The Second Symbol

by Lana Axe

  Taren wanted to cheer as he saw Zamna’s head appear above the water. But his heart nearly stopped as he realized the La’kertan was also caught in the vortex. On the opposite side of the kraken, Zamna was fighting to stay afloat. Despite his gills, Taren knew that Zamna wouldn’t survive the pressure if he was sucked to the bottom of the sea. With a glance at Imrit, he watched the sorcerer’s eyes glow with blue fire.

  Fighting against the raging wind, Taren tried to tap its power. It was strong, not willing to bend, but Taren was determined. Reaching for his magical stores, he projected his mind to the gale. Channeling its energy, he forced it into a chain, building it link by link. Each link connected to the next, reaching ever closer to Zamna. His mind worked quickly, desperate to reach the La’kertan in time.

  Every muscle in Zamna’s body ached with fatigue, screaming for him to stop his efforts to stay afloat. If he relaxed, he’d be sucked below and left to the mercy of the kraken and the sea. His gills provided minimal breath, not enough to allow him to dive hundreds of feet in a quick descent. Continuing to fight, he forced his exhausted body to swim.

  Blinking twice, he tried to clear his vision. Could he really be seeing his salvation? Glowing silver amid the sea spray was a chain. Thanking the mage who had sent it, Zamna grabbed hold with all his remaining strength. In an instant, he was pulled from the water and flying toward the ship. Below he caught a glimpse of a tentacle as it thrashed before being sucked to the deep. The whirlpool closed in, changing to a narrow funnel. Crashing to the deck, Zamna grunted against the pain.

  When he sat up, Taren was at his side. The storm broke overhead, the sky returning to a vibrant shade of blue. The sea regained its calm, and the ship righted itself in the water. Realizing it had all been the work of malicious sorcerers, Zamna cursed the Dragon Cultists. They must have sent the kraken and the storm to keep unwanted visitors at bay. Wishing he hadn’t given up his old profession, he struggled to his feet.

  Offering an arm, Taren aided Zamna as he stood. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’ll live,” Zamna said. “I can’t say the same for those Cultists.” He was ready to kill them all.

  “They don’t want us here,” Taren replied. “But I didn’t expect they’d try to kill us. We’ll have to be careful once we make land.”

  “No kidding,” Zamna replied.

  Boiling with anger, the captain approached the pair. “You’ve only angered the monster! Why didn’t you kill it?”

  Taren started to give an answer, but he was cut off the moment he opened his mouth.

  “It’ll be after me on my way out of here, mark my words!” the captain said. “Wizards are nothing but trouble.” As he stomped away, he muttered, “Never should have let them on my ship.”

  A string of curse words followed, and Taren wondered if he was about to throw them all overboard. Next to him, Zamna hissed with laughter. The sorcerer looked at him, puzzled. He saw no humor in the situation.

  “There’s no pleasing some people,” Zamna said. Slapping Taren on the shoulder, he said, “Thanks for the chain. And don’t worry about the captain. He’ll get us to shore before he tucks his tail and runs away.”

  “But there are no other ships to bring us away from Ayumai once we’re finished,” Taren said.

  “Your symbol should be working by then,” Zamna reminded him. “We’ll all teleport away.”

  Wishing he had the La’kertan’s confidence, Taren looked down at the marks on his arm. Would it work as it had before? Would it be better? Imrit had only heard rumors of the dragon. The Cultists could have started those rumors for their own purpose. What if there was no dragon? If they had one, a kraken would have been unnecessary. The dragon could have set the ship ablaze, leaving it burning on the ocean. Spinning around, he focused his eyes toward the island, which was still in sight on the horizon. The storm hadn’t blown them too far off course. As the crew scrambled to repair the damages and clean up the deck, Taren’s anxiety grew.

  Imrit strolled casually toward his companions, a carefree smile on his lips. “I’ve had a word with the captain,” he announced. “He doesn’t want to wait for us to complete our business on Ayumai.”

  “Then how—” Taren started to ask.

  Holding up a finger, the wizard silenced him. “I told him if he left us high and dry, I’d call that kraken back, and I’d lay an enchantment on his ship that would make the hull buckle as soon as he was too far out to sea to swim back.”

  Zamna nodded approvingly. “Well done.”

  “Thank you,” Imrit said proudly. “After that I dangled a bit of gold in front of his face and reminded him he’d only received half his payment. He won’t get the rest until we return to the ship.”

  “I’m sure he didn’t like being threatened,” Taren commented. He wouldn’t like it either if he was on the other side, but Imrit and the captain had a deal, and the captain should be bound to his word. Only minor damage had been done to his vessel, and Imrit could pay for repairs. He had plenty of gold to cover it.

  “I’m sure he didn’t like my tone either,” Imrit said, laughing. “But it’s never a good idea to tangle with a master sorcerer, especially a master of water if you’re a sea captain.” He winked at his former apprentice.

  “Could you really send that kraken after him?” Zamna wondered.

  Imrit only shrugged.

  “It was bleeding pretty good after I finished with it,” the La’kertan added.

  “Those things are tough,” Imrit replied. “And their legs regrow. You won’t have killed it, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

  “Well, your cyclone certainly made it dizzy,” Zamna said, grinning.

  Taren stood silent, listening to their exchange. Now that the urgency had passed, he reflected on what had happened. He had retrieved Imrit to help Zamna, but Imrit had focused only on getting rid of the kraken. His attack did not harm the creature, but it certainly could have harmed Zamna. The La’kertan could have been drowned, dashed against the side of the boat, or crushed by the pressure on the ocean floor. What had made Imrit act so recklessly? Was it the symbol and its unpredictable behavior? It had to be that, he decided. Imrit would never willingly endanger a friend.

  “I think I’ll get cleaned up before we make land,” Imrit announced. In a swirl of blue robes, he hurried off below deck.

  “He’s an interesting character, that one,” Zamna stated.

  Nodding, Taren responded, “He’s a good man. He always has been.”

  “You’ll get no argument from me,” Zamna said. “Anyone who can take on a kraken is fine by me. Even if he nearly killed me in the process.”

  Staring after his former master, Taren began to wonder if immortality had been the cause of the change in Imrit. What if Taren hadn’t been able to help Zamna from the water? Would Imrit have stopped his attack on the kraken to save him? A voice in his head replied in the negative, planting a seed of doubt. Shaking the thought away, Taren reminded himself that Imrit was still the same man. He would certainly have done all he could to save Zamna, and he knew Taren was a capable wizard. There was nothing to worry about.

  “I’m going to find something to eat and then get some sleep,” Zamna announced.

  “Sounds like a good plan,” Taren agreed. Following his friend to the mess hall, he glanced back toward the sea. Sunset’s fire lit the ocean ablaze, an ominous vision flashing before his eyes. The silhouette of a dragon blackened the waters as the beast charted a path across the sky. The herbalist felt its breath on the back of his neck. Brushing away the feeling with his hand, he squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, the dragon was gone.

  Chapter 10

  A deep indigo sky dotted with flickering silver greeted them in the predawn hours. The ship had made port, and the captain was eager to get his guests underway.

  “The sooner you get over there, the sooner we can leave,” the captain grumbled.

  “Yes, but our business will take as long as it takes, and I e
xpect you to be waiting for us,” Imrit warned. “If you break our agreement, I will track you down.” With a smirk, he added, “That is assuming you make it home alive.” Adjusting the straps on his pack, he made sure the chest of lophophora was secure before leaving the ship.

  The captain’s eyes narrowed as he glared at the sorcerer. He seemed to be weighing the threat, deciding if the man would truly do him harm. When Zamna stepped past and slapped the captain hard on his back, his mind was made up. Imrit must be dangerous to travel with such company.

  Taren approached the captain, his mannerisms calm and relaxed. Despite his growing anxiety about the dragon, he wanted to put the captain at ease. “I don’t suppose you can give us directions to the Dragon Cult?” he asked.

  The captain shook his head. “There’s a tavern in that direction,” he said, pointing eastward. “Follow the path. There’s only one. Not many people want to live here, so there isn’t much need for roads.”

  “Thanks,” Taren replied.

  His tone serious, the captain said, “Drunk is better than brainwashed. You’ll stay at the tavern and leave those elves alone if you know what’s good for you.” Stalking off in the darkness, he left the herbalist to ponder his words.

  Though the captain might be right, Taren had to visit the Cultists. They were his reason for coming, or rather the dragon that they guarded was. But the captain’s warning struck a note with Taren, who decided he would cast a shielding spell over his mind before approaching any of the Cultists. He would tell Imrit to do the same, and they would both provide protection for Zamna. They hadn’t come all this way to be ensorcelled.

  When the symbol began to tingle, he wondered if it was enough protection. The thought that gave him pause was that the symbol might not want him protected. It had lured him here to Ayumai. Maybe it wanted the Cultists to take it from him. The uncertainty sent a shiver down his spine. The elves would have to kill him to take it, as it couldn’t be separated from him by any other means. Did Imrit suspect the same thing?

  “I think we should discuss a few things before we meet with the Cultists,” Taren said, trotting to his former master’s side.

  “Yes, that’s for the best,” the older sorcerer agreed.

  “Might as well take our time. We definitely don’t want to be around for their sunrise ritual,” Zamna cautioned. “They all drink some sort of potion and then go into convulsions. Nasty stuff.” He made a retching sound with his throat and spat on the ground.

  Both Imrit and Taren swiveled their heads to look at him. Zamna simply raised an eyebrow ridge and stared back at them.

  “Is that a guess, or do you know something about this place?” Taren asked.

  “I came here once,” Zamna replied. “And no, I don’t know if there’s really a dragon here. I never saw it, and the general population stays as far from the cult as they can get.”

  “What was your purpose here?” Imrit asked.

  “Work,” Zamna replied coolly. “Elves are mortal, and not everyone likes Dragon Cultists.” He brushed past them without another word, leading the way toward a row of buildings. “The town’s this way,” he called back to them.

  The pair exchanged a glance before following the La’kertan.

  “I wanted to ask about the symbols,” Taren said.

  “What of them?” Imrit replied.

  “Are these Cultists going to try to take them from us? How do we know we’ll be safe?”

  Looking away from his companion, Imrit replied, “We don’t really know that. As for the symbols, I doubt the Cultists have any idea what they are. They have no way of knowing we possess them, especially since they aren’t fully active. As elves, they will know we are sorcerers in the way all magical beings sense magic in others, but nothing more.” He offered Taren a reassuring pat on the arm. “Don’t worry, young man,” he said. “All will be well.”

  Taren wanted nothing more than to believe him. Still, doubt gnawed at the edge of his mind, the hair bristling on the back of his neck.

  A pale line of pink heralded the sunrise as they reached the small island town. Dilapidated wooden structures stood all around, their thatched roofs dappled with holes.

  “People live here?” Taren asked.

  “Only about a hundred of them,” Zamna said. “If you don’t count the Cultists. These people help coordinate supplies for the cult, though. The elves don’t like to leave their shrine.”

  “Why would anyone else want to live here?” Taren wondered. The town appeared impoverished and depressing. If he were left here, he’d hop on the next ship and sail away. Anywhere was better than this.

  “These people aren’t exactly welcome anywhere else,” Zamna told him. “Undesirables find other undesirables and have children. That’s how the community continues. Of course, most of the young ones leave as soon as they’re old enough to know there are better places in the world.”

  “I see,” Taren said, his eyes scanning the town. The light of dawn allowed him to see the beauty of the landscape behind the town—a lush tropical paradise complete with swaying palm trees. “At least it has a nice view,” he said, attempting to stay positive.

  “Well don’t fall asleep on the beach,” the La’kertan warned. “You’ll wake up robbed and probably beaten. That is, if you wake up.” He paused a moment. “I guess sorcerers don’t have to worry much about that.”

  Remembering how the La’kertans nearly took him hostage, Taren wasn’t so sure. He had to get the symbol working properly. If there were criminals here more dangerous than dragons, he didn’t want to meet them without his full magical strength. “Can you take us to the Dragon Shrine?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Zamna said. “Do you want to stop in town first?”

  Both Imrit and Taren shook their heads.

  “Lead on,” Imrit said.

  Past the village was a wild forest of palm trees. Before entering, Taren asked, “Are you sure it’s safe to travel through here?”

  “Should be,” Zamna replied. “No one expected a ship to arrive, so no one has had time to plan an ambush. Plus it’s too early for most criminals to be awake. I’ve never known a thief or murderer who enjoyed getting up before sunrise.” Hissing with laughter, he stepped into the forest.

  Scattered on the ground were various thorny vines and thickets, home to skittering lizards and sand crabs. The sand made travel difficult, each of them stepping carefully to avoid twisting their ankles. Crabs became a hazard as well as they skittered across the sand in search of breakfast. With claws larger than their bodies, they had a fierce appearance. To avoid a nasty pinch, the travelers dodged them as they journeyed on.

  Zamna stopped short in front of the other two and held up a hand to halt them. With a toss of his head, he showed them why he had stopped. A small human, no more than two feet high, stood a few yards away, leaning against a palm tree. On his head he wore a red stocking cap. His white shirt was dingy and stained, and his blue vest and pants were heavily worn. His feet were bare, and the brambles didn’t seem to bother him as he took a few steps toward the travelers.

  “Careful,” Zamna whispered to his companions.

  “Why?” Taren asked. “He’s a gnome. They’re friendly and helpful. Maybe he has information.” If the gnome lived on this island, then he knew about the Cult. He might have knowledge that could help them get inside. “Hello there!” he called, taking a step toward the gnome.

  With superhuman strength, the gnome leapt, his teeth sinking into Taren’s leg. A savage growl sounded from the little man’s throat as he tore open a gash in the herbalist’s calf. Caught completely off-guard, Taren fell over backward, landing hard on his back. With a cry of pain, he sat up and reached for his magic.

  Before Taren could cast his spell, Imrit summoned energy from the air. With an earsplitting clap of thunder, he unleashed a burst of lightning, striking the gnome on his backside. Shrieking in terror, the little man ran into the woods, rubbing his charred behind.

  Zamna roared with la
ughter, doubling over and slapping his knee.

  Imrit reached down to help Taren up. “My word, boy,” he said. “Didn’t I teach you anything?”

  Brushing himself off, Taren shook his head. Inspecting the bite mark on his leg, he realized the little gnome had fangs. “I thought gnomes were friendly,” he said, reaching into his bag of herbs. Seating himself on a nearby rock, he fashioned a poultice to cover the wound.

  “That wasn’t a gnome,” Imrit said, his tone scolding. “That, my friend, was a redcap.”

  Still in hysterics, Zamna wiped the tears from his eyes. Holding his stomach, he gulped down his remaining laughter. Snickering, he managed to ask, “Are you all right?”

  Looking up at the La’kertan, who was obviously enjoying this, Taren replied, “I’ll live.” It was so absurd that he broke into a smile as well. “I guess I should have taken your advice,” he conceded.

  “Looks that way,” Zamna replied, finally able to compose himself. “And the look on your face as you went down was priceless.”

  “Redcaps,” Taren said, shaking his head. “Which one of you knows if they’re venomous?”

  “They’re not,” Imrit replied, staring after the little creature. “But that’s a nasty bite that could become infected.”

  “No worry there,” Taren responded. “The poultice is bee balm, thyme, and cloves.” The herbalist knew exactly how to prevent infection. For the inflammation, he took two sips from a green-gray potion and replaced the stopper. He felt no pain as he took a few steps and flexed his calf muscle. “Good to go,” he announced.

  “Yes, but you smell awful,” Zamna said, wrinkling his nose.

  It was just after sunrise when they emerged from the woods on the far side of the island. Gray rocks littered a steep hill, one they would have to climb to reach the shrine. The smooth stone building shadowed the area where they stood. It loomed larger than the entire town. It could house at least a hundred people, but probably far more. Taren had never seen a building quite like it. Its roof was flat on top but curved as it reached the ends, swirling out over the walls by at least three feet. Images of dragons decorated its edges. Unlike the dragons he had seen in books, these were long and wormlike, their forked tongues lolling out of their mouths.