Return of the Dragon (The Dragon's Champion Book 6)

by Ferguson, Sam

  Maernok growled and tossed a card onto the table face down. “What do you fight for elf?”

  Salarion placed her card down on the table. “I say my card is high.”

  Maernok reached over and the two flipped their cards over. Salarion’s card was indeed higher and she took both cards. “Answer my question, drow,” Maernok pressed. “Tell me what you fight for. Show me the fabled wisdom of the elves.”

  Salarion placed another card down on the table. “High,” she said. Maernok placed his card down. She watched the orc overturn his card and then hesitated on hers. “I fight for those who cannot. I fight to keep the world alive.”

  “That’s it?” Maernok said. “You fight to save the world?” Maernok chuckled and shook his head. “If other elves are half as idealistic as you, then the wisdom of elves is foolishness.”

  “Is it?” Salarion asked as she overturned her card. She won the round and stuck a finger on her card to accentuate the victory. “What else is there to fight for but the world? Nothing else we ever do will mean anything to anyone else on any realistic level. You can keep your songs of bravery and greatness. I fight so that others will live to sing those songs. They need not know my name. It is enough for me that they will have breath.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Erik sat in his glass room. His eyes stung, his stomach growled and churned, and his head ached. He could only manage to focus on his training until the Immortal Mystic would send him back to his room at the end of a day. Then the shadows and nightmares found him. Voices of enemies and fallen friends haunted him. He should have felt safe in the palace. He should be expanding his power. Instead he felt numb at best. When he wasn’t dead to everything he was cold and empty. He lost hold of the hopes for saving the world. Those thoughts drowned in the sea of doubts that pummeled him with unrelenting waves.

  He leaned his head back against the cold wall and then he felt a slight breeze. He turned his head to the right and saw the Immortal Mystic standing in the doorway.

  “You don’t truly believe I haven’t noticed the ghosts that torment you, do you?” he asked pointedly.

  Erik didn’t know what to say. He sat and shrugged.

  “I have seen them, but you have to know something.” The Immortal Mystic walked in and sat cross legged on the floor in front of Erik.

  “You’re going to tell me it is good to face my fears?” Erik asked dryly. “Or are you going to say that only by vanquishing my doubts will I finally come into my power? Whatever it is, I don’t think it will help.”

  The Immortal Mystic frowned and sighed. “Your heart is closed. I cannot help you unless you open it.”

  “Ah,” Erik said with mock surprise. “That is a great pearl of wisdom. I am honored to be here to hear it.”

  “Erik—”

  “No,” Erik said, cutting the man off. His voice wasn’t raised, but the tone was decisive and curt. “I have been here for months. I see the snow falling outside. In training I can only think of my friends who are out fighting a battle that I caused. When I am not training, and my body begs to sleep, I am visited by nightmares that burn me to my core. You say you have seen the ghosts? You saw my father? Did you see Tatev? Or did you see Janik and Tukai? Tell me why you let them in this palace if you can see them?”

  The Immortal Mystic shook his head once. “Specters cannot enter here of their own accord. They must be brought by someone else. They hang around you, like familiars. Until you banish them, there is little I can do for you.”

  “Some sage you are,” Erik snapped. “I traveled the world to find you. I lost…” Erik’s words trailed off and he closed his eyes.

  “Erik, listen to me and I will offer you the best help I can,” the Immortal Mystic said.

  Erik opened his eyes and raised his brows at the man. He didn’t say anything, he just stared with a clenched jaw and unrelenting, fierce blue eyes.

  “You didn’t cause this war,” the Immortal Mystic said. “You see your father’s ghost and see your own faults, but you fail to see the whole picture. You are looking at a single thread in a tapestry and wondering why it touches neighboring threads the way that it does, but what you need to see is the overall design.”

  “I don’t believe in fate,” Erik said. “I was supposed to be a prophesied champion, but instead I find out that I don’t fit any description that you have seen of the champion. I am a mistake.”

  “No, it isn’t that way, Erik.”

  “Then tell me I am wrong,” Erik pressed. “Tell me that your visions showed me to you. Tell me that you saw me destroy Nagar’s Blight. Tell me that everything I have lost is actually worth it. Tell me that we haven’t fouled everything up by wasting time on me when we should have been looking for someone else.”

  The Immortal Mystic sat silently, looking back at Erik. His emotionless features rested on his face as though he were chiseled from stone. No words emerged, nor was there any smile of comfort. There was only the silent stare.

  “You can’t, can you?” Erik asked. “I figured it out, you know. Only, it’s too late to fix it. I don’t know who the real champion is, and we don’t have the time to find him.”

  “Visions are not without faults. There are mistakes, and misunderstandings.”

  “Don’t do that,” Erik said. “That is what Marlin would say. I expect you to be straightforward. Just tell me the truth.”

  “Very well,” the Immortal Mystic said with a nod. “You are not the champion I saw in visions.”

  Erik’s head dropped backward to thud against the glass wall.

  “That doesn’t mean all is lost,” the Immortal Mystic continued.

  Erik shook his head. “Really? You know who I should find? Do we have time to train him?” The Immortal Mystic held up a hand. Erik felt a tingling sensation fill his mouth. No matter how he tried, he was unable to speak.

  “Forgive me, but lessons work best if the student is listening,” the Immortal Mystic said. When Erik stopped squirming, the man continued. “Despite all the visions I have had, and all the books of prophecy that we have written here and given to Valtuu Temple or other orders, I also do not believe in fate. The visions show me what can be, given a specific set of circumstances. Usually they are highly accurate, but there are always minor inconsistencies. However, I was never surer of my visions as I was with those concerning the Champion of Truth.

  “You were never seen as the champion in any of my visions. You come from a different lineage, and were destined for a much darker path. I will speak plainly.” The Immortal Mystic cleared his throat and tears came to his eyes. “You are the son of a powerful shadowfiend named Dremathor. Your mother died in childbirth. You were destined to follow in your father’s footsteps. I am not privy to all the details, so I can’t explain everything that happened to change your course. However, I believe Dimwater will have answers for you.”

  Erik’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to ask questions, but the words didn’t come out.

  “There are other factors as well,” the Immortal Mystic said. “Some of them remain clouded, even to me. Whatever happened, it set you on a different path. You were able to grow without the shadow of your father. Then, you were adopted and your course was changed even more so. You may not have been the champion I saw in my visions, but I need you to hear me now. You are the Champion of Truth. You have every potential to end this terrible plague and remove Nagar’s Blight from this plane. Tu’luh seeks to enslave the realm, but he fails to understand that a world darkened by slavery and despotism will also bring about the end he is trying to avoid.

  “The four horsemen are real, Erik.” The man rose to his feet and waved a hand. The glass wall opposite from Erik became colored with the scene of a beautiful valley. Trees swayed in the wind and flowers dotted the green valley as far as the eye could see. Then, off in the distance, a great fiery cloud fell from the sky. It was soon joined by three more. They crashed far from the vantage point Erik was watching from. The sky grew dark. The waters turn
ed red with blood. Veins of brown and black ripped through the green valley. Trees died and turned to dust. The sun ceased to give its light. Finally, a great wall of fire rose in the distance and ravaged all that Erik could see.

  A chill ran down Erik’s spine.

  “This is no vision,” the Immortal Mystic said. “It is a memory. It happened much slower than the way you just saw it, but time is relative when looking through the eyes of a dragon.”

  Erik wanted to ask whose memory it was. He wanted to know where it had happened, but his mouth was still sealed. The Immortal Mystic turned to Erik and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “When your eyes are fully opened, you will know where that memory came from, but until then you must continue your training.” The Immortal Mystic placed his other hand on Erik’s other shoulder and looked deep into Erik’s eyes. “You must understand that you can succeed. There is no fate. There is only us, and the moments we have been given to use. Do you understand?”

  Erik nodded.

  “I will tell you one more thing,” the Immortal Mystic said. “Dremathor was the son of Allun Rha. That means you are the grandson of the great wizard who defeated Nagar and Tu’luh in Hamath Valley. So, when I tell you that the power to be victorious flows in your veins, you had better believe that I mean every word of it. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t waste time with you, and neither would your friends. You have lost friends and family, so have I. This is a war that has been dragging on longer than I care to think about any longer. It is time to end it.”

  The man pulled away from Erik and then folded his arms. “After we win, I can also show you how to defeat the four horsemen.”

  Erik’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. His mouth opened and had he not been silenced by magic he would have shouted his excitement.

  “It will not be easy, but it is possible. They will come eventually, that much is certain. The only question is whether the greed and envy of men is what will bring them down on Terramyr, or the corruption that Tu’luh would force upon the world. Both are equally unacceptable to the four horsemen. They are powerful beings, but they can be stopped, if you are able to finish your training.”

  Erik nodded his head quickly.

  The Immortal Mystic waved his hand and Erik’s mouth was freed.

  “What do I do?”

  “You leave,” the Immortal Mystic said. Erik’s face went from one of excitement to one of confusion in an instant. The Immortal Mystic smiled and continued. “To finish your training you need to banish these ghosts that plague you. To do that, you need to help Tatev’s soul find rest. He wanders the plains, looking for the Eyes of Dowr. Go out and find them, then come back here and your eyes will be free of clouds and you will finally be able to see.”

  Erik couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Won’t that take a long time?” he asked. He wasn’t trying to be argumentative, but he was more than a little worried by the proposition.

  “It will take as long as it needs to. When you have finished, return to complete your training.”

  “Then I should go now,” Erik said.

  “I have already prepared a pack for you with food and water.”

  “I’ll get Jaleal,” Erik said.

  The Immortal Mystic shook his head. “No, this is one journey you make alone.”

  Erik’s mouth fell open.

  “Trust in who you are,” the Immortal Mystic said. “You come from a noble, powerful heritage. You have been trained well, and you have more potential locked away in that small frame of yours than you can possibly fathom.”

  “I have never been alone,” Erik said.

  “This is the best way for you to chase away your ghosts. They won’t come near you while friends guard you, but when you are alone they perceive your fear and will plague you. That is when you will battle them and conquer them. Remember, you have more power than they do. Focus on who you are and what your mission is, and you will succeed.”

  Erik took in a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.

  “I have something for you,” the Immortal Mystic said. He reached into a fold in his robes and pulled out a blue crystal. “You may not have noticed, but your birthday passed a few weeks ago. This is my gift.”

  “What is it?” Erik asked.

  The Immortal Mystic smiled. “Some answers you must find on your own,” he said. “Go on. When you need the crystal, you will know.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “The orcs are falling back again. The sun has fallen below the horizon and they have had to turn back. First time I have wished for the sun to drop during a battle,” Commander Nials said as he entered the room. They keep going after our catapults much longer and we will not be able to hold the line, though.”

  Lepkin nodded. “I have never known them to be weak minded, but this is far beyond the tenacity I have ever seen from them before,” he said.

  “It’s their chief,” Lady Arkyn said. Her hand reflexively went up to caress the healing wound on her shoulder. “He won’t stop until we are all dead. Worse than that, I think they have reinforcements coming.”

  “How can you tell?” Commander Nials asked. “None of my scouts have reported anything like that.”

  “They also haven’t been as close as I have,” Lady Arkyn replied. “I spent the last several weeks evading them behind enemy lines, remember?”

  “With broken ribs, no less,” Lepkin put in for good measure. “If you say you saw evidence of reinforcements, that is good enough for me.”

  “Well, I am afraid I have good and bad news,” Commander Nials said.

  “What more is there?” Lepkin asked.

  A scream from the room behind them halted the conversation.

  “If it wasn’t for her, we might not have any catapults left,” Commander Nials said with a nod to the door. “Dimwater has been extremely effective.”

  Lepkin nodded. “Marlin is in with her, he says everything is going fine.”

  “I have seen it many times, the screaming is normal,” Lady Arkyn said as she reached out to put a comforting hand on Lepkin’s arm.

  “As I was saying, I received word from King Mathias. There aren’t any more soldiers to spare for us. He says that he had to divert significant resources to the north where the Tarthuns were trying to invade.”

  “What of Grand Master Penthal?” Lepkin asked.

  Nials shrugged. “It didn’t mention anything bad, so I assume he still lives.”

  “So what are we to do without reinforcements?” Lady Arkyn asked.

  Nials smiled. “I also received an advance letter from an army of dwarves.”

  “You received word?” Lepkin asked.

  “Well, King Sit’marihu received it, but he relayed the message to me as well.” Lepkin nodded his understanding then and Nials continued on. “Apparently they collapsed some sort of underpass in the east and vanquished a large Tarthun army. The dwarven force split after the battle. Half went north to help Grand Master Penthal, and the other half will arrive to our position tomorrow. Beyond the extra soldiers, they are bringing carts filled with provisions to help us wait out the winter.”

  “That is great news,” Lepkin said with a smile.

  Another scream erupted from the room behind them.

  “Do you need to go in there?” Commander Nials asked. Lepkin regarded the man curiously. The commander’s face wore a somewhat disturbed expression, as if the next room held a caged demon or some sort of abomination. Lepkin had not expected to see the man so uncomfortable with the idea of childbirth.

  “She asked me to remain out here,” Lepkin said.

  Another scream.

  “Push, woman, push!” Marlin commanded.

  “I’m… I’m going to go,” Commander Nials said. “I have to settle the casualty count for the night and make sure everyone is accounted for.”

  Lepkin nodded.

  “I can go in,” Lady Arkyn offered.

  Lepkin shook his head. “She said she didn’t want anyone in the
re who didn’t have to be. Told me not to come in until it was over.”

  Lady Arkyn nodded. “Then I am going to turn in for the night. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

  Lepkin offered her a smile and then began pacing back and forth before the door. His mind raced in a million directions as he listened to the commotion inside. Doubts and fear crept into his mind, but he managed to shrug them off. Though he wasn’t sure if it was denial or actual confidence that forced the fears out of his mind. The battle raged in his mind until at last he heard the distinct cry of a newborn baby.

  “Hawwwwah! Huh-hawwwaaaaah! Hawah-wah-wah! Waaaaaaah!”

  Lepkin could wait no more. He burst in through the door. His eyes wide he spied a messy pile of blood-soaked rags next to a basin of steaming water. He then looked beyond that to see Marlin placing a small, wrapped bundle into Dimwater’s arms. She was crying and smiling at the same time. Sweat soaked her face and blood stained the sheets below her. The small infant in the blanket started grunting and snorting as she held him close to her.

  Marlin stepped away and finished covering Dimwater with a clean sheet. He looked up and smiled at Lepkin. “Everyone is doing just fine,” he said. Then he turned to the two mid-wives that were with him and he dismissed them to the hallway.

  “Come here,” Dimwater said with a weary smile. “Come see your son.”

  Lepkin shuffled near the side of the bed and peered over the soft, blue blanket to see a red-faced baby boy. He was blinking hard against the light in the room, with little dark eyes grabbing onto both of their faces and his brow furrowed into a cute little scowl.

  “Judging by his face, I don’t know that he was ready to come out,” Lepkin joked.

  “I was more than ready,” Dimwater said. Lepkin bent down and kissed her forehead.

  “Is there anything I can get for you?” he asked.

  Dimwater shook her head. “Just be here with us.”

  Lepkin smiled and pulled a stool close so he could cuddle next to them without causing Dimwater any discomfort. The two of them spent the next few hours watching the infant as he learned to eat and then fell asleep.