He leaned in to get a glimpse of the first door he came to. Beyond the door was a small chamber. It was dank and dark with the sound of water dripping steadily in the background. On the floor sat a young girl, ten summers in age by the looks of her. Her sandy brown hair clung to sweaty flesh. Her arms wrapped around her knees as she rocked silently.
Brill. He recalled the child. He had sacrificed her on his altar to draw Zhimosom’s rage. How had she come to be here? He had taken her magic, but that was before he located the charm. Had the charm somehow become bonded to his own magic? Was his magic there as well? What about Zhimosom and Rotiaqua? If the girl’s magic were there, surely theirs would be. Could he use that? Could he somehow free himself from that bond? It was certainly something to consider, but for now, the wizards encamped nearby were his immediate concern.
He backed away even as the child rose and launched herself at the door. “Killer,” she screamed.
He turned and continued down the hall. The next door held a wizard in dark blue robes. He was lithe and wiry. No. Not that one.
Sulrad rushed away before the wizard had a chance to notice.
The next room was no small chamber, but a cavern that dwarfed the temple itself. The rock ceiling high overhead curved gently. No stalactites hung from those rocks. Only scorch marks graced the overhead stones.
Sulrad glanced around. He expected to see the silhouette of a dragon sitting alone in the midst of that great room, but there was no dragon. Was this the dragon’s cell? It had to be. No human commanded that much magic.
Sulrad reached for the knob, ready to unlatch and open the door, when he perceived far-off laughter. As the knob turned, the great cavern filled with a light that made him blink back tears.
The visage of the dragon rushed at him, ethereal flames licking out from the massive jaw. The dragon had tricked him into opening the door, insubstantial as it might be. How would he stand against a dragon?
He felt the mighty beast attempting to wrest control from him. It was like no wizard had ever done. Sulrad harbored a fear that one day he would come across one powerful enough to take control of his body after Sulrad consumed his magic. He had completely ignored the fact that dragons were intelligent creatures and posed the same risk as did powerful wizards. How could he have been so foolish?
Sulrad backed out of the room and thrust his shoulder into the door, slamming the latch shut with a click. He cursed himself for being fool enough to let a dragon trick him. He should have been more cautious. He was growing careless. That would never do.
The next door contained the one he sought. The image of the wizard Helmyer sat there, legs crossed on the cold stone floor.
As Sulrad peered in, the specter turned to him.
“So you’ve come to match wits with me?”
“I’ve come to seek knowledge.”
“You were ever the eager student. What knowledge do you seek from me now that I am no longer the master and you the student?”
“I seek the plans of the wizards of Amedon.”
The specter of Helmyer laughed. “Certainly you don’t think I am going to reveal such a thing?”
“Do you think you can resist me?”
“I know I can. Even dead.”
“You can still feel pain.” Sulrad calmed himself. Had it not been for his experience with the specters of the dead he had dealt with in his darkest hour, he might not have been confident. He muttered a quick prayer of thanks to Ran. At the time, he had raged at his god for allowing him to suffer so, unable to discern why he had been subjected to such a trial, but now he knew. It was to prepare him for this day.
“Aperi mihi te ipsum.” Sulrad spoke the words of the spell as his fingers marked out the character that represented cooperation with overtones of compulsion. Let the specter resist that.
A cloud of amber flashes appeared in the air behind his finger as he traced the character. They formed the brush strokes that he would have created had he been inking this character on a piece of parchment, but these lines glowed with an amber light that seemed to flicker as if it originated from a fire in a hearth. The character became more and more solid as Sulrad repeated the words of power.
When he had finished the character, Sulrad paused. He had used this spell on a living person, but never a specter. Would it work?
For half a heartbeat, nothing happened, then a vermillion rope emerged from the blazing image and leaped for the bars, squeezing between them. It snaked out and wrapped around the specter of the wizard in the cell.
Helmyer stiffened as the ropes of light encircled him, but he held his peace.
“Where are the wizards?” Sulrad demanded.
“You may have learned some tricks, but your power is nothing compared to mine. Let me out of this cell and I will reveal everything to you. Just before I kill you.”
A flash of red snaked along the vermillion rope that encircled Helmyer, wrapping itself around Sulrad’s magic. Then the red reached the character Sulrad had so carefully inscribed in the air. It yanked at the lines and began altering the spell.
Sulrad panicked.
What was happening? How could the wizard’s magic act in such a manner? Sulrad knew that the soul of those whose magic he had taken survived and in some cases could take over his body, but control his magic? He had never even heard of such a thing.
He stepped back and released his hold on his own magic, desperate to snuff out what the wizard was doing.
Pain erupted behind his eyes as a brilliant gold flash raced from the newly formed character and struck Sulrad in the chest.
He fell to the floor, panting.
His heart raced, pounding against his ribs as if it were a caged animal trying to break free.
His hand flew to his chest.
The magic whipped around him, tightening, making it hard to breathe.
What sort of spell was Helmyer using?
Sulrad searched for the spell. The character he had so carefully drawn had morphed into something completely different. He strained to see it through eyes that were growing dark with the lack of air. Was that a restriction spell? The character seemed to indicate so. It was similar to the one he had used on Helmyer. It was also similar to one used to break bonds. He saw that now. Helmyer had changed his spell slightly. Could he do the same?
Sulrad searched for a spell that was closest to the one that trapped him. Release? No. Freedom? No. Escape? No. Wait. There. He had it.
“Accomodare me.” He forced the words from his gasping throat.
The image of the character that gave the spell its form wavered for half a heartbeat, then began to move. Agonizingly slowly, one of the brush strokes shifted, then another. A new stroke appeared, an existing one faded. As the character changed its shape, the bonds strangling Sulrad loosened. In a hand of heartbeats, he was able to draw a breath. After another hand of heartbeats, he could see straight again. It took even longer for his pounding heart to settle once more, but when it did, he had formulated his plan.
He knew how to make the wizard talk.
He berated himself.
He should have seen it before.
He opened the cell door and stepped inside, but before he did, he summoned the magic of the dragon to himself. As the specter of Helmyer rushed at him, he braced himself. For a moment, he doubted his plan, but this was not the time to hesitate. It was a time of action.
Bold action.
The specter struck him and his world exploded in a brilliant flash of light.
47
Sulrad let the magic of his enemy soak into him. Helmyer tugged at Sulrad. Had it not been for the magic of the dragon that anchored Sulrad, Helmyer would have taken control of him and banished his soul to the timeless void, but Sulrad knew that he had the advantage. As the wizard’s memories soaked into him, Sulrad gained a thorough understanding not only of the position the wizards had taken up, but the battle tactics they intended to employ against him. Well, he had a surprise for them.
He
released Helmyer’s magic and banished it back to the cell from which it had emerged and drew himself free of the charm. It was full dark. The wizards most likely thought themselves safe. Who attacked in the middle of the night?
Dragons — that’s who.
And Sulrad.
He would fall on them from the sky without mercy.
He drew the dragon’s magic from the charm and crafted the binding spell he had decided to employ. It currently only encompassed Ril’vesi, but he knew it could hold more than one dragon. For now, Ril’vesi was still on his way back from the lonely mountains where he had abandoned Zhimosom. It would be a while before he arrived, but in the meantime, Sulrad would begin.
Sulrad uttered a quick thanks to Ran for his great fortune. Ril’vesi was the most influential dragon of the clan. Through Ril’vesi, Sulrad could influence if not command the whole clan. Dragons, for all their brilliance and cunning, followed the head of the clan almost without thought. It was a blessing from Ran, and Sulrad planned to take full advantage of it.
He reached out to the dragon clan and summoned them to him. They circled overhead in the dark crying out their rage at the summoning, taunting him because, while he might summon the entire clan, they knew he could not command them all.
He searched the clan, finding the two largest dragons he could, rejecting the most powerful female. There was a strength to her that frightened him. She would never allow herself to be commanded. No. Better to choose one a little less powerful, but one he could control.
He called to his chosen dragons.
They descended from the sky, wings folded, only to snap open as they halted their descent and hovered in the air before him.
“You command?” one of them asked.
“I command.” Sulrad opened his mind to the dragons. He revealed the location of the wizards and how their encampment was laid out. He highlighted the tents where the leaders slept, no doubt secure in their belief that nothing would transpire until first light. Sulrad thought he would have to explain himself, but the dragons nodded and streaked away.
He felt a twinge of fear as they departed. Would they do as he commanded? He felt how tenuous his command was over them. It took most of his power, even with the charm to keep Ril’vesi bound to him. He knew from his studies that the wizard Skelek had mastered the command of three dragons and was able to switch mounts in midair. Sulrad himself lacked the confidence to attempt such a feat.
Ril’vesi would be his mount, and until that dragon returned, he would have to be satisfied by watching through the other dragons’ eyes and issuing his commands from a distance.
He reached out to Ril’vesi. “Hurry. I am late to join the battle.”
“I will arrive when I arrive. Nothing you can say or do will change that. You call. I come. That is all.”
“Make haste,” Sulrad barked.
Ril’vesi remained silent.
While he waited, Sulrad reached out to one of the two dragons that he had sent against the wizards. They were almost there, ready to begin.
He commanded one of them to share his vision and felt his grip on Ril’vesi start to slip. He recovered it and settled for the dim perception of events that the dragon engaged in the battle allowed.
On a field, not far from the canyon where Sulrad had sacrificed the black dragon, lay the tents of the wizards of Amedon. Row upon row of tents were spaced evenly, with gaps for communal fires every so often. Near the center was a large tent. A mess tent from when he recalled of Helmyer’s memories.
“Not that one. Over there.” Off to open side was a nondescript tent that Sulrad knew belonged to Alwroth and Uskin. “That one. That’s the one.”
Sulrad felt his heart race. Would it be that simple? If his information was correct, he could catch the senior wizards sleeping and it would all be over in moments.
He felt his stomach surge as the dragon whirled in mid-flight and turned toward the camp.
Side by side, the two dragons flew.
As they swept past the edge of the camp, they let out their flame.
Darkness turned to day as the dragon-fire swept along the line of tents, setting one after another ablaze. Screams split the air as wizards came awake from their peaceful sleep to the waking nightmare of dragon-fire.
Tents, neatly arranged in lines and ranks, burst into flame as the dragon-fire licked over them. From some, wizards emerged, engulfed in flames. They stumbled over one another in their attempts to flee, but quickly succumbed to the flames. The whole place stank of burned hair and roasted flesh. Sulrad had to clamp his jaw shut to keep from retching, but it didn’t deter him. The edge of the camp fell beneath the dragons, and their fire ceased.
“More,” he screamed. “That tent. Again.” He raised the image of the burning tent in his mind’s eye and pushed the thought to the dragons. As they neared, two figures emerged from the flames. How could that be? Alwroth and Uskin. How could they have survived?
“Fire. Those two.” Sulrad directed the dragon toward the running couple.
The dragon released fire, but it did not have the effect Sulrad had hoped for. Alwroth must have retained a trick or two. Not that his shields would hold long, but for now, they were effective. They stopped the fire from consuming the couple as they ran for cover.
As the dragon passed over them, Sulrad lost the vision he had been holding. Was this it? Had his magic faded so fast?
His vision returned, clearer this time. The dragon hovered in the air, fire blazing over a wizard that seemed to be able to hold off the flames. Sulrad’s heart sank. He had come to believe that no wizard could withstand the dragon-fire, and here were two of them who had. Yes, Zhimosom and Rotiaqua had managed that, but he had assumed that it was because Rotiaqua was somehow mixed up with the dragon’s magic. Could these two be also? It was hard to believe that such a thing would occur once, much less twice. There had to be another explanation.
Sulrad held his breath as the flames washed over the wizard. The dragon hung in the air, wings beating steadily as it hovered above the wizard, the flames stretching downward and splitting to wash around him.
Alwroth. Of course it was. Of all the wizards in Amedon, Alwroth would know the more arcane spells. Did this mean there was a flaw in his plan?
“Again. Both of you,” Sulrad screamed in frustration. “Attack him.”
The pair of dragons turned to renew their attack, but as they closed in on the wizard, a brilliant lance of light flared, momentarily blinding them. One of the dragons took the light straight in the eye. It began spraying fire wildly along its path, igniting the remaining tents before recovering and renewing the attack.
“Ril’vesi. Where are you?” Sulrad demanded.
“Here.” A rush of wind signaled the landing of the massive dragon beside Sulrad.
“Carry me.” Sulrad climbed aboard the back of the dragon and held on tight.
“As you wish.” Ril’vesi leaped into the sky and turned for the encampment.
“There, that one.” Sulrad indicated the spot where Alwroth stood.
Ril’vesi rushed to Alwroth, flames washing over him.
Alwroth raised his arm and power shot forth.
Ril’vesi twisted his head away as if trying to escape not only the wizard’s spell but Sulrad’s control.
Sulrad barely had time to twist away as the fireball Alwroth had leveled at him struck him, searing away his robe and setting the flesh of his arm aflame.
Ril’vesi reared back and turned.
“Where are you going?” Sulrad demanded.
“You commanded us to kill the wizards.” Ril’vesi pulled into tight formation as the other two dragons turned and dove for the center of the battleground once more. They each released fire, the three streams merging into one as they struck the wizard standing there. For a moment, Sulrad saw him. Moright, the Great War wizard, stood his ground. Shields ablaze as the dragon-fire struck them and washed aside. It looked like Moright had constructed a defense against even the combin
ed fire of the three dragons, but in half a hand of heartbeats, the wizard burst into flames and turned to ash.
Sulrad heaved a sigh of relief.
With Moright gone, Sulrad noticed Alwroth standing nearby. He had almost forgotten about Alwroth in his rush to kill the war wizard.
“Kill him. Now!” Sulrad screamed.
Ril’vesi bucked in the air and turned haltingly toward Alwroth, but as he approached, he appeared to be listening to some far-off voice.
“Kill him,” Sulrad demanded.
“No. Not this one.” Ril’vesi turned, spread his wings, and lifted Sulrad from the encampment into the chill night air.
“Then take me to Amedon,” Sulrad demanded.
“That I can do.” The dragon banked and rose into the chill night air.
48
Once again astride the great dragon Ril’vesi, Sulrad felt elated. The dragon was surly, but it was back under control. This time, it would finish what he started. He would level Amedon and burn it to the rock from which it had sprouted. He should have done that the first time. He’d let the wizards distract him, and it had cost him.
Not this time.
This time, he would prevail.
This time, he was ready.
“Circle once or twice just to let them know we are here,” Sulrad instructed the great beast.
Ril’vesi rolled and began to circle the city of Amedon, followed closely by Tin’che and Dyn’ton. It took all his efforts to control all three at once. Since the last battle, he had come to realize that his control needed not be as strong or as fierce as he had exerted before. Just the slightest bit of persuasion and the dragons behaved in the manner he wished. Once they had chosen the target and accepted it, they needed almost no guidance. It seemed the dragons had a deep-seated love of the hunt that needed only a little push from him.
Dragon Lord: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Origins Book 2) Page 30
