Dragon Lord: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Origins Book 2)

by James Eggebeen

  “How are your studies coming along?” Garlath asked.

  “Well, I’m researching the ancient text you assigned me. It’s all quite fascinating.”

  “That is why I asked for you. I need someone who is familiar with the old tongue and the spells employed by the wizards who set the very stones of Amedon in place.”

  “You selected the right student, then. No one knows more than I do.”

  Garlath smiled. He knew he could play on the young man’s vanity. “Ever been to Frostan?” he asked.

  Kelnor’s face clouded over. Did he suspect? Was he aware that Frostan was where Sulrad now resided?

  “I’m not going to kill him.” Kelnor stood up and started for the door.

  “No one is killing anyone. We are going to prevent the sort of situation where killing may be necessary.”

  “You told the other wizards to kill him. Sulrad is my friend. I won’t do anything to harm him.”

  “And neither will I. We’re going to keep him out of trouble. He’s about to stumble onto something very dangerous, and we simply want to keep him from it. That way, things can continue the way they are.” Garlath stood up. “I assure you, no one is going to harm anyone.”

  “I have your word?”

  “You have my word. If this works, there will be no need to harm anyone, but I do need your help. I’ve already done much of the investigation. Where we go from here is partly up to you. I won’t take action unless we both agree that it’s the proper course.”

  Kelnor appeared to be weighing his choices. He stood still with only the swaying of his arms as any indication that he was engaged. Finally, he retook his seat. “When do we go?” he asked.

  “Right after dark. I don’t want to be seen,” Garlath explained. “Bring what scrolls you think you might need.”

  17

  Garlath waited until just after sunset for Kelnor.

  “How am I going to travel to Frostan if I’ve never been there?” Kelnor asked. “I thought that was impossible.”

  “Not if I can show you exactly what to focus on.” Garlath motioned to a chair. “Have a seat. Relax.” He poured a small glass of amber liquid from a pot that rested on a brazier. The liquid steamed and gave off a strong aroma of anise and rose. “This will help you.”

  Kelnor took the proffered seat and drank up. He used his finger to swipe the inside of the glass and licked the last of the amber liquid from it.

  “Pay close attention as I describe Frostan to you.” Garlath recalled the details of the Frostan he knew. Mostly the Dusty Tankard. As he painted the picture of the inn, Kelnor’s eyes glazed over. Garlath had neglected to tell the young man that the potion was rather potent and would incapacitate him for the better part of the day, but it would allow Garlath to take him through the void with minimal effort. Kelnor’s own magic would drive him onwards, even though he would only be peripherally aware of what transpired.

  When Kelnor was sufficiently indoctrinated, Garlath helped the youth to his feet, draped the man’s arm around his shoulder, and called up the portal that would take them both to the Dusty Tankard. He peered through the shimmering surface until he was certain the alleyway he had chosen was vacant, and stepped through.

  Kelnor vomited violently.

  Garlath waited until he quieted down and helped the younger wizard straighten up. “Quite a trip, isn’t it,” he said. “You’ll be fine in the morning.”

  “What was in that potion?” Kelnor worked his mouth as if trying to get rid of a nasty taste.

  “It’s something you’ll learn, but for now, we best get a room before someone stumbles upon us.”

  Garlath dragged Kelnor into the inn and hired a room with two beds on the ground floor. He would have preferred being higher up, but Kelnor was in no position to climb stairs.

  Sitting behind the desk was a woman that Garlath knew well. Tanyica was just past the flush of youth, the mother to three hellions that kept the inn lively while efficiently handling the needs of the guests. Tanyica was a merciless flirt. Were it not for the occasional appearance of her bondmate, a man who made the local blacksmith appear scrawny, Garlath might have mistaken her friendliness as an invitation.

  “Friend have a bit too much?” Tanyica asked.

  “A bit.”

  “You drinking somewhere else? Don’t care for my ale?”

  “He was drinking. I rescued him. Perhaps tomorrow evening?”

  “I have your word on that?”

  “If I’m here. You know how it goes. I may be here for a moon or a night. Depends on trade and negotiations.”

  “You don’t need to explain it to me. You have a girl on the side and you don’t want to commit to me. You’re no better than most men.” She handed him a large brass key. “You need me to come wake you up in the morning?”

  “I think my friend is going to be abed most of the day if his history is anything to go by.”

  “When you get tired of listening to him snore, you know where I sleep.”

  “I know where you sleep,” Garlath said. “And who sleeps beside you.”

  “Don’t you forget it.” Tanyica smiled and jutted her chin toward the hall. “And get this one into bed afore he makes a mess of my nice clean floor.”

  Garlath deposited Kelnor in the bed by the window, careful to turn him on his side and prop him in place with a pillow. He locked the door and proceeded out the back of the inn and down the street to the new temple. The last time he’d visited Frostan, this section had been the factor’s way. A lumber factor had owned much of the street. It had been dusty, and noisy, and filled with rough patrons. Now it was eerily quiet.

  The lumber factor’s buildings were gone. In their place was a structure that dwarfed even the great hall in Amedon. It appeared as if the ascetic Sulrad had acquired a taste for the finer things in life after all. This was a truly magnificent structure. The stone lower walls supported thick, dark wood beams and upper walls that were filled with stained glass windows. Ran had moved from the hovels and cots of the farm community to the palace, it seemed.

  Garlath settled in beside the wall and freed his senses to roam, letting whatever came to him come. He relaxed. That always helped. As he calmed himself, the sounds of the night came to life. Far off, a couple argued. He was unable to make out the words, but it seemed someone had purchased a new winter coat and someone else was more in favor of buying food for the children.

  He let that one go.

  Down the street, a young woman propositioned a traveler. His accent marked him as a working class man from the south. The girl made suggestions of the sort of assignation they might have, should he wish it.

  He let that go as well.

  He drove his perception not out, but down. Down into the ground. That was where he had sensed the presence. “Quod ostendere delitescunt.” Garlath intoned the words of the spell he had memorized. To add emphasis to it, he traced the symbol for revelation in the air before his eyes.

  Slowly, the image appeared. A grand study. Scrolls stacked in cradles almost too numerous to count. For a moment, Garlath wished he could save the place, find a way to secretly dig down to it and make off with the scrolls, but he knew better. They were dangerous. The wizards of Amedon were not in favor of destroying any information as a matter of course, but these? These were filled with forbidden knowledge. Not something that humans should have access to.

  He toyed with the idea of burning them, but that would also leave evidence of Amedon, and evidence of Amedon was the last thing he wanted to leave behind. Sulrad was vindictive. If he believed Amedon were behind his troubles, he might well take action that everyone would live to regret.

  No. Best to find the protection spell left behind by the rightful owner. That way, there would be no trace of Amedon.

  The study was covered in roots and vines. It was evident that it had once been above ground and that some spell had been used to bury it, but that had been ages ago, if the scrolls in Amedon were correct. Was there some connec
tion between the spells used to hide the study and the spell Garlath hoped to find? Surely Skelek had not simply relied on stealth to hide his precious knowledge. There had to be something. How could there not be?

  He pushed deeper and met resistance. There was a spell. More than one. A complex overlay of faint lines told him what he needed. He’d seen these spells before, but how to trigger them? That was the question. Spells like these were traps for the unwary. They surrounded one who wandered into them. Triggering them from outside was not something he could easily do. He dug deeper. Was there some way?

  Glasses had passed when Garlath finally gave up and headed back to the Dusty Tankard. He settled into bed and slept almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. Just as he drifted off, he noticed Kelnor mumbling in his sleep. He leaned close to try to catch what the young wizard was saying.

  Kelnor turned over, eyes still closed. “I’m not here to kill you.”

  Garlath didn’t get much rest and did not wake until the midday meal. Kelnor was still fast asleep. The potion must have hit him hard.

  Garlath headed to the common room to fill the hole in his stomach. The place was small by comparison to some inns he frequented. Six square tables had been crammed into a space better suited to four. Each table sported four chairs. Rough wood, carved by an apprentice from the unprofessional look of them, upholstered with mismatching fabric and stained from summers of abuse. He pulled one out and settled in with his back to the wall.

  The midday meal was served by the oldest of Tanyica’s three daughters. The lass took after her father, towering over her patrons even though she had yet to reach her fourteenth name day. She had a pleasant smile and an efficient manner.

  “Tyradi, isn’t it?” Garlath asked.

  “S’right.” She offered Garlath a smile. “What you having? Cakes, salt pork, and eggs come with the room. Looks like your companion is giving it a miss, so there’s extra for you if you want. Strong tea comes with the fare. You want swill or ale, it’s extra. Thrice the price if it’s before mid-afternoon. Ma don’t want no one drinking until after the guests have had their meal.” She winked. “You already know all that.”

  “Cakes. A single order. Salt pork and eggs. Tea.”

  “Be right up.” Tyradi turned and vanished into the kitchen while Garlath relaxed. He needed a plan. From the sounds of it, Kelnor was still loyal to Sulrad and might balk at anything that sounded too much like an attack on his friend. How much to tell him?

  Thump. Tyradi plopped the mug of black tea before Garlath.

  It gave off a strong aroma and emitted a faint cloud of steam that opened his sinuses, stimulated his mind, and reminded him in a way of the potion Egrid prepared for him when she thought he was thinking a bit too slowly. Perhaps it was the same brew. Whatever it was, it worked quickly. He could almost feel himself come awake despite the lack of sleep.

  He had only taken a sip when Kelnor appeared.

  Garlath was surprised. He had expected the lad to sleep until halfway through the afternoon, but there he was, bright-eyed and eager to get to work.

  Kelnor must have a much higher tolerance for drink than Garlath expected.

  Kelnor settled into the chair beside Garlath as Tyradi returned with a plate heaped with cakes, salt pork, and eggs. Kelnor reached for the plate and slid it before him. “Thanks for ordering for me.”

  Garlath glanced up at Tyradi.

  The girl had a mischievous smile on her face as if she had half expected Kelnor to usurp Garlath’s meal.

  “Another?” Garlath asked.

  “Quick as a wink.” Tyradi disappeared into the kitchen and swiftly returned with a plate that contained the same fare on a smaller scale.

  “I’m not going to kill him.” Kelnor spoke around a mouthful of cakes.

  “No one is killing anyone. I need you to help me discern how to trigger the protection spell that the ancient wizard placed on his demesne. It will keep Sulrad out of trouble.”

  “Will I get to see him?”

  “I would not recommend it. He’s been very quick to attack anyone he believes comes from Amedon. That’s why we’re trying to be circumspect.”

  Garlath had never seen Kelnor so bold and argumentative. Had he made a poor choice? Was Kelnor’s first loyalty to Sulrad and not Amedon?

  “So tell me about this spell,” Kelnor asked.

  Garlath explained what he had discerned from his divination the night before. He sprinkled salt on the table and scratched the symbols he had sensed protecting the hidden lair.

  “Are you sure this is it?” Kelnor’s brow wrinkled. “That’s a very old symbol. See this line here?” Kelnor traced a set of lines in Garlath’s diagram. “These are for containment, but modified slightly the way you’ve drawn them, they indicate that the power for the spell is only taken from within the spell itself. The spell lasts as long as there is any magic inside of it. It was used to trap a wizard inside his own magic. It’s very dangerous. One misstep and you could end up sealed inside it with your own magic. How did you intend to trigger it?”

  “That’s why I asked you. I’d hoped you would be able to do it.”

  “Not while anyone is inside. This will envelop the entire temple. It will create a time trap. Things inside will age faster than normal until all the magic inside is exhausted. If someone is inside, they will live their life in a matter of days and die an old man before their power is exhausted. It’s nasty. Banned long ago as inhumane. I won’t use this on a person. No matter what you say.”

  “I don’t intend you to use it on a person. I don’t even want the temple inside the spell. Is there any way you can keep it small? Keep it underground? Just enough to protect the study?”

  “No. The size of the spell is based on the power within. From what you said, there is plenty of power there, even after all this time. We had best be far away when we trigger the spell or we’ll be trapped inside.”

  “How far?” Garlath was having second thoughts. Engulfing the temple in the spell along with the hidden scrolls was not what he had planned for. Sulrad would certainly not take it lightly if the temple were attacked in such a manner. They would have to make it appear as if the spell was the result of something Sulrad himself had done.

  “There can be nothing that points back to Amedon. We don’t need Sulrad knowing who did this.”

  “I don’t like to lie,” Kelnor said.

  “Nor do I, but this is a delicate matter. The baron has it in for wizards, and Sulrad is no friend of Amedon. If we get caught by either of them, it won’t go well.”

  “You think him dull, but he’s not. Sulrad is one of the smartest people I’ve met, and he has more power than most wizards. I don’t think this is wise.”

  “If he gets his hands on what lies beneath the temple, every wizard in Amedon may be at risk. We can’t allow that.”

  “I still don’t like it.”

  “Like it or not, you are a wizard of Amedon, and the council has decreed that we are to do this thing. I’m not happy about it either, but you don’t see me complaining.”

  “He’s my friend.”

  “And this will protect him,” Garlath explained. “Please. I need your help.”

  Kelnor stared at him for a moment, then his face softened. He chose one of his scrolls and rolled it out on the table, brushing away the salt Garlath had used to draw his characters. He jabbed a finger at a set of characters on the scroll. “This one. See how it forms the containment? With just a twist here, it draws on the power inside.”

  Garlath studied the characters that formed the spell. Now that Kelnor pointed them out, he could see what the young wizard saw. It was indeed a very dangerous spell.

  “So how do we trigger it?” Garlath asked.

  “That part’s easy. I can whip up a spell by the evening meal. We can set it off as soon as you can assure me that the temple is empty. I’m not trapping anyone inside.”

  “You won’t.” Garlath said.

  Back in the room, Garlat
h watched as Kelnor worked at an intricate mechanism fabricated from thin panels made of rich red wood. A number of brass fittings stuck out at odd angles. There was a groove carved in one face that appeared to trace an intricate route. It carried a crystal that resembled the tip of a quill. It was like nothing he’d ever seen before. “How does that work?” he asked.

  “See this mechanism? It’s driven by a spring. The spring moves this tiny crystal along this path.” Kelnor indicated a path carved in the device that mimicked the character he had shown Garlath earlier. “When the device is triggered, the crystal runs along this path and inscribes the spell in the air above it. That spell from the box will trigger the containment spell deep in the ground. The box will be inside the spell and contribute to the power that maintains the spell. We will have to leave it behind.”

  “Put it somewhere they won’t find it,” Garlath said.

  “As you command.” Kelnor removed the crystal from the trace and wound the device with a key. He set it on the table and leaned back. “Go ahead.”

  “Go ahead and what?”

  “Trigger it.”

  “How?”

  “Weren’t you watching?”

  “I was, but I have no idea how that works.”

  “Here.” Kelnor picked up the device. “This keeps the trace in the starting position.” He pointed to a tiny brass lever. “Lower this and the spell is triggered.”

  “Like so?” Garlath reached out, but Kelnor pulled the device away from his fingers.

  “With magic. Do you want to get trapped inside?”

  “With magic, then.” Garlath focused his thoughts on the device. He pictured the brass lever moving.

  Nothing.

  He tried harder. The lever was tight.

  “You’re trying to force it,” Kelnor said.

  “You try.”

  “Not me. I don’t have that sort of magic. Let me try something.” Kelnor reached into his pocket and drew out a stub of black material. He drew it along his knife to create a fine layer of black dust on the table. He scooped a tiny bit with the end of his knife, opened the box, and poured some inside. He closed the box and returned it to Garlath. “Try now.”