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

by Ferguson, Sam

  If the spell was limited in range, then he would have to transfer the power into an artifact so he could use it on anyone he came into contact with. The longer he waited to transfer the power, the weaker the spell would be.

  He glanced up and could already see the light and smoke fading away before him.

  His eyes fell upon his amulet. It already contained a powerful spell to raise and control the dead. It was the perfect object to send Nagar’s spell into. Gilifan went to work, weaving his fingers and chanting furiously. If he could finish the spell in time, then perhaps he could give the amulet a range of several hundred feet. It wasn’t the world-conquering spell he had wanted, but it would still provide him with the means to perfect his vision.

  *****

  Salarion pulled Maernok into a corner of the cave. “The spell is completed,” she said. “I don’t have much time. Listen, we are close. Go around this bend to the left. It will open into a chamber. There will be two or three guards at the entrance. The rest of the chamber will be empty, save for the large altar. Slay him quickly. There is no way to know where the dragon is.”

  “I will slay them both,” Maernok swore.

  The invisibility spell that Salarion had enchanted them with dissipated and Maernok clearly saw the horror on her face. Trembling hands reached down and with one she handed her curved scimitar to Maernok. The other plunged a dagger deep into her chest.

  “I won’t let him take me,” she said.

  Maernok stood, holding her sword and watching her trembling body. Her skin began to lose its shine, and her eyes started to cloud over. Even without being well versed in the ways of magic, Maernok easily saw the spell’s effects on her.

  “You, are an honorable elf,” Maernok said. Then he finished her with her own sword, as he had promised, so the spell could not take her.

  From there he wasted no time. He ran with the sword in hand past the geysers on his right, ducking around a sharp overhang as the boardwalk slipped out to the left. The two guards stood near one of the geysers, not even watching the boardwalk. It looked as though they had been caught in the middle of a conversation when the spell had taken hold of them. Now they were little more than zombies, standing and staring at each other blankly.

  Maernok gave one mighty swing, chopping through one and into the other. Their bodies tumbled from the boardwalk to land in the yellow, soft soil near the geyser. A moment later, one of the corpses slipped into the geyser, causing it to boil over and erupt.

  The orc sprinted on into the chamber. It was not as open as he had thought it would be. There appeared to be a great energy barrier covering most of the entrance. He inspected the wall and found large hunks of rock that had fallen away, creating a small hole in the barrier. It wasn’t large enough for him to fit through, but he knew that time was short. He went to work pulling heavy stones free from the wall until he had an opening large enough to slip through without touching the magical wall.

  He crept quickly along the wall, keeping low to avoid any unwanted attention.

  His eyes soon adjusted to the darkness in the chamber. He could see a strange black, red, and green light over an altar of stone. It was swirling in a column. The column then moved down, as if sucked into the altar. When the strange light had vanished, Maernok saw Gilifan standing near the altar. He was exhausted, his chest heaving for breath and his weight leaning upon his arms against the altar.

  Maernok glanced around the chamber. He saw no sign of a dragon. In fact, he saw no one else in the entire chamber. The meddler was vulnerable. This was his chance.

  The orc abandoned his silent approach and dashed directly for the altar. His footsteps resounded through the chamber and he lifted his sword into a striking position.

  Gilifan looked up from the altar. His sweaty face turned into an angry scowl and he raised a hand. The hand lifted a yellow amulet. “You are mine, Maernok!” Gilifan shouted weakly.

  Maernok ran on, unaware that the amulet was trying to seize control over him. The orc covered several yards before the necromancer set the amulet down and lifted his other hand. A blue fireball appeared and flew toward Maernok. The orc dodged it easily. Gilifan tried again, but Maernok easily out maneuvered the spell. Maernok leapt over the altar and landed a solid flying kick to Gilifan’s chest. The necromancer flew back three yards and slammed to the ground, striking his head on the stone floor of the cavern.

  “I told you I would kill you,” Maernok growled.

  Gilifan laughed. “I will be reborn, and I will have you anyway,” he said. “You are too late to stop me.”

  Maernok walked up slowly. He drew his own sword and pierced Gilifan’s right leg with it. Gilifan groaned and grimaced. His face turned into a snarl. “I want to hear you scream,” Maernok said. “Come on now, wizard, give me a scream.”

  “You are a fool,” Gilifan replied through gritted teeth. “It is over. You have sold your people for revenge. Nothing will save them from their fate. So tell me, great and honorable orc, which of us is the greater sinner now?”

  Maernok flipped Salarion’s scimitar upside down and held it over Gilifan’s heart. “Salarion sends her regards,” he said. The point of the blade came down, ripping through sinew and breaking bones apart until it stabbed through the back and blasted the stone beneath. “Now all is as it should be, and you are pinned like the spider you are,” Maernok said.

  He looked down and saw the yellow amulet lying on the ground. He bent down to pick it up. He turned the item over in his hands and felt a strange, entrancing power emanating from it. For a moment the thought came to him that he could use the power to subjugate the humans and reclaim the orcish lands for his own people.

  No. His honor wouldn’t let him do such a thing. Khullan demanded courage and honor, not subterfuge and cowardice. Maernok turned around to set the amulet upon the altar. If he could, he would shatter the gem and destroy it.

  He barely saw the silver flash that came over the altar. Something warm pressed through his chest with a force so strong that it stopped him where he stood. With eyes wide he looked down to see the thick, silvery talon turning red with his blood. He followed the talon upward with his eyes, surveying the massive leg and shoulder of a great dragon. When he saw the gray eyes staring back at him, he knew his life was finished. His limbs began to feel cold and weak.

  Maernok reached down, pulling his sword free from Gilifan’s leg. He raised it up high and with his last bit of strength he shouted out and brought the sword down upon the talon. Sparks exploded from the blade when the steel connected with the dragon’s talon. In the end, the dragon was stronger. The sword shattered and Maernok hung limply from Tu’luh’s talon. The amulet fell to the ground unharmed.

  “Foolish orc,” Tu’luh growled as he flung the corpse aside.

  Tu’luh slipped the amulet around his talon and set it upon the altar. It was then that his gray eyes noticed Salarion’s sword. A wicked sneer appeared over his metallic features. “So the she-elf was the traitor to Nagar,” he mused. “Interesting that she would risk so much to come back and try again.” He turned his head to the entryway and with a single thought he dispelled the magical barrier. He then looked to the amulet.

  Then he let his vision shift so that he could see the fallen souls in the chamber. Gilifan stood smug next to Maernok. The orc had his arms folded over his chest, obviously displeased at seeing Gilifan in the afterlife.

  “Raise me again master,” Gilifan said. “I will use the amulet to bring us glory. Salarion altered the spell, but I was able to save a part of it in my amulet.”

  Tu’luh shook his head. “You have served your purpose, Gilifan,” he said. “I no longer require your service.”

  A grin appeared on Maernok’s face. “Raise me, dragon.”

  Tu’luh turned to the orc. “I would raise you again, but I see that Salarion has imbued your spirit with that of her father. This gave you immunity to my spell. I do not care for rebellious soldiers. You shall wait here until Khefir comes for you
.”

  Maernok stood firm. “Afraid of an orc?” he taunted.

  Tu’luh laughed. “I like your tenacity, but I shall not be wasting my efforts on you, as fun as it may be to raise you and kill you again.”

  “I served faithfully,” Gilifan screeched. “How can you betray me?”

  Tu’luh bent his head low to address the ghost wizard. “You are also immune to the spell, since you are the one who enacted it with me. More worrisome than that is your propensity for seeking power. Better to have no friends at all, than a false servant who would stab at my back.”

  “But I haven’t!” Gilifan screamed. “I have been faithful!”

  “You are a schemer,” Tu’luh replied. “Schemers are what will end the world. Each one tries to subdue the next, without any regard for order.” Tu’luh shook his head. “You will also wait for Khefir. I am sure he will be quite pleased to take your soul down to Hammenfein.”

  Gilifan was silenced. He looked to the floor and shook his head.

  Tu’luh came in closer. “I will tell you who will take your place, if you want to know.” The dragon didn’t bother waiting for Gilifan to respond. He grinned wider and whispered, “Salarion shall be raised up as my new servant.”

  The dragon then turned, grabbed the amulet with his teeth, and walked out of the chamber. He was still weak, and his body needed rest, but he was strong enough for this. It was the perfect solution. Each person who had, or would have, betrayed him was now conquered. The fact that Nagar’s daughter would be raised again to serve under the influence of the spell as his right hand officer made the victory all that more delectable.

  Tu’luh was now the undisputed king. He would rule the world by talon and fang. None could stop him now. Tu’luh walked down the corridor. The large dragon stepped over the geysers, feeling the heat and the moisture. When he saw the dark elf’s body he smiled. Using the power of the amulet, he bent down and touched Salarion’s body with a single talon. A ghastly green vapor emitted from the amulet sinking down through the air until it reached Salarion’s nostrils. The green vapor moved into the body, calling back the spirit that had once inhabited the mortal shell. Salarion’s eyes opened.

  Tu’luh looked at the dark elf and smiled wide. His forked tongue flickered out as he tasted her fear when she recognized his face. He turned his head to the side and said, “I shall take great pleasure in having you serve me.”

  “Please don’t,” Salarion begged. Salarion squirmed before the dragon.

  Tu’luh laughed, then he let the full power of the amulet take hold over Salarion’s heart. The dark elf was now his. He delighted to see the single tear streaking down her face as her freedom, her very will, was stripped from her and subjugated to the mighty dragon.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Njar looked at the young wizard Aparen. Aparen sat at the table eating his breakfast. “Aparen, it is time. Are you ready to help me balance the realm?”

  “I am ready,” Aparen said. The young wizard stood from the table and pushed his plate of eggs and bacon away from him. He stepped around the table and moved toward the satyr.

  Njar nodded. The satyr pulled a small box out of a pouch hanging from his belt. He put the box on the table. “There is no ritual here. All that you need to do is pull the obsidian vial out of the box and drink the contents.”

  As Aparen moved his hand toward the box his fingers trembled slightly. He could almost feel the power emanating from the box. He pulled a small pen made of bone out of a leather loop to unlock the lid. He opened the lid to peer inside. Nestled inside a bed of red velvet was a large obsidian vile. “Is this going to hurt?”

  Njar sighed. He shrugged his furry shoulders and shook his head. “I don’t think it will, but I cannot be certain. If you wish to seek balance you will need to drink the contents of this vile.”

  Aparen hesitated. He thought about opening the vile and drinking its contents, but he did not want to feel the way he felt during the ritual in the coven so long ago. The thought of stealing another’s power now was not as tempting to him as it once had been. The thought of being pained to grow stronger was also a thought he didn’t relish.

  The satyr moved forward and placed a thick furry hand on Aparen’s shoulder. “I know this is a hard thing, but there is no other way. We have trained for this. Dremathor believed you had the potential to complete this task. You should know that a great deal of planning and forethought went in to your selection. However, the choice is always yours, otherwise there would be no balance. If you choose to back out now, then I will not force you to drink the contents of this vile.” Njar held up a warning finger and looked into Aparen’s eyes sternly. “But know this, if you do not drink the vile no other is prepared to do so. Without you, this war cannot be won.”

  Aparen looked at the satyr and studied his eyes for a long time. He looked into the golden orbs seeking truth. Aparen was unsure, even now, whether the satyr truly had his best interest at heart. The young wizard knew all too well that this could also be manipulation. He was so very tired of being other people’s pawn. Still, he could not deny the words that Njar had spoken. He knew this was going to be a monumental task, one that would possibly stretch him beyond his limits.

  In that moment, his thoughts turned to his mother. What would she say? What would she advise him to do? The answer was already obvious. Though he had been raised in a proud house, his mother had taught him selflessness. Guilt crept into his heart then, for he knew that he had only been acting selfishly in the last many months. He could not remember the last time he had acted selflessly.

  Today, he was going to become a new man.

  He reached into the box and opened the obsidian vile. He pressed it to his lips and tipped his head backward so that the content spilled down his throat. The texture was like sand and the taste was far beyond bitter. He could almost feel the screams of the dying man whose power had been sucked into the vile. He felt both heat and cold spreading through his body. These two sensations rippled through him, battling each other and fighting for dominance of his veins, limbs, and organs. As the two sensations subsided, they were replaced with numbness. A feeling of utter deadness.

  The light around him became dark. His head became faint and his vision blurred. The strength in his legs began to give out. For a moment he felt the sensation of falling, then he felt a pair of hands catch him from behind.

  “This will pass Aparen,” Njar said. “Now you will sleep, as your new power begins to take root in your body. I will return tomorrow when you are rested and you will begin your journey.”

  *****

  Aparen opened his eyes and sat up from his bed. He felt the strange new energy running through him. More than that, he had a wealth of new knowledge and skills flooding his mind. As had happened before when he absorbed energies from other beings, he gained all of the abilities and experiences in this new gift of power. He was still himself, but it was as if he had also lived the life of each shadowfiend whose power had been captured in the vial. This new enlightenment brought him to a much higher level of understanding and empathy than he had ever dreamed possible.

  It was Dremathor’s experience that struck him most. He could see memories of Erik’s birth, and shared in the feeling of loss that Dremathor had felt when the baby was stolen away from him. Aparen had to quickly take control over his thoughts and feelings, pushing the new memories aside and compartmentalizing them in order to maintain control over his mind.

  It was as if not only his mind but his very body and soul had been expanded, strengthened. He stood up and pointed his finger at the table across the room. He did not speak any words, he only thought of a spell he wished to cast. The table ignited into green flames that danced high up to the ceiling scorching the room and sending smoke up into the air. Aparen waved his hand and the fire not only died, but the table was restored as if it had never been touched. Aparen grinned. He moved to walk toward the table, but instead he found his feet stepping upon air. He stopped moving his leg
s and instead used his mind to levitate and float over toward the table. He descended down with hardly a thought. “I could get used to this.”

  Njar opened the door. “I would appreciate it if you did not burn my furniture.”

  Aparen shrugged and laughed. “I didn’t mean any harm, I just felt the urge to try out some of these new powers. Though the spells I know are all the same, they come to me much easier now and I can use them with more efficacy.”

  “Yes, that is the way it should be.” Njar nodded and motioned to the door. “Aparen, it is time to send you on your way. Nagar’s magic has been unleashed. The necromancer Gilifan and the dragon Tu’luh have ushered in an era of darkness that must be quenched. Tu’luh cannot be allowed to rule.”

  “Where shall I go?”

  Njar spread a map over the table and pointed to an old city. “This is Pinkt’Hu. The dragon is there. However, by the time you reach them, Tu’luh will already be gone. From what I can see, the necromancer Gilifan, has been killed. The dragon now acts alone. Your job is to wipe the city and all of its inhabitants off of the map.”

  “Njar, that is not what I was trained for. I thought I was to bring balance to the realm.”

  Njar raised his hands, patting the air and shaking his head. “You do not understand. The spell has warped every living soul in that city. None of them have free will. They are all subject to the dragon under the curse that he and Nagar designed. To bring balance again, means that you must destroy the city and everyone therein.”

  “Is there no other way?”

  “You do not have the magic necessary to reverse the curse. In fact, no such magic exists that would reverse the curse in full. All those who are under the spell must be killed. Even if they are allowed to live, they will die when the curse dies. Therefore, let the Champion of Truth perform his job, while you perform yours. By restoring balance, and killing those who have fallen prey to the curse, you will save many lives. The dragon would use these cursed men to fight in his army. If you destroy them, then his army is that much weaker.”