The Sorcerer's Destiny (The Sorcerer's Path)

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The Sorcerer's Destiny (The Sorcerer's Path) Page 13

by Deskins, Brock


  “But I will make the attempt all the same. My chances are far better with you to help guide me through the passages between worlds.”

  The old mage looked ready to slap him, but her shoulders slumped and she shook her head. “Damn us all for fools then. If you’re so set on destroying us before the Scions get here, then so be it. But mark my words, boy; you had best start listening to your elders. I don’t care how much power you can channel, it’s no substitute for experience!”

  Azerick nodded. “I know, Aggie. It is why I ask for your help, and I would not try such a thing if I was not confident in our chances to achieve it. It will take several days to prepare. Raijaun should be recovered by then. I just hope the Scions give us that much time.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Heartrending rage inundated Sandy’s soul with an intensity she had never before felt. She beat her wings furiously, desperate to put as much distance between herself and the source of her misery as she could and as quickly as possible. But even as she left the school and Azerick far behind, she keenly felt the desecration of every rune etched upon her body, and there was no way to run from those.

  Sand dragons were never built to be swift or agile flyers, and despite her strenuous efforts, she was not fleeing nearly fast enough. The young dragon focused her anger and willed her muscles to work harder, but they were already pushed to their limits. The more she demanded, the angrier she got as her body refused to obey. The harder she tried the more the runes itched and demanded attention.

  Reaching the limits of her irritation, Sandy turned her thoughts to the hated sigils. She could clearly see the shape of every rune on her body and trace each line within her mind. Ancient dragon memories handed down from her parents and grandparents and every ancestor from the beginning of time floated to the forefront of her mind. Most of the runes tapped into the vast power of the elements, much like her innate dragon magic. She picked out a rune tied to the element of air and called to it. The rune answered eagerly, flared brightly, and a fierce wind struck her from behind. Sandy fought to maintain control, canting her wings and forcing her flight to straighten by using her tail like a ship’s rudder to correct her course.

  Quickly gaining control, she caught the powerful blow with her wings and streaked across the sky. The feeling was exhilarating, and she marveled at the speed in which the ground retreated far beneath her. She was certain no sand dragon had ever flown so swiftly. Even the great cloud dragons, who rarely set a scaly foot upon the ground, would be hard-pressed to match her speed.

  Sandy called out to the wind once more, another rune flared, and a gust came at her from the side. Banking her enormous wings, she dipped sharply to her left and raced for the ground with breathtaking speed. Despite her initial thrill, the cost of this new power quickly reasserted itself, and her rage renewed. Sandy desperately needed a release before the anger consumed her.

  Runes flared all over her body, wreathing her form in a light so bright she looked like a meteor streaking across the sky. Sandy unleashed the pent up energy with a furious roar. A massive sphere of crackling energy, fire, and electricity as big as her body raced ahead of her and struck the ground. The titanic assault incinerated trees, melted stone, and caused the earth to buckle and heave for hundreds of feet in every direction.

  Sandy pulled up from her dive so close to the ground she could feel the heat of the scorched earth wash over her belly scales, the only scales on her body not ruined by Azerick. She released a massive jet of flame as she sped just a few feet above the ground, creating a line of fire nearly a quarter mile long before arcing back into the sky. The young dragon raced upward on magically conjured wind until the raging inferno beneath her appeared no bigger than a small campfire. At the apex of her ascent, she flipped over backward, tucked her wings close to her body, and plummeted once again.

  Once more, she commanded the runes to summon a colossal amount of elemental power and unleashed it at the hapless ground below, creating a gigantic crater of scorched earth beneath her. A powerful wave of fatigue washed over her, and fear replaced her anger as the ground rapidly rose up to meet her. She desperately sought out the power of her glyphs and received only a feeble reply. Adding her own innate magic to that of the rune, she summoned an anemic wind. Spreading her wings wide to catch the updraft, her body slowly began to level out, and the approaching ground slowed. Her muscles ached, and the bones in her wings felt ready to snap as they fought against the wind pressure. Her bones held, and she managed to regain some altitude, but she was exhausted now and her stomach vehemently demanded sustenance. It was apparent her new power was far from limitless.

  Far in the distance, she spied a herd of elk sprinting across an open glade, likely spooked from her assault on the valley. Even as tired as she was, it did not take her long to reach the bounding animals. It was a big herd, and Sandy killed and partially cooked half a dozen of the creatures with her fiery breath in a single pass. She set down lightly amongst the charred remains and began eating voraciously. There was well over a thousand pounds of meat lying smoldering in the clearing, but she did not doubt for an instant her ability to consume every bit of it.

  With her belly full, sleep became the dominant voice demanding her attention, so Sandy curled up in the open glade with two elk unconsumed and fell asleep. They would make a fine breakfast in the morning. Unwanted faces and voices filled her dreams that night. She woke to find her body twisted and deformed. Azerick stood over her with a face bereft of emotion.

  “What have you done to me?”

  “It is for the best, Sandy. I needed to make you stronger so you were more useful to me.”

  “You ruined me!”

  “I made you better.”

  “You have no right!”

  “Right is whatever I deem necessary for the survival of my people.”

  “What about my people?”

  “Your people are the enemy.”

  “They are an unwilling enemy!” Sandy defended.

  “It does not matter. Had I not been able to block the Scions’ control, I would have destroyed you too.”

  “You did,” she whispered,

  Sandy leapt into the sky and flew as fast as her wings could carry her. She raced south toward her desert home, the Scion’s horrible voices commanding her to kill all the while. She ignored their whispered demands and pushed them to the back of her mind. A new voice, soft and loving ascended to the forefront of her consciousness.

  “Mama?”

  “Come home, child”

  Sandy commanded more speed, and the forests of northern Valeria flew past and became the massive fields of the Habberback Plains before turning into the red stone and sand of the Great Sand Desert. Her homing instincts took her straight to the cave she and her mother called home burrowed within the Bloodstone Mountains.

  “Mama?” Sandy called out as she hesitantly stepped into the cavern.

  “Come inside so I may see you. It has been so very long.”

  Sandy followed the sound of her mother’s voice to the large cavern at the rear of the cave. Her mother had spent years carving out the sandstone to create a good home for her beloved daughter. She looked upon the deep claw marks in the stone and gently ran her muzzle over them.

  “Who are you?” Sandy’s mother demanded as she entered the cavern.

  Sandy’s voice quavered and caught in her throat. “It’s me, mama.”

  “No, my daughter is beautiful! You mock the name I gave her. You are not my child!”

  “Mama, it is me!” Sandy cried.

  “Be gone. The sight of you injurers my heart and wounds my eyes!”

  “Mama!”

  “Go!”

  “Mama!” Sandy shouted as she started awake.

  She peered across the meadow wavering through her tears. The sun was just an arcing sliver peeking over the horizon. Sandy glanced at the two elk carcasses, but she had no appetite. She laid her head back down, praying for the ground to swallow her up and make her just anot
her mound of earth and grass. She thought her dreams had returned to haunt her as another voice intruded on her mind, but this one was deep and soft and held no malice.

  Come to me.

  Fear ran through her body. The voice felt so much like that of the Scions, only this one was not commanding her to kill.

  “Who are you?”

  Come to me.

  “Where?”

  Follow my thoughts, and I will show you the way. You know how. It is in your blood, child.

  Sandy did not know to whom the voice belonged and wanted to ignore it and push it from her mind, but it continued to coax her with its deep and sonorous timber. It felt like the reassuring words of a beloved grandparent, and she desperately needed reassurance now. Gripping the two remaining elk in her powerful hind claws, Sandy pushed into the air, summoning a helpful lift of air with her runic power. Carrying two adult elk would have been a challenging task, but the aid of her new magic made it almost easy to manage. She liked this new power, and it infuriated her to acknowledge it. It was an abomination. It made her an abomination, but it came so easy, and she hated herself for it.

  Her artificial winds kept her aloft and speeding toward the Great Barrier Mountains far to the east. Sandy could feel the power stored within the runes had not fully recovered from her colossal outburst yesterday, so she took a more conservative approach to their use. Summoning the guiding winds proved to be a simple task and did not tax her strength. As long as she did not throw a giant, fiery tantrum, she could keep the winds blowing for some time.

  The voice drew her like the needle of a compass. Sandy flew onward, never deviating and never losing her way. Soon, the towering peaks of the god-forged mountains loomed over her. She had never felt so small and insignificant in her life. Hundreds of peaks stabbed into the sky so far that if one could stand upon their crests, they would be cast in perpetual twilight.

  Sandy heard the voice coming from above her, so she pumped her wings and soared upward where the air thinned, and it became a challenge to breathe. Her wings found less and less resistance, and she surely would have faltered without her summoned wind to lift her like an invisible helping hand. She blinked hard when an enormous section of the cliff face wavered in her vision. For a moment, she feared the lack of air was affecting her senses, but then the stone vanished and revealed a gigantic cave dug into the side of the mountain. Sandy knew this was from where the voice came.

  Gliding into the cavern was easy. It was so wide, even her fully outstretched wings did not come close to brushing the sides. Sandy hesitated and examined the cave’s surface. Most of the stone showed clear but greatly aged claw marks, and the floor was worn smooth except for some deep gouges left by taloned feet. The deep layer of dust indicated that even the most recent of those marks were made ages ago.

  “Come inside. No harm shall come to you, child.”

  The voice came to her from deeper inside the cave and not from inside her mind. Sandy shuddered as the awesome power of the voice made her scales—her mutilated scales—vibrate. Dangling the two elk from her mouth, she slowly walked deeper into the cavern. The shaft remained straight and uniform, giving evidence to its constructed nature.

  Only when Sandy had walked hundreds of yards into the mountain did the tunnel begin to widen into a great cavern. As she approached the chamber, a deep inhalation came from farther inside. She could feel the breeze it created caress her scales as some titanic creature drew in a great breath.

  “You are younger than I had suspected; decades from a respectable mating age. I suddenly find you slightly less interesting.” A soft chuckle echoed through the chamber.

  “Who are you,” Sandy asked.

  “You are a guest in my home. Proper protocol dictates you give your name first.”

  “I’m sorry. I did not know.”

  “It is all right. The stench of humanity is heavy upon you. I suspect you have had more social experience with those crude creatures than with your own kind. What is your name?”

  Sandy growled out her dragon name and felt the lie it now was catch in her throat. “My friends call me Sandy.”

  “Beautiful One Whose Scales Shine with the Glory of the Morning Sun. I should like to see such beauty. Sand dragons always were lovely to look upon.”

  Soft light illuminated the colossal cavern, and Sandy gasped at the sight of her host. Near the back of the chamber reclined a summit dragon older than the mountain in which it dwelled. Its mass was awe-inspiring, dwarfing Sandy the way her mother did when she was just a hatchling. His body was stark white and mottled with grey like stones jutting out of a snow-capped peak. A wave of ancient power and wisdom washed over her and made her knees buckle. The sudden anger she felt radiating from him made her flatten herself to the floor.

  “Who has defiled you?” the venerable dragon demanded in indignation when he beheld the child’s magically etched scales. “I sense the hand of a human involved, but something else as well. You have been touched by one of the elves’ Guardians. What human and Guardian desecrated you?”

  Sandy’s mind was awash in confusion and uncertainty. Was Azerick her friend, her surrogate father? A few days ago, the answer would have come readily to her lips, but everything had changed so fast.

  “Forgive me, child. My momentary anger has caused me to break protocol. I am One Whose Power Makes the Mountains Tremble. Now that formalities have been properly established, you may refer to me by my familiar name of Mordigar.” Mordigar smiled at Sandy stretching submissively on the floor. “Relax, Sandy, I am not angry with you. You do not need to fear me. I imagine there is a long tale leading to your condition. Humor an old dragon and tell me about it.”

  Sandy stood back up and forced herself to meet Mordigar’s eyes. “I brought something to eat. Would like it?”

  “Ah, how very appropriate of you. There is a bit of dragon in you after all. It has been centuries since I ate, and I admit it has been difficult for me not to be rude and snatch those lovely creatures from you.”

  “Take them both,” Sandy offered. “I gorged yesterday, and I am still full.”

  “Guests must share in meals for protocol’s sake.” Her host severed the haunch from one of the elk with a deft slice of one claw. “Tell me of how this human and Guardian came to violate you so horribly.”

  “I was young, only two years old when my mother died. Azerick found me when he came into my cave for shelter. He shared his food and water with me. He was kind to me, and I followed him.”

  “If he was kind, why would he disrespect you and your mother in such a way?”

  “The Scions took hold of my mind. I tried to resist them, but I could not. Azerick and his son Raijaun, he’s the one with the Guardian magic, made the runes to protect me from them.”

  Mordigar studied the glyphs for a moment. “Now I see, but there is far more there than needed to protect you.”

  Sandy nodded. “He wanted to make me stronger so I could protect myself better. That’s what he said.”

  “You think he sacrificed your beautiful scales to make you a better weapon to use against the Scions?”

  “I—I don’t know. Partly I guess.”

  “It certainly would fit their nature, but you say he has been kind to you for years. Had he used you for his own sake in the past?”

  “No. He even died to rescue me and his human foster daughter from other humans who wanted to use us as weapons.”

  “He died?”

  “It’s another long story. He is a very powerful sorcerer. Death was mostly an inconvenience for him.”

  Mordigar chuckled. “As much as I distrust and dislike their kind, only humans are defiant enough to oppose even death and somehow triumph. Do you think he was remorseful about what he had done to you?”

  “I think so. Does it matter?”

  “That is something you must decide. Only you can decide what is more important to you. Is it your departed mother and the name she gave you, or the man who raised you, loved you, and ev
en sacrificed his life to keep you safe?”

  “It just hurts so much,” Sandy said sadly.

  “Only true love does. Give it time. Answers often elude us until we stop trying to seek them out.”

  Sandy listened to her elder’s wisdom and tried to absorb his words, but her pain ran deep and hot. She needed time to let it cool before she could search through the ashes of her emotions for answers.

  “I told you about me. What about you? You must have seen so much in your lifetime. Why are you not under the Scions’ control?”

  Mordigar stared past his young guest and back up the river of time to an age long ago. “I have indeed seen and done much. I was there when the races rebelled, and I saw enough slaughter to dread the Scions’ return. Like many of our kind, I isolated myself from the world, partly in fear and partly in shame of my actions. I entered the long sleep only a few centuries after we were freed from the gods’ control. We knew our kind was marked for extinction, so we hid and slept. It was the Scions’ call that woke me just days ago. Then I sensed your power and pain being unleashed and called to you.”

  “But the Scions cannot control you now?”

  “My pride says it is because I am too powerful, but I think I am simply too stubborn. Their voices are muted, and the Scions are only able to command the young from behind their prison walls, but that will change once they break free and come fully into our world. Then, not even my cantankerous nature will provide a defense against them.”

  “What will happen then?”

  “I will seek the destruction of the small races. If you choose to align yourself with them, then you and I shall be enemies. You will have to kill me to protect those you love.”

  “I could not kill you!”

  “You can and you must if you and your family wish to survive. Do not look so forlorn. I am old, and I have no desire to be anyone’s slave. Most every dragon you slay will thank you for their freedom. It is the way of our pride. Better to be dead than relegated to the duties of a cur.”

  “Morality and sentimentality aside, I do not have the power to kill someone like you.”

 

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