Spirit Blade: Book III of the Dragon Mage Trilogy

by Carey Scheppner

  Chapter 2

  “Harran!” cried Zylor. He strode swiftly toward a figure clad in chain mail who sat on a log by a small fire. The sun was fading rapidly in the west as the minotaur’s long strides moved him quickly toward the small, stout figure. The figure rose and fingered his battle axe nervously at first, but as the minotaur got closer, he relaxed and smiled. Anyone looking at him would never have seen the smile, however, because it was hidden beneath his long, grey-white beard.

  “Well, I’ll be,” said the dwarf dryly as he and Zylor clasped arms in greeting. “You actually came. I wondered if Kazin would be able to convince you to come along on this hair-brained quest of his.”

  Zylor laughed. “It’s good to see you too, Harran.” He lowered his hands and peered at the dwarf. “If Kazin hadn’t told me where to find you, I wouldn’t have known it was you waiting here. Your beard has grown to the point where I don’t recognize you!”

  Harran self-consciously stroked his beard. “I guess I have changed at that.” He looked up at the minotaur’s horns. “Your horns are longer than I recollect.”

  Zylor nodded. “They haven’t stopped growing. It’s gotten to the point where I can’t even go out in public in disguise without someone pointing and identifying me.”

  “You go out in public in disguise?!” asked the dwarf, bewildered. “Whatever for?”

  “Sometimes I just have to get away from the guards,” explained Zylor. He shook his head. “It’s a long story.”

  Harran laughed. “I suspect we’ll be on a long quest. You can tell me all about it.”

  Zylor winced. He changed the subject. “Kazin’s gone to get Sherman. It will be good to see him again. I’d like to show him some of my new moves.” The minotaur made some quick fighting gestures with his arms and fists to show Harran what he meant.

  The dwarf stepped back and held up his hands. “Easy, big guy! I don’t want to be injured before this quest even begins!”

  Zylor stopped and moved closer to the fire to warm his hands. “These high altitudes are rather chilly. I’m not used to it.”

  Harran sat back down on the log opposite Zylor. “That’s why I made the fire. Who knows how long we’ll have to wait for Kazin to return with Sherman.”

  Zylor looked at his stout little friend. He had a deep respect for Harran because of their previous adventures together, and they shared a strong sense of honour. Minotaurs and dwarves were very different races in many respects, but one thing they had in common was their sense of honour. That alone balanced their differences and allowed them to coexist. The border between their two realms had remained virtually unchanged since the dragon wars many generations ago. The dwarves inhabited the mountains and the minotaurs lived in the plains to the east of the mountains.

  “I take it Kazin told you about our quest?” asked Harran.

  Zylor nodded. “Yes.”

  “What’s your opinion?” asked the dwarf. “From what I could tell, Kazin doesn’t seem to know exactly what we are looking for.” He patted his chain mail. “He thinks it could be something to do with the artifacts we recovered on our last trip into the past.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s the cause of the trouble,” said Zylor, “but I’m certain the trouble originates in the past.” He glared at the dwarf as darkness settled over the campsite. As he spoke, the fire light reflected in his eyes. “Kazin has a serious problem to contend with and I, for one, will aid in whatever way I can. I owe him that and more. Honour demands it!”

  Harran sat silently for a long moment. When he spoke, Zylor was still glaring at him, the flames in his eyes a malevolent force in its own right. “You’re right, Zylor. I was having doubts - not about this quest being legitimate - but whether I might survive this adventure. It sounds dangerous - which doesn’t bother me, I might add, - but my people need me. They need a king like your people need an emperor. But you’re right. We wouldn’t be in our present positions if it wasn’t for Kazin. If he needs our help, honour demands that we aid him.” Harran stood and looked across at Zylor’s fiery eyes. His own eyes reflected the same thing. “Let it not be said that the king of the dwarves acted without honour!”

  Zylor nodded. “I know of no one more honourable than you, dwarf!”

  “And I know of no one more honourable than you, Zylor - minotaur!” responded Harran.

  After a few moments of glaring at one another, the two companions laughed heartily. With that over, Harran offered the minotaur some dried meat.

  Zylor eagerly accepted. As he chewed, he asked the dwarf about something that was bothering him. “Harran, Kazin visited you before he came to get me, correct?”

  Harran swallowed a chunk of meat. “That’s right.”

  “Did he have a limp when he visited you?”

  Harran shook his head. “No. I would have noticed. We walked a fair bit as I showed him around the royal palace. Why do you ask?”

  “He claims he always had a limp,” said the minotaur.

  The dwarf gave him a strange look.

  * * * * *

  Kazin flew north down out of the heights of the Old Dwarven Mountains and relished the warmer air currents the lower he flew. His leathery wings spread out to their maximum width and he barely had to flap them to increase his speed as gravity and wind carried him downward. There were few others who could enjoy the freedom he experienced as a dragon mage. Dragons were long gone to parts unknown, and only the rare discovery of a dragon orb made it possible to experience what dragons took for granted. In this new quest, Kazin expected to see others like him, mages who had control of dragons via their orbs or mages who had become dragon mages as a result of controlling the orb of a dragon who had died. The reason for the latter circumstance, of which Kazin was one, was the fact that the orb contained the life force of the dragon during its life. When the dragon died, its life force would fully enter the orb, and whoever had the orb would be able to use that power to become the dragon. Unfortunately, many who tried to control the orb were not mentally strong enough to do so, and wound up controlled by the orb themselves. They became the dragon with all of its vices and desires, with no self-control or concern for others. This usually led to their own destruction, being pursued and killed by humans or their allies, or by the true dragons themselves.

  These orbs were a magically created tool the mages of old had originally used to attempt to manipulate dragons to stop attacking settlements. Once successful in trapping a particular dragon’s life force, the use progressed into control of the dragons for other purposes. Often a bond was established between mage and dragon. This led to quarrels arising out of jealousy by those who did not have a dragon of their own. Disputes were common, and duels often ended with the death of dragons or mages. If a mage died, the dragon was freed as long as it controlled the orb holding its life force. It would be that dragon’s most valuable treasure. Once a bond was created between the dragon and orb, it was permanent and could not be broken. If the orb was destroyed, the dragon would die. If the dragon died, the orb would shatter. There were only extremely rare cases where the orb would remain intact if the dragon died. The effects of finding an undamaged orb were very rare, but would allow the new owner to change into a dragon. Only considerable mental control would allow the owner to maintain control of the orb and its ability. If the orb was damaged but not destroyed, the consequences for handling it were dangerous and unpredictable.

  Flying across a riverbed, Kazin noticed a cow lying on its side with crows attacking its carcass. He grunted. And so it begins, he thought grimly. At the time, Kazin thought that this crisis was the worst one he would ever encounter. How wrong he was! It seemed that each crisis was worse than the last. Indeed, the one he had to deal with now made the arising crisis in the present time seem minor in comparison. He flapped his wings to gain speed. The trip into the past had to happen soon, before word spread about the situation below him.


  It occurred to the mage that he would need plenty of rest before attempting further time travel. Just coming back to this time to obtain his friends had taxed his magical strength. Glancing below at the fresh green fields opening up beyond the forest borders, he realized there was still time after all. One lone dead cow wasn’t enough to spread mass alarm, if it was even discovered.

  A small village appeared on the horizon and Kazin circled to land. There was sure to be an inn available in a community of that size. He landed outside the village and transformed himself back into his human form. A few children nearby watched the transformation in amazement and ran to tell their friends what they had witnessed as Kazin took the main road into town. Most of the villagers glanced at the black cloaked stranger in curiosity, but soon continued about their business. Many of them were tall and broad-shouldered, descended from the barbarians who lived along the edges of the mountains. Kazin yearned to warn them of the impending danger, but knew he could not and should not interfere. His goal was to correct something of that very nature - interference. Still, he wondered how many people he saw here would soon die because of his inaction. He shuddered at the thought.

  The mage soon found a rustic old inn with a rickety wooden sign bearing a flask of ale beside a fork. It was called ‘The Sunset Inn’. Looking at the sky, Kazin realized the day was rapidly coming to a close. The western sky was turning red as blood as the sun made its exit. The red sky would have been beautiful if it hadn’t reminded him of the impending disaster. He shuddered and entered the safety of the building.

  A fireplace crackled with welcoming warmth at one side of the room and at the other a small group of men sat playing a game of dice. One barbarian banged his mug of ale down on the table as he laughed at the misfortune of one of his comrades. His beer sloshed onto the table but he didn’t seem to notice. The others at the table were just as boisterous as he. They were too engrossed in their game to notice the mage or care about his presence.

  Kazin chose to sit near the fireplace as the chill of the evening made him uncomfortable. Or maybe it was the continuing fear of what was soon to come to these happy and carefree people.

  The mage’s thoughts were interrupted by an attractive brown-haired, brown eyed young waitress who was standing over his table. She had crept up on him so silently he flinched in surprise.

  The waitress blinked shyly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. My name is Sara. Would you like to order something to drink?”

  Kazin grinned sheepishly. “Yes, please.” He gestured over at the table where the others threw dice. “I’ll have one of those ales like they’re having.”

  The waitress smiled. “Coming right up. Would you like anything to eat?”

  Kazin nodded. “What’s your special today?”

  “Seasoned chicken with potatoes and mixed greens.”

  “Sounds good,” said Kazin. “I’ll have some sweet bread too, if you’ve got it.”

  Sara smiled. “Sure thing. I’ll be right back.”

  Kazin watched her retreat to the bar and was stunned by what happened next. The waitress put a mug on the bar under the beer keg and spoke a few inaudible words. The keg started filling the mug while the waitress began wiping down the bar. She watched the mug as she worked and spoke a few words to stop the flow of ale when the mug was nearly full. Then she spoke a few words again and watched the rag as it continued to wipe down the bar. In the meantime, she picked a plate out from under the bar along with a bundle of utensils. Then she turned to the mug, picked it up, and came over to Kazin’s table. When she was a few steps away from the bar, the rag stopped moving and went limp as the magic faded. Kazin was about to comment on this unusual use of magic when the waitress chanted again and magically added some fizz to the ale.

  “It’s our specialty,” explained Sara. “I think you’ll like it.” She turned and walked back to the bar to prepare dinner before Kazin could say anything.

  Kazin had only taken a few gulps of the fresh ale when the waitress came back with a tray of food. She deftly set the food before him.

  “That was fast!” exclaimed Kazin.

  “Magic makes things go so much faster,” explained Sara. “How’s the ale?”

  “Excellent!” said Kazin. “Even a dwarf would be proud to drink it!”

  Sara’s eyes widened. “You’ve seen dwarves? We don’t have them in these parts.”

  Kazin suddenly remembered that these people were cut off from the rest of the world by the Old Dwarven Mountains. He nodded. “Yes. But you might get to see them one day soon.” If you live long enough, he thought sardonically.

  “Really?” she said excitedly.

  “One day,” he said vaguely. He changed the subject. “I see you use magic for all sorts of menial tasks. Isn’t that a bit unusual?”

  Sara looked at him quizzically. “How so?”

  “Well, where I come from, it’s generally frowned upon to use magic for anything other than specific tasks, where magic is often the only way to do something.”

  “Really? Our queen encourages us to use our magic. She claims grey mages should not be restricted from using magic. Since it’s not very strong magic like that of black mages or clerics, we ought to make ourselves useful in every other way that we can. You must not be from these parts. Are you a Southerner?”

  Kazin realized she was referring to those who lived south of the Old Dwarven Mountains. “Yes.”

  “How did you get here? The magical portal between our realms is not open.”

  Kazin didn’t want to tell her he was a dragon mage. It would probably cause a commotion that he didn’t need right now. “I used magic.”

  The waitress narrowed her eyes. “I thought you said using magic for anything other than specific purposes was frowned upon?”

  Kazin grinned sheepishly. “My rank entitles me to a few - er - indulgences.”

  “I see,” said the waitress, unimpressed.

  “I notice you used some unusual magic for a grey mage,” commented Kazin, changing the direction of the conversation.

  Sara nodded. “It’s a combination of grey and druid magic. Our studies concentrate on living things. The school the queen has built is unique to our realm according to the queen. She trained the teachers, who in turn train us in druid magic. According to the queen, our people are not adept at black or white magic, but those of us who have some inherent magical ability are apparently capable of grey magic and a low level of druid magic. A combination of those magics is quite effective. You should see how some of our farms and crops are prospering!”

  Not for long, thought Kazin sadly. “That’s interesting,” he said instead.

  The waitress leaned over and whispered conspiratorially. “There are even rumours that some of the more powerful grey mages can even cause trees to move!”

  Kazin thought back to his life in this time period and remembered the importance of treemen at a crucial time during the crisis.

  “Fascinating,” he said.

  Sara suddenly gasped. “Here I am gabbing and your food is getting cold!” She chanted and Kazin’s food instantly heated up. A man at the other table called for more ale and Sara winked at the mage before departing. “Enjoy your dinner!”

  “Thanks,” said Kazin. He ate ravenously and then signed out a room. Once in the warm bed - pre-warmed by Sara’s magic - he fell into a deep sleep, thinking about the usefulness of magic in ordinary tasks. The queen had definitely been busy.

  The following morning was grey and cool as Kazin left the village. Once beyond sight of the last of the buildings, he did his transformation and climbed into the air. In a few hours he would arrive at Priscilla, the capital city of the queen’s realm. The flight was uneventful and Kazin marveled at the reconstruction of the lands below him. Most of that land had been decimated by an evil necromancer over a decade ago, but little evidence of the destruction wa
s still evident. The occasional burned out structure or charred foundation was overshadowed by the newer farm houses and abundant crops.

  Priscilla was a large, bustling city. There were many roads and side roads bisecting thousands of houses and shops. Most of the buildings couldn’t have been more than a few years old and new constructions were spreading the borders of the city. In the center of the city was a large, beautifully crafted palace. The workmanship surely rivaled the quality of dwarven craftsmen and the architecture of the elves, thought Kazin.

  The dragon mage found a location on the ramparts edging the palace and landed. A guard came up to him but hesitated when Kazin did his transformation. The mage pulled his cloak tighter about him as the wind tried to blow it from his shoulders. He turned to the guard and smiled. “Hello there. My name is Arch Mage Kazin and I’d like to speak with Sherman.”

  The guard regained his composure and nodded. It was obvious to him that the mage was no malicious intruder, and probably had heard mention of his name before. “Right this way, Sir.” He led Kazin into a nearby stairwell which led to the palace proper. At the entrance to the inner palace, the guard transferred his charge to the men guarding the entryway. One of them led Kazin to a waiting room and told him to wait while he went to look for Sherman.

  Only a few minutes later, the guard returned with a giant of a man following him. The large man was grumbling about the interruption and stopped when he saw the arch mage. “Who are you and what do you want?” he boomed.