Legacy of Dragonwand- Book III

by Daniel Peyton

  The Betrayer groaned and weakly lifted his hand to his head. Using his fingers, he pried them open. It was so dark and blurry. Nothing was visible, other than odd, hazy lights standing over him, like figures.

  “Who...what is going on?” he whispered.

  A craggy old woman yelled, “Open your damn eyes, you fool! You haven’t much time!”

  “Time?” he groaned.

  A deep voiced man shouted above the crowd. “Look! It begins. The spell is active now that you’re here. If you don’t finish it, all our work will be wasted and you’ll stand alongside the rest of us.”

  The dark room was lit up by a smoldering red light that flickered stronger by the moment. Soon after, The Betrayer found himself surrounded in a room full of ghosts hovering over coffins. In a far corner was a strange shrine of sorts with a glowing red heart.

  His memory sluggishly returned. He remembered what he had to do when the heart glowed. If he didn’t finish the spell, he would die. It was the last spell he crafted to ensure his success.

  Pulling himself to his feet, he looked at his arms and hands. His flesh was gray and the black veins running all over his arms looked disgusting. His shell of a body was ancient, aged as though he were an old man. “This is the workings of dark magic,” he whispered. He had used his body as a conduit for terrific dark magics that spread all over the lands. It had taken a toll on him, cursing him to wither and become a victim of his own power. He had only one hope of survival.

  Standing before the enormous, bleeding, fleshy heart, he chanted a dark spell. This was cut from the chest of the Leviathan King, master of magic in the Grand Ocean. Its great power would supply him enough strength to complete the task at hand.

  The final words of forbidden magic spoken, he put his hands on the heart and the blood seeped through his skin and into his body. His color slowly returned and his strength was instantly renewed. With the last drops of blood drained from the heart, it withered away into ash.

  He gave himself a once over and smiled, amazed at his former glory. “Tolen, you fool, you failed to complete the task. You thought you had me, but you were wrong.”

  “Stop muttering to yourself, you don’t have much time.”

  The Betrayer reluctantly agreed. “You’re right, of course. This body is far too tainted, it won’t live much longer. I need a new body. The blood spell in me now will give me that gift. I just need to find one.”

  “You’ll also need a new name,” the man replied. “Yours is far too well known now. History has been recorded and your deeds are infamous across this whole land.”

  “I know. I’ll do that. Once I obtain a new form, I will return so we can plan.”

  The bitter old woman screeched, “PLAN! You will release us. The war is over, our time has come!”

  “With what?” The Betrayer barked. “My Dragonwand was sealed from me. That damned fool trapped my wand in that infernal statue. There’s not enough power, even in tainted magic, to finish our plans without a proper Dragonwand. Therefore, we will need to make a new plan!”

  The bald man held up his hand to silence any rebuttal from the old woman. “Go. Do not linger here. Find a body and then seek answers about your old wand. Without Tolen or any of the other Dragons alive, once you have a new body, we will have as much time as we need.”

  The Betrayer bowed. The old man’s wisdom was sound He turned and hurried out of the cave.

  ***

  Two young teens played in a field; a brother and sister joined by a group of other kids.

  “Do it again, Hallond,” a younger boy eagerly called out.

  The eldest boy shook his head. “How can I? She hasn’t thrown the kite up.”

  “Oh, right.” His sister picked up a kite and ran a bit away from him. She tossed it into the soft winds and ran hard, but the breeze wasn’t strong enough for flying a kite today.

  Hallond assisted, producing his own wand and cast a wind spell that sent the kite high into the air. He had a thought. “Watch this.” Using his wand, he cleverly commanded the kite to maneuver through the air, even against the strong winds. He intentionally pulled the kite from his sister’s hands and sent it soaring across the large open field. His sister chased after the lost string that dangled in the air.

  Unfortunately, he lost control of his levitation spell when the kite hit stronger currents from his own wind spell he’d previously cast. The kite darted away in the distance and over into a rocky pass in the nearby mountains.

  “Hallond! Go get it! Mom made that, and she’ll be mad if we don’t have it for the festival tomorrow,” his sister yelled.

  “All right! Sheesh, it’s just a kite.”

  “GO GET IT!”

  Hallond put his wand away and ran for the last location he saw the kite crash. He was the only wizard in the family, but he still knew to fear his sister.

  Climbing clear over the pass, Hallond looked and looked for the kite, or anything that remained. “It’s awfully rocky up here.” He scratched his head, looking around. “Now where is?” He noticed something odd near “What’s that?” It appeared to be an old man’s hand. He strode over and inspected it closely. Sure enough, he found a strange looking old man lying on the ground.

  The man was frail, hardly enough flesh to cover his bones. His hair was completely white, and his eyes were sunken into his head. The veins in his skin pulsed with a strange blackness. “Um, sir, are you okay?” Hallond asked.

  The Betrayer opened his eyes and gasped. “Are you a wizard?”

  “Not yet. I’m just an apprentice with master Tobin. I do know some healing charms. Can I help you?”

  The Betrayer struggled breathe, chocking over his words. “My time...it’s almost up. Two weeks...almost gone. Come...help me. I need you.”

  Hallond knelt down next to the frail man. “What can I do?”

  “Take my hand...please.” The Betrayer’s shaking arm reached out.

  In a fatal mistake, Hallond took the hand of The Betrayer. The old man’s grip smarted as he dug his fingers into the boy’s wrist. Hallond attempted to pull back. “Ow, that hurts. Sir, what are you doing?”

  The Betrayer flashed a wicked smile that sent chills down Hallond’s spine. “You’re strong, boy. You’ll do fine.” Black smoke poured from his eyes and mouth.

  “What! HELP! SOMEONE...” Before he could finish his cry for help, his eyes filled with darkness and he felt a strange sensation come over him. Suddenly, he was looking up at himself from the ground, weak and hurting all over.

  The Betrayer, in Hallond’s body, stood erect, releasing the hand of his former self. “Nice. Strong body. Magical skill. This’ll work...for now.”

  Hallond’s sister and friends arrived. “Hallond! What was all that screaming about?” She observed the figure on the ground. “Oh, what’s going on?”

  “Look! It’s him!” The Betrayer said, pointing. “It’s that bad man who they called The Betrayer!”

  “No, Kesla, it’s me,” the real Hallond cried out to his sister, but in the voice of an old man.

  Kesla shook her head, “The Betrayer’s dead. Tolen got rid of him. This is just an injured old man. We should...”

  “Avexa!” Hallond, the Betrayer, cast an ancient death spell, killing his old body and the boy who inhabited it.

  “HALLOND! WHAT DID YOU JUST DO!?” Kesla was hysterical.

  “He was the enemy, I saved Gallenor. Just like...Tolen.” He nearly gagged on the name.

  Kesla and the others ran away. “We have to...to go get someone,” he heard her say as she ran.

  Hallond stayed a moment longer, looking down at his ancient form. He would never be that old man again. The body of his birth was forever dead. “That’s alright. I will have anybody I choose from now on.”

  Turning to follow the others, and start his new life, he stumbled and nearly fell over. A strange, power hit him, similar to the one he felt yesterday, but ignored it as simple memory. Now,
it was far too powerful to be memory. He whispered, “Tolens Dragonwand. It’s still out there.”

  ***

  “This boy was a prodigy in magic, or so they thought,” Hallond spoke aloud as a dark recording potion bubbled in a special phial, it kept every word he said. “I brought to this body a knowledge and understanding of magic that surpassed anything of these little mix-blood wizards. I made the name Hallond famous, the boy who could do anything. But, the years weren’t kind to the body. Had I not corrupted my former self with dark magic, I could have lived centuries instead of mere decades.

  It was no problem, I simply took another body. I had to take his name as well and let the first Hallond pass into history as a great man of magic. Again and again, I jumped from an old body into a young one. I soon learned that it was best to train an apprentice close to my death, so I would have someone near me to inhabit.

  All the while, I kept searching for the Dragonwand. I was certain that Tolen was still locked inside the statue; only his wand survived. It would be mine. The family he had; that woman and the child she bore him. I assumed they harbored the ancient wand. But, somehow I failed to locate them or the wand.

  For centuries after we were both released from the statue, he hid from me. Though, I wasn’t even looking for him. Then he turned up and started that college. It was four hundred years after the war. Little did I know it was he who had thwarted all my plans and kept putting my plots in check. I assumed this new man named Tolen was merely another wizard who had been given his name. I had forgotten his face, his voice, his demeanor. I admit my own arrogance clouded my vision.

  The centuries churned on as I desperately sought the last Dragonwand. With it, I could free my own wand from that damn statue and take my rightful place as god of Gallenor. How had he hidden it so well? Where did he put it?

  I searched the far north, in the ruins of the ancient wizard city. It was nothing but a wasteland of death. The Citadel that once loomed over the city was gone. Not destroyed, but moved. The remaining members of the council had moved it to a hidden place.

  My body shifting spell would not last forever; I knew that all too well. At most, it would only last a thousand years, perhaps a little longer with the aid of more dark magic. I had to think of better ways to search for the Dragonwand. I needed help. I formulated a plan, one that even Tolen couldn’t disrupt. I coerced the kings of Thendor to place me as their head wizard. Through manipulation of the court and throne, I would utilize royal resources to find the wand before time ran out. It was near the end that I realized who my real nemesis was. Once I knew Tolen had survived and was putting me in a stalemate, I crafted my most devious plan. By corrupting the heart of the king and turning him against his own people, I gained a powerful ally. He allowed me to orchestrate a flawless strategy. I needed Tolen, and all of his allies, out of the way. Thus, I had all the wizards put into the Pale Labyrinth. Simultaneously, I convinced the nation that the dragon statue was evil and that the last Dragonwand was a tool of their destruction. Oh, how foolish and easily confused mortals are. They once praised Tolen, the Dragons, and that damn statue as the saviors of their pathetic kingdom. Now, they see them as dangerous. What power a few twisted words possess. What I did not count on was Tolen’s foresight. He evaded the initial imprisonment and found someone to fulfill his last plan against me. Fortunately, it is only a boy; a mere child. Tolen’s mistake will cost him.

  Now that I’m in the king’s body, I have a little time to see this plan through. I must have the Dragonwand.” Hallond stroked his chin thinking. Where is my pawn, that idiot Morris?

  Chapter 3: Stepping into the Gap

  Present Day:

  Hallond sat on his Throne, a sour look etched on his face. It had been several days since he’d sent out orders to eliminate the children of Gallenor in an effort to eradicate the problem. In that time he had not heard back from anyone. The order specifically stated that each day the number of children killed should be tabulated and reported to him. He could still sense the Dragonwand’s presence within Gallenor and that made him terribly nervous.

  A young man approached the throne with a quivering hand and lip to match. “Sire...your lunch.” He had served the King his meals for a year, yet now he was scared each time he saw the man.

  Hallond grabbed the plate from the young man and yelled, “GET AWAY FROM ME!” He was certain that the boy was older than the order allowed, but the mere sight of a young lad angered him to no end.

  The boy scurried out of the hall with his feet hardly touching the ground.

  Hallond looked down at the food and scoffed. He hated most of the meals served in these lands, but had stomached it for a thousand years now. “If only they knew the delicacies of the ancient wizard lands, not this garbage,” he murmured. But, this body was in need of food and he had to eat. He starred at the plate. Lightly oiled and seared beef with some potatoes and bittersweet beets on the side filled his gaze. The beets – a moderate favorite – were just about the only palatable item. He reached down and tried to pick one up, but his fingers did not hold the grasp. His weakened fingers fumbled with the food and a single cooked beet rolled off the plate.

  Quickly setting down the plate, Hallond clinched his right hand with his left and stared at it. Up until now, he had not felt the numbness set in all day. Over the past two days there had been moments where parts of his body were failing him and growing limp. Just switching souls did not make this body work. It was dead and required the magic of an animation spell, but the spell was quickly fading. This body was old, frail, and non-magic. He did not have much time before it all but died; withered away with time. His soul would abandon it and be trapped within those caves with the others for eternity.

  He scanned the cave to ensure he was alone, and then squeezed his right hand as he slowly closed his eyes. Chanting in an ancient and forbidden tongue, he was able to cast the animation spell again and the numbness went away. It took all the concentration and focus he could muster to cast even a small version of the spell. Using a non-wizard body was working against him and he knew it. When he finished, he fisted his hand and observed his fine work before returning to his food. If he didn’t eat, people would surely begin to believe him senile and crazy. Without enough magic to impose his will on them, his appearance was everything.

  While Hallond managed to eat the beef, he considered the notion of waking one of the wizards. Perhaps I could take over one of their bodies, he thought. It’d be a better option than what I have now. He could choose a youthful, strong, male body with years of life left in it. He would soul swap and then kill the old body – taking great pleasure in doing so – then, all the power he needed to complete his tasks would be his.

  But, the kingdom would be in ruin. It took all he had to maintain the little bit he had. The people’s morale was shaky at best, with rumors of wars and tyranny abroad. If the King were to die and a new person appeared – a wizard at that – the people and guards would certainly turn on him, forcing him to fight a war before he was ready. No, he had to stay where he was, for now.

  Just then the great doors at the far end of the hall opened and a dozen people walked in. There were heads of the representatives of each race, with the highest ranking members of his personal guard, the Royal Guard, and a few other military leaders from around Gallenor. It wasn’t long before he sensed the serious demeanor of the crowd. Not a single person demonstrated even an ounce reverence to the throne he expected.

  “What is this?” King Hallond cried. “Be gone, I wish to be alone!”

  Chief Alex approached the throne, seemingly the leader among this group. He knelt down as was tradition, but he did not bow his head. His gaze was fixed on Hallond. “Sir, we can no longer obey your orders.”

  The Shlan nodded. “You have wisssshed to be alone for daysss now.”

  A dwarf stepped forward, pointing at Hallond. “Ye command the peoples o’ the lands to kill their own kin. Children are protected by the law
s even ye can’na break. We’ve had enough!”

  Hallond cocked his head in disgust. “Oh, you’ve had enough?”

  Norl of the Rakki approached, wearing a stern face and equally ominous posture. “Yes, we have. You’re not acting within your right mind, your Majesty. It is our belief that the statue is affecting your mind as it did Hallond’s before he was killed. For the sake of Gallenor, we believe it would be wise to ask you to step down until the situation with the statue is resolved.”

  Hallond grinned. The notion that they still saw King Anthony on this throne was pleasing. He kindly set down his plate and stood to address them. “So, what would you do then?”

  The Shlan frowned back at him. “We find the wand and dessstroy ssstatue.”

  “Oh, you would find the wand and destroy statue. How?” Hallond asked.

  Norl looked around at everyone hesitantly, as if waiting for suggestions. When no one spoke, he did. “We…have not considered that.”

  Hallond shook his head. “Don’t be fools. I still know what to do when the time comes. I will see to it the statue is destroyed and the threat of the dragons in Gallenor will be over.”

  Chief Alex looked away and addressed the King over his shoulder. “Sir, it is not the mission at hand to find the Dragonwand that has us worried. You ask the Royal Guard and the people to kill children, which is something we simply cannot do. Especially considering you did not give us a reason other than vaguely stating the safety of Gallenor was at stake.”

  Hallond snatched the King’s royal staff and hit Chief Alex so hard that the poor man flew across the floor, sliding to a halt at the feet of the crowd. “My orders are law!” His words echoed around the room, bringing a cold shrill with it. “I need not explain them and you MUST follow them! I’ll not be questioned like this!”

  This sudden act of violence shocked everyone; apparent by the bleak grim looks across their faces. The guards held their weapons and dared not raise them, for to do so would be an act of treason against the crown, punishable by death. The courtiers and representatives began to step back, obviously guarding against a similar attack. The dwarf, short tempered on even a good day, growled aloud. “Canna ye see what ye be doin’? This isn’t normal.”