Wizard Pair (Book 3) (31 page)

He placed it around his neck. The cold gold chain was weighty as it lay against his skin. He stepped away from the display, and a strange feeling rose up around him. He looked down at the floor of the vault. A hexagram was inscribed in the marble at his feet, no doubt waiting for someone such as him to trigger it.

He felt the spell seep upwards. It was a binding, one that would freeze him in place, mute and waiting until someone entered the vault to find him trapped there. A proper thief would have known to look for such a trap.

Panic gripped Sulrad.

The spell worked its way up his legs. Then his mid section froze in place. He raised his arms hoping to keep them out of the advancing spell, if only for a few moments. He had to think of a spell that would counteract the trap.

He wished he had researched further, that he had never left the room where he lay recuperating. He was a fool and would be standing there like one when they came for him in the morning.

Stupid. How could he have let himself be trapped by something so simple? He should have known better. Sulrad studied the hexagram on the floor. What he could see of it was complex and intricately drawn. It would be no easy task to defeat this spell.

All might well be lost.

First there was a warmth on his chest, right above his heart. Then came a slight shaking that turned into a pronounced vibration. The sound, a single note of music split the air, growing louder. The weight of the gold around his neck grow heavier and the chain became warm almost hot.

The amulet was alive.

Sulrad imagined the room in Theria's home where he had recuperated. He visualized the bed and the small table he'd used for his studies. He imagined himself there and pulled with all his might to escape the trap.

The light dimmed and the treasure disappeared to be replaced by the tidy bedroom in Theria's home. The pressure on Sulrad's legs relented. He was free of the trap and safely back in Theria's room.

The amulet quieted down. The chain cooled once more and the sound dissipated until all that was left was the stillness of the room. He collapsed on the bed exhausted, breathing heavily from the effort until sleep took him.

The power in the amulet was tempting. Sulrad wanted to use it to heal his lingering wounds, or travel to the location he had selected to summon the dragon, but he knew he would need as much power as he could muster to drive the spells he planned to used when he called the dragon.

Afterward, he would have power, plenty of it. He could heal himself then.

He had selected the location with care. The dragon would answer his summons, but he wanted no repeat of the last time. He was ready. This time he would strike. He would give the beast no opportunity to deride him and escape.

He explored the countryside and found a small canyon that would be perfect. It was narrow, flanked on each side by high cliffs. The ground was covered in sand and gravel. He stood at the narrowest point, raised his hands, and invoked the summoning spell. The amulet grew warm as he spoke the words. Overhead, curtains of color materialized in the air, evidence of the opening of the door to the realm of dragons. The dragon would soon arrive and he would have his chance.

The shadow of a dragon split the lights as it circled ever lower. Sulrad's plan had worked; the dragon landed at the entrance to the canyon and tucked its wings in to clear the rock walls. It lumbered towards him. Such a graceful creature in the air, it walked heavily on the ground, swaying from side to side. Its massive tail struck the canyon walls, sending showers of rock tumbling to the sandy floor.

When it reached him, it lowered its head and eyed him with disdain. Sulrad spread out his arms and drew on the power of the amulet. He called up the reserves he carried from the sacrifice of Theria.

"Eum ligare ubi stat," he called, binding the creature where it stood. He knew the spell would be weak and might only last a few heartbeats, but that should be all he needed.

The dragon snorted and shot fire, but Sulrad was expecting it. He dove beneath it and quickly advanced on the beast, squeezing beside its head, careful of its horns, until he stood beside the massive neck.

He drew out the sacrificial knife and probed the creature's neck. The scales were large, like plates the size of his hand, layered over one another. He chose carefully, finding the most vulnerable spot. He worked the knife under a scale and pried it up. Soon, he had enough room to reach beneath the scale and touch the tender skin.

The dragon struggled against the spell. Sulrad felt the magic draining from his reserves. It would be mere moments before the beast was once again free. Sulrad would surely be dashed against the rocks if the dragon regained its freedom before he struck.

He positioned the knife against the exposed skin and heaved with all his might, reciting the spell that would drive it home and release the dragon's magic.

The dragon bellowed in pain as the knife entered its flesh. It spat fire, but Sulrad was safely out of the path of the flames. Sulrad felt the binding spell loosen, but it was too late. Blood gushed from the wound to soak into the sand at Sulrad's feet.

He felt the magic of the dragon separate from its body. It was pure and clean, more powerful than anything Sulrad had ever known. He absorbed it as it came away, taking it into his body, adding it to his reserves.

He felt as if he had grown in stature to match the dragon. The power was heady, overwhelming; he thought he was going to burst from the pressure of it. It kept coming until Sulrad screamed in pain. The magic permeated every bit of his being, stretching him to the size of the dragon. He cried out in agony as the power threatened to overwhelm him. Through the pain came the thought.

The amulet.

He channeled the power into the amulet, pressing it into the jewel, funneling the magic from the dying dragon into the amulet.

The dragon sighed and collapsed to the ground and the great beast breathed its last. Sulrad kept chanting the spell to take the dragon's magic until the it turned to a cloud of sparks and dissipated.

Sulrad was left standing in the canyon alone. The amulet rode heavy on his neck. It was warm to the touch and glowed with a golden hue it had not had before.

Sulrad laughed for joy at his success. He had captured the magic of a dragon in the Charm. Surely that would be enough to bind the next dragon to his will. His desire to control the dragons was becoming a reality.

Sulrad waited a few nights before he was ready to try again. He had used a small portion of the dragon's magic to power healing spells to restore himself. He was almost free of the injuries inflicted by Theria. The headiness and pain he had experienced as he took the power of the dragon were a fading memory.

The amulet still glowed with an inner light. He was not sure if it contained enough magic to bind more than one dragon, but was confident that it had enough for at least the one.

He returned to the canyon where he'd captured the first dragon. It made him feel safe, knowing that the dragon would be flightless when it approached him. He was confident in the summoning, but if the binding failed, he wanted every advantage he could get.

He invoked the summoning spell and the diaphanous curtains rippled across the sky. A dragon appeared, larger than the one he had sacrificed. It crawled into the canyon as the other one had. When it reached him, it twisted its head around and sniffed the ground.

"What have you done to my brother?"

"What brother?" Sulrad asked.

"Do you think I cannot smell the blood of my brother spilled in the sand? Do you think me without power?"

"I think only that you will make a good servant." Sulrad gasped the amulet and chanted the binding spell he had prepared. The dragon lifted its head and roared. It blew fire at him, but Sulrad's shields were prepared and powered by the magic in the amulet. They held back the scorching flame.

Quickly, the flames lessened until they abated and the dragon relaxed. It closed its massive jaws and lowered its head to the sand in a gesture of submission.

Sulrad smiled. He knew that the spell had taken hold. There was a connection between him and the dragon now. One that he could use to control it, to influence it.

He sat heavily on the sand, relieved. He reached out and tested the connection, willing the dragon to let him see through its enormous dark eyes. There he stood, a tiny man, arms outstretched, wearing a brilliant talisman around his neck. The dragons perceived the Charm more vividly than Sulrad did.

"This will do nicely," Sulrad released the dragon's eyes. "What is your name?"

"I am Kel'hin." The dragon snorted. "You may have some control, but I assure you, it is by no means complete."

"It's complete enough for my purposes. How long will it take you to reach Amedon from here?"

Council

Rotiaqua and Zhimosom followed Alwroth out of the tower and back to the main grounds of the Wizards' Keep. Rotiaqua could not believe her eyes. The tower was aflame high overhead, and the grounds swirled with a mass of people who dashed every which way. Wizards and townsfolk alike screamed and pointed to the sky.

The carts on the main road were in flames and the gates had been closed. There were pockets of Wizards organizing defense against the fire, but they couldn't quench the flames. They were focused on setting up barriers against the repeated attacks from the sky.

She saw a man stop and raise his hands, making motions in the air at something unseen. A blast of flame appeared in the darkening sky and illuminated the attacking dragon. Rotiaqua heard the hiss of the flame and the man screamed. He was consumed by fire before the dragon had passed overhead.

Rotiaqua smelled the odor of sulfur and burned flesh as the dragon reeled, preparing for another attack. The mighty beast turned and headed straight for her. She raised her shields and prepared for the worst. She felt like a tiny spot of calm in a sea of confusion, watching as the dragon zeroed in on her and dove.

The odor of rotten egg from the dragon's breath reached her before the flames ignited. The fire washed over her shields and struck a wagon next to her. It exploded in flames and was consumed almost in the blink of an eye, but Rotiaqua stood there safe.

She wondered why she was able to withstand the attacks while other Wizards fell, consumed by the dragon's fire. She glanced at Zhimosom to see him standing unscathed. She motioned him over.

Together, they extinguished the fire that threatened the main hall. The flames obeyed their magic while the other Wizards' spells were ineffective.

The dragon reeled and turned for another pass. Rotiaqua and Zhimosom stood side by side. Rotiaqua reached out and took Zhimosom's hand, joining their magic together. His hand was cold and damp.

"Revertetur ad unde orta es," Rotiaqua cried, commanding the dragon to return from whence it came. "Non conturbant isto rursum," She demanded that the dragon no longer trouble Amedon. She felt the magic of Zhimosom in her, and had the fleeting impression of the mini dragon whose blood she shared.

The dragon overflew them without releasing its fire. Its large bloodstained claws curled into enormous fists that barely missed her as it passed. Rotiaqua thought she heard the echo of a voice in her head.

"Thank you," it whispered in her mind.

A shimmering light appeared high in the sky as the portal to the dragon's realm materialized. The dragon broke off its attack, beat its mighty wings, and ascended into the wavering curtain of light, leaving the courtyard burning and in disarray.

Rotiaqua ran over to a woman whose clothes had caught fire. She reached out with her magic and extinguished the flames. She helped the woman to the ground and pressed a healing spell on her.

Alwroth stood nearby. His hair was singed and his robe smoldered.

"Master Alwroth." A young Wizard ran up to Alwroth 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?"

"Help the wounded as best you can. Then get the fires under control," Alwroth told him.

Alwroth turned to Zhimosom and Rotiaqua. "Come with me."

Zhimosom and Rotiaqua followed him back into the audience 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 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."

"Why would he order a dragon to attack Amedon?" Alwroth asked.

"Sulrad set himself up as a Priest in Frostan. I don't know why he'd attack Amedon. The Wizards are not threatening him."

"Where is he getting the power to command the dragons?" Alwroth demanded. "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 to command the dragons."

"No Wizard alive today can store that kind of 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."

Alwroth called the Council as soon as the damage from the battle had been controlled. 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 and Zhimosom stood before the Council. She was nervous, knowing she'd been called to relate her experience before the Mighty Ones. Rotiaqua steeled herself and explained as best she could.