Storm Holt (The Prophecies of Zanufey Book 3) (20 page)

Hameka swallowed. ‘We must not let news of this girl and Dragon Lord spark an uprising. That and this damned blue moon has already caused… ripples.’ He wiped his forehead.

‘Come, Hameka, the girl is close. We will find her before she does anymore damage. I will find her myself. Now, there’s another thing of interest. I have seen tribes of people to the West.’
 

The iron ring clouded over to reveal an image, the same image Hameka would be seeing in his Shadow Key amulet. A brown skinned woman with thick black curls looked in terror back at him. She backed away shaking her head, and then the image was gone.

‘That is all I had at first, a glimpse from a spy coming to me from far away. After, I looked to my Histanatarn spies, they have proved useful if only for this.’
 

Another image formed in the iron ring, this time they saw through the eyes of a Histanatarn. Nutmeg-scaled and webbed hands hurled a spear into a mass of white-skinned people brandishing blades.
 
The spear embedded itself in a man’s throat and he fell. The people rushed forwards. The image ended when the Histanatarn was cut down with a blade.

‘Both these peoples live upon the Uncharted Lands,’ Baelthrom said. He wanted to get his Maphraxies over there as soon as possible. The more lands he controlled, the easier it would be to take control of all Maioria. ‘The Histanatarns are skill-less, and poor fighters against these warrior tribes. It is only their numbers that prove a threat. But these people, though skilled in battle, are no match for the Maphraxies. They are spread out and few in number. As soon as Vornus’ ships reach you we must send a legion there and bring back prisoners. Then we’ll have more than enough resources.’

Hameka smiled and looked relieved. ‘This is all pleasing news, my lord. I will ready our ships immediately to attack Frayon.’

Baelthrom nodded and ended the communication. The iron ring turned dark. He breathed deeply and entered the Under Flow. It was sluggish, as if it was being drained by someone or something. It angered him, he should be getting stronger and he wasn’t. He let the Under Flow trickle away, and resumed his searching.

One by one he looked through the amulet of each of his Dromoorai, searching for the girl. Some fought battles whilst others slept. Though they never truly slept, they simply stood still in a dark place, be it cave or dungeon, and were always ready to fight. They were his greatest creation and he wanted more of them. Another Dragon Lord walked the earth, a powerful one at that, but it was a shame there were not more to take. Perhaps this one could be bred from and therein he could create more Dromoorai.

Hameka sighed, grinned and leaned back in his chair. He always felt drained after talking to Baelthrom, but at least this time his lord was understanding, and the order to attack was good. After seeing the lack of resources on the Isles of Kammy he’d been worried. They would not be able to take Western Frayon with what they had. They needed to double their numbers, and he hated human breeding pens, it took far too long and he didn’t like having so many stinking disease-ridden prisoners to look after.

Hameka tapped his chin deep in thought. He still needed more capable commanders. Vornus was a self-serving traitor, always would be a traitor, but for now it was in Vornus’ best interests to manage Drax whilst he was away. Him and that priestess bitch Cirosa, both self-serving bastards that could never be trusted. Even after the consumption of the Elixir of Immortality, the woman was mad and bent on revenge. They both needed to be kept on a tight leash. He would have to pick his own commanders himself, especially when more continents came under Maphraxie control.

He stood up and stretched his back. At least he was off that cursed ship and his feet on solid land. He went over to his desk, and poured a glass of red Davonian wine. A decent crate of the stuff had been found in the storehouses on Little Kammy, much to his delight. Taking a sip he pulled out his map of Western Frayon, and began to look for appropriate towns to attack.

FREYDEL sat with Arla by the river, not far from where the wizard’s tower rose. They had satiated themselves with clean water from the river, and Arla had helped him gather what berries, nuts and mushrooms they could find in the forest. Being the end of summer food was abundant, and they foraged enough to make a simple dinner with some left over to spare.
 

Both of them were worn out. Arla’s eyes had shadows under them, and Freydel felt like he could sleep for a week. Neither of them spoke, not whilst they collected food or now whilst they ate. Freydel was busy thinking over everything that had happened to him. He sighed as he washed down his last mouthful of berries with water. He would have preferred wine to water. The food helped to restore some strength, but his hands still trembled now and again. He glanced at Arla. She had barely eaten anything.

‘You won’t grow up to be big and strong if you don’t eat,’ he said with an encouraging smile.

She glanced up at him with those strange big eyes. ‘I get sick if I eat too much.’

‘Ah,’ said Freydel, that would explain why she was so small and scrawny. ‘Well, do what you can, it will help you feel better.’ She sighed and stuffed a blackberry in her mouth. A tortured look clouded her eyes which made him worry. She’ll be all right after food and rest, he told himself. Freydel reached for the orb in his pocket, hesitated with a look at Arla, then took it out anyway. The girl knew he had the orb. She glanced at it, then looked away without much interest.

The orb was heavy in his hands, heavier than he remembered it being in the astral planes. He sat there for some time staring into its black surface, but without commanding it. With all that he had learned, what should he do now? Facing Baelthrom, being trapped in the astral planes, seeing his entire life’s work destroyed, travelling back in time, meeting Ayeth, going into the ethereal planes and then returning… So much had happened he needed time to catch up. It
had
changed him forever, he felt the most learned and the most powerful he had ever felt in life. And the most exhausted.

‘We’ve been through a lot together, you and I,’ he murmured to the orb. ‘Do you remember the writing on the pyramid walls?’ The orb responded immediately, faster than it had ever done before, and he saw the symbols and beautiful letters made of flowing curving lines on the side of the pyramid, just as he remembered them. Freydel laughed aloud, Arla looked at him.

‘I guess that was an easy one,’ Freydel said with a grin, and stared closer into the blackness wondering what to try next. ‘Let’s try something else. Hmm. Remember my book of spells, the purple one? Remember I spoke aloud to you its entire contents? Can you show me that book even though it has been destroyed?’ The orb swirled, Freydel licked his lips. It pulsed a flash of black light, making both him and Arla fall backwards.
 

He sat back up and stared at the book on the ground before him. The purple book, with its torn pages and frayed edges, lay on the grass in front of him just as he remembered it. Freydel stared at the book open-mouthed. He’d expected a memory, the pages of the book shown within the orb, not an actual physical thing. He was too shocked to be ecstatic.
 

‘It created it from nothing…’ he whispered. ‘It created something from nothing.’

Arla stared at the book, a look of surprise on her face as well. ‘Not nothing,’ she corrected, ‘from your memory.’

‘What?’ Freydel looked at her as if seeing her for the first time, ‘Yes, from memory, you’re right. All right then, something else. Ah hah. My staff, I lost it.’ He closed his eyes and formed a very clear image of his staff. ‘Create me my staff,’ he commanded. The orb did nothing. ‘Create for me my staff. You know the one I always carry around?’ Nothing happened. ‘Please?’ he chanced. Nothing. ‘Hmm.’

‘Maybe it won’t create it because it still exists?’ Arla said, crawling closer to inspect the purple book on the ground.

‘How can that be?’ The very thought of Baelthrom still having his staff, or anything of his, chilled him to the bone. ‘Don’t touch that.’ He said as she reached to touch the book. She pouted and drew her hand away. ‘There’s powerful stuff in there, enough to hurt people. Hmm, why would it only recreate things that have been destroyed?’

‘Because it’s the Orb of Destruction?’ Arla chanced.

‘Pah. Nonsense. It would destroy stuff, not create stuff,’ he laughed, and then stopped. The girl was right, somehow.
Could it undo undoings?
His head hurt at the thought. Arla yawned. The sun was setting, and soon it would be dark. ‘Well I have a few blankets in my study. Or rather, I had until they were incinerated in dragon fire. Those blankets would be nice to sleep in. Let’s see if this really works the way we think it does.’ He looked into the orb, ‘Create my two blankets. The brown ones I left on the bed.’
 

The orb swirled and pulsed as before. Atop the book now appeared two wrinkled brown blankets.
 

‘Hah-hah.’ Freydel laughed aloud. Arla giggled.
 

The tiredness hit him then and he yawned, suddenly struggling to keep his eyes open. Commanding the orb always used a bit of his own reserves, but he’d not felt this tired from using magic since he was a young wizard. ‘Oh my, maybe I should be more careful what I ask for,’ he said between yawns.
 

He heaped together the twigs and dead leaves they had collected, surrounded them with stones, and set light to it. Around the fire he pushed together two piles of leaves and settled Arla down on one of them with a blanket wrapped around her. Before it was dark he found himself drifting off to sleep wrapped in his own blanket.

Freydel awoke before dawn. Arla still slept soundly. After a drink of water he sat in the growing light thinking. The orb had become more powerful than before, or rather his ability to interact with it had increased dramatically. All keeper’s of orbs had very little knowledge of their potential. He doubted even if the ancients knew the full power of them.
 

With the orb now he knew he was more powerful than any wizard in Maioria. What were the limits to the orb’s power? What if he could time travel at will, with a far greater understanding than Grenahyme had ever had. He could recreate everything in his study that had been destroyed, as long as he could remember it. He’d have to be careful of course. Doing too much wiped him out. Plus it would be useless to recreate all his things here in the middle of nowhere. But still, his life’s works were not lost. He almost laughed out loud.

He should call the Wizard’s Circle again, just like he had tried to do before Baelthrom trapped him. He would tell them everything that had happened. No, maybe he should wait until he’d thought about it more. They would think him crazy for time travelling, let alone seeing Ayeth. What if he could go back in time to where he’d left Ayeth. Maybe he could stop him from ever becoming the Baelthrom they now suffered. Ayeth was very powerful, Freydel could learn many things from him.

The Wizard’s Circle must know of Celene, which was why he tried to call it in the first place. The orb and he were stronger now, and he was already in the tower. It would be safe to call it now he did not have to travel through the astral. He shuddered at the memory. Perhaps he wouldn’t travel in time again.