Red Wizard of Atlantis

by Ravek Hunter

  The Demon replied with a voice full of fury, “You are nothing to me, little Dragon! I will wipe you from the sky and sink your body to the lowest depths of the sea!”

  Senjit could feel the Demon’s anger rising. Perfect.

  “Then why have you not done so already? Instead, we dance together as if we were lovers at a ball. Shall I curtsy or bow?”

  Mental waves of energy coursed around the edges of Senjit’s consciousness. He anticipated the rage-driven attack when he insulted the Demon, and he put all his power into building an impregnable defense.

  “This is no dance, you worm! I am a Greater Demon of the Infernal Planes! I have no match! I have no equal in this world! I shall eat you instead and defecate your body into the sea!”

  If the Demon Dragon wasn’t in a hot rage before, he was now, digging claws into him again. The pain was maddening.

  “Do you have no equal in the Infernal Plane as well?” Senjit forced a convincing laugh through the excruciating pain. “Then what a docile place it must be! Look how you struggle against one so much smaller and weaker than you. Maybe you choose large creatures to possess to compensate for your shortcomings!”

  The Demon’s rage was now at such a height of frenzy that he could barely control the body of the Black Dragon. His head slithered back and forth, spewing great sheets of flames without direction into the air.

  “I will . . . rip . . . each . . . scale from your body!” he screamed.

  “Will you, now?” Senjit was weakening fast, and if his plan didn’t work, he would be done. “Is that what they call you in your world? The great and powerful scale-ripper?” Senjit’s mocking laugh boomed loudly through the air and projected into the mind of the raging Demon.

  A monstrous roar ripped through the Black Dragon, who was by now apoplectic with fury. “I am the Great and Mighty Lord of Rage! And I will crush your skull with my might!” The Black Dragon lunged forward, maw open, neck extended toward Senjit’s head.

  It was time.

  The fire in Senjit’s chest was hotter and more volatile than ever before. He released the flanks of the Black Dragon and grasped its massive head, thrusting toward him. With every bit of strength he possessed, Senjit held the Black’s maw open wide with his foreclaws and breathed a stream of liquid heat into its unprotected and vulnerable bowels. The Demon reacted with complete surprise and horror when Senjit blasted the massive fire and energy directly into the Black Dragon’s body, forcing him to release Senjit in an attempt to disengage, but it was too late.

  The unexpected physical attack from the smaller Dragon interrupted the Demon’s relentless psionic assault long enough for Senjit to trigger the first spell he was holding back. Immediately, a thick cloud of blinding smoke enveloped the Black Dragon, obscuring Senjit’s movements. The next spell automatically released, and seconds later Senjit was teleported almost half a league away, putting some distance between him and the furious Demon Dragon just breaking through the black smoke in pursuit. The third spell activated, flooding Senjit with energy, and he fled east, toward the mountains.

  Senjit glanced behind to gauge the distance between him and the other Dragon. Somehow, the gravely injured, Demon-possessed Dragon was keeping up with him. Maybe even gaining a little. Fortunately, the Demon was still too far away to assail him with his psionic power, but Senjit wasn’t confident that would be the case for long, and he kept up his mental defenses just to be safe. It was exhausting but necessary if he was going to survive.

  Still, he was almost fifty leagues from Vers Patna, about three hours with the active haste spell he was under. With some luck, Senjit could keep the haste spell up that long, but it played hell on his body the longer it was in use, and it could ultimately kill him from exhaustion. He didn’t have much of a choice. If the Black Dragon caught up to him, he would be dead anyway.

  By the time the moon began to wane past midnight, Senjit was high over the Spine of Cel mountain range, and the Black Dragon showed no signs of slowing behind him. In fact, the beast appeared to have closed about half the distance on him. The strenuous effort of keeping his mental defenses up and the effects of the haste spell were beginning to take their toll. Even if he made it to Vers Patna, he might fall dead of exhaustion on its nightmarish slopes. Maybe the Black Dragon was just as exhausted as he was. Senjit fervently hoped so. He didn’t know much about Demons, but this one, the Lord of Anger, must be mighty indeed to keep such a huge host flying so long and so fast. Senjit was smaller and leaner, built for speed and agility, whereas the Black Dragon was bulky, massive and physically powerful—not the type of Dragon that should be able to keep up with him for so long.

  Senjit felt the first evil caress on the periphery of his mind, and he was struck by the shocking level of rage and promised violence in those initial probes. That Demon is a determined one, thought Senjit. He loathed to engage him again, although soon there would be no choice in the matter.

  He was not far from Vers Patna. In the distance, Senjit could see the orange glow of the massive caldera tucked neatly within a ring of high ridges over a league across. Occasional flashes of bright light illuminated the sky like distant heat lightning dancing through the dark haze suspended above it. The whole display looked surreal, and it gave Senjit hope.

  Energized by adrenaline, Senjit dove toward the caldera. The frigid mountain air pressed wisps of long chin hair against his face where moisture from his eyes was trapped and crystalized almost instantly. Follow me if you dare. He sent the thought back to the Demon already diving to follow him down. Quickly, the temperature swung wildly from freezing to hot the closer he approached the caldera, and soon his scales glistened with sweat. Now we will see how agile this Demon is with his Dragon. Senjit kept that thought to himself and closed his mind off to any possible intrusion. It also meant he would be unable to attack the Demon with psionic power or use many of his spells, but he doubted it would matter and chose the safer route of protecting himself first. Besides, he had another plan in mind that might just swing the advantage back to him.

  The full fury of the caldera came into view as he leveled off just below the ridgeline. Bubbling pools of liquid magma quilted the craterlike patchwork, broken only by the constant ejections of steam from cracks in the earth and fountains of lava that stretched higher than any tower. These were the dangers that were easy to avoid. His sensitive ears caught the shrill sound of a whistle among the cacophony of noise and altered his course sharply. In the line that he was traveling only a moment before, a magma jet shot high into the air, briefly igniting the ash above him. Molten rock heated to incomprehensible temperatures would have killed him easily enough if he had the misfortune to suffer a direct hit by any of it. That was the real danger of this place—the random bursts of lava traveling faster than an arrow from a longbow.

  Senjit was not unfamiliar with this place, and he knew the signs that forecast the micro eruptions. When he was a young Dragon living among the Nurozieri, this place was one of his playgrounds. Centuries later, he hoped he remembered the caldera’s turbulent nature well enough to save his life.

  Angling lower, he slowed just enough to goad the Demon Dragon into following his erratic line of flight as closely as possible. The heat was intolerable at low altitude even for him, and if it wasn’t for the spells protecting him against heat and fire, he knew he couldn’t last long. He glanced back at the Black Dragon; the environment was taking a tremendous physical toll on his body. Black scales steamed, and flesh blistered and tore. Nevertheless, the Demon kept it coming. Senjit almost felt sorry for the treatment Belthagore would have suffered if he had still been present in his own body. That was no longer the case, and there was no doubt that the Demon retained a singular objective: to kill Senjit.

  Briefly, Senjit considered just staying in the caldera until the Black Dragon died of exposure, except that the longer he remained, the higher the risk that the Black Dragon caught him or he made a mistake. And as exhausted as he was, he wasn’t sure he could keep u
p the chase much longer. Another high-pitched whistle caught his ear, and Senjit broke to the right. The Black Dragon wasn’t close enough to get caught by the brief molten spurt and avoided it as well.

  Senjit slowed down and let the Demon Dragon get close. It was a dangerous ploy, allowing the monster within a few spans of him. One surge forward and it would have him. If that happened, Senjit wouldn’t have the strength to fight him off again. He desperately zigzagged through the caldera, listening for the distinctive whistle. Geysers of lava erupted here and there, but none were close enough to help him. He was glad the Demon Dragon no longer had the use of his breath weapon. That would have been the end of him. Not for the flame or heat of it, but for the force of it. At this range, it would have easily sent him tumbling. He considered the use of his own fire against the Demon and then discarded the idea almost immediately. By the time he turned, it would be too late. As close as the Demon-Dragon was, he had only one viable plan, and that plan was based on pure chance.

  A quick burst of speed and the Black Dragon was snapping at his tail. He couldn’t look back; that would slow him down. Senjit could only put everything he had into keeping his motion unpredictable until fatigue overtook him. Another whistle close by, and he lunged toward it, just barely avoiding a direct hit on himself. He felt the hot spatter of smaller drops burning through his leathery wings—he couldn’t make that kind of miscalculation again.

  The extreme edge of the caldera was just ahead, and in moments he would run out of room to maneuver. He would have to either turn or ascend. Neither choice was a good one for him, since it would cause him to slow before the Black Dragon, and that would be the Demon’s best chance to finish him.

  While he was still unsure of what he would do, a chorus of sharp whistles rent the air around him. There were too many to know which way to go. He tried to focus on avoiding the nearest ones ahead of him and hoped he guessed right. Banking sharply right, he was just missed by a lava spout. The angle of it rained down portions of it behind him, and he heard the Black Dragon roar in pain. Senjit could still sense him close. Whistles to his right: he banked left nimbly. Several streams shot into the air and missed them both. A little farther away more geysers appeared, and he had no choice but to fly straight toward the ridge that formed the western wall.

  The choice was made for him—he would have to ascend. The earth was whistling in every direction, and Senjit tried to gain a little altitude early. To his horror, the Demon Dragon anticipated his move, and he felt the sharp daggerlike fangs latch on to his tail almost immediately, arresting his forward motion. He flapped his wings in a desperate attempt to wiggle free, but he knew it was no use. It would be over as soon as the Demon Dragon’s claws got ahold of him.

  All his hope and energy entirely spent, Senjit hit the ground hard. He tried to dig in his claws into the igneous rock to pull himself forward, but the rock was too hard, and his last reserves of strength were spent. He couldn’t even find the energy to keep up the psionic barrier. His will was seeping away as the Demon entered his mind with a wave of triumph. Senjit felt as helpless as a hartebeest in the clutches of a lion.

  Then he heard the whistles, a rush of thick magma pushing through the earth, and he waited for the final pain of death. Instead, there was screaming, loud and desperate, both in his head and the air around him, or so it seemed. And then the Black Dragon rushed into him so violently that Senjit nearly flipped over himself when his tail was suddenly released.

  Senjit lay heaving, trying to regain his feet. The best he could do was to push himself up to the base of the ridge to stay clear of the magma. Looking back to where he had been, he saw the body of the Black Dragon smoldering in a shallow pool of cooling lava. Yet, to his dismay, the presence of the Demon was still in his head. There was something different about it now—it no longer held the force and power that it had before. It was somehow . . . fading.

  With every twitch of the Dragon’s body, the Demon grew weaker. He was no longer on the offensive or desperately fending off psionic attacks from his adversary. Senjit dared to have hope, and within minutes, the heart of the Black Dragon stopped forever, taking away all of the Demon’s power to resist. With a scream of rage and fury, the Lord of Anger released the body of the dead Dragon and departed.

  Senjit watched as the black void, blacker than the blackest hole in the night sky, rose from the remains of the Black Dragon. He felt a shiver of fear, almost terror, run through his body just to look at it. It was a terrible thing that Senjit feared he might have to battle again one day.

  Hovering for only a moment, the black void departed into the distance at an impossible speed, accompanied by a high-pitched screech of anger that left Senjit’s ears ringing.

  Senjit lay exhausted and triumphant. The departure of the Demon gave him the strength to believe he might still make it out of there. He had to go soon before his protection spells failed. Otherwise, he would die right here next to Belthagore. He was tired and injured and just wanted to get home. He wasn’t even sure if he had the strength to fly.

  Somehow Senjit managed the strength to climb to a shallow ledge on the nearly sheer ridge and glide out and away from Vers Patna. He found a secluded glen within the forest a couple of leagues west of the caldera to rest and recuperate. He counted himself fortunate to have survived the encounter with the Demon that possessed a Black Dragon and worried about how the world would handle the other six Named Demons. He would have to educate as many leaders as possible about the Demons and the challenges they would face against them. Otherwise, they would continue recycling until they found themselves in a body, like the Black Dragon, that could do serious, possibly irrevocable harm to civilizations around the world.

  Wanting nothing more than to fly home immediately, Senjit accepted that he needed to rest and heal. This was the first time in his life that he was so close to death, and he vowed to be better prepared when next he faced it. He had not employed his impressive array of psionic and magical abilities to his best advantage. He needed training if he was going to protect his family and competently face another Demon and the terrible creature one might possess. For now, he would patiently rest until he was strong enough to return home to the Isles of Gades, where his wife and young child of gold awaited him.

  Chapter 25

  Ἀτλαντίς

  The Departure

  SY5491

  “There it is, Atlanteans. Only a league or so down this road, and we will be in the port city of Andlang.” Aelrindel sat atop his tall stallion, looking down the escarpment in the direction of Andlang and the deep blue waters of the Primal Sea beyond it. Qel was relieved that the elf was nearly himself again since unburdening his disquiet regarding his conversation with the High King. It was only a day and a half since they spoke about it, and they’d breathed not a word afterward. There was nothing more to say about it, and Qel didn’t want idle speculation to send his friend back into the dark malaise he had so recently escaped. Fortunately, Havacian must have been of the same mind and kept his thoughts on the matter to himself as well. Only a week before, Havacian would have been relentlessly questioning Aelrindel every waking moment to satisfy his curiosity. But that was a different Havacian. That was before Myrllin, Wodanaz, and the Old Haig.

  Qel admired Andlang from his perch upon his own horse. He could see tall white towers, multistory buildings, and no fortifications. In many ways, it was a twin of Aquilon, except that Andlang had an extensive port. “It doesn’t appear to be a city formed from trees and vines like the others we’ve seen in Avalon.”

  “It would be unpractical with all the foreigners.” Aelrindel gestured back to where the Sylvan Forest abruptly ended behind them. Just like in Aquilon, several Elven soldiers and a pair of Tree Guardians stood watch over the gateway into the enchanted wood, keeping out the humans and anyone else they didn’t approve of. “That’s where Avalon really begins.”

  Behind them, the forest was dark, thick, and impassable except for the guarded entrance
. Qel surmised that all of Avalon must be surrounded by the natural barrier to protect it from unwanted intrusion. “Who governs Andlang?”

  “We do. Andlang is still a city of Avalon, so it is governed and protected by our people. The Dwarfs built Andlang and gifted it as a gesture of eternal friendship to the Sylvan almost fifteen hundred years ago, just like they gifted Aquilon to the Atlanteans.” The elf spurred his horse forward. “Let’s get moving so we can find a ship to take us to Ys this week before all the captains start getting drunk.”

  The wind rushing up the windward-facing slope had a chill bite to it that the forest had insulated them from over the past two and a half days. Qel drew the edges of his heavy cloak in tighter before urging his horse to catch up with Aelrindel and Havacian. The road leading to Andlang curved in a long zigzag pattern to compensate for the long descent. The terrain around them was open grassland broken by occasional copses of pine and patches of loose rocks around partially buried boulders.

  Even here, life was abundant. There were long-haired goats with curled horns that blended into their surroundings so effortlessly that Qel only knew they weren’t part of the landscape when they moved. Wild pheasants took to the air spontaneously when they rode too close, and field mice ran from the protection of nests in the rocks to the tall grass to search for food while avoiding the sharp eyes of eagles circling above.

  It was a fascinating environment that Qel was unfamiliar with, and the small dramas performed by the animals on the steep escarpment kept him entertained along the slow course they traveled. Andlang was visible the whole way down, and Qel observed the busy port with a mix of excitement and trepidation, watching the ships arrive and depart in every direction and knowing that soon he would be on one of them. It would be the first time in his life he would be leaving the Emerald Isle, and the irrational fear that crept through him almost made him turn and run for home.