Spirit Blade: Book III of the Dragon Mage Trilogy (25 page)

The renegade dragon, feeling confident, swung around to face the newcomer, shrieking in delight. Its rider howled in glee, feeding off the dragon’s emotions. The dragon was in complete control.

Kazin flew straight at the renegade dragon. “Get ready to throw up your shield, Amelia,” he instructed. “If that dragon unleashes flames, I want everyone to be safe. I’ll concentrate on getting close enough for Sherman to strike with his sword, and if that mage tries something, I’ll deal with it. Be prepared to drop the shield on my command.”

“Right!” said Amelia above the rushing of the wind in her ears.

As the two dragons neared one another, Kazin was surprised at the size of his opponent. It was a fair bit larger than himself. He concluded it was probably an older dragon, but one with a strong will. The mage was undoubtedly not strong enough to overcome that will.

As expected, the renegade dragon blasted Kazin with fiery breath. Amelia’s shield easily directed the heat away. A moment later, the renegade mage shot a lightning bolt at Kazin and his riders. The bolt was harmlessly deflected aside as well.

“Now!” cried Kazin. Amelia dropped the shield as Kazin swung close to the other dragon while Sherman prepared to swing his sword. The renegade dragon made a sudden movement, trying to slash at the warrior, but Sherman was ready. He swung his sword and sliced clean through one of the dragon’s extended claws.

The dragon shrieked as it suffered its second injury. Angered, it circled around for another pass, but not before Kazin shot off a weak fireball at the enemy mage. The mage was struck squarely on the back, but ignored the pain while his cloak caught on fire.

Kazin turned to confront his foe again, but this time the opposing dragon opted to make a close in attack with its claws. Kazin anticipated this and told his riders to hang on. As the dragons came together, Kazin and the other dragon reared back and sank their claws into one another’s chest. They snapped at one another with their giant jaws. Locked in combat, they frantically flapped their wings to retain altitude.

As they struggled, Sherman climbed to a spot where he could slash at one of the other dragon’s exposed claws. Another lightning bolt from the enemy mage would have knocked him off his mount if it wasn’t for Amelia’s protective shield. No more magical spells came from the enemy mage as he finally noticed his burning cloak and hastened to deal with that problem.

Amelia saw what Sherman was trying to do and had the foresight to cancel the shield spell just as Sherman’s sword struck true, severing another claw from the renegade dragon.

The dragon was unprepared for this and let go with that clawed foot. This unanticipated motion caused it to lurch to the side so rapidly that its rider lost his grip and tumbled from its back. The mage gave a weak cry as he fell, his cloak still ablaze. It was a moment before the renegade dragon realized what had happened. Remembering the orb in the mage’s possession, the dragon pushed itself away from Kazin and dove to try to rescue the mage.

As Amelia looked down, she was shocked to see how much altitude they had lost while battling. She could see the falling mage as he fell, and knew that his dragon would not be in time. Thankfully Kazin turned so that she could not see the last few seconds when the mage hit the ground.

A piercing shriek from the renegade dragon was enough to inform them of the mage’s death.

Kazin circled slowly as he watched the dragon land by the mage’s inert body in the field below. A few minutes passed as the dragon examined the body. Then it cried out one last time and threw itself on top of the human mage. It never moved again.

“Is it - is it dead?” asked Amelia.

Kazin flew back to a safe distance from the village. “I think so. The orb must have become damaged in the fall. Without it the dragon’s life essence has been lost. If the orb was intact, the dragon could have taken it and survived.”

“That’s so sad,” said Amelia woefully.

“That’s the price of the magic,” said Kazin. “When I obtained my dragon orb, the dragon died, but the orb was still intact and contained its life force. That’s why I was able to meld with it and become like it. If I die and the orb is still intact, whoever takes it over will have the same abilities as I have.” Kazin stopped speaking in order to land in a grassy meadow a short distance from their horses. His passengers slid and jumped to the ground. Then he transformed back into his human form. His face and chest were cut and bleeding.

“Kazin!” exclaimed Amelia. “You’re hurt!”

“They’re only minor wounds,” said Kazin. “That’s another thing I share with the dragon.”

Amelia was about to tend to his wounds when the ground shook as an earthquake struck the area. It didn’t last long, but it caused the horses to whinny and jump. They were already skittish with Kazin’s arrival as a dragon, and Sherman was hard pressed to settle them down.

Amelia was finally able to tend to Kazin’s wounds and deftly took care of the worst of it. She was concerned about the earthquake and wondered out loud whether it might have something to do with them and their quest.

“Perhaps,” said Kazin. “The landscape as we know it is going to change drastically from what it is now. The question is when.”

“We should ask some of the upcoming villagers what they think,” suggested Sherman. “Maybe earthquakes are normal in this point in history.”

“You’re right,” said Kazin.

As they prepared to saddle up, the bronze dragon came into view. The rider saw them and gave a command to his mount. It landed awkwardly nearby because its wing was still damaged. The rider quickly dismounted and approached them while Sherman worked to calm the horses again.

“Greetings, strangers!” he called. “Have you seen a dragon fly past?”

“We saw a couple of them,” said Kazin evasively. He looked at Amelia, who shrugged. She didn’t know if Kazin should give away his identity.

“I could have sworn one of them landed around here somewhere,” said the dragon rider, looking around.

“One landed somewhere over there,” said Sherman, pointing to the area where the renegade dragon went down.

“I saw that one,” said the dragon rider, “but I was looking for the one that won the fight. It flew over here somewhere.”

“If it landed around here we would have noticed it,” said Amelia.

The dragon rider’s eyes narrowed. “To be sure.” He studied Kazin’s bloody face. “You’re hurt.”

“I fell off my horse as I watched the battle,” lied Kazin. “I’m ok.”

The dragon rider grunted. “Are you a mage?”

“I know some magic,” said Kazin unhelpfully.

“Why aren’t you at the tower?” asked the dragon rider.

“I’m going to see some sick relatives,” said Kazin. He was referring to their quarry, whose companions looked sick according to the stable master in Trent. He pointed at Amelia. “My sister came to get me because she knows the way.” Amelia knew the way because of her orb. But he knew the dragon rider didn’t know these things.

“I see,” said the dragon rider. He didn’t sound convinced. “Well, if you come across the dragon or its riders, find out who they are. Then report back to the tower to see me. Just ask for Arch Mage Gresham.”

“Ok,” said Kazin.

“Right then,” said Gresham. He took off his hat, tried to straighten the kinked tip - unsuccessfully - and put it back on his head. “Have a safe journey.” He turned and went back to his dragon. As he climbed back on his mount he said, “Let’s go, Horath. We’ll tend to your wounds shortly.”

The great beast launched itself back into the air, but not before giving the companions a shrewd glance. It appeared he didn’t trust these strangers either.

As they flew back to the first dragon, it occurred to Arch Mage Gresham that the strangers didn’t even show any interest in Horath. It was as though they had seen dragons up close before. Anyone else would have been awed by Horath’s presence, not to mention the fact that a mage had apparently tamed him. He looked back at the trio as they became small specs in the distance. The warrior with them looked about the right size to be the one who had ridden the dragon to his rescue, and the red-haired mage could have been the other rider if his eyes were to be believed. The blue cloak was not a common colour for a robe, yet the second rider wore an identical blue robe. What were the odds of that? Did the redhead have possession of an orb in order to control a dragon? But where was the dragon? It was too big to hide from Horath’s keen vision, yet it was simply gone. And what of the injured young mage? How did he fit into the picture? One would think his companions would be cut and bleeding, not him. Perhaps he had been casting spells from the ground. Maybe in the process he did fall from his horse as he had claimed. Gresham shook his head. He had a feeling he would run into that trio again.

But right now Gresham had the problem of finding a way to deal with cleaning up a failed experiment. The handful of mages assisting with the experiment should already be on site by now. The master mage’s body would be returned to the tower for burial. But disposing of the dragon’s body would be a challenging task. Thankfully, the nearby village was known for having experts in tanning hides and manufacturing leather goods. Hopefully, the value of the dragon’s hide would make up for the buildings that were damaged by the renegade mage and dragon. Also, Horath needed healing. The cleric among his group would have her hands full. Thoughts of the work ahead raced through Gresham’s mind and he soon forgot about the strange trio in the field.

Chapter 21

O
lag and Zylor arrived at the base of the dwarven mountains near a cavern entrance to where the dwarven realm was located. It was heavily guarded by a large contingent of dwarven soldiers. It was fortified with trenches and barricades, and towers dotted the area, filled with expert dwarven archers. Even the mountainside itself was carved in such a way that from a distance it appeared like a giant castle wall with buttresses and turrets from which the defenders could fight. Overhangs were also factored in, to ensure protection from aerial foes such as dragons.

At the gate, the convoy was greeted by a dwarf adorned with shiny silver armour and colourful feathers protruded from his horned helmet.

“Password!” he called out.

A dwarf from the convoy rode forward. “Amethyst.”

The guard nodded and turned behind him. “Open the gates!”

Giant iron gates opened outward, silently and smoothly, not a sound coming from the expertly crafted dwarven hinges.

The guard turned to the convoy leader. “You may enter. Follow me.”

The procession moved forward and Olag steeled himself as he went along with them. He fervently hoped he and Zylor would not be found out. He nudged his horse forward in order to listen in on the conversation between the procession leader and the guard.

“Have you any news on your journey from the human lands?” asked the guard.

The convoy leader cleared his throat. “We had one encounter on the way here. We happened upon a large contingent of ogres who had been camping near our path. They hadn’t expected our group to be coming along, and were unprepared when our scouts had come upon them. Our frontal forces had been able to dispatch a number of them before they could regroup and counterattack. By then all of our forces were engaged as we were trained, and we held steady under the onslaught. An ogre wielding an ice axe appeared, but the gods intervened.

“Oh?” said the guard. “How so?”

“Apparently an axe had appeared out of nowhere,” said the dwarf. “I didn’t witness it myself but others in my group had seen it. It severed the ogre’s head from its shoulders and then an earthquake struck. Right after that, the mysterious axe exploded and vanished.”

“Interesting,” said the guard. “And what of the ice axe?”

The convoy leader shook his head. “We could not find it. Either the god had claimed it for himself, or an ogre had found it and run off with it.”

“That’s too bad,” said the guard. “Are you sure magic wasn’t involved?”

“It’s doubtful,” said the convoy leader. “If there was magic, it was on our side. Why do you ask?”

The guard scratched his beard. “Well, we just had a patrol come back from the furthest of our return paths from the humans’ realm. They had come upon the scene of a convoy that had been attacked. The convoy had been defeated with the aid of magic, and the gold and valuables had been taken.”

“The ogres we defeated had gold and valuables in their possession!” exclaimed the convoy leader. “It must have been the same group!” He pointed to the overloaded chariots. “Much of the gold you see is from our encounter!”

The guard looked back. “Well done! Your chance encounter has resulted in saving what was lost. The gods have surely been watching over us.”

Olag could contain his curiosity no longer. He took a chance and spoke. “Excuse me, Sir, but you said earlier that magic was involved in the attack on the other convoy. How do you know this? Were there survivors?”

The guard looked at him curiously as he debated whether to answer a civilian.

“I had friends in that convoy,” added Olag.

The guard’s face softened. “Ah. I’m sorry to hear it. From what I was told, the patrol said they had seen signs of burning consistent with magic and there was one survivor who confirmed the presence of a lizardman. I don’t know whether to believe the story or not, but if it’s true, I think it may be an isolated incident. I don’t think the ogres are smart enough to hire lizardmen. If they were, we would have encountered more magic when our convoys were attacked previously, and I haven’t heard of anything like that so far except for this one incident.”

Olag was ready to inform him of the lizardmage he had seen, but realized he may have been the only one in his convoy to see him. If he spoke about it, he would surely be questioned, and his background would be put under scrutiny. Instead, he asked, “Do you know who the lone survivor was?”

The guard shook his head. “No. All I know is it was a civilian. I think he claimed to be a mapmaker. He’s been sent to relay his story to the king.”

Olag’s heart was in his throat. A mapmaker! Harran was a mapmaker. Could it have been he? “How long ago did he come through here?”

The guard scratched his beard. “About a half a day ago. Excuse me,” he added as they approached the gate leading to the dwarven tunnels, “but I have work to do. The earthquake has done some minor damage to the battlements and I must oversee the repairs.” He rode ahead with the convoy leader and they spoke to some tunnel guides. Arrangements were made to move the supplies and gold to wagons drawn by miniature oxen, a favourite breed of the dwarves.

During this time, Olag filled Zylor in on what he had learned from the guard.

Zylor seemed skeptical. “I don’t know. What if the survivor was someone else? We would be going into the heart of dwarven territory for nothing. Besides, Harran wouldn’t go interfering by talking to the king. That could change history, and he knows better than that.”

Olag was surprised at Zylor’s lack of faith. “What if he had no choice? The guard said he was ‘sent’ to the king. That implies he had no choice. If he’s the only eyewitness who saw the lizardmage, he’s the one who has to tell the king personally.”

“If Harran was the sole survivor,” argued Zylor, “he wouldn’t have said anything about lizardmages in the first place.”

“Unless he didn’t know that they didn’t know about them!” spat Olag. “Did you know the dwarves aren’t aware of lizardmen being in these parts? I didn’t. I saw one, and maybe you caught a glimpse of him, but no one else saw him.”

“I don’t know,” said Zylor uncertainly.

“Do you have any better ideas?” snapped Olag. “I’m going to wherever the dwarven king is, because that’s where Harran went. If you don’t want to come along, suit yourself.”

Zylor was surprised at Olag’s vehemence. It spurred his bloodlust to kick in. “You are right. We haven’t got any other leads. Let’s do it!”

“Good,” said Olag. “And remember, we have Kazin’s rings to instantly teleport to his location if something goes wrong.”

“Good thinking,” said Zylor, “but there’s one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“Do you know the way to the dwarven king’s home?”

Olag grinned. “We just go where the gold goes.”

Zylor laughed and slapped the skink warrior’s back with an invisible hand. “Of course! I should have thought of that!”

There were still a few minutes before the gold was scheduled to depart, so Zylor and Olag came up with a way for Zylor to communicate silently without speaking. This was needed as the next leg of their journey would be cramped and any noise Zylor made was bound to expose his presence. So they worked out a series of taps where the minotaur could tap Olag to let him know certain things.

When that was sorted out, Zylor had Olag obtain some parchment and writing implements so the minotaur could draw maps of their progress through the mountain. That way they could backtrack and leave the mountains should the need arise. They even paused to confirm Zylor could use the writing implements and parchment without those items becoming visible to anyone other than Zylor. The minotaur was glad he had learned the skill from Harran. It was a skill that no other minotaur could boast about having.

Shortly thereafter they were underway. The light of day gave way to the darkness of the tunnels and Zylor inwardly thanked Harran again, this time for having the foresight to purchase sight giving wildhorn leaves before he was captured.

Olag didn’t require any, being naturally able to see in low light conditions. The dwarves in the convoy traveled with torches and this was more than enough for them to see where they were going. Side tunnels appeared at intervals and here and there dwarves left the main convoy to go to other destinations. Olag and Zylor stayed with the oxen and carts, because they were destined for the king’s treasury.

They stopped to take breaks at convenient intervals, and even encountered underground streams where they and the oxen could obtain fresh water. Zylor was thankful there were no tunnels that were too small for him to travel, although there were a few places where he had to duck his head to avoid hitting his horns on the tunnel roof. He followed the party at a discreet distance so as not to be heard, and the close quarters meant his scent could potentially be picked up if he was too close to another dwarf. Thankfully most dwarves had weak noses - almost as weak as humans - so he wasn’t too worried about the latter.

Olag kept to the back of the group as well, providing a buffer between the invisible minotaur and the rest of the convoy. Any minor noises Zylor made were assumed to be coming from Olag.

At one break Zylor discreetly showed Olag his map of their current location. They were much lower in the mountains, and the temperature was considerably warmer as a result of their proximity to a lava flow that meandered along beside their path. The path appeared to have been cut into the rock many years ago, undoubtedly by dwarven craftsmen. The path was solid and smooth, and weathered only in areas where rock slides had made their mark over the centuries. Olag was impressed with Zylor’s ability and commented on it more than once.

Zylor insisted it was amateur work compared to the maps he had seen Harran draw.

The rest of the trip was uneventful, and both Olag and Zylor were surprised to learn that they had reached the capital city of the dwarves within twenty-four hours. Zylor was slightly disappointed that there were no foes to fight, but concluded the dwarves had rid the area of monsters years ago. No threat could be expected so close to the dwarven capital. Indeed, there were no guards evident at the entrance to the city.

Once within the city limits, most of the remaining civilians in their party veered off to find their homes or the nearest taverns or inns. Zylor tapped Olag’s shoulder and the skink warrior-dwarf turned off into a side street.

“We’d better not stay with the carts of gold,” murmured the minotaur when they were out of earshot. “The guards might become suspicious.”

“Agreed,” said Olag. “But we have to follow them to get to the castle.”

“I agree,” said Zylor, “but it’ll be tricky for me to keep up with mapmaking with so many side streets to mark.”

“Maybe you should only mark the major routes,” suggested Olag. “You can mark any unusual or memorable landmarks for additional reference.”

“Good idea,” said Zylor. He looked after the convoy. “We’d better get moving so we don’t lose them.”

Olag led the way, keeping a safe distance behind the wagons of gold. Zylor frequently signaled Olag with the arm signal when he needed to stop and mark the map. This carried on for about half an hour when they finally spotted the king’s palace ahead of them. They stopped in awe of the incredible sight. The entire castle seemed to be made of gold. All of it, from the pointed spires to the walls, buttresses, and even the gate radiated its own golden light. It was as though a thousand torches were lit, reflecting off its surface, yet no torches could be seen.

The procession of carts was ushered through the gates, which closed silently again behind them.

“Well, now we know what they’re using all that gold for,” said Zylor.

“I’m sure not all of it is in use,” said Olag. “I’ll wager there is a sizeable stash of gold stored somewhere within those walls.”

“But it’s not the gold we’re after,” reminded Zylor.

“True,” answered Olag, “but my guess is if Harran is anywhere to be found, it’s somewhere within the castle. We have to find a way to get inside.”

Zylor shuddered as he thought of the last time he had been in a dwarven castle. That time he had been a prisoner and had to break out. This time he was being asked to do the opposite. “I could take out some of the sentries. They wouldn’t see me coming.”

“Chances are that would set off an alarm,” said Olag, shaking his head. “Then it would be impossible to do anything with all of the guards on alert.”

“I’m open to suggestions,” said Zylor.

Olag considered. He looked down at his satchel and an idea began to form in his head.

“Go on,” urged Zylor intently. “You look like you’re onto something.”

Olag grinned mischievously. “I see my thoughts are more noticeable in this dwarven body. Yes, I do have an idea. I think a more subtle approach is required for this part. Follow me, Zylor, and on my cue make sure to squeeze past me to get inside past the gate.”

Olag walked up to the gate where a sentry resolutely stood on guard. Two more sentries stood behind the gate watching the stranger approach.

“Good day,” said Olag cheerfully. “I have a delivery for Hagen Ironfaust. He is one of the king’s elite guard.”

“I know who he is!” snapped the sentry. “Give it to me and I’ll see that he gets it.”

Olag shook his head. “He wanted me to deliver it personally. I made some modifications to the item and he needs to inspect it first. If it’s not satisfactory, I have to take it back and make any necessary changes. Giving it to you will only delay matters.”

“What is it?” snapped the sentry, obviously not pleased at being prevented from taking the item inside himself.

Olag withdrew the chain mail Harran had taken back in time with him.

When the sentry saw the chainmail, his eyes opened wide. He briefly inspected the engravings. “Where did you get this?!”

“I told you, Hagen entrusted it to me,” said Olag calmly. “He wanted some alterations made and I made them. Do you want to call him out to explain his wardrobe changes to your satisfaction? I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed to explain why he’s gained weight and needs alterations made to his chain mail.”