Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy

by Scheppner, Carey

  “O.K.,” said Kazin. He and Milena entered the alcove and stepped onto the rings glimmering faintly in the floor. They were instantly whisked to the tower’s main level.

  Valdez was there and he led them to the exit.

  “You won’t likely see your mother, Kazin.”

  “Why not?” asked the young mage.

  “The women and children were evacuated to Arral,” said the arch mage. “I suspect your dad will be with Marral’s defence forces, though.”

  Kazin suddenly realized how close to home this war had come. Until now, only others had lost family and property to the attacking forces. Now, Kazin’s father was defending the home he had worked so hard for, the same home that Kazin had grown up in. Kazin set his jaw as he emerged from the Tower of Sorcery. He was going to make the enemy pay dearly for his beloved home.

  It was already night-time on Skull Island, but torches everywhere lit up the square to give it a surreal look. Della and Perenia came up to the spell casters and Kazin introduced them to Arch Mage Valdez.

  “Where’s Rubin?” asked Milena.

  “We don’t know,” said Perenia. “He told us he’d wait for us by the fountain while we checked out the herb shops. When we got back, he was gone.”

  “One man reported seeing a sailor with an eye patch standing near the fountain,” added Della. “He said he looked in that direction again a moment later but the sailor was gone.”

  “That’s odd,” said Milena.

  “We looked everywhere,” said Perenia. “He just disappeared.”

  Kazin frowned. “That’s the second time he disappeared on us.”

  “Don’t worry,” said Milena reassuringly. “He’ll turn up again. You’ll see.”

  “I hope so,” muttered Kazin.

  Kazin used the portal on Sorcerer’s Island and arrived in Marral’s outskirts. It was early morning but preparations were still being made for the impending battle. When he entered the town, he was surprised at the number of mages and townsfolk gathered in the square. There were a good five hundred people milling about already, and more were arriving. The townsfolk wore what armour they could find, and some master mages went around casting spells on them to temporarily enhance the armour’s strength. Weapons were equipped, from old, rusty swords to simple pitchforks. Some magical staves, swords, and shields were handed out to those who had previous battle experience.

  Kazin found his father and, after a brief reunion, saw to it that he got a magically enhanced weapon. Calin chose a large, lightweight mace. He hefted it easily and grinned at his son.

  “I like this one.”

  “But Dad,” objected Kazin, “why don’t you take this instead?” He offered Calin a longsword from the weapons still available. “It gives you a longer reach.”

  “No, son,” said Calin. “There are undead troops coming to attack us. A mace is more capable of damaging such troops.” He swung the mace in a wide arc. “See? Their bones will shatter on impact.”

  Kazin nodded sheepishly. “Good point. I never thought of that.”

  “I’ll be fine, Kazin,” assured Calin.

  When Milena sailed into Marral with Della and Perenia, the town was blanketed in early morning mist. They disembarked the cargo ship and made room for the sailors to unload yet another load of weapons and artifacts.

  Entering the town, Milena looked around at the densely packed defenders. Townsfolk and mages were deployed along the perimeter of Marral behind the first of many makeshift barricades. They looked to the east with determination in their eyes. Unfortunately, the druid knew that determination alone would not necessarily win a war. These people were ill-equipped to handle the hordes of undead coming to destroy the town. Their best hope would be to weaken the advancing army so they could be defeated at a later stage elsewhere. The humans would probably fall, but maybe the enemy would be sufficiently depleted before attacking the stronghold of the elves. On the other hand, dead humans would undoubtedly be raised by necromancers to be used against the elves. This would bolster the enemy and make them stronger. The druid shook her head sadly. She didn’t know how to solve this one.

  A young cleric girl came up and tugged on Milena’s sleeve. “Hello. Are you a druid?”

  Milena nodded. “Yes.”

  “Could you come with me?” asked the cleric. “We have a makeshift compound set up for the injured at The Rising Moon. It isn’t much, but we could use the help when the casualties start coming in.”

  “Certainly,” said Milena. “Lead on.” She looked back at Della and Perenia who stood nearby. “You’ll know where to find me if you need me.”

  “O.K.,” said Perenia, who was still disguised as a warrior woman. “We’ll check on you from time to time to see if you need anything.”

  “Don’t say it too loud,” joked Milena over her shoulder.

  Suddenly Sherman came riding up. He waved at Milena as he rode past her and reined in near Della and Perenia.

  “Hi! Where’s Kazin?” asked the big warrior jovially.

  “Right here!” called Kazin. He strode up to the trio from behind a nearby shed. “I’ve been busy getting the townsfolk equipped with artifacts and magically enhanced weapons.”

  “That’s good,” said Perenia.

  Sherman dismounted and gave Perenia another appraising glance. “We need all the advantages we can get,” he added distractedly.

  Kazin nudged Sherman in the ribs with an elbow. “Forget it, Sherm. There’s no bed strong enough to support both you and a centaur at the same time.”

  Della and Perenia giggled.

  Sherman blushed. “I would never sleep with a horse!”

  The big warrior’s horse suddenly nudged him roughly and whinnied.

  The others laughed at the coincidental action.

  “Traitors on all sides,” muttered Sherman darkly.

  “So did you get a chance to talk with your father?” asked Kazin when their laughter had subsided.

  “Yeah,” said Sherman. “Guess what? I’m the queen’s Guardian—and her son to boot!”

  “What queen?” asked Della.

  “Apparently there’s a country of people north of here who are led by a queen,” said Sherman. “We don’t know of them because we’re isolated from each other by the mountains to the north and an impenetrable forest known as the Black Forest northwest of North Lake.”

  “Impenetrable?” queried Perenia.

  “Yeah,” said Sherman. “People mysteriously disappear if they enter those woods.”

  “How do you know all this?” asked Della.

  “My father—who’s not really my father—was one of the elite home guard in the queen’s palace,” said Sherman. He went on to tell the others the rest of the story in more detail.

  When he was finished, Kazin gave a low whistle. “So you’re the prince, eh?”

  “Sort of,” said Sherman, grinning. Then he frowned. “My dad tells me the army of undead coming our way may be linked to the queen’s advisor. He’s the one who’s been trying to kill me because for some reason he thinks of me as a threat.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Della. “Are you saying that he sent Randall to kill you? I thought our countries were not known to each other.”

  “They must only be known to Grakath and whomever he sends into our realm via the magical portals,” said Kazin.

  “And now he sent an entire army into our midst,” said Perenia.

  “That means their country knows about ours, but ours doesn’t know about theirs,” said Sherman.

  “And who knows how long they’ve been watching us,” added Kazin. “It must have been awhile, if Sandor’s possession of the smoky ring is any indication.”

  “Not to mention the months of me being harassed,” muttered Sherman.

  “That
must be why they were so successful in preparing for this attack,” said Perenia. “They took the time to separate the dwarves, elves, and humans.”

  “She’s not bad at tactics,” murmured Sherman under his breath to Kazin.

  “What’s that?” asked Perenia, overhearing the whisper.

  “Uh—,” stammered Sherman, “I was just saying we need someone skilled on horseback to lead one of the cavalry flanks. None of the townsfolk have much experience on horseback.”

  “Why don’t you lead them?” asked Kazin.

  “I am,” said Sherman. “I’m leading the right flank.” He looked pointedly at the lady warrior. “We need someone to lead the left.”

  “Me?” asked Perenia, stunned.

  “I can’t think of anyone better suited for the job,” said Sherman proudly. “You’ve proven your valour time and again.” He winked at her and added in a low tone, “It must be that royal blood.”

  Perenia looked at Kazin questioningly.

  Kazin shrugged. “If you’re up to the challenge, I don’t see why not. You’re fast and effective. The townsfolk will look up to you.”

  Perenia looked at Della bashfully.

  “Go for it,” said the elf. “Just don’t get yourself killed. If you do, I’ll have Kazin raise you from the dead just so I can kill you again myself!”

  Perenia removed the talisman and returned to her true form. “I’ll do it!” she said, beaming. “And I won’t fail you!”

  Sherman slapped her rump playfully. “Atta girl! You’ll do just fine!”

  Perenia looked at Della. “Would you like to ride me?”

  Della grabbed Kazin’s arm. “Not this time, Perenia. I’m going wherever Kazin goes.”

  Perenia smiled. “You’re not letting him get away this time, are you?”

  “Come on,” urged Sherman, remounting his horse. “We’ve got to plot our strategies, Perenia. You’ll have to know where the fire sticks are hidden so you know in what direction to drive the enemies.”

  “O.K.,” said Perenia. She followed Sherman to the stables where the townsfolk and mages selected to go on horseback were gathered.

  Della squeezed Kazin’s hand. “Alone at last,” she whispered.

  Kazin looked at the hundreds of people milling about nearby. “Alone in a world of people,” he corrected.

  Chapter 67

  Grakath surveyed his army carefully. He nodded his head in satisfaction. It was a vast army. The undead forces under his command were so numerous, even he was impressed. The necromancer wanted to be present for this battle more than anything else since it was near here where he had failed many years ago. He had fully expected to pass the mage test with flying colours. Instead, he ended up casting an altogether too powerful spell and it had backfired, leaving his flame vulnerable to the elements. His flame had died, along with his hopes and aspirations of becoming a master mage. Defeated, he fled in shame to the mountains in the north, vowing revenge on the mages who had chastised and ridiculed him for his failure.

  By a stroke of luck, Grakath came across a whole new land to the north of the mountains where magic was relatively unknown. He plied his art, such as it was, until he made a name for himself. With the aid of necromancy spells and a broken dragon orb he had located, his magic grew until he had power and influence. From there he plotted an ambitious scheme to wreak havoc on the Tower of Sorcery and its self-righteous mages.

  Grakath grinned as he thought of the eventual defeat of the Tower of Sorcery. It was his most important conquest of the entire war. After this, the other lands would be easy to take over. He would then be the overlord of the entire continent. Then he could laugh at the arch mages and show them what a failed mage could actually accomplish—if they were alive to see the results! Grakath chuckled. He couldn’t wait.

  The necromancer wondered vaguely how his troops in the south were doing. Whether they lived or died he didn’t care. All that mattered was to keep the elves busy long enough for him to finish off the humans. Not receiving word from the southern forces had him somewhat uneasy, but, since the elves were nowhere in sight, his strategy seemed to be working. With the lizardmages keeping the dwarves bottled up in the east, and holding the clerics at bay in the west, there was little resistance aside from the black mages. Grakath knew the black mages were ill equipped to deal with undead forces, and was pleased with the overall scenario. He wanted the black mages singled out so he could deal with them himself.

  Back home everything was working out as well. Nimbar was given a special amulet which he wore to keep activated while Grakath was gone. The skeleton’s instructions were to keep near to the queen at all times so that the amulet’s magic could energize her too. The amulet’s power was sufficient to last at least a month, and Grakath planned to be back long before then. It was unfortunate the queen couldn’t remain alive without his magic, but there was nothing that could be done about it. Nimbar and the amulet would have to suffice.

  Grakath brought his attention back to the matter at hand. The only thing that still worried him was the threat of the Guardian. Ever since the closing of the portal in the Five Fingers Mountains, he had neither seen nor heard any sign of the Guardian. Perhaps Randall had succeeded in killing him. There was no way of knowing for sure.

  The necromancer sighed and re-entered his tent. Only time would tell whether the Guardian was still alive—time that was running out for the humans and their allies.

  Sir Galado slowed his horse and beckoned his lieutenant forward. Slader rode up to his general and saluted.

  Sir Galado made a waving motion with his hand. “Enough of that, Slader. I don’t think skeletons or mages care about our military antics.”

  “But our men do, Sir,” said Slader.

  Sir Galado looked back at his men, now only a few hundred strong, and sighed. “There are not too many of them left, but I guess you’re right. They need all the morale they can get.”

  Indeed, despite the enormity of the army, Sir Galado’s men had lost heart, with all the killing of helpless people and burning of their houses and barns to the ground. Instead of fighting for land and food, they were destroying the very thing they fought for. There was no honour or joy in that. Behind them, black smoke filled the sky as the last village before Marral was turned to ash. Everything in the wake of this vast army suffered the same fate.

  Sir Galado looked over at the large, covered wagon rode by Grakath. Ever since the advisor had joined them, he had assumed command. All the spell casters, orc and goblin leaders, along with the lizardmen—the newest of their forces—deferred to the advisor. He was the sole commander of this army. The fact that Sir Galado didn’t like the advisor was irrelevant. Sir Galado’s army was negligible, therefore inconsequential. Sir Galado knew that one misstep could result in the total annihilation of the human forces. Grakath would relish using any excuse to do just that. It would simply enhance his already overwhelming army.

  Sir Galado sighed. He could only go with the flow and see where it took him.

  A scout Sir Galado had sent ahead returned with news of the next opponent they would encounter.

  “They have barricades all around the town and appear to be ready to resist,” reported the scout.

  “How many?” asked Sir Galado.

  “I estimate some five thousand,” said the scout. “There are some mages among them.”

  This twigged Sir Galado’s interest. “Mages, you say?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Sir Galado stroked his dark mustache thoughtfully. It was the first time they had encountered any magical resistance. All magic users thus far were associated with Grakath himself.

  “How soon until we get there?” asked Sir Galado.

  “Not far,” said the scout. “A half hour’s ride dead ahead.”

  Sir Galado looked at his scout sternly. His
men were using the word ‘dead’ all too often lately. ‘Dead ahead, dead wrong, dead duck,’ etc. He spurred his horse forward. “Let’s go take a look. Slader, keep the men in formation while I’m gone.”

  “Yes, Sir,” said Slader.

  The general and his scout rode to a large hill overlooking the town of Marral. The scout handed his looking glass to Sir Galado and the general put it to his eye.

  He scanned the scene below for several minutes. The force gathered below made his heart drop in pity. It was a pitiful force, one that was bound to be overcome with ease. Those people would all die, and Grakath would use their bodies to enlarge his own forces.

  The general had seen this happen all too many times. A small but determined force would gather to defend their homes and livelihoods. Then, when they saw the massive force approaching them, they would lose heart and be overrun in a matter of hours. The same would happen to the forces in Marral.

  True, they had a substantial force gathered to confront the enemy, but the ever-increasing number of skeletons and zombies was too much for even that.

  Sir Galado shook his head sadly. So many lives wasted. If he could do things over again, the outcome would still be the same, only someone else would be leading the remnant of the human forces instead. He was helpless in a tide of death and destruction. One slip and he would become part of the nightmare himself. If he could do something to end the nightmare, he would. But what?

  If there was only a way to restore things to the way they were before…

  Chapter 68

  The townsfolk watched with determination as the first ranks of undead crested the north-eastern horizon. The look of determination soon changed to grim expressions as the enemy continued to appear, rank after rank, undead after undead. Orcs, goblins, wolf riders, ogres, lizardmen, humans, mages, zombies, and other beasts marched or shambled forward in an enormous tide. Townsfolk and mages alike began to lose heart at the sight of the massive army approaching the town.

  Arch Mage Shanelle looked at Krendal and the old mage nodded. Shanelle raised her hands into the air and chanted a complex spell. White dust fell from her fingertips as she cast the spell. Immediately everyone, starting with those closest to the spell caster, began to regain their determination and confidence. The approaching hordes no longer looked so threatening to the defenders. Soon everyone was under the spell’s influence. Some of the townsfolk even raised their fists at the enemy in defiance. Shanelle sagged to her knees as the spell took its toll on her physically. Some people nearby ran to her aid but she claimed that she was alright, her strength would return.