The Second Symbol

by Lana Axe

  Deciding he had to do what was right regardless of the outcome, Zamna opened the door. Planting the torch in its holder, he entered the main chamber. The Cultists formed a circle around the central dragon statue, kneeling and chanting in low voices. Taren and Imrit stood near the door, unmoved from where he had left them.

  Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly. Here we go, he thought.

  “Zamna!” Taren called, beckoning to his friend.

  The La’kertan approached slowly, his brow ridges low. His eyes shifted from Taren to Imrit and back, the words sticking in his throat.

  “Is there a dragon?” Taren asked. He couldn’t be sure the creature truly existed until his friend confirmed it with a single nod. “Does she have the book? Will she give it to us?”

  “That’s the complicated part,” Zamna replied. “She does have the book you need, but there’s a catch. It can’t be used without the dragon’s help.”

  “What do you mean?” the herbalist asked.

  “She said the book is useless without her help,” the La’kertan answered. “She didn’t give me a full explanation, but she said you’d require dragon’s fire to unlock the artifact. As far as I could tell, she knows what you possess.”

  “Of course,” Imrit said dismissively. “Dragons can sense magic, and the symbols Taren and I possess are quite strong.”

  “Will she help us?” Taren asked. He wished he’d been able to speak with the dragon himself. Zamna was a good friend, but he didn’t have the knowledge he needed. Only someone who had bonded with the symbol could describe its power to the dragon.

  “For a price,” Zamna said, his eyes landing on Imrit.

  The old man did not look away.

  Taren looked at each of them, the tension between them prickling his skin. He didn’t understand the sudden hostility between them. “What did the dragon ask of us?”

  Cocking his head slightly, Zamna said, “A human sacrifice.”

  “Human? Why?” Jarraluc rose from his position near the statue. Apparently he’d been listening the whole time. “Why not an elf?”

  “Are you insane?” Zamna asked.

  The Cult leader ignored the comment. “Many of my elven brethren would walk gladly into Iracidae’s loving arms. It would be an honor.”

  “She wants to kill my friend and eat him!” Zamna shot back. To Taren, he said, “We, and you especially, have to get out of here.”

  “Why me especially?” Taren asked.

  To Imrit, Zamna asked, “You want to answer him?”

  Imrit stood perfectly still, his arms crossed, his expression neutral. There was no hint of movement upon his lips. He wasn’t going to answer the question.

  “Think about it, Taren,” Zamna began. “Imrit is the one who brought you here, and I’m guessing he didn’t share all his research with you. You’re the one to be sacrificed to that dragon down there.”

  “That’s preposterous,” Taren replied, shaking his head. “No, there’s been some misunderstanding.” He wouldn’t believe that Imrit had planned to have him killed.

  “Imrit knows more than he’s saying,” Zamna accused.

  “Taren,” Imrit said, “it’s clear your friend here couldn’t accomplish what he was sent to do. Perhaps you or I should try conversing with the dragon.”

  “Absolutely not!” Jarraluc shouted. The Cultists behind him drew their daggers and formed ranks. They would kill to keep the humans from Iracidae.

  “Let Imrit go,” Zamna said. “Iracidae wants a human, so give her one.”

  Jarraluc’s mouth slammed shut, his eyes shifting nervously. One wave of his hand told his brethren to sheathe their weapons. “Iracidae demanded a human,” he said, defeated. “Who are we to deny her wishes?” A single tear dripped from his left eye.

  “There’s your chance, Imrit,” Zamna said.

  “No,” Taren said, stepping in front of his former master. “I’ll go. If she’s expecting a sacrifice, you won’t be able to reason with her before she attacks.”

  “How will you fare any different?” Zamna asked. “I’m betting she won’t attack her ally.”

  “Zamna, I don’t know why you think Imrit is planning something sinister, but I can assure you he isn’t.” There was no doubt in Taren’s mind that Imrit had brought him here to help him. The man who had loved him as his own son would never intentionally put him in harm’s way. “Both of us need this book,” Taren went on. “Imrit as much as myself. We have to work together. Please, Zamna. I’m not asking you to trust him, just trust me.”

  That was the end of Zamna’s patience. Taren had a good heart, but his head was too thick to understand the danger before him. “I’m not going to argue, Taren,” he said. “Imrit, you’re going to tell Taren everything you know right now. Don’t hold anything back. If you don’t, I’ll drag you to Iracidae’s cavern and let her slice you to pieces.”

  “An idle threat from a harmless man,” Imrit said. “You pose no danger to me, especially when you have no weapon. Or did you forget that your daggers are outside?”

  “Then I’ll bring the cursed dragon up here!” Zamna shouted. Imrit was right that he couldn’t win in a fight against magic, but the La’kertan wouldn’t go down easily.

  “Blasphemy!” Jarraluc shouted. “You mustn’t speak that way about our lady. I will escort the man if need be.”

  “No!” Taren shouted. “No one is going anywhere.” He turned to his former master, his brown eyes sincere. “Please tell me what Zamna says isn’t true.”

  Imrit’s reply was quiet, nearly inaudible. “He speaks the truth.”

  Taren’s chest felt like it had been crushed by a boulder. How could his mentor do this to him? “You knew?” he asked, the words escaping without thought. Taren immediately wished he could recall them. He didn’t want to hear an explanation.

  “Listen, Taren,” Imrit said, laying a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “It isn’t what you think. I did know the book was useless without the dragon.” Looking at Zamna, he added, “But I did not know she would ask for a human sacrifice.”

  “If you knew we’d need the dragon’s help, why did you bring us here?” Taren asked, his mind reeling. “We’ve wasted all this time. You can’t expect a dragon to help us. You said only that we needed the tome!”

  Zamna still wasn’t sure he could believe Imrit. If he lied about one thing, why not the other? Maybe he was too quick to judge, and he was not a forgiving sort of man. He wished Ynaja were here to help guide him. He stood unmoving as he watched his closest friend shaken to his core. Even a small lie was a betrayal in Taren’s eyes, especially if it came from Imrit.

  “That’s why I wanted you to speak with the dragon in the first place,” Imrit insisted. “You could have convinced her. This assassin has no gift for words. He is a man of action. She only sensed murder and hatred in him.”

  Zamna made no argument. He could not deny his past, nor what the dragon might have seen in his heart, if she indeed possessed such power. What mattered now was keeping Taren from becoming dragon fodder. Imrit would have to kill both Zamna and Taren if he wanted to sacrifice the herbalist.

  “You, on the other hand, have tact,” Imrit went on. “A dragon could sense your purity of heart. The tome would already be yours if these red-eyed fools hadn’t stopped us.”

  “I understand,” Taren said. He truly did. If Imrit had said they’d have to convince a dragon to give them the tome, and then work with them to unlock the symbol, he would have thought the old man was crazy. It was a terrible plan. They had traveled all this way for nothing. Taren had left everything behind. Would he have a business when he made it back? Probably not. The College would hire some other herbalist, thanks to his prolonged absence. Taren would have to start all over again, and still the symbol would plague him. “You didn’t have to lie to me,” he said.

  “I’m sorry,” Imrit said. “We’re here now, and we have a chance to end the symbols’ torment upon us. Help me, and help yourself. Talk to the dra
gon.”

  “Maybe we can trade her a few of these elves in Taren’s stead,” Zamna suggested. He still wasn’t ready to trust Imrit, but he knew the symbol was making Taren’s life miserable. Soon the young man would probably walk into the dragon’s mouth willingly. Though the herbalist had tried to hide it, Zamna had missed nothing. An assassin was trained to find a man’s weakness, and Taren was in considerable pain. It seemed to come and go, but Taren constantly feared its return.

  “I will,” Taren said.

  Chapter 15

  “Before you go,” Imrit said. “There’s something I need to say. Something else I should have told you.”

  “Go ahead,” Taren replied.

  “I did intend for the dragon to choose you, but not in the way your La’kertan friend thinks,” the old man said. “We will need dragon’s fire in order to activate the symbols. Once she feels your symbol’s power unleashed, she might not be willing to activate mine. A dragon knows well that such an act could disrupt the balance of magic in our world.”

  “Why choose mine over your own?” Taren wondered. “This has always been your dream, and I would see you achieve it.” Taren had only ever dreamt of becoming an herbalist, and he’d already achieved that. He’d retrieved the symbol for Imrit to use. Taren wouldn’t have gone looking for it if he’d thought it was for himself.

  A gentle smile spread over the old man’s face. “I would gladly give up immortality for you, Taren. You’re not my blood, but you are no less my son.”

  Taren didn’t know what to say. He loved Imrit dearly, but he didn’t want the old wizard’s life to end while his own continued on for centuries.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Imrit said. “I know you want me around forever, but that’s not how these things work. The symbol has granted me a second life. Without it, I’d never have had the energy for this journey. Thanks to the symbol, I’m able to bestow upon you this amazing gift. You’ll wield unimaginable power. No other sorcerer can say he’s done so much for his apprentice.”

  Taren considered his mentor’s words. He was grateful that Imrit had been given a second lifetime to spend with him. Without him, Taren wouldn’t have come this far in pursuit of the symbol’s power. Even if his life would someday end, Imrit would never be forgotten. His legacy would live on in Taren. Wasn’t that true of all good fathers? Reaching out, he embraced the old man, clutching him tightly to his chest. “Once my symbol is at full power, we’ll find a way to activate yours,” he promised. “Even if the dragon refuses to help.”

  Growing impatient, Zamna said, “This is all very touching, but that dragon is ready to receive its sacrifice. One of you gets to be a super mage, and the other gets eaten.”

  “I will go,” Imrit said. “I will attempt to calm her anger and explain the situation. If I don’t succeed, she can have me as her sacrifice. Then Taren will still have his chance. You know it’s the best course of action.”

  Hot with anger, Taren wouldn’t hear of it. “Unacceptable,” he said. To Jarraluc, he said, “Tell that dragon there will be no sacrifice. She can keep her book and her fire. I want no part of her. A creature of pure evil this dragon must be.” With all his heart, he hated her.

  “It isn’t that high a price,” Imrit said with a shrug.

  “How can you say that?” Taren asked.

  “It is a mighty gift we ask of her,” he replied.

  “Please,” Jarraluc said, gripping Zamna by the hand. “Offer me to Iracidae. I would be honored to be sacrificed to her. She has to accept me.” The elf dropped to his knees, still holding Zamna’s hand.

  “I told you they were insane,” Zamna said to Taren. “But you can’t argue with what a man wants. Let’s give it a try.”

  Taren looked at Imrit. The old man appeared to agree. “Absolutely not!” Taren said. “We’re not offering any lives to the dragon: elf, human, or otherwise. We’re getting out of here.”

  “But the symbol!” Imrit protested.

  “We’ll find another way,” Taren argued. He looked out among the Cultists, all of whom had dropped to their knees alongside Jarraluc. Any one of them would gladly offer his life to Iracidae. “This is madness!” To stand among such people, willing to die for no good reason was beyond all reason. Their behavior was intolerable, as was the dragon’s request. He turned toward the door but managed only a single step.

  “Look out!” Zamna shouted, grabbing the herbalist by the back of his neck and forcing him to the ground.

  Taren didn’t have time to think. He crashed to the floor beneath the La’kertan’s weight. Imrit crouched at his side. A roar echoed throughout the shrine, the ground trembling beneath them. Taren managed to look back, the midnight-blue scales of a dragon glistening before his eyes. Her beauty held him in a hypnotic trance.

  All at once the brethren ran toward her, kneeling before her in reverence. Their heads bowed, they prostrated themselves, stretching their hands along the floor at her feet. She ignored them all, stepping over their red-clad forms. As she drew near the humans, she lifted her head and bellowed in frustration.

  “Too long you have kept me waiting,” she shouted. The walls rumbled as she spoke. “Now I shall have you both.” Grinning down at Zamna, she said, “Or perhaps all three.”

  Steadfast in their devotion, the Cultists gathered behind the dragon, each daring to reach out and lay hands on her muscular tail. With an angry swipe, she sent half of them flying, their bodies slamming against the wall. Her gaze did not waver, remaining intent on her victims.

  When she opened her mouth, drips of saliva landed next to Taren’s hand. It smelled of embers, burning his nostrils as he inhaled.

  Razor-sharp talons lifted high above the trio’s heads, each man knowing what he had to do. As the claws slashed toward them, they rolled in three directions, Zamna coming to a halt beneath the dragon’s belly. Cursing his luck, he regretted leaving his daggers outside. This was a perfect chance to stop the dragon. But could he take such a magnificent creature’s life, even to save his own? Grunting, he somersaulted away from her, avoiding the answer to his own question.

  Imrit staggered back to his feet, moving with a noticeable limp. He tried to put distance between himself and his attacker, but he was far too slow.

  “My, my, little human,” Iracidae taunted. “Looks like you’re the weakest. Time to thin the herd.”

  Taren rushed to his mentor, his body moving on instinct. Luckily, the Cultists positioned themselves between the sorcerer and the dragon. Their sudden approach drew her attention, allowing him to lead the wizard to safety.

  “Iracidae,” Jarraluc called. “Look upon me, oh beautiful one. Bless me with your flame.”

  The dragon appeared annoyed, her scales bristling on the back of her neck. A deep growl vibrated in her throat, a puff of smoke escaping between clenched teeth. The Cultists were on dangerous ground. Despite their reverence for the dragon, she posed a real danger to them. With one burst of fire, she could eradicate them all.

  While the brethren circled the dragon, Taren stayed close to Imrit. He was grateful to the elves for keeping the dragon occupied. Perhaps there was time for the three of them to escape. But they’d have to find another way out. Iracidae’s massive form blocked the front entrance.

  “Is there another way out?” Taren asked Imrit.

  The old man shook his head. “I don’t know of any,” he admitted. “But we can’t leave without the tome.”

  Taren let out an angry growl. How could the man be so single-minded? A dragon threatened their lives, and all he could think about was retrieving a book. Age and death had changed him. Or had it? Taren knew Imrit had always been that way. He was obsessed with the symbol, and that hadn’t changed. He’d risk anything to get what he wanted. If they were to survive, he’d have to think of a plan on his own. Imrit wasn’t going to be of any help.

  Sliding away from the Cultists, Zamna found his way back to his companions. “What now?” he asked, panting.

  “We get the t
ome,” Imrit blurted.

  “We find a way out of here,” Taren corrected him. “Forget the book!”

  “Actually,” Zamna said, his voice quiet, “there’s another exit in Iracidae’s chamber. If she doesn’t see us head that way, the two of you might have a minute to look for your book before we make our escape.” They’d come a long way to find it. It seemed a shame to leave empty-handed. Especially after escaping the jaws of a dragon. That was assuming they managed to escape.

  “We’re not stopping for the book,” Taren said. His mind was made up. They were getting out with their lives, and that was more than enough. This business with the symbol had gone too far. He wanted no more to do with it. “Lead us to this other exit.”

  Zamna started across the room, keeping low to the floor. He motioned for the others to follow while Iracidae was still engaged with the Cultists.

  “Mistress, I beg you!” one of the men shouted, his voice hoarse.

  “Miserable creatures!” the dragon boomed. “Remove yourselves from my presence!” Stretching her wings wide, she flapped once, sending a gust of wind over the kneeling men. They opened their arms, embracing her gift.

  Taren glanced back as he followed behind Zamna and Imrit. Such a spectacle of idiocy he had never before witnessed. Those elves were entirely devoid of independent thought. All that mattered to them was the love of a dragon. It was not too different from Imrit’s obsession, he decided. With all his heart, Taren wished to be free of the symbol. If this was what it did to the mind, then he didn’t want it. He would rather think for himself than be forced into madness.

  Iracidae’s scaled head swiveled toward the escaping trio. They never reached the door to the tunnels. With a flap of her wings, she glided across the room, landing hard before the men. Snapping her teeth, she lunged for Taren, but he reached for his magic in time. By some miracle, it obeyed him, defying the wishes of the symbol. A shield of green light erupted from his hand, holding back the weight of the dragon’s head.

  Without hesitation, Imrit tested his own magic, adding strength to Taren’s shield. Together the two managed to force Iracidae backward a few steps. Locked in place, they could not escape while holding the shield. She was far too strong. At least one of them would have to remain in place.