by Greg Curtis
“He was moulting.” Despite all his worries her jest actually helped a little.
“Really. Those would be some interesting feathers!” Her smile grew wider. “So tell me of your dreams?”
Her words caught Sam by surprise and it was all he could do not to splutter like a child as he wondered what she meant.
“My dreams?” At least his voice was even, but despite knowing that it was an order, he didn't know what to say. What dreams did she mean? His idle daydreams and fancies, or those dreams that came by night, and which he forgot each morning once he woke.
“When you were a child. When you first felt the magic flowing through you. When your night time became a whole new world.”
Suddenly he understood her. She meant the so called dreams of primacy, the dreams which spoke of the magic being passed into each new child from an unknown father. Every spell caster had them, and most would surely remember them for their intensity if nothing else. But no one ever understood them. Or almost no one. There were a few who said that they did; that the dreams told them about their casting abilities. But most scoffed at such claims. The priests though had different views. Certainly those of the All Father said they were important. That they reflected the will of their Lord as he instilled his magic into the chosen child. He assumed the priests of the Goddess regarded them as significant as well.
Finally knowing what she wanted though not her reasons for wanting to know of them, Sam dutifully told her all he could remember of those days and his dreams of magic. It wasn't easy. He had been only five at the time, young for a wizard's gifts to show up, and as vivid as they had been the dreams had long since been forgotten. And of course they had gone away as he had started learning of his gifts.
For all spell casters the dreams were the first sign of magic. Many believed that through them, a good oracle could tell exactly what gifts a child had been given. But Sam had never been able to see the relationship between the dreams and his gifts. All they had been to him were some exceptionally vivid dreams which had occurred at much the same time as his magic had started to show.
He had never dreamed of fire, or heat or cold. Nor of the earth under his feet, or the natural world. Instead his dreams had mostly left him in a garden. A strange garden full of beautiful creatures and plants, and where glorious fountains sprayed while gentle music played. Sure, some of the fountains had shot fire into the air and were entwined somehow with the water, while others had had creatures playing in them, and he even remembered seeing a small man made of mud serving food. But he had never approached the man or drunk from the fountains, or played with the fire. Instead he remembered playing with the animals all around. Small pets, and larger fiercer creatures like lions and tigers, all of which only wanted to play. Even now he could still feel the softness of their fur under his hands. It was easily the clearest of his memories.
As he told the Lady about his dreams though, a little more of them came back to him. Just talking about it once again he remembered the long soft grass, the puppies playing under the great oak tree, and the feeling of happiness that had overwhelmed him. It had been so intense that he remembered that he awoke each morning filled with energy and joy. They might have made no sense to a five year old child, nor to the man who dimly remembered them, but they had been pleasant enough that he had enjoyed going to bed each night.
Once he had finished he looked up to see the Lady looking at him with a thoughtful expression on her face as she studied him. He wondered what she had learned from his fragments of dreams, since it was clear she had seen something. But she didn't tell him.
“They say you are an enchanter as well as a master of fire. Tell me of that.”
It was an order he knew, and dutifully Sam told her of all his abilities and how he could shape more than one magic at a time, and even combine them. All the while he noticed, her stare became ever more intense, and he began to feel more and more like a child being watched.
“And the voices you heard from the machina?” No sooner had he told her of his gifts then she had moved on in her interrogation, and it was time for him to tell her of the battles he'd faced, and most especially of the steel drakes.
It was a long tale, made longer by the fact that she insisted on stopping him repeatedly and making him describe things in even greater detail. Was this the test Sam wondered? It seemed too easy if it was. Or was it just a discussion before the real test began? Though he hadn't really heard voices so much as understood what was being said, something that was difficult to explain.
Eventually though it was done and he knew a sense of relief. He had told her everything he knew. From here on it was up to her.
Lady Meriana took her time, saying nothing. Instead she continued to sit on the seat beside him, staring off into the distance. After the time had stretched for too long he grew impatient and felt the need for some answers.
“Lady Meriana?”
“You're not a summoner. Not at all.” She began with the words she surely knew Sam most desperately wanted to hear.
Her words caught him by surprise. With all the questions she'd put to him, and with the lack of any other explanation he had for hearing the enemy's thoughts, he'd thought he had to be that at least. Even if only to the most minor degree. To be told he wasn't while good, didn't fit with what he'd been fearing she would tell him, and for a brief while he wondered if she could be wrong.
But there was nothing in the Lady's face that suggested anything other than certainty. Unless it was disappointment? For whatever reason it seemed she had wanted him to be a summoner just as strongly as he had wanted not to be. But why?
“Then how –?”
“Because you're an enchanter. Moreover, an enchanter in the two schools of magic that the enemy also uses. Nature and Earth. Your inability to summon confirms everything I had feared. The enemy is also an enchanter.”
“I thought he was an alchemist.”
“He may be that too, as well as an artisan. But above all he is an enchanter in the schools of Earth and Nature. Thus he can imbue a sort of life into an inanimate object, as can you imbue fire into one. The fact that you can hear his commands through his creations proves that beyond doubt. But then he must also be a master artisan to create his monsters in the first place, and a master of spells and potions to give them movement, fire and the power of communication.”
“Well, that's good isn't it? I mean at least he's not a demon, or a summoner creating steel demons.”
But clearly it wasn't. He could see that in the Lady's eyes. Whatever else it was, the enemy being an enchanter was very, very bad.
“No it's not good. It's not good at all.”
Sam let her say what she would without interrupting. If there was one thing he knew, it was that she knew of what she spoke. It shone in the painful certainty in her eyes.
“Demons for all their fierceness and power are not always evil. Nor are they always unstoppable. Most are simply creatures from distant and strange realms, lost and frightened when drawn into our own. Given the choice between killing and going home, most would choose to return home in a heartbeat. Our world is often not just frightening to them but also deadly. Some can't even breathe our air, and need powerful spells just to survive even a short time. And their magic too is often not all that powerful. It is just strange and because we are not familiar with it, it makes it difficult to defend against. At the same time however, that difference leaves them vulnerable to our own.”
“But this new enemy is no demon or summoner. He needs no spells to keep him safe in our world. He has no foreign talents or freakish strengths. He is mortal like us. And that is far worse than any demon.”
“He has great gifts and great knowledge. And the creatures he has fashioned are machina rather than golems, as much as the elders might want to believe otherwise. They have a form of life, even perhaps a soul if you will, though one that is heavily borrowed from their creator. Thus when they are killed he feels it. When they need directions he
can give it to his creations even many leagues away. And he can see through their eyes. The machina and their creator are linked.”
That much Sam already knew about the enemy and his servants, but he didn't want to cause offence by mentioning it to Lady Meriana. Instead he let her continue.
“Worst of all though, the Dragon of old was also an enchanter of nature and earth. Five thousand years ago he showed the people of all the lands just what he could do with that power. He wanted – nay he ached – to show those who had spurned him what he could do. For he was rejected from formal training and he sought vengeance for that.”
Sam's eyes widened so greatly that they nearly fell out of his head as he realised that the Lady had more knowledge of the Dragon than he'd ever known existed. Certainly much more than he did. But then she lived close to the Golden City and was obviously one of the most respected of mages. She likely had access to much more information than he did. Briefly he wondered just what sort of libraries they might have in the city itself. But Sam didn't ask. It was time to listen carefully instead.
“According to legend, and there is little else left to us, he was a rogue wizard even before he became the Dragon. And like you, one of mixed blood. Part human, part elf. But unlike you he was also part dwarf and part troll.”
“It was his troll blood that caused him to be rejected by the schools of magic, even though his talent was strong. They would not train a troll, not even a part troll. They worried what he might do with such training, and whether the other students would be safe from him.”
Or whether the other students might be eaten by him, Sam thought, though he kept his thoughts to himself. The Lady probably guessed his views anyway since they were no doubt her own. Trolls were bad news no matter which way you looked at it, and for any to have troll blood in them suggested rape somewhere in their ancestry, and probably more rape and cannibalism in their future. Trolls were savage creatures.
Sam was more interested though in her reference to schools of magic. Immediately he heard that it made him think of classrooms and masters. While it seemed they may have had schools of magic in the past, there were no such schools now. Not in Shavarra or Fair Fields. Nor in any of the other provinces and realms he'd visited. There simply weren't enough wizards and those with the talent for any such schools of magic to exist. Most provinces had an apprentice system. Sometimes governors and governesses were hired by the rich to teach their young spell casters. But before the Dragon Wars there had apparently been schools. At least according to what the Lady was telling him. That meant there had to have been a great many more with the magic in their veins. Again though, he didn't interrupt.
“Being of part troll blood however, gave him another form of magic that no elf, human or dwarf has to this day. He had the magic of permanence. Though we understand it only a very little even now, it is something that is inherent in troll blood. It is part of them, and all trolls have it, whether they have any other magical ability at all or not. Some say it is how they learn, how they are raised, and even what gives them their purpose in life. Over the centuries and millennia the trolls have cast their thoughts, their memories into the rocks and mountains themselves. Thus to each troll, each and every rock or mountain is a book of memories that can be read, a history to be learned.”
“It may be even more than that. Rocks and mountains and anything of stone are sacred to trolls, and with good reason. For above all else it is the trolls' belief that when they die, their souls are cast into the rocks themselves, there to be kept safe for all eternity. It is also clear that when the Dragon died he also cast his thoughts, memories and perhaps even his soul into the mountains and caverns of Andrea. Ever since then those lands have become a holy land for the trolls. A shrine to the troll who nearly destroyed the world.”
“For the most part they know little and care nothing for the machina, or the Dragon Wars. But they worship the troll who cast his soul into the mountains. They respect his power, his anger and hatred, and above all his savagery, all of which to a troll is the essence of life itself. They worship the memory of his blood letting, and the way he very nearly destroyed an entire world. No other troll before or since has had such strength, nor such single minded devotion to slaughter.”
“Now this newcomer has not only some of the Dragon's knowledge and ability, but also his intent and savagery. He has the Dragon's skill and magic, and uses his strategy. He seems to have the same goal. To kill everyone. That speaks strongly of one with some troll blood in him. But this newcomer also has enough blood of the other races that he has far greater intelligence than is usual for a troll as well as the magic of the other races. He has access to both the memories of the original Dragon and the histories of those times. He will know how the original Dragon lost and will plan for it. He will not make the same mistakes.”
“There will be no mercenaries this time. No one who is willing to change his allegiance for a few coins. There will be only machina, and they will not be short in number. He will not expose himself to a great battle at the end, allowing himself to be shot with a poisoned spell. Nor will he allow those who have escaped his battles to reform into armies to oppose him. He will strike them hard until all that remain are corpses. And in the end I believe that his purpose is the same as his predecessor's. To destroy all the other races. Not to conquer them, not to take their lands, but to destroy them utterly until no more remain. Enemies must be completely destroyed. That has always been the troll's highest calling.”
Conquest by blood. Sam knew that that was what she meant, even if it wasn't quite how he had heard it put before. But trolls had their own god – Crodan the Mountain – and the one command he laid upon them all as his people was that there was no victory save the complete destruction of their enemies. For a troll it was seen as entirely appropriate to eat one's enemies. It was often not so much about food as it was a statement of their triumph. This seemed beyond that but not too far beyond it. After all, the more death the greater the victory for a troll.
“And you are certain this new Dragon is the same as the old?” Eventually Sam asked the only question that really mattered.
“I wasn't until I met you. But the fact that you could hear his commands through his machina proves it. You aren't a summoner so his machina cannot be demons. If they were you couldn't hear what they said. And the Dragon's armies are not golems. I wish it were otherwise.”
So did Sam after what he'd been told, even though he suspected that the Lady wished him to be a summoner for other reasons. He suspected it was simply because she didn't want to be alone. It had to be a hard life being a summoner, even if what Elder Bela had said was true. Every spell caster, whether mage or wizard liked to know others with the same art. Someone to understand their life. And just as he knew no other enchanters, she was also the only summoner he had heard of. For her to have others to share her gift with would have been a blessing. Still, he was glad she had determined he was not a summoner. But he was confused too. And though she had given him part of an explanation for it, there was one question he badly needed answered.
“I still don't quite understand why I can sense this new Dragon's commands, my Lady.”
“Because you too are an enchanter. A spell caster able to cast the magic of one of the magical realms into the manifestations of another. Actually several. But you have not been well trained. That at least is not surprising. Enchanters are very rare, and the secrets of their training even rarer. No living human wizard that I know of could claim to be an enchanter, let alone train one, while the number of elven enchanters in the entire world could be counted upon the fingers of one hand.”
“Suffice it to say you are entirely untrained in what may prove to be your most useful talent in the war ahead. You perform your enchantments more on instinct and practice than true understanding. And you are unaware of much of the scope of your gift.”
Did she know that for sure Sam wondered? Or was she simply surmising? Because he suspected she was right. He h
ad had a few masters train him as a child. His father had brought many to the land just for that purpose. But none had been able to train him in his enchantments. None had that gift. And so he had had to teach himself. Tentatively he asked.
“Enchanters are not limited to imbuing fire into earth as you do. An enchanter of fire and air could well cast fire magic into a hurricane to create a whirlwind of fire. An enchanter of water and earth can cast water magic into a castle and create liquid walls or even an evaporating castle. He might even cast earth magic into the lakes and create solid walls of water. The limits of enchantment are not known, though some magics do not mix well. I've never heard of an enchanter able to cast fire magic into water for example, since the two realms would tend to work against each other.”
What allows you to hear the Dragon is that like the enemy you are an enchanter of nature and earth. As well as imbuing fire into solid objects, you can also imbue that same sort of life magic that he does, into earth. Thus you too could create machina, though you perhaps would need many years of training and then many more of craftsmanship.”
The very idea of creating such creatures took Sam's thoughts away, and yet even as he thought of the evil she was suggesting, he had to accept that her words made sense. Strange but fascinating sense.