She didn’t know how much time remained before Gilmreth would awaken. Lynol knew the importance of spending the precious time she had studying the incantations in Malcon’s sorcery book. She still hadn’t told her father about the other sorceress yet. Lynol didn’t want to worry him any more than he already was. There was nothing they could do about her anyway. Lynol knew at some point in time they would have to discuss it, but not now.
In the back of her mind, there was still that mystifying haunting vision from the Sylvar Stone, which she planned to investigate with the coming full moon in slightly less than two months. Maybe she would learn more then. There had to be a reason for that vision!
Opening Malcon’s sorcery book, she began her lessons for the night, concentrating on the ancient flowing script before her. Tonight’s lesson was very simple. She had a small bowl of water setting on the table before her. She read the spell several times and then, grasping her amulet, began to recite the spell to bind the energy lines together. Her amulet began to glow with a blue radiance. In the bowl, the water began to tremble slightly. A small amount spilled out onto the table, and then the rest rose up out of the bowl and formed a small globe of water hovering a few inches in the air. Lynol reached out curiously and touched the water with her finger, barely touching the wet surface. At her soft touch, the globe broke, and the water splashed back into the bowl and some out onto the table.
Well, that was interesting, Lynol thought, wiping up the spilled water with a dry cloth and refilling the bowl from a small pitcher on the table. I wonder what else I can do with water?
A few minutes later, she had the water up above the table, slowly spinning and moving cautiously at a snail’s pace from one end of the table to the other. She then lowered the water back into the bowl without spilling a single drop. Lynol smiled to herself. She felt she was making more and more progress with each spell that she mastered. She just hoped she had enough time.
Chapter Seven
It was early afternoon, and the sweltering sun had nearly risen to its zenith above the slowly melting snowcapped pinnacles of Firestorm Mountain. Jalene stared with brash satisfaction at the bustling work going on around her. She was standing in the center of a massive construction site in the center of town where her new temple was rapidly being built. In the past several months, much had been set in motion and accomplished.
Men and woman were tediously mortaring the joints of massive white stone blocks, hauled laboriously from the new quarry at the base of Firestorm Mountain. Even a few older children had been pressed into service carrying water and small tools to the enslaved workers lest the work fall behind schedule. The work started at dawn and lasted until dusk seven unrelenting days a week. Jalene tolerated no slackness at the work site.
Special overseers, their minds under Jalene’s discreet, manipulative control, constantly coerced the workers with threats of floggings. Their whips had risen on more than one occasion to strike across the defenseless back of a lagging worker.
Armed guards were everywhere, keeping a watchful eye on the busy workers, allowing no subversive talk or a hint of disobedience. A new order and leader had come to Draydon, and the ruthless guards were well aware of the power she wielded. It had already been demonstrated on numerous occasions, and no one wanted to be on the receiving end of the sorceress’s ire.
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Since her successful return from Firestorm Mountain, Jalene had used the Stone of Loraine to gain complete control and dominance over the leaders and pompous businessmen of the town. A few had tried to resist, and it had been dealt with swiftly and harshly.
Jalene had shown up at a town council meeting shortly after her return from the mountain and demanded that they put her in charge of the town. She had been cold and factual about what she intended to do and warned them that to resist her desires would have very serious and deadly consequences. Initially, her statement had been met with laughter, disbelief, and a pitying look from several of the older councilmen; they thought her crazy or deranged. They told her to leave and not bother them with such ridiculous demands. They had serious business to attend to. She could still remember in detail exactly what she had done.
With a cold, calculating smile, her hand had grasped the Stone of Lorraine, which she had brought with her in an old handbag. Pulling the scepter out with her right hand she had focused her mind, connecting with the powerful amulet. Two glowing red beams flashed out, and two of the more heavily laughing men had died, burned to ashes. Their ash remains drifting slowly to the tabletop, their chairs, and finally to the floor. The other councilmen had sat in stunned bewilderment and fear as they looked at the ashes, which just moments before had been two living men. Then Jalene began to speak again, and they had all listened attentively, not wanting to meet the same fate as their unfortunate councilmen friends.
After gaining control of the town council, Jalene had visited most of the larger shops, stores, and businesses in Draydon, bringing all the owners over to her way of thinking with a simple obedience spell, which needed to be reinforced weekly in order to keep everyone under her control. She placed a command in the minds of each to attend a weekly meeting of the town council where Jalene could reinforce the spell en mass as needed. In just a few short days, her liberal use of the Stone of Loraine had eliminated the last fruitless resistance from the town’s leaders and businessmen to her rule. She had made it extremely clear that anyone who disobeyed her would die.
There was a revolt by a group of workers who had been ordered to begin clearing land for the new temple. When people found out what they were expected to do and the hours they were expected to work, there was an attempt on Jalene’s life. The failed attempt resulted in the gruesome deaths of the three ringleaders in front of the other workers. Their bodies had been left on display for days as a reminder to everyone of the danger and consequences of challenging her power.
The town leaders now obeyed her wishes without thought, nearly falling over each other in their efforts to appease Jalene. They didn’t question their sudden desire to satisfy every whim or wish of this mysterious, dark clad woman who had come suddenly into their midst. Under her orders, many of the aging shops in the center of Draydon had been torn down to make room for the massive new stone structure that was slowly growing from the ground up.
Jalene hadn’t hesitated to demonstrate her power to the populace in general, striking fear in everyone’s hearts as they realized how easily she could destroy them. She had made it extremely clear that many would die, including children if she wasn’t obeyed.
The populace had worked extensively for long hours each day clearing and leveling the large site. Then the massive stones, hauled in from the towering white cliffs of Firestorm Mountain, began to arrive. Such Herculean construction hadn’t been attempted or contemplated in untold generations. The people didn’t understand why they were being forced to work on this new construction. They wondered about its purpose and why this strange woman wanted it built so quickly.
The black haired woman walked amongst them constantly while they were working, watching everything they were doing. They all knew she was a sorceress; they had watched her use her power on numerous occasions. They worked to survive and to protect their families.
Jalene on several occasions had used the Stone of Loraine to force tired workers to work longer hours at the cliffs where the massive white stones were being painstakingly chiseled out of the mountain. Impatiently, Jalene coerced the stonecutters with her power to ever-greater effort. Finally, her patience had worn thin at the slow pace. She had used the Stone of Loraine upon the white cliffs, cutting immense blocks out of the cliff face for the workers to labor upon. The quicker the huge stones were cut and hauled to Draydon, the quicker her temple would be completed.
Numerous workers routinely collapsed from heat and fatigue at the quarry, and several had died when a massive stone block broke free from its fastenings, crushing them beneath it. The workers stayed worn out by the relentless pace tha
t Jalene’s overseers demanded and extorted. It had been necessary to replace some of the workers who had collapsed with new conscripts added from the unsuspecting travelers who came to Draydon to trade. Already the word was spreading that Draydon had become a place to be avoided.
The foundation for her massive temple was already laid. Its massive white stones set firmly in place as workers swarmed around its base.
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With a cold, satisfied smile, Jalene looked around. Everything was proceeding smoothly and according to plan. She held the Stone of Loraine in her right hand, feeling its invigorating power and knowing no one could stand against her as long as she wielded the powerful amulet.
A disturbance to her right attracted her attention. Frowning she leveled her cold, dark eyes upon an overseer and a worker. The overseer had stepped back several paces, speaking heatedly to an older frail looking man. Jalene recognized the overseer. It was Dalden Sikes, a ruthless individual who followed Jalene’s orders enthusiastically and without question. The man seemed to take immense pleasure out of inflicting pain and enjoyed the ruthless power he now held. Jalene suspected that Sikes had a criminal past and had run with the darker elements of Draydon. This made him ideal for Jalene’s purposes.
Jalene’s eyes glazed over with anticipation. She knew how this overseer would react; how she had programmed them all to react. With Sikes though, it had been different. He actually seemed to enjoy inflicting pain on the helpless workers whenever an opportunity arose.
“It’s not time for a water break yet, old man!” Sikes sneered loudly, his face harsh and taunting, brandishing his whip in his right hand. “Get back to work!”
“But it’s so hot, how can you expect us to work in conditions like this? People are passing out from the heat!” the older man protested weakly, his eyes looking fleetingly about for help.
He could scarcely stand upon his legs, he felt so dizzy and sick. Others working nearby looked away; they didn’t want to attract the overseer’s wrath. They felt the same way as the old man but were afraid to act or say anything for fear of the guard’s reactions.
“Get back to work; water will be coming shortly!” grunted Sikes, raising his whip threateningly. “There are no breaks until I say there’s a break!”
“Please, don’t strike me! I have done everything I can! I must have some water and a few minutes to rest,” the old man pleaded. “I can work no more. I don’t have the strength!”
“And if I let you have water and rest, what about the others? They will expect the same special treatment,” replied Sikes, glowering at the old man as he readied his whip. “No, I think my whip is the solution, and the only way to avoid it is to work. What say you, old man?”
The old man merely stood there feeling dazed and staring uncomprehendingly at Sikes. He was so tired and suffering from thirst that Sike’s words made little sense.
With mounting rage, Sikes brought his whip down, striking the defenseless man squarely across the back and knocking him painfully to the ground. More repeated blows fell cruelly across the old man’s back.
The old man cried out in pain, curling up into a fetal ball, trying to protect himself from the painful nerve wrenching blows of the whip. Gasps of agony came closer and closer together until he was reduced to moaning mindlessly like an animal. The sound of the whip striking flesh could be heard clear across the work site.
Satisfied, Sikes stepped back, motioning to several nearby workers. “Take this worthless old man back to his place of work. If he fails to reach his quota for the day, I will finish what I just started,” Sikes spoke with deadly intent, his eyes dark, cold, and without mercy. “If he dies, then he dies, and I will have someone else here tomorrow, maybe one of your children!”
The indicated workers rushed forward and picked the old man up, dragging him away from Sikes and taking him back to his place of work. They knew that in order to save his life they would have to pick up the pace of their own work so as to be able to help the old man finish his. This was their new life under the demanding rule of the sorceress.
With a piercing and satisfied gaze, Jalene nodded to herself. This type of example served to keep the other workers in line. They were fearful of bringing the overseers’ anger down upon themselves. However, she didn’t want the work to falter. Perhaps she should have more children rounded up to bring water to the thirsty workers.
She knew if the workers continued to collapse, her overseers wouldn’t be able to keep to her timetable. It might even be necessary to let the workers have an occasional day off if their strength continued to falter. She would keep an eye on that. Any days off meant postponing the completion date of her temple. She sighed with anger, realizing she might have to back off slightly in her treatment of the workers. She had to have the workers healthy in order to complete her temple, which had to be completed so she could finish her plans for Gilmreth. There were just so many details to worry about.
She knew she needed to find someone to place in charge, someone she could trust to obey her commands without the need for sorcery to coerce him. She had envisioned a special cadre of priests to staff her temple when it was completed. Perhaps she should begin searching for her head priest, a man who she could place in a position of power to oversee the construction of the temple.
She needed someone to watch over all the details and day-to-day work schedules. She wondered where she could find such a person. There was no one currently in Draydon who would fill the role. Turning, Jalene left the temple. She had other details to attend to.
As she left the area, workers stared at her back maliciously, sensing her power but afraid to resist or say anything that might attract her attention. Some had seen the town leaders pandering to this strange woman, rushing about to do as she wished without question. They had also been unwilling witnesses to the gruesome executions of those who had been courageous enough to attempt to stand up to this power hungry woman. They paused briefly, watching the thin young woman with such an aura of arrogance pass them by without a single backward glance or acknowledgement of their existence as she left the construction site.
Many of the workers had heard rumors of sorcery, and some had even watched her use it. Men working at the cliff site reported she had carved out huge blocks of white stone from the sheer cliff wall with the power of her sorcery alone. They grumbled and talked amongst themselves, but no one knew what they could do. They had all heard the old legends and the almost mythical powers that sorcerers of the past had possessed. None had believed, but now a new day had dawned, and sorcery had returned to Draydon.
Returning to the small inn, Jalene walked out onto the balcony staring with cold, unblinking eyes at distant Firestorm Mountain and the sleeping dragon it protected. “Soon Gilmreth, your temple will be ready,” she murmured, stroking the scepter she held in her hand, its egg size ruby glowing slightly from her touch. “Once your temple is completed, you will awaken and we will gather all the people. We will build a city to dwarf in magnificence anything the ancients possessed. With the Stone of Loraine and you at my side, the world will be ours!” Jalene gazed stoically out over Draydon with eyes that saw everything, but felt nothing at all.
-
Later that afternoon as the sun began to set, its last nebulous pale rays stroking the peaks of Firestorm Mountain, Jalene roused herself from her rest. Slowly, she drew herself to her feet. Her unbridled use of sorcery recently had taken its toll. Even with the Stone of Loraine, extremely powerful spells still sapped her strength. For over a month now, the people of Draydon had been toiling on her temple. She had used her sorcery time and time again to get everything set in motion. Even now, she still had to use her sorcery to keep control of the people of the town, particularly the councilmen and some of the business leaders.
Setting the scepter down on the room’s small table next to her spell book, Jalene opened the old book to the invocation for the dragon spell. She looked at the words for a moment before beginning the incantation. She pierced
her wrist with the sharp knife blade, watching expectantly as her warm blood dripped slowly into the small copper bowl waiting beneath. It was painful every time she cut herself, but she merely accepted the pain. She had felt much worse in the past.
She had done this so many times in the past few months that the spell poured automatically from her lips. The blood mixed with the ingredients in the bowl and she watched as they bubbled and boiled. Taking up the scepter, she focused her power through the stone, finishing the incantation for the dragon spell. The ruby became inflamed with a fiery red glow which seemed to saturate and pulse throughout the room like a steady, unwavering heartbeat. Weaving the powerful spell, she let it reach its peak then cast it toward the sleeping dragon waiting beneath Firestorm Mountain.
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Underneath the old mountain, Gilmreth’s form quivered as a brilliant red radiance illuminated the sleeping dragon. Jalene’s spell clawed at, joined, and then finally penetrated the ancient sleeping spell. One of Gilmreth’s large eyes opened slowly to show red. Moments later, the other flicked open. The dragon remained lying quiescent on the floor of the cavern, thoughts slowly taking shape. Dim memories of past places and gruesome feedings tantalizingly played fleetingly on the surface of Gilmreth’s long dormant mind as the dragon struggled to awaken.
The foremost memory was of a man standing before the dragon surrounded by a brilliant blue light. Years before the same man had hurled large bolts of lightning, causing the dragon immense pain. Its hide moved, twitching over its great length at the unpleasant memory. With Herculean effort, the dragon slowly raised its massive head, its eyes peering through the dim red light that pervaded the gloom toward where the man had stood. Nothing was there, just the sound of distant dripping water. Gilmreth shook his head, and the tiny memory fragment vanished as if it had never been.
Gilmreth the Awakening Page 19