He sat with his eyes closed, letting the feeling grow until the wind of the dragon’s landing brushed his closed eyelids.
He opened them to see the dragon settle into the grass before him.
Wisps of smoke curled upwards from its nostrils as it carefully examined Zhimosom. “I see you have been tested.”
“I have,” Zhimosom replied. How would the dragon react to his request?
“You would free me?”
“If I can.” Zhimosom reached out for the magic surrounding the dragon. He sensed the spell Sulrad used to command it. It was unmistakably Sulrad, but there was something else, another wizard, and a sorceress, and more. It was like the spells he had defeated in the temple, only this magic was much stronger.
Zhimosom probed deeper. He found the spell that Sulrad had used, not to command, but to summon the dragon. That spell was weak and tenuous. He could break that with ease, but the command spell was stronger. Zhimosom felt Sulrad’s magic, but underneath that was the smallest hint, the merest touch of the flavor of a dragon. Sulrad must have used the magic of the dragon he had killed to command this one. He shuddered. With that much power, Sulrad would be undefeatable.
“I feel the magic of a dragon in his spell,” he explained. “I saw him take the life and magic of a dragon before you carried me here.”
“Yes, he has killed my kind to power his magic,” the dragon rumbled. “You see that, do you not?”
“I see it. But he did not use that on you.”
“No, not at first, but he has refreshed the original command spell with the magic of my fallen brother. Sulrad is using the full force of it on the rest of my kind.”
Zhimosom recalled Sulrad’s magic.
He searched the dragon for traces of it, examining the command spell. He saw how Sulrad had crafted the spell. He wasn’t sure what he was searching for, but eventually, he found a loose end to the magic.
He pulled on it.
It unraveled and soon was almost completely gone, yet some remained.
Zhimosom could not entirely remove the spell.
He’d need a different approach.
He decided to attack the summoning spell while he pondered the command. That one was more complex, but it was only powered by Sulrad’s magic.
After a time, Zhimosom saw how the spell was constructed. He berated himself for not seeing it sooner, but he was able to remove it so that the dragon would be free to go where it wished.
As the spell faded, the dragon lifted its head and breathed fire into the air. “Thank you,” he rumbled.
He lowered his head back to Zhimosom. “My name is Ril’vesi. What do you wish of me?”
“I would like to know whatever I may about the dragons and what Sulrad is doing so that I might find a way to defeat him.”
With Ril’vesi’s help, Zhimosom prepared the spell to free the dragons. He had carefully transcribed a few candidate spells while in Amedon and decided on the one that he thought would be best. It was the most powerful spell he could find for releasing or unbinding. If that didn’t work, he kept one spell back. He hoped it would not be needed, but he wanted it handy just in case. That spell was an ancient spell of transformation. He would only use that if there were no other hope. He wasn’t even sure that it would work.
He reached out to Rotiaqua.
She was helping prepare the wizards’ keep in case the dragons attacked.
She rested in her labor of carrying buckets of water to the top of the tower and opened herself to him.
“Where are you, still in Mistwind? Are you coming back?” she asked.
“Not just yet. I have managed to free one of the dragons. I am going to try to do the same for the rest.” He was glad that his magic was once again strong enough to speak with her. Not only was his magic strong enough for that, he was now able to draw on her magic along with his own and that gave him access to even more magic. She seemed to have a better grasp on drawing the magic from the pools in Rohir than he did.
“There is almost always one dragon in the air overhead,” Rotiaqua said. “It’s not doing anything threatening, just scouting.”
“How are the preparations going?” Zhimosom asked.
“As well as they can. The whole city is saddened by the loss of the wizards in Frostan. They say there is no leader now. The council has been abandoned.”
“Who’s organizing the effort, then?”
“Ashray is the only council member left. He has been directing the efforts as well as he can.”
Zhimosom felt numb. “But ... the others?”
“They’re all dead. They were killed in the attack on Frostan. None survived.”
“Somehow, I will find a way to make Sulrad pay for that,” Zhimosom vowed. He wanted revenge for the death of his friends more than anything.
Zhimosom labored throughout the day, calling upon the magical stores of the pools and adding Rotiaqua’s magic to it. It gave him a tiny bit of pleasure knowing he would weaken the spell she had cast on the city, but not remove it altogether. Still, he needed more magic.
He drew power from Ril’vesi and pushed his spell out.
Nothing happened.
Not one other dragon responded as Ril’vesi had.
“Why can I connect with you and not them?” Zhimosom asked Ril’vesi.
“There was not enough dragon magic in the spell that bound me. Sulrad killed a sorceress and took her power to drive the first summoning spell. Much of that power was still in the amulet when he commanded me. It was the sorceress’ magic that powered the spell more so than a dragon’s.”
“There must be another source of power that I can use.” Zhimosom sat back with a heavy sigh.
“There is a source you have not tried.” Darort had silently watched since the dragon arrived, but now he was animated.
“What source?”
“It is deep inside the plains. It is said to be left over from the creation of the world. It is ancient and powerful. Much like the pools, but this is fixed. It is in a form that may be configured into the characters that drive a spell. If you should draw upon it and reconfigure it, you may be able to craft a powerful and long-lasting spell.”
“How do I find it?” Zhimosom asked.
Ril’vesi looked at Darort, his large eyes wide with surprise. “You know of this?”
“We are the lore masters,” Darort said. “We know of many things.”
Ril’vesi rumbled. “Our legends speak of lands with special powers, but we have been gone from this realm for so long, their location has been lost.”
“I can show you where they are,” Darort said.
The old man seemed confident. Maybe there was still hope. If Zhimosom could find this source of power, surely he could free the dragons. He didn’t need to defeat Sulrad directly.
Before he could complete his thought, Ril’vesi raised his head high in the air and let out a roar. “He calls!”
Zhimosom froze. Had Sulrad found a way to reassert his control over the dragon?
He reached out to Ril’vesi. He saw the thread of Sulrad’s magic pulling at the beast. He tried to sever it, but it was too strong.
“I cannot resist.” Ril’vesi looked at Zhimosom with large, sad eyes. “Please find a way.” With that, he extended his wings, launched himself skyward, and was quickly gone from sight.
“Show me where this magic lies,” Zhimosom said.
“I cannot. It is many days travel from here. We have to descend to the plains. It is far.”
Zhimosom could not travel there by magic because he had never been there himself, but if he found a guide, someone who knew the place well, they could guide him there, much as Garlath had guided him to Amedon. “Is there any way you can show it to me in your mind? Can you recall what it looks like, where it is?”
“I have never been there.” Darort shrugged. “None of us have.”
41
Frustrated, isolated, and angry with himself, Zhimosom settled into the grass in the square i
n Mistwind. He let the noise and distractions from the market fade. He blocked out the din of voices speaking in a foreign tongue. He edited away the smell of fires being lit to roast nuts and meats for the expected crowd. He even let the chill wind blow his shirt open, embracing the goose flesh that it raised on his arms. It was time to act. He knew what was needed. He was ready.
He reached out to Rotiaqua.
He even didn’t bother to check if she was awake.
“I’m coming back,” he told her. He drew her magic to him. He drew on his own magic that was fresh and powerful. He merged his thoughts with Rotiaqua’s and stepped from Mistwind and into her chamber in Amedon.
He was relieved to see her safe but quickly felt his face go flush.
Where was he?
Where had he appeared?
He looked around the room, realizing that he was alone with her in her bedchamber. “Forgive me. I was excited to share the news with you, and I was worried about you.”
“No need of forgiveness.” Rotiaqua laughed and patted the bed next to her. “Sit. Tell me what happened. I could feel some of it, but I don’t know the details.”
Zhimosom looked around the room in a panic. The memory of the stocks flooded back. There was no way he was sitting on the bed with the baron’s daughter. He noticed a cushioned stool near the foot of the bed, grabbed it, and slid it next to the bed, but he was too agitated to sit for long.
“What happened?” Rotiaqua asked. “I couldn’t connect with you all night, and then suddenly, you were back.”
“We went to scout out what Sulrad was doing. Helmyer and I watched from behind the rocks. Sulrad called a dragon ... and he killed it!” Zhimosom panted, rushing to tell her everything.
“Slow down. Just tell me what happened.”
“He had two dragons. He summoned the red dragon Ril’vesi to help him kill the other one. After that, the red dragon attacked us. It grabbed Helmyer and threw him down on the ground in front of Sulrad.”
Zhimosom paced the room, turning sharply at the window to look out over the city below. “Sulrad killed Helmyer. He took his magic. He used that knife he has for his sacrifices, but he stored the magic in something. An amulet of some sort.”
Zhimosom heard a rustling sound and then felt Rotiaqua put her arm around him. He flinched but relaxed into her embrace. He needed to tell her what had happened, to get it all out. It was unreal, almost like a nightmare, but it was real, and he’d been powerless to stop it.
“After that, the dragon grabbed me and carried me to Mistwind. It dropped me there and drained my magic. That’s why I couldn’t contact you. The dragon said it was acting at Sulrad’s command.”
Rotiaqua gripped him tighter. “How did you get your power back?”
“The monks wanted to burn me alive. It was some sort of trial to see if I was telling the truth. I used the power in the fire to recharge my magic. I called the dragon back. I wasn’t sure it would work, but when the dragon breathed fire on me, it must have created a connection between us.”
“So you were able to free it?”
“Only for a little while, and not completely. Sulrad regained control and summoned it back. I think he’s going to attack soon.”
Zhimosom turned his head and looked at Rotiaqua. “Sulrad has summoned the rest of the dragons across the void. The ones he didn’t destroy are all under his control. I don’t think we have much time. We have to warn everyone.” His resolve grew stronger the more he thought about the dragon’s situation.
He gently slipped from beneath Rotiaqua’s arm and strode purposefully for the door without turning to see if she was behind him.
Rotiaqua had told Zhimosom that the council was abandoned, but it was the only place he knew to look for the wizards who had stayed behind in Amedon. Zhimosom reached the council chamber to find it dark and deserted. Who was in charge? He had to alert them to the imminent danger.
He found one guard asleep at his post, sitting with his back to a pillar.
Zhimosom shook the man. “Wake up. We have to warn everyone.”
The guard snorted and looked up. His eyes blinked several times, and he mumbled under his breath. “Warn who?”
“The council ... the wizards ... everyone! The dragons are coming.”
“Dragons?” The guard sprang to his feet, straightening his uniform. “Dragons coming back?”
“Yes, dragons. We have to warn the council.”
The guard rushed from the chambers.
Soon Zhimosom heard a bell ring out in alarm.
Ashray was the first to arrive. He was in total disarray. His robe was crooked, and his hair stuck out in all directions. He flopped into his chair and fired a questioning look at Zhimosom.
“The dragons are coming,” Zhimosom began.
Ashray held up his hand. “Wait for the rest.”
Zhimosom paced in front of the table, frustrated. Why was Ashray so formal? The dragons were coming. They needed to take action immediately.
In a moment, Garlath entered, took a seat, and nodded to Ashray.
He looked up at Zhimosom.
Zhimosom was surprised to see Garlath on the council. The wizard had steadfastly refused the seat, but it looked that he had taken on the responsibility now. Perhaps he’d been elevated with the demise of the other wizards.
Another wizard that Zhimosom did not recognize joined Ashray and Garlath.
“You may begin,” Ashray said.
Zhimosom drew a breath but paused when the doors opened once more. Rotiaqua rushed in. She was in no better shape than Ashray. Her robe was crooked and her hair a mass of tangles. She walked briskly down the chamber hall and stopped next to Zhimosom, taking his hand in hers.
Her power flowed into him along with her confidence.
“The dragons are coming,” Zhimosom explained. “Sulrad has summoned the last of them across the void and is preparing an attack.”
“How do you know this?” Garlath asked.
Before Zhimosom could answer, Ashray stood and slapped his palm on the table with a resounding crack. “Wait just a moment,” he shouted. “Do you see this table? Do you remember the wizards that sat here last time you appeared before us?”
Zhimosom scanned the empty chairs. He knew that many of the council had been killed in Frostan, but now he felt the full impact of it. The table was practically empty. He remained silent.
“Young man,” Ashray continued. “The council is dead. Killed in a fight that you pushed them into.”
Zhimosom didn’t know how to answer that. It was not he who had advocated for the attack. He’d spoken against it. But Ashray seemed not to care. The wizard’s face was twisted in anger, as if Zhimosom himself had attacked the wizards and not Sulrad.
Garlath stood and raised his hands. “We all agreed to the plan. We believed it was the proper course of action.”
“But why did they attack us?” Ashray demanded. “We never had any open quarrel with Sulrad until these two arrived.” Ashray gestured at Zhimosom and Rotiaqua. He stood and leaned into the table. “We want you out!”
“Out?” Zhimosom asked.
“Out. Out of the council chambers, out of Amedon. If you had not come here, none of this would have happened.”
Zhimosom tensed. How could they act this way? He and Rotiaqua had been brought here by Garlath. They had not asked for any of this. He had not advocated for war. Surely Sulrad had attacked not because of them, but for his own reasons. He knew he could not kill them. Why then attack them?
“They’re coming,” Zhimosom said.
“They’re coming for you,” Ashray said. “With you gone, they have no reason to come back. Get out of here and don’t come back.” Ashray stood up, his chair screeching as he slid it back from the table. He turned and stormed from the room.
Zhimosom shot a plaintive look at Garlath, but the wizard shook his head slowly.
“So you agree with him?” Zhimosom demanded.
Garlath held out his hands. “I was ove
rruled.”
“I was able to free one of the dragons if only for a while. I still think there’s a chance to save them all. I just need to find a stronger spell.” Zhimosom was angry with the council. Angry with Garlath for not speaking in their defense. He was mostly angry with himself for letting Sulrad cast him off while he worked his evil. There had to be something he could do.
“You were instructed to leave. I cannot change that without a vote of the council. You are to be escorted from Amedon immediately.” Garlath was clearly upset by the decision. He glanced at the wizard seated next to him. “It is unfortunate that there are so few wizards left to escort you out.”
Garlath winked and stood.
The unnamed wizard who also stood.
They walked purposefully from the room, leaving Zhimosom and Rotiaqua standing there alone.
“Come on. We have to get to the library,” Zhimosom said. “I’m not giving up yet.”
He tugged at Rotiaqua’s hand as they ran through the empty hallways to the library. The stark contrast to their earlier visit was almost unnerving. “So many wizards lost in Frostan,” Zhimosom remarked. “We have to find a way to defeat Sulrad. There must be something here.”
There was no one at the desk to bar their way. No one to tell them they were not allowed into the depths of the library, so they continued their quest, making their way deep into the library.
“Did you get a sense of the spell that Sulrad used to command the dragons when you wrested Ril’vesi free?” Rotiaqua asked.
“I did. It was strange. It was comprised of several types of magic. I could feel the dragon magic and Sulrad’s, but there was more to it than that, something older, more ancient than the dragons. When Sulrad took the magic from Helmyer, he had some sort of amulet in his hand. It looked like a jewel that glowed when he stored the magic in it. We have to find out what that was.”
They searched until Zhimosom located a section in the library where the most ancient reference texts were kept. He pored through the tomes, searching for anything to do with an amulet. One of the volumes dealt with magical artifacts from before the time of the dragons. It contained faded colored drawings of amulets with a brief description beneath each one.
The Sorceress: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Origins Book 3) Page 30
