“None?” Rotiaqua asked.
“Besides Uskin, there are only two others, but they are both very senior sorceresses and have their own quarters outside Amedon. They travel here by magic when needed but don’t live here. Only Uskin lives here.”
“Who’s Uskin?” Rotiaqua asked.
“She is the head of the wizards’ council, along with Alwroth. I’ve made arrangements for you two to meet with them tonight.”
“Are sorceresses that rare?” Zhimosom asked.
“Very rare,” Garlath said. “That’s why they want to meet you.”
“You mean, meet with Rotiaqua.” Zhimosom felt uncomfortable around all these powerful folk. He knew Rotiaqua was used to this type of attention, but he found it unsettling. If sorceresses were rare and Rotiaqua was one of the few, they certainly would want to speak with her. He found it hard to believe that they would wish to speak to him.
“Both of you,” Garlath said. “Right after the evening meal.”
After the evening meal, Zhimosom and Rotiaqua followed Garlath to the council chambers. The clerk instructed them to wait, but they were soon ushered into a room off to the side. Alwroth and Uskin were seated before a small fireplace in well-worn and comfortable chairs. It looked more like a sitting room in a wealthy family’s home than the chamber of the senior wizards in Amedon.
Alwroth had a long white beard and flowing hair. His face was wizened and wrinkled. Zhimosom thought he looked much like any other wizard, but Uskin was a surprise. Garlath had told Zhimosom that Alwroth and Uskin had ruled the council for decades, but Uskin looked little older than Rotiaqua.
“It’s part of her special magic,” Garlath explained. “She doesn’t age.”
The clerk motioned for them to sit.
“Thank you for coming back so late in the day,” Alwroth said.
There was an awkward silence as Zhimosom waited for more. He didn’t know what to say. He reached out for Rotiaqua and spoke silently to her over their magical link.
“What do you think they want?” he asked. “Are we supposed to say something?”
“Just wait,” came her reply.
Uskin leaned over to Alwroth and spoke in hushed tones. “They’re so young, aren’t they?”
She straightened up and turned to Zhimosom. “Tell us about your experience.”
Uskin leaned forward and looked at Zhimosom, waiting for his response.
“Rotiaqua can tell it best.” Zhimosom was embarrassed. He was not accustomed to speaking to mighty ones. He would rather she explained.
“A wizard named Sulrad showed up in my father’s lands,” Rotiaqua began. “He set himself up as the priest of Ran. I’ve seen him work his magic, and it’s just magic; there’s no god, no Ran involved.”
“We know of him,” Uskin interrupted.
“He discovered that we had magic and tried to sacrifice Zhimosom to take his power. That’s what he does, kills people for magic. We saw him kill a young wizard and take the boy’s magic.”
“And a girl,” Zhimosom interrupted.
Rotiaqua winced. Zhimosom knew she still felt the guilt of dissuading Zhimosom from trying to rescue Brill.
“An orphan, Brill. She was only ten summers old,” Rotiaqua said.
Zhimosom sat quietly and let Rotiaqua continue, but listened intently, ready to fill in any details she might miss.
“We escaped from the temple. All we wanted was to get away from Sulrad and my father, but while we were on our way, a dragon came to us and told us to go to Tustow. It told us to find the wizard.”
Rotiaqua gestured at Garlath. “That’s where we met Garlath. Along the way, the dragon came back. He told us that Sulrad had discovered a way to kill the dragons and take their power and that the dragons needed our help.”
Uskin frowned and threw a glance at Alwroth. “I knew we hadn’t ended the danger from that one.”
She turned back to Rotiaqua and said, “I have had visions regarding you and the dragons. What you say is true. You must find a way to help them.”
“That’s why we came here,” Zhimosom added. “To learn how we can stop Sulrad.”
“You have come to the right place,” Alwroth said. “We will convene the wizards’ council as soon as we can and discuss the matter with them.” He paused, casting a furtive glance at Uskin. “We also have another reason for asking you to come see us.”
“We asked you here because you two are paired,” Uskin said. “And as a pair, there is special training you require that few can give you. Only another pair truly knows what you are experiencing and can teach you what you need to know.”
Zhimosom opened his mouth to speak, but Uskin held up her hand. “I know you’re young and you have a lot of questions. You have plenty of time to learn, and you have come to the right place.” She waved toward the main gate. “Most of our students arrive by foot, or infrequently, on horseback. It’s unheard of to have a student travel here by magic.”
Zhimosom squirmed in his seat.
He hadn’t wanted to attract attention.
“Yes, your arrival was duly noted and reported, as was your request at the library today.” Alwroth leaned forward and placed his fist beneath his long white beard, propping up his head. “Tell me about this dragon.”
Zhimosom and Rotiaqua related the tale of their encounters with the dragon, and what it had said to them each time it appeared. Alwroth interrupted with questions, often asking them to repeat what they had said or explain what they thought of events that had transpired. When Rotiaqua had finished, he leaned back and sighed. “This could be very bad. Very bad indeed. We’ll need to meet with the full council and discuss this. We cannot decide this on our own.”
“When will they meet next?” Zhimosom asked. “This is urgent, you know.”
“Time is short for one so young. When you get to be my age, you’ll realize that time is all you have. I’m sure it can wait. The council will meet. We will discuss it.”
“But it won’t wait,” Zhimosom said. “The dragon said they were in danger...”
“It will have to wait,” Alwroth interrupted. “The full council must meet. It’s out of our hands until they do. I can offer you access to the library in the meantime. You can search for the proper spells and prepare yourself.”
“But the dragons?” Zhimosom wasn’t ready to let the matter go.
“Take the offer,” Uskin spoke softly to Zhimosom. “We’ll do what we can. We would also like to work with you as a pair. Can you come to see us each day, just after the evening meal? We can show you how to use your powers to their fullest and how the pairing works.” She looked from Rotiaqua over to Zhimosom. “Would that be acceptable?”
Before they could answer, the door burst open. A young wizard charged into the room, panting and out of breath. “Master Alwroth ... We’re under attack ... Dragons.”
34
Rotiaqua followed Alwroth and Zhimosom back to the main grounds, keeping close to the walls of the buildings to avoid being seen from above. She simply could not believe dragons would attack Amedon. Had Sulrad actually succeeded? As they reached the main grounds, her heart sank. The destruction was overwhelming. The tower was aflame high overhead. Orange flames licked out of the windows where the living quarters of the more senior wizards were. The grounds below swirled with a mass of people dashing every which way in their attempts to escape the fires. Wizards and townsfolk alike screamed and pointed to the sky.
Some of the wizards had already started forming a defense against the fire, but their best efforts could not quench the flames. Dragon-fire, it seemed, was practically immune to the wizards’ efforts. After a struggle, the wizards gave up fighting the fire and focused on setting up barriers against the attacks from the sky. Rotiaqua halted at the edge of the building, watching as one wizard stopped and raised his hands. He made motions in the air at something she could not see, but must have been an attacking dragon. As the spell raced from his hands, a blast of flame appeared in the darkening
sky.
Flames licked over the wizard, and he screamed. But his screams were quickly silenced. In half a heartbeat, he was consumed by the fire. The odor of sulfur and burned flesh grew stronger as the dragon streaked by.
The mighty beast turned and headed straight for Rotiaqua.
She raised her shields and prepared for the worst, feeling like a tiny spot of calm in a sea of confusion. She stood transfixed as the dragon zeroed in on her and dove.
Was this the end?
She hardened her shields and hung on, hoping it was enough.
As the dragon neared, it opened its massive jaw and let forth a brilliant red flame. The odor of rotten eggs reached her just before the flames did.
She tensed up and pushed even more power into her shields.
The fire washed over her and struck a wagon next to her.
The wagon exploded in flames and was consumed almost in the blink of an eye, but Rotiaqua was safe, if only for the moment. She wondered why she was able to withstand the attack while other wizards fell, consumed by the dragon’s fire. Was she the only one? She glanced at Zhimosom to see him standing unscathed.
She motioned him over.
“We seem to be the only ones able to shield ourselves,” she said. “We have to do something or the whole compound will soon be nothing more than ashes.”
“Come. Join me.” Rotiaqua held out her hand. When he grasped it, she felt the full power of his magic. Together, they were able to cast a spell that extinguished the fire threatening the main hall. The flames obeyed their magic, even though the other wizards’ spells seemed ineffective. She wondered again why this was, but had no time to worry about it. The dragon reeled and turned for another pass.
Rotiaqua and Zhimosom stood side by side.
Rotiaqua tightened her grip on Zhimosom’s hand, drawing upon their joint magic.
“Revertetur ad unde orta es,” she cried, commanding the dragon to return whence it had come. “Non conturbant isto rursum.” She demanded that the dragon no longer trouble Amedon.
As she spoke, she felt Zhimosom’s magic flow through her. She caught a fleeting impression of the mini-dragon whose blood she shared. Was that it? The mini-dragon?
No time to worry about that now.
The dragon overflew them but did not release its fire. Its large bloodstained claws curled into enormous fists that barely missed her. As it passed, Rotiaqua heard the echo of a voice in her head whispering, “Thank you.”
She turned her gaze skyward. A shimmering light appeared overhead. Then a lightning bolt of blue-green streaked across the sky. From the lightning fell a diaphanous curtain of mist that wavered in the dark sky.
Rotiaqua grasped Zhimosom’s arm and pointed to it. “There. The portal to the dragon realm is open,” Rotiaqua cried. “It worked.” Her heart raced. She had done it. She had sent the dragons home. It was working.
The dragon that had attacked them beat its mighty wings and ascended into the wavering curtain of light. As it vanished, the colored lights wavered and faded to nothing, leaving Rotiaqua to stand amidst the courtyard, burning and in disarray. It took her a hand of heartbeats to recover from the sight, but when she did, she raced to help.
A woman near her whose clothes had caught fire was frantically trying to put them out. The woman rolled on the ground, screaming. Rotiaqua hunched down and created a shield to contain then extinguish the flames. She pressed a healing spell on the woman, paused long enough to see that it had taken, and moved on to the next victim.
Alwroth stood nearby, hair singed, his robe smoldering. His gaze was fixed on the sky.
“Master Alwroth.” A young wizard ran up and stopped. “The dragon ... It killed over a score. We tried to use magic to stop it ... nothing worked. It just kept coming.” He grabbed a quick breath. “What should we do?”
Without turning to look, Alwroth addressed the student. “Help the wounded as best you can. Then get the fires under control.” Slowly, his eyes came back into focus. He turned to Zhimosom and Rotiaqua and motioned them to follow. He led them back into the council chamber, where he sat and motioned them to do the same.
He leaned over the table, worry lines wrinkling his ancient face. “Was that the same dragon? The one you saw before?”
“I can’t be sure.” Rotiaqua had not noticed any distinguishing marks on the dragon. It could easily have been the same one, or another. The dragon’s magic felt similar to the one they’d seen before, but she was not familiar enough with dragons to know for certain.
“The dragon we saw on our way here just spoke to us. It never threatened us. It warned us about Sulrad and that the priest might discover a spell to command them.”
“We should have killed him when we had the chance,” Alwroth muttered. “Where is he getting the power to command the dragons? Even if he found the ancient spells, he is nowhere near powerful enough to use them. No wizard alive today has that kind of power.”
“He sacrificed a mini-dragon and a young wizard and took their power,” Rotiaqua said. “Maybe he’s found a way to gather enough power.”
“No one can store that much power. Whatever he’s doing, it’s something that we don’t yet understand.”
Alwroth straightened up. “If we were not yet enemies, tonight we have become so. We must convene the Council.”
It took longer than expected to extinguish the fires and calm the keep. When things had settled a bit, Alwroth called the council. Because of the seriousness of the situation, he opened the council meeting up to any and all wizards and even townsfolk.
The council chamber was packed.
Rotiaqua stood before the council with Zhimosom by her side. She was nervous, having been called to relate her experience. She steeled herself and explained as best she could.
“Sulrad appeared in my father’s realm. He was just an itinerant wizard, nothing remarkable. He asked my father to assist him in establishing his new religion. Ran, he called his god. It was all a sham. He had discovered a way to take the life force of another and use it for his own purposes. I saw him take the life and magic from a mini-dragon and witnessed him kill a young wizard and ordinary folk to take their life force and magic too.”
“How did you escape?” Alwroth asked.
“We defeated him with his own magic,” Rotiaqua explained.
“Can you not do so again? You seem to have survived your last encounter unharmed.”
“No,” Rotiaqua said. “When we defeated him, we recovered our own magic and purged his from inside of us. Only a faint echo remains. That’s why the dragon chose us, because we are connected to Sulrad.”
One of the wizards stood up to speak. Garlath identified him as Moright, the head of the war council.
“Is that why the dragon obeyed you and left? Because you are connected to its master? Is that why you are immune from its fire while so many of the wizards burned and died?” Moright demanded.
“I commanded it to return to its realm, and it departed,” she explained. “I presume that I was able to break the spell it was under.”
Moright’s brows wrinkled. “Why does the fire not touch you?”
Rotiaqua shrugged. “The first dragon we met said I had dragon’s blood in my veins. I was injured when I was a little girl and my blood mixed with that of a mini-dragon. Perhaps that’s why the fire doesn’t touch me.”
The other wizards whispered amongst themselves.
“It’s all very suspicious,” Moright said. “You came here asking us to engage in a war with this Sulrad. When we did not immediately agree, we were attacked by a dragon that you claim is under his control.”
Rotiaqua placed her hands on her hips. “Are you suggesting we had something to do with the attack?” She wasn’t going to stand there and let them accuse her when all she had done was help protect these very same wizards.
Uskin raised her hand and the muttering of the wizards trailed away. “I told you of my vision. These two are connected to the dragons, but they do not command them
. They did not bring about the attack; they turned it away.”
“I saw the dragon,” Alwroth added. “It was not under her control. I felt the wizard who commanded it. I recognized his magic. Are we not already familiar with young Sulrad and his bitterness?”
Rotiaqua relaxed at Alwroth’s words and gave a nod of agreement.
“If we are to take Sulrad on – and I hardly see a way where we could avoid it – Rotiaqua and Zhimosom will play a key role in the battle.” Alwroth turned to Rotiaqua. “Are you willing to commit to this fight, to protect Amedon? Even if it threatens your very existence?”
Rotiaqua looked over at Zhimosom. He’d remained silent throughout the proceedings. She opened herself to him.
“Should we do this? Should we stand here and listen to their insults?” Zhimosom asked.
“Remember what the dragon said? Only we may save them, but we need the help of the wizards.”
“Do we have a responsibility to these wizards?” Zhimosom asked.
“The wizards and citizens of Amedon are in as much danger as the dragons,” Rotiaqua reminded him.
“I fear we may be in for a bloody battle.” She could sense that Zhimosom didn’t want a long, drawn-out war. He wanted to find Sulrad and take his magic, just as he had planned to do back home. He was growing impatient. He wanted to take action, even if it was the wrong action.
“Do you see any other choice than to ally ourselves with the wizards?” Rotiaqua asked.
“None.” She felt the reluctance in his thoughts. “We must do this thing.”
Rotiaqua nodded silently, turned back to the council, and spoke aloud. “We are committed.”
Alwroth held her gaze for a moment then threw a questioning glance at Zhimosom.
“We are as one in this,” Zhimosom said.
“Good. We must find a way to defeat Sulrad and his dragons. You will have a hundred seasoned wizards beside you, but you will lead them.” Alwroth looked at Zhimosom. “Both of you.”
The Sorceress: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Origins Book 3) Page 25
