Lusam: The Dragon Mage Wars Book Five

by Dean Cadman

  Zedd walked slowly and purposely to stand before the gathered crowd. He had no desire to waste any more time there than necessary, and so he began his well-rehearsed speech without delay.

  “You have all gathered here today because you wish to accept me as your new clan leader. Anyone who does not wish to swear their allegiance to me this day should say so and leave now. You will not be given another opportunity to do so later.” Zedd paused and scanned the faces of the crowd, but no one made a sound or attempted to leave.

  Zedd nodded slowly. “Very well, I will take your collective silence as confirmation of that allegiance, and with it shall come all the benefits and consequences of that oath. From this day forward you are under my protection, and you will serve me as I see fit. A refusal to carry out any of my orders will be met with swift and severe punishment, for both you and your immediate family.” Zedd paused again for his words to be absorbed by the crowd.

  Zedd had noticed the day before that several of the people he had rescued were wearing Necromatic rings. No doubt they had committed some form of crime against the Empire and had been forced to flee to The Badlands with their families in order to survive. He didn’t care in the slightest about their past transgressions, but it did give him an opportunity to demonstrate his power, as well as test their willingness to follow his orders without question or hesitation.

  “Anyone here that is wearing a Necromatic ring, step forward now,” Zedd commanded, taking a step back to give them some room. Seventeen people eventually came forward, most of whom wore a look of grave concern that suggested they thought they were about to die. Zedd indicated that they should form an orderly line and hold out their ring hand in front of them. All of them obeyed.

  Zedd wasn’t sure how many of the people standing before him might have heard his verbal exchange with the Vintenar the previous day about removing his own ring. The prisoners had been chained a fair distance away from the line of Empire soldiers, and his words had only been meant for the Vintenar’s ears and those of his men. But if any of them had heard the conversation, he realised that it might negate the effectiveness of what he was about to do now.

  Zedd slowly walked the length of the line, pausing briefly in front of each person to whisper a few words of power. When he had finished, he returned to his original position and addressed them once more.

  “Remove your rings,” he commanded, without preamble. Several loud gasps could be heard from the gathered crowd, and most of the seventeen people who had stepped forward looked at him as if he had gone mad. Unsurprisingly, the people who had stepped forward were amongst the most powerful of the clan, and Zedd wondered if he had just made a crucial mistake. If they refused to remove their rings, he would be forced to carry out his earlier threat for disobeying his orders. And killing several of his strongest followers was probably not the smartest thing to be doing right now.

  One by one Zedd met the eyes of each person standing before him, and almost all of them showed signs of fear or even outright terror at what he’d just asked them to do. One man, however, briefly met Zedd’s eyes before glancing down at his empty ring finger. The man barely hesitated before stepping forward and removing his ring in full view of the others. Several more gasps came forth from the crowd, followed by a wave of quiet mutterings. Zedd held back a smile.

  They obviously all knew the significance of what had just happened, and one by one the other sixteen people removed their rings. The look of fear and terror on their faces was quickly replaced by a mixture of astonishment, gratitude, and awe. Several even thanked him openly, reiterating their willingness to serve him—as if he even cared.

  Zedd took the opportunity to ride the wave of gratitude and continued with his speech as if nothing had happened. “Today, I have freed you from your physical bonds to the Empire. No longer will they simply be able to snuff out your life at a whim. You are now truly free, as the people of The Badlands have always been… or at least that was the hope of the original warlords who settled here.

  “I’m sure you all know your history well enough, but let me remind you of it anyway. In the early days of the Thule Empire, those brave warlords who refused to serve Lord Zelroth were banished from their homeland and forced to flee south to The Badlands. They found themselves trapped in this barren land, between the newly formed Thulian Empire to the north, and the might of Edrana to the south. And that is where you have all been kept ever since, as prisoners in your own lands. You may all think you are free, but believe me, that is only an illusion. The shadow of the Thule Empire has always loomed large over the people of The Badlands, as has that of Edrana, albeit to a far lesser degree.

  “You perpetually fight amongst yourselves, clan against clan, struggling to feed your families with the limited resources available, whilst the real enemy watches and mocks you from afar. Yes, you occasionally raid their border towns and villages, but only because it suits them to allow it. You all know what happens if those raids become too frequent or too violent to ignore; your numbers are culled swiftly, starting the whole process again. Fewer mouths to feed means less competition for resources, and that, in turn, means fewer raids on their border towns and villages.

  “Surely you must all have realised that the Thule Empire could easily wipe you out anytime it liked? But it never does, and there is a simple reason for that. You are a perfect source of slaves for them. They don’t have to feed you, house you, or even raise you. They simply arrive and take whatever number of people they require at the time, plus a few extra, of course, to compensate for the ones who die during transit. Simply put, The Badlands has always produced a never-ending supply of slaves to build, maintain, and run the entire Thulian Empire. But no more!

  “I revealed to you yesterday that I intend to unite the clans of The Badlands under one banner—my banner. Anyone who chooses to oppose me will be crushed, but anyone who chooses to join our ranks will be treated as an equal amongst us. We will build our numbers swiftly over the coming weeks, then set forth to begin our conquest of Thule. We will start with the northern border towns and villages, and offer those people the opportunity to join us. For they may live within the Empire, but they are no less a slave to it than any of you were only yesterday. Given the opportunity to free themselves of the Empire’s bonds, I believe many will choose to do so and join us willingly.

  “News of our uprising will no doubt reach the ears of Lord Zelroth quickly, and he will respond by sending a force which he deems capable of defeating us. But I promise you—they will fail. I will crush whatever size army he sends after us, and we will continue to take town after town as we move north towards our ultimate goal; Azmarin.

  “We will eventually arrive outside Azmarin’s gates with a vast army of our own, having already crushed whatever forces Lord Zelroth may send after us. And at that time, I will kill Lord Zelroth, and take his throne as my own. Also on that day, a new Thulian Empire will be born. One where the rank of its citizens is no longer governed by their magical strength, but by their ability to succeed in their chosen role—and that pledge will also include everyone from The Badlands who decides to join us.”

  Having seamlessly delivered his well-rehearsed speech, Zedd paused to see if it had achieved the desired effect. His suspense was short-lived, however, when a moment later loud cheers and applause erupted from the gathered crowd.

  The dragon heart shard sensed his victory and roared triumphantly within his mind, then sent waves of anticipation cascading through him as it intercepted his stray thoughts about the coming battles. Zedd smiled openly and added his own sense of anticipation to the mix.

  Zedd had no real intention of allowing the weak magi, or even worse, the non-magi to run his new Empire. But he knew that it would be those at the bottom of Thulian society which would most likely hanker after change, and therefore be most likely to abandon the old Empire and join his cause. Eventually, as his reputation grew, and people began seeing him as a viable alternative to Lord Zelroth, many of the more powerf
ul magi would also choose to join him. But for now, he would allow these weaklings to believe in his promises—at least until it suited him to do otherwise.

  To strengthen his false claims of propriety still further, Zedd granted the man who had been first to remove his ring the title of Praetor and assigned him to lead a small unit of soldiers. It was a meaningless gesture to Zedd, but in the eyes of his new followers, it was seen as unquestionable proof that he did indeed intend to empower the people of The Badlands within his new Empire.

  Over the next several days Zedd sent out messengers to all of the neighbouring clans, requesting a meeting with their leaders to discuss a potential alliance. Avril, as well as several other clan members, warned against doing so, stating that it would be perceived as a sign of weakness. Zedd, of course, ignored their council and sent the messengers anyway. Unfortunately, not all of them returned alive, and those who did brought back messages of refusal or even threats from the rival clan leaders.

  After speaking privately with Avril, Zedd confirmed his own suspicions, that the messengers who had failed to return had been killed by rival clans that either had a previous grievance with the Kraell clan, or were simply renowned for their intolerance towards other clans in general. Those clans didn’t know it yet, but they would be first on his list to crush. He didn’t care in the slightest about the men who had lost their lives. He knew many of them would die even before he had sent them. That was why he only used non-magi as messengers, knowing that their deaths would be of no consequence to his future plans.

  What their deaths did achieve, however, was to unite the other clan members behind his decision to attack those rival clans first. They were eager to see justice done, both for the recent deaths of their messengers, and whatever historical grievances they still harboured against them.

  Zedd had already discovered that there were well over a hundred different clans within The Badlands. Some were large and powerful, like the ones who had dared to kill his messengers, whilst most of the others were of a similar size to the Kraell clan, or even smaller. He had no desire to spend months systematically taking over each clan in turn, which is exactly why he had sent the fated messengers in the first place. He planned to make an example out of those clan leaders who had dared to oppose him and make sure that all the other clans knew about it, too. Once he had killed their leaders and taken control of their clans, he would reissue his invitation of an alliance to the remaining clan leaders.

  And by then, he expected a very different response.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Lusam’s eyes flickered open at the sound of nearby voices. His mind struggled to comprehend what he was seeing and hearing. Sharp stabbing pains erupted behind his eyes as the strong sunlight flashed brightly across his face. After a moment, he managed to squint against the pain and focus his vision, only to find himself staring up at the tree canopy above. The treetops swayed in a gentle breeze that didn’t reach the ground below, bathing him in strong dappled sunlight. It was almost hypnotic watching the high branches perform their slow rhythmic dance.

  Peaceful, and serene.

  He would have been content to watch them for hours, if not for pain which had suddenly made itself known in his wrists and ankles. He tried to move them but found that he couldn’t. He tipped his head back to see why and his world spun. He retched to the side and heard high-pitched laughter. Something prodded him in the ribs, but he couldn’t focus his vision to see what. Voices. Small voices all around him, but he couldn’t tell what they were saying. He heard the words, but his mind simply refused to process them.

  “What is it?” a tiny voice said, prodding him once more in the ribs.

  “I dunno, but you need to bite it before it wakes up properly,” came the reply.

  “Me? I’m not biting it… what if it’s poisonous? You bite it.”

  “Bah! It’s not poisonous… look at it! It’s pathetic!”

  “Then you bite it, if you’re so sure,” the tiny voice taunted.

  Lusam turned his head slowly towards the voices, his mind and vision finally beginning to clear. There were three tiny blue human-like creatures standing about four feet away from him, arguing and jostling with each other. He could hear their shrill words, and slowly he began to comprehend their meaning. He looked up towards his painful ankles and finally realised where he was. He had been tied upside down by his hands and feet to a long pole and suspended over what looked like an unlit fire. He listened intently to their conversation and soon realised that they were arguing over him. Or more precisely, who should bite him.

  Lusam tried to speak, but his throat was far too dry and only a muffled croak escaped his mouth.

  “See, I told you, it’s waking up. Bite it… now!” one of the creatures said, taking a step back away from Lusam.

  “And what if it is poisonous?”

  Lusam dragged his swollen tongue around his mouth to try and moisten its sandy texture, then swallowed hard so that he could speak. “I am,” he croaked. “I am poisonous.”

  One of the small creatures, much chubbier than the other two, stepped forward and jabbed him painfully in the ribs.

  “No, you’re not. If you were, you wouldn’t have told us,” the chubby little creature said confidently. Before Lusam could even reply it pounced at him, bearing its tiny pointed teeth as it flew through the air. It landed briefly on his lower right leg and sank its teeth into his flesh.

  Lusam screamed in pain.

  He instinctively tried to kick out at the creature, but it had already gone, somersaulting backwards through the air to rejoin its brethren a few feet away. Lusam could feel the trickle of blood dripping from his leg, but it was the intense burning sensation emanating from the bite which concerned him the most. He knew instantly that it wasn’t simply a bite—he had been poisoned. Again.

  The chubby creature spat to the side. “Yuck! That’s disgusting. It’s far too sweet. We should leave it to rot in the sun for a few days and eat the other one first,” it said, spitting several more times.

  “See, I told you it wasn’t poisonous,” one of the other two said, boisterously pushing his friend.

  “No… you said it was poisonous!” his friend protested, pushing back. All three of the creatures voices faded slowly into the distance as they argued, and silence was restored once more. Or at least it would have been silent, if Lusam hadn’t been able to hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. The pain in his lower leg was excruciating, and it was now spreading to above his knee. Sweat beaded on his face as he panted loudly against the searing pain.

  A deep booming laughter suddenly broke the silence. Lusam startled and turned sharply to see where it had come from. His world spun again, only this time the searing pain in his leg anchored him firmly to reality, and he whimpered loudly. The mocking laughter came again.

  “No less than you deserve, spoguk!”

  When he managed to open his eyes again through the pain, Lusam couldn’t believe what he saw. It was the ogre that he’d seen earlier, and it too was tied upside down above an unlit fire. It stared defiantly at him with its deep orange, almost red eyes and snarled menacingly. Lusam’s blood turned to ice in his veins and all he wanted to do was run. But he knew with absolute certainty that even standing was beyond his ability, let alone running anywhere.

  He knew that he needed to escape, either before the ogre broke free or the small creatures came back to finish him off. But first, he needed to cure himself of whatever poison the small creature had afflicted him with. Bracing himself against the inevitable pain and nausea, he reached for his magic—but it simply wasn’t there. Or more accurately, he couldn’t reach it.

  Panic rose swiftly in him as he tried time and again to use his magic. But no matter what he did, it remained tantalizing just out of his reach. He could sense that it was still there, but he simply couldn’t get to it. He closed his eyes and tried to think through the haze of pain which threatened to pull him under. He knew that if he lost consciou
sness now, he would never likely wake up again. Thoughts of Neala waiting for him back in his own world suddenly filled his mind. If he died here, she would never know what had happened to him, or why he had never returned to her. And because of that, he knew deep down that even if she had to wait until summer—when the sea was much calmer—she would still attempt to enter the hidden realm to find him, and that would surely kill her.

  He couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t allow that to happen.

  Lusam pulled against his bonds with all his strength, but they refused to give. The ogre laughed openly at his efforts, but he ignored it and continued to try and break free. His wrists soon began to bleed as the coarse rope rubbed away his skin, and his bitten leg felt like it was on fire. He grimaced against the pain and thrashed about wildly, causing the pole to flex and clatter loudly against its mountings.

  “Stop doing that, spoguk, and die with honour like a… whatever you are. You’ll make the faeries come back and dart us both!” the ogre said forcefully in a low voice.

  Lusam stopped instantly and turned to face the ogre. Sweat streaked his face and he was breathing heavily against both the pain and effort he had just expended in trying to escape. His mind whirled at what the ogre had just said.

  “Faeries? But they can’t be faeries. Faeries don’t exist,” he said, realising just how ridiculous the statement was the moment he said it. Ogres weren’t supposed to exist either, yet here he was, staring right at one. He shook the strange thoughts from his mind, then said defensively, “And even if they did, faeries are supposed to be good, not evil.”