, did the crystals that formed the pools carry the same magic? He reached out and tapped on one of the stalactites. It was solid. Not easily broken.
He searched for one that tapered to a point.
He tapped on it.
It was solid.
He struck it with his fist.
Nothing.
He tried to break off the very tip where it tapered to a point. The point was needle sharp.
He yanked at it.
Nothing.
He searched around for anything that might be used to break a piece free. If this was salt, how hard could it be? Was it the magic that made it so strong?
He rustled through his pack and found his knife. It was nothing special, but it would do.
He placed the blade against the stalactite near the point and struck it.
The tip broke free and fell into the water blow.
“Drat,” Kelnor muttered.
He stuck his hand into the water.
It was hot, too hot.
He pushed the pain away. The crystal had to be there.
The bottom of the pool was smooth, sloping away from the edge, growing deeper as it sloped toward the cliff face. The crystal must have rolled down the slope.
He plunged his hand deeper.
Water soaked into his shirt.
It was hot.
More.
He stretched, letting his fingers run along the bottom of the pool.
There.
He felt a tiny shard of crystal brush beneath his fingers.
He grasped for it.
It was so small; he had a hard time grabbing it.
He leaned forward.
The water felt as if it were growing hotter.
It burned.
More.
He stretched further.
Just about there.
The crystal touched his fingers once more.
Just a bit further.
He leaned in, his fingers closing around the tiny shard.
“Got you. Thought you could…” His words were cut short as he lost his footing and slid headfirst into the steaming water.
It wasn’t deep, but he was off balance.
He couldn’t get his head above water.
He sputtered and choked on the water.
“Help,” he shouted, but there was no one around to help him. He would burn to death here alone in the void. Boiled alive. Was this what happened to those who never returned? This could not be his end. Not his destiny. He felt that. This was not his death. No. Not this.
He pushed at the bottom of the pool, raising his head above water.
“Suscipe me in domum saum.” He cried out the only thing he could think of. He did something he’d been told was the worst thing to do in the void. One should not be able to summon a portal while inside the void. When he called up this spell outside of the void, it had always taken forever for the portal to form, but now it appeared almost immediately. Was it the pools that had the power? Had he somehow absorbed that power? Did that mean he was no longer a failed wizard?
He had little time to think.
The water was hot. His flesh burned. The water shimmered where the portal protruded. He pushed his doubts aside and dove for the portal.
He landed on cold stone and rolled, water splashing around him.
He breathed deeply and sputtered, panicking.
Had he possessed enough foresight to hold on to the crystal?
He rubbed his finger and thumb together. Yes. It was still there, but where was he? In another part of the void, or had he returned to the world?
He struggled to sit.
“Where did you come from?” Garlath towered over him. “And why are you soaking wet?”
He was home.
Back in Amedon.
"Have some trouble while you were away?" Garlath asked.
"Nothing I can't handle." Kelnor was in no mood to explain himself to anyone, but he knew Garlath well enough to know he would not get with anything short of a complete explanation. Still, he felt his discovery was something better off kept to himself. If he could. He was certain Garlath had spies everywhere and would eventually discover his secret, but for now, he would do his best to keep it to himself.
If he could.
16
In the wizards’ city of Amedon, the council represented all of the wizarding world. Whenever anything of import happened in the community, the council was certain to have an opinion and judgment on it. Today was a day when Garlath would rather have been anywhere else but standing before the esteemed assemblage.
The only member of the council who was not a wizard was Uskin, and she was a sorceress of renown. He would have avoided the council altogether if possible, but today was not one of those days. He almost wished he had never revealed what his investigation uncovered, but it was too important not to.
“Would you please tell this august body what you have found that has you so upset?”
“As you know. I was dispatched to watch over the young sorceress and her wizard. I have been observing them for half a moon. They were sent to Tustow by a dragon. It told them that the dragons were in peril. I decided to return here and research the dragons as best I could. What I learned causes me great distress. We had thought our troubles with young Sulrad were over by his bonding with the two I watch over, but based on the disparate information I was able to bring together, it appears that there is yet a grave danger.”
“Come on, out with it,” Helmyer, the master of spells, demanded.
“I have located the ancient home of Skelek. The original Dragon Lord.”
“And?” Helmyer demanded.
“It’s in Frostan. Right beneath the new temple that Sulrad is constructing.”
“I thought Frostan was off limits. Something about the baron burning wizards.”
“It will take the utmost care. As you know, I have spent some time in Tustow. I can travel there any time I choose. I set myself up at an apothecary shop and did some scouting. I sensed a spell right about where I believed Skelek lived. There are some powerful spells there, and Sulrad has gathered crystals in his temple. He must not be permitted to find those spells. We must stop him. I’ve done research. Together, we may be able to create a spell that prevents Sulrad from discovering the Dragon Lord’s abode without showing our hand. I have charged several of my students with searching for various spells in order to identify which of the ones Skelek may have placed on his home we may use. By all accounts, Skelek was very suspicious. It was not unreasonable that he created protection spells. Likely more than one.”
“Get to the point,” Helmyer said.
“I think I can trigger a protection spell. When activated, it will prevent Sulrad from locating Skelek’s home. There is power down there. More power than I would like to fall into the hands of one like Sulrad.”
“What sort of spell have you identified?”
“A c
ontainment spell. One that requires little power to maintain and cannot be broken from without. Once triggered, it will remain in place until the magic contained inside is completely gone. It’s quite elegant. I believe it will do what we wish.”
“Can you trigger it yourself or will you need help?” Alwroth interjected.
“I can do it myself, but it would help if I had the assistance of one of my brighter students. The ancient language is a bit complex and I am not as confident in my translations as I would like, but I believe I have just the right person to help. I can guide him to Tustow and he can help me trigger the spell. Once it’s sprung, I will bring him back, then head out to meet up with Zhimosom and Rotiaqua on the road.”
“You have my vote,” Alwroth said.
“And mine,” Uskin added.
Garlath left the council chambers and quickly made his way to his private study. He pulled the door open to find Egrid sitting in the side chair. Her long red hair jostled in time with the leg that she bounced. Not for the first time, he wondered how she knew what he was up to. She claimed to have no magic of her own, but at times like this, he could easily believe that she lied.
“How did the honored assemblage take the news?” she asked.
“As well as I could have expected.”
“Good. I took the liberty of summoning Kelnor. He should be here any moment.”
“Did you also tell him what I wished of him?”
“Me? No. I leave that for you. He and Sulrad were friends, you know. Quite close. He may not agree.”
“It’s not like we’re going to kill Sulrad. That part is done with. He’s tied to the new pair and we’re going to need those two.”
“How are they? How could you leave them on the road somewhere all alone to fend for themselves?”
“That is how it’s done. They’re on the road to Tustow. It will take them another half a moon to get there. When they do, I’ll arrange to meet them. I won’t let on that I know who they are.”
A rap sounded on the door.
Egrid jumped from the chair and opened the door. “Time to leave you two alone.”
The student who stood there was rotund, with a general appearance of disorganization to him. Garlath knew that it was no indication of his abilities. Kelnor was a top-notch student and a scholar of the ancient tongues like none he had ever had the honor of coaching before. He motioned the student to the chair Egrid had just vacated.
Dragon Lord: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Origins Book 2) Page 10
