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

by Ferguson, Sam

  Erik thought for a moment. He turned and looked at his body. He thought to ask about being restored to life, but then that would not solve the problem of time. How could he run fast enough to fetch the true Champion of Truth? Then he turned back to the dragon. “Wait, you said a spirit must have a connection with the mortal it intends to visit, right?”

  The dragon nodded.

  “But you didn’t say I couldn’t go for that reason. You only said that leaving this palace could destroy my soul. Do I know the true champion?”

  “You do,” Hyasintar Kulai said. “You have met him only a few times, but your lives have crossed each other’s paths numerous times.”

  Erik shook his head and shrugged. “Who is it?”

  “To tell you would only aggravate you,” Hyasintar Kulai said. “You would either live here knowing the truth but unable to do anything about it, or you would try to leave, and risk being destroyed.”

  “Then why let me try to take the test?” Erik asked. “Why not tell me in the beginning who it was? I would have gone right away to find the right person. I don’t need the power myself, I just wanted to help!”

  The dragon sighed. “I see that you are almost as stubborn as the Keeper of Secrets,” he said.

  Erik shook his head. “I am more stubborn,” he assured him. “Lepkin would tell you that himself.”

  A slight smile appeared upon the dragon’s features. “Very well. If I cannot stop you, then attempt to go outside. If you survive, then I will give you the name you seek, and where to find him.”

  Erik didn’t hesitate. He ran to the wall and thought of getting outside. As his body pressed through the blue energy, it was as if he was being scalded by boiling water. The pain was so intense, far beyond what he had just experienced, that he was knocked back to the floor.

  “I tried to warn you,” the dragon said. “You won’t make it through.”

  Erik didn’t listen. He stood again and approached the wall. He extended his hand to the blue light. It sizzled and cracked as his hand neared. The pain returned. Erik pressed on. His fingers penetrated the wall, but then they faded away, as if ripped from his soul altogether.

  “Erik, please stop!” the dragon said. “It isn’t worth it. There is nothing to gain from this.”

  “No,” Erik said. “There is everything to gain. It will work. It has to.” He pushed farther in, the pain ripped his arm away from his spirit. He yelled and then ran toward the wall and jumped in. The heat tore through him. He flew upward through the wall to get out of the mountain. His legs began to fall away with every passing moment. His soul was diminishing. He focused on Lepkin and the others. He could still hear the dragon shouting for him to return, but Erik pressed on instead.

  His spirit melted away. He looked down at himself and found that the part of him that remained was nearly faded out of existence entirely. He doubted anyone would recognize him if he made it out and managed to appear to anyone, but he knew he had to try. The orcs were pressing from the south. Tu’luh was going to be reborn. The Middle Kingdom needed a champion.

  At last he saw daylight. He pressed against a tremendous force that fought to keep him inside the palace. Other spirits gathered around, shouting and screaming for him to come back. The dragons roared from far below the surface. Erik didn’t care.

  If he could only make it out.

  His left hand was barely visible at this point and burned with such ferocity that Erik was sure he would be nothing more than a floating head even if he managed to escape. Still he pushed it out toward the light.

  Suddenly the Immortal Mystic was behind him, calling out to him. “Erik, why are you doing this?”

  Erik glanced over his shoulder to see that Hyasintar Kulai had returned to his human form. “I have to try,” Erik said. “I have to find the champion. He can save everyone.”

  “But you’ll die! You will be forever gone!”

  Erik didn’t care. His left fingers finally poked through the wall and he grabbed hold of the outside to pull himself through. He screamed out as he struggled. The heat pulled and tore at his back and chest. His legs burned away below the knees. His right arm was now entirely gone, and part of his right side was melting away as well. The essence of his spirit turned to golden flecks of light and then disappeared into nothingness.

  I don’t need all of me. Erik thought to himself. I just need enough to send a message. He pulled with his left hand and finally managed to squeeze his head through what felt like a pinhole in a wall of brimstone. Most of his body disappeared as he pulled. Then his left arm disintegrated. The golden flecks jetted away from him as if propelled on a blazing breeze outside the wall.

  “Erik, I can’t save you unless you turn back!”

  Erik wasn’t listening. He willed himself forward. A ghost doesn’t need arms or legs. I just need my thoughts. That will be enough of me to find the champion. Then I can be done. He willed himself farther and farther through the wall. The fiery pain swirled all around him, evaporating his soul with every second, yet somehow he persevered. The thoughts of his friend and their peril compelled him onward.

  At last he made it out. He was aware of what was around him, but he could see no part of himself remaining.

  “I did it!” he shouted. He looked back to the palace and saw the spirits smiling inside. “Tell me who it is, I will go and find him.”

  The Immortal Mystic smiled wide, tears streaming down his face. He put his palms on the glass wall and came in close, leaning his forehead on the wall.

  “Who is it?” Erik asked again. “We have no time to lose.”

  “Erik, my boy,” the Immortal Mystic said in muffled whispers. “It is you. You are the Champion of Truth.”

  A flash of red and golden light enveloped Erik. He was ripped back through the wall, down to the great chamber, and shoved into his mutilated body. Every pain he had felt left him now as he was restored in full. His body was healed and his soul was returned to its whole state. Within moments he felt a tingling sensation, as though his whole body had been numbed and was now coming awake again. It was painful, but not nearly so much as it had been before. Moreover, it was over in a matter of seconds.

  Hyasintar Kulai was standing before him, again in his dragon form. He scooped a talon beneath Erik and helped the young man sit up. “You have passed the Exalted Test of Arophim,” he said. “You passed through pain, the temptation of power, and the danger of eternal destruction. You are the Champion of Truth.”

  All of the dragons roared mightily.

  Erik managed to stand on his feet. He looked to Hyasintar Kulai and then he too let out a terrible roar that shook the very palace as he emitted the burning white light.

  “Come, now you must rest, and then you shall have the rest of the power you need to vanquish Tu’luh, and to destroy Nagar’s Secret.”

  Erik didn’t complain about the test, nor did he ask about why it had been so terrible. He didn’t care. He had one singular mission now, and his whole soul yearned to complete it.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Gilifan woke to find Tu’luh, reborn in the silver hatchling’s body, staring down at him. The beast was now probably one hundred feet long from snout to tail, and every bit as muscular as Tu’luh had been in his first life. A keen, cruel wisdom sat in those gray eyes of his, hinting at the danger should Gilifan cross him.

  The necromancer rose to his feet. “You look strong,” he said.

  “I am strong enough,” Tu’luh replied. “It is time.”

  Gilifan stretched his back and then nodded. He bent down and pulled the book from under his mattress. “Let’s take it to the altar.”

  “We don’t need sacrifices for this,” Tu’luh said.

  Gilifan nodded. “I find it more appropriate to perform the ritual here is all,” Gilifan said. “Besides, I will be momentarily weakened when the spell is completed. I will need something to lean upon.”

  Tu’luh growled as a pleasured grin stretched his silvery lips over his sharp
, curved fangs. “I will complete my portion first, and then I will retreat into my den,” Tu’luh said.

  Gilifan set the evil book upon the altar and opened it to the first couple of pages. A black vapor rose from the book and the light in the chamber seemed to be sucked into the tome slightly. Tu’luh moved his head down low to the altar as Gilifan pulled out his amber amulet and set it beside Nagar’s Secret.

  “Kom bela muoch de sent’tei,” Tu’luh said aloud. He placed a talon upon the page and pressed it into the book, not enough to tear the sturdy paper, but just enough to indent the page. He closed his eyes and a column of smoke rose up from the book. A sickly green light swirled up around the shadowy smoke as though it were a great snake entwining itself around a black tree trunk. The chamber shook and trembled, but neither Tu’luh nor Gilifan paid any mind to that.

  “Kos de alem beaoch con mes te’la,” Tu’luh said in his thunderous voice. The green light struck out like a lightning bolt, attaching to Tu’luh’s talon. The great silvery dragon trembled and quaked. He groaned in pain as the spell pulled some of his energy into it. The green light spread out thinly over his silver scales, as if he were being swallowed by bright pond scum. Tu’luh repeated the first two phrases over and over until his entire body was enveloped in the green light. Blood seeped out from under a few of the scales on his head and rivulets dripped from his nostrils. Still he did not stop.

  He roared mightily, fire blasting the ceiling above and scorching the stone. When he took a breath, the light surrounding him infiltrated his body, running into his snout and throat. He swallowed the light down and fought against it as pain gripped him from the inside. It was a strange sensation, for a dragon to feel as though it was burning. Yet, that is exactly how it felt. His insides squirmed and convulsed as the heat ripped through every inch of his humongous body.

  He continued chanting the two phrases for his part of the spell for over an hour. Then the light emerged from him, although now it was much brighter and infiltrated with veins of scarlet. The light pulled itself back to the column of smoke, wrapping tightly around the blackness.

  Tu’luh looked down to Gilifan.

  The necromancer nodded. Now it was his turn. Tu’luh turned and limped slowly toward a den he had created for this day that was several hundred yards away from the altar. The mighty dragon would rest there for a day to recoup, Gilifan knew.

  The wizard placed a hand on either side of Nagar’s Secret and began his own chant.

  *****

  Salarion watched the fighting in the streets below. This had been part of their plan, to draw out as many of Gilifan’s goons as they could. Hopefully that would make it simpler. Even she doubted that it would. She glanced toward the east and the hairs on her neck stood on end. She didn’t see anything, but she could feel it. She turned around to see Maernok sharpening his dagger and staring at the blade intently.

  “Maernok, it is time,” Salarion said.

  “Are you sure?” the large orc asked.

  The dark she-elf rose to her feet. “Remember, my magic will make you invisible for only a few hours. It should be long enough to find Gilifan and kill him, but don’t waste your time.”

  “What about you?” Maernok asked.

  “I will come with you for as long as I can, but you must promise to kill me when I turn.”

  “If you turn,” Maernok said. “Maybe we can get to them fast enough that you—” Salarion cut him off.

  “That isn’t likely. I will go as far as I can, but I can see a dark cloud rising in the east even now. It will take some time to get there, and then if any portion of the inner caverns are locked down we will be delayed.”

  “Then let’s move.”

  Salarion pulled out the box that held her father’s essence.

  “What is that?” Maernok asked.

  “This will grant you immunity from the spell. It is my father’s soul.”

  “His soul?” Maernok asked skeptically. “How could you have such a thing? It belongs in Hammenfein.”

  “No, I changed the spell when my father used it. I cursed it so that when he died his soul would be trapped in this artifact. This way, when the time came when Tu’luh had found a new champion, I could make myself immune to its power.”

  “So why not use it on yourself?”

  Salarion smiled and shook her head. “There isn’t time for questions.” She reached into the cube and pulled a dark crystal out. She muttered something in Taiish, the language of the elves, and then she threw the crystal at Maernok. The orc flinched, but the crystal exploded around him and absorbed into his chest in a fraction of a second. Maernok grunted and rubbed his chest, then he grinned.

  “I can feel the magic in me,” he said.

  Salarion smiled. “Don’t try to use the power, you have no training and it will likely destroy you if you tried. At best, it would alert Gilifan to our presence if you used any magic.”

  “I prefer the blade anyway,” Maernok said. He raised his left hand and a small, blue flame jumped up and then dissipated in the air. “Still, I suppose I can see why others become obsessed with the pursuit of magic.”

  Salarion nodded. “Now I will cast the invisibility spell and we will go.” She chanted another spell in her language and then they departed, running through the crazy streets without turning a single head as they ran off to the east.

  *****

  Gilifan smiled as the clear orb floated up from the altar. He could see the soldiers and mercenaries in the cavern and old fortress ruins. Then he waved his hand to expand the view to include all of Pinkt’Hu. He wasn’t surprised when he saw the townsfolk fighting against the soldiers there. It was an inevitable consequence for sacrificing so many of their kin. The necromancer sneered wickedly. He knew that none of it would matter in the end. All of the inhabitants of Pinkt’Hu would be under the control of the spell within the hour.

  The ritual was close to completion.

  Not only would the living obey him, but on the morrow he would use his enhanced powers to amplify his amulet. Then the dead would all rise and follow him as well. Gilifan glanced to the blood-stained altar and stifled a chuckle. All except for those who had their bodies and souls sacrificed would rise again. That would be enough. As the spell continued outward from the fortress, it would sweep over the whole of the Middle Kingdom. Victory was complete. There was nothing that pesky young hero could do to stop him.

  He took in a breath, savoring the moment as he stared down at the last phrase in the book. He lifted his hands into the air and shouted the final words with all of his strength. Lightning ripped through the chamber. The ground shook and the walls cracked and fractured.

  Gilifan kept his balance by holding the edge of the altar. He was spent now. His energy was depleted and he actually gasped for breath. It didn’t matter. There would be no future threats against him. All were about to be his. His eyes moved up to the orb. He saw a great wave explode out from the mountain. As it stretched, he could feel the souls bending and bowing to the power of the spell. Some individuals fell immediately, with almost no resistance whatsoever, while others with stronger wills took as much as a minute or two to fully surrender to the spell’s power. As each of them were dominated, Gilifan could use the power of the orb to see through their eyes, listen through their ears, and control their actions.

  The necromancer tested his control of a large warrior by having him kneel before a thin man and commanding the thin man to take the large warrior’s head. The warrior obediently bent his neck and even offered his sword to the smaller man. Gilifan smiled at his triumph.

  He would raise the large warrior again later with his amulet.

  For now he turned his attention back to the orb and watched in delight as the wave expanded out to cover all of Pinkt’Hu. His grin turned to a maniacal laugh as thousands of souls became subject to him. He knew he shared the power with Tu’luh, but what did it matter? He had done it. Victory was his. Despite the numerous setbacks and the meddling champions
that had harried him along the way, he had overcome all.

  Gilifan stretched his hands out to the orb, as if to hug the vision of conquest he saw before him. Then something went wrong. The wave stopped just beyond Pinkt’Hu and died in the sea. Panicked, Gilifan waved his hand to angle the orb and see where the wave was on the eastern side. To his horror, it too had faded only a few miles beyond the mountain.

  The spell had failed.

  “NO!” Gilifan shouted as he slammed a fist down on the altar. “This cannot be.” He searched the orb again and again, quickly changing the viewpoint and searching for any shred of the expanding spell. There was none to be seen. He fell forward onto the altar and shook his head. His mouth hung open in shock and he stared blankly down at the pages before him.

  That was when he saw it.

  One of the Taish runes on the page before him had been added to. He picked up Nagar’s Secret and inspected the rune closely. It had in fact been changed. He hadn’t seen it before, but he could clearly see the newer ink now. He scanned through the rest of the page and found several more small, almost imperceptible alterations.

  “Salarion,” he said under his breath. She had to have been the one to change it. Then again, why alter the spell only to give it to him? Salarion had her father’s soul, which she could use for immunity from the spell. Gilifan had always known she would use that to her advantage, but why change the spell? Surely there must have been a reason. Perhaps she was saving someone, or maybe she thought he wouldn’t notice? Whatever the reason, Gilifan had to act fast.