“Restituere ordinal,” he whispered, almost afraid to utter the words lest he was wrong once more.
As the words left his lips, a wrenching twist grabbed at his heart. It was as if a giant had thrust its hand into his chest and grasped his heart, twisting it and yanking it, attempting to pull it through his ribs. The pain was excruciating. He grew lightheaded and hungry all in one instant. Then the shock came. The hair on his arms stood on end. So tightly did the gooseflesh form that it hurt like the bites of a thousand ants chomping into his flesh.
The magic rushed from him like wind whistling through the cracks on a cold winter’s night. It fled his body to encompass the invisible object before him.
Then the whistling started. Low at first, it grew higher in pitch and louder in volume, until it was painful to listen to. The whistling turned to wailing and began wavering. The tone pulsed in time with Sulrad’s rapidly beating heart.
“It’s working,” came the words as if from a distance.
And it was working.
The amulet, floating in the air before him, was indeed the size of an apple. The gold filigree housed a ruby the size of Sulrad’s thumb, but best of all, the magic that held it in place and masked it from view was now clearly visible. It was a spell he had seen in the text but paid little attention to during his studies. It was one used to hide things from enemies. The counter was simple. Almost too simple.
He released his magic and formed the words one at a time, uttering them slowly as if to a child. “De quo egresses se venire.” He commanded the amulet to come out from hiding.
With a loud pop, the spell was broken.
The amulet dropped to the surface of the altar, and the pain in Sulrad’s chest abated.
“I knew you could do it.” Ignal jumped up and down like a child unable to control herself with anticipation of a special name day gift.
She reached for the amulet, but Sulrad grabbed her hand. “Stop. There might be a spell protecting it.”
Ignal sniffed the air. “No. Nothing.”
Before he could stop her, Ignal grasped the amulet and smashed it against the altar.
He braced himself, expecting the worst. In his mind’s eye, he saw the amulet releasing a torrent of spells meant to exact retribution on anyone who dared to touch it, showers of sparks rising from the shattered remains of the crystal to form a brilliant griffon filled with fire that ate Ignal.
“Are you all right?” came Ignal’s voice. “Why do you have your eyes closed, and why do you look like you are about to soil yourself?”
Sulrad opened his eyes hesitantly. No griffon. No sparks. Nothing. No magic at all. Could it be that simple? “You took a big risk doing that,” he said.
“No magic.” She placed a finger aside her nose. “Come on. Let’s see what happened.”
She grabbed his arm and led him to the main entry doors, shoving against them with all her might. They refused to budge.
“I could use some help here,” she said after several moments of straining at the doors.
“It’s no use,” Sulrad said. “The vines are still there.”
“Another trip through the void?” Ignal inquired.
“I’d rather not.” Sulrad shuddered at the thought of dragging Ignal through the void a second time. He had not let on, but having her with him had changed the way he perceived the void. Before that trip, he sensed the possibilities and potential exits, only in a vague manner, but when she was with him, he realized just how many choices he had, and just how truly awful some of those choices could be. He was in no hurry to do that again.
“Let’s try the back, then. Maybe one of the windows is clear. You can boost me up and out and I’ll cut away the brush.”
“I have a better idea,” he said. “Wait here.”
He stepped back from Ignal and gathered his power to him, warping the space and time before him to create a portal through the void. This time, he would not step into the void, but rather, through it. No dallying inside, no experiencing the potential futures that were not to be. Just a simple threshold. A door from one place to another. That was what he wanted.
When the shimmering surface appeared in the air before him, he stepped through and out into the fresh morning air outside the temple. He had intended to use his knife to cut away the vines that held the door shut and free Ignal, but there was no need. She stood behind him, her robes disheveled, hair tangled and face smudged with dirt. “You’re here,” she blurted out. “I was afraid you might have given up and left me for dead.”
“Left you for dead?” Sulrad wasn’t sure what she was talking about. He had only just left her in the temple. Why would she think he left her for dead?
“You’ve been gone for so long, I was certain you’d left me for dead. At first, I was angry that you didn’t come looking for me, but then I figured maybe you did and you couldn’t find me. Did you look for me? Were you frightened that I was lost?”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
“I was gone.” She eyed him, then glanced at the vines clinging to the temple. “How long was I gone?” she asked slowly.
“Gone? I stepped through the portal. I barely blinked and there you were,” he said. “What happened?”
“I was stuck in there. For ages. Moons, if not summers.” She ran her fingers through her hair, untangling it. Hair? She had been shorn just before they stepped through the portal. Now her hair was shoulder length. He took in the tattered state of her robe. It did look to have been worn for ages.
“You were in there for half a heartbeat at the most,” he said. “But time doesn’t run the same in the void as it does here. What felt like moments to me could indeed have been ages to you. Why did you take such a risk?”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m never going back in there.”
Sulrad wondered how she could be so calm about what had just happened to her. Was her faith in Ran so strong as to dismiss any trouble? He wished he shared her blind faith like that. He’d had his reservations about what Ran might put him through for his misdeeds. Thankfully, Ran had blessed them once again. He glanced at the vines surrounding temple. Already they were starting to decay as if they would rot away before long. Not that he wanted to wait. He was eager for things to get back to normal.
Ignal grabbed his arm and led him toward the street, seemingly having already dismissed the miracle of her return. He’d heard of people being lost in the void. They said none returned sane, but Ignal appeared no different from the woman he knew.
He wondered why that was.
25
The vines had been cleared away and the temple grounds restored to their former glory. It had taken the workmen several days, but the temple was back in operation. Sulrad was now free to investigate the strange doorway below ground they had discovered earlier. It was graven with ancient symbols that should indicate what it was for. He’d been so caught up in his anger over what the wizards had done to the temple that he had paid it little heed. Now he had the time to discover what they had tried to deny him.
He brushed away the dirt so he could read the runes carved in the doorposts. They were ancient and strange to his eye. They looked similar to one of the wizards’ languages he had learned in Amedon.
“Yes. This is a wizard’s.” He told the acolyte who had accompanied him and Veran. “Fetch me parchment and charcoal. I wish to study them at my leisure. Ask Ignal to find them in my study.”
Sulrad turned to Veran. “Can you read these?”
Veran shrugged.
Sulrad ran his hand over the symbols. “They’re ancient, that much I know. They look similar to runes that I have studied. These symbols usually give one a hint as to how to open the doors.
“See this one?” Sulrad pointed to one of the symbols. “This is very ancient, but one that has not changed much over time.” It was a crude representation of a snake with wings and short, stubby legs.
“Does this mean what I think it does?” Veran asked.
“It is the symbol for dragons,” Sulrad explained.
“This must be the study of a powerful wizard. There will be much to learn from this place.”
“If we can ever learn how to open the door,” Sulrad said. “Why would a wizard study dragons?”
“Legend has it that a wizard devised a spell to command the dragons so he could use them for his own purposes. He made war on another group of wizards and used the dragons as his weapon. The dragons fought valiantly and killed many of the opposing wizards until the dragons eventually gained their freedom and left this realm. The wizard who commanded the dragons was killed in that final battle and his spells were lost. Dragons are rarely seen these days, and most folks think of them only as legend. Anyone who tells tales of seeing a dragon is laughed at. Few even admit it, if they chance to see one today.”
The acolyte returned with several sheets of parchment and a charcoal lump. Sulrad took the sheets, laid them over the runes, and rubbed until he had a copy of all of them. He rolled up the parchment and handed it to Veran.
“Take this to my study. I will search the records to see if I can make sense of this. It may provide a clue to the opening of the door.”
“Yes, Father.” Veran bowed his head and departed.
Sulrad ran his hands over the runes, caressing them, feeling the edges of the carving in the rough stone.
“Dragons,” he said softly.
Back in his study, Sulrad bent over the reference books that dealt with ancient runes. He had not found the exact runes he wanted, but he was able to puzzle out several possible interpretations.
“Dragon Lord,” he mumbled beneath his breath. He looked around, hoping that no one was near to hear him. His heart beat faster as he fingered the charcoal tracings. Was it possible? Had he stumbled upon the secrets of the Dragon Lord of old?
He worked through the night, referencing the runes until he was confident that he had the answer. He donned his robe and pulled the hood over his head. He climbed down the ladder into the darkened tunnel.
“Incendo ignio.” Flame appeared in his palm to light his way. He reached out to the fire, separated it from his palm, and lifted it above his head as he approached the doorway. It illuminated the writing, casting a shadow in the deep crevasses of the runes.
“Habere scientiam et potentiam trans fores.” He commanded the door to open and admit him to gain knowledge and power.
The door shuddered and slowly slid open, revealing a dusty foyer that led to several arched doorways. The interior was bleak, with no trace of decoration anywhere.
Sulrad entered and began exploring the buried building. He soon located a room that must have been a study. It was packed with scrolls stuffed in a rack that reached from floor to ceiling. Beside the rack of scrolls was a mosaic. He lifted his light and brightened it to get a better look. The mosaic was covered in dust and dirt, but the image was clear. It was a dragon, crouching down to a man. The man held an amulet in his outstretched hand.
Sulrad drew a breath. Could it be? This was the Dragon Lord’s study!
So Amedon had not been attacking the temple after all. Kelnor was right. They had been trying to prevent him from attaining the knowledge he needed to defeat them. They knew of this place. Some powerful wizard had once commanded the dragons, and this was his study. Only Ran’s power could have arranged for Sulrad to obtain the very ground above this trove of knowledge.
He walked up to the mosaic. “Permitte me clare videre.” He commanded the dirt to clear from the mosaic so he could see clearly. The runes around the mosaic were familiar from his study. He traced his finger carefully along them as he read to himself. To command a dragon.
He withdrew a scroll from the rack and carefully unrolled it on the empty desk. He rubbed his hands over the dry parchment, willing it not to crack from disuse. The scroll seemed to speak of the wizard that controlled the dragons. It was slow going, but he could make out some of the text.
He bent to the words before him, carefully examining the runes. The more he read of the runes, the easier it became. They must have been enchanted to teach the reader how to interpret them. The ancient wizards knew that even the wizards’ tongue would change over time.
The scroll spoke of how to summon a dragon. The spell was complex and difficult. It would take more energy than most wizards possessed, but Sulrad knew that he could draw on the stores of the temple to help him.
Could he command a dragon? The thought of such a beast under his control was more than he could have hoped for. With dragons at his command, he would be unstoppable. He could repay the wizards for what they had done to him if the tantalizing secrets turned out to be what he thought they were.
He had to find out.
Sulrad read and re-read the scrolls until he was certain he’d learned all there was to learn. The dragons and wizards had conspired to steal magic from the common man. The dragons had helped found Amedon and then abandoned the land to tyrannical wizards. It had to end, and Sulrad was just the person to end it. Ran had put him in this place for this reason. He was certain of it. Still, he felt that it was not the time to work openly. He needed to find a place where he could test his theories. A place where no one would witness his failure if he was wrong, and no one would witness his success if he was right. Better to let Amedon be surprised when his plans came together.
He needed a place far from the city center. A place where he could safely summon a dragon without notice. He had transcribed the scrolls he needed and arranged for a pack horse and a saddle horse. He made his way out into the desert until he found a small stand of trees next to a low hill.
He made his camp there and waited. The scrolls said it was better to do the initial summoning at night. Something about the sun’s energy and wind that he had not been able to translate. He wondered at that. Did that mean the dragons came more often at night? Was that why no one ever saw them arrive?
He waited until the sunset and the full moon and stars filled the night sky.
He sat before the small fire and started the incantation that should summon the dragon.
It was a complex and ancient spell requiring both words and hand motions to make it work. Had this been the way of it in the ancient days? Hand motions and words? It was strange. Sulrad knew the gestures formed characters as the words did, and the characters drove the magic in paths that defined the power of the spell. He undertook that now, strange as it felt. He spoke the words of power. He traced a strange character in the air. He pressed his magic into the character as it came alive with light.
At first, nothing happened, then without warning, the sky lit up. It looked as if the gods had hung a thick silk sheet from the stars themselves. The silk curtain glowed red, blue, and green. It rippled and rustled like draperies caught in the wind. He had done it. He had opened the door to the realm of the dragons.
He was elated. He was summoning a dragon. He would soon have access to power beyond his wildest dreams.
He calmed himself and continued his litany. Opening the doorway was just the first step. The next spell was the actual summoning. With it, he would call forth a dragon from their home realm. This was the critical step. He had rehearsed it well in preparation for this night, but he was skeptical. Would it truly work?
After he finished the summoning spell, he looked up. The diaphanous curtains still waved as if caught in the wind. High up in the sky, he saw it, a shadow darting in and out of the silken lights above. It descended, slowly growing larger.
The dragon swooped overhead once, then settled on the ground before Sulrad, wings spread wide, mighty talons digging into the ground before him. The great beast towered over Sulrad. Its mighty head sprouted horns with needle-sharp points that were longer than Sulrad’s arms. The scales that covered it were the size of dinner plates, overlapping to cover every bit of the dragon’s flesh. Its neck was thicker than Sulrad’s waist and curved as the beast raised his head and roared. The massive jaws opened, revealing glistening teeth that could r
ip Sulrad into bits in a heartbeat.
Fire flashed from the beast’s throat to light the air. The odor of rotten eggs and swamp was overpowering. What was he thinking? How could he have imagined commanding such a beast?
Sulrad pushed his fears aside and spoke the spell of summoning again.
“I am here,” the dragon said in a deep voice.
Sulrad’s heart beat faster. With the dragons at his command, he would be able to set things right. He would destroy Amedon and force the dragon to tell him what they had done to steal the magic. He would reverse it. Restore the land. Everyone would come to know what Ran had done through him.
“I command you.” Sulrad looked at the mighty beast as it lowered its head.
“You do?”
Sulrad hesitated. Had he missed something?
“Yes, I spoke the spells ... I summoned you ... I command you.”
“Summoned, yes. Command, no,” the dragon said softly.
Sulrad stepped back as the dragon inhaled deeply. He raised his shields against the oncoming fire, but the dragon only laughed. There was no fire.
“You may have summoned me, but no one commands a dragon. Nor can you hold me here long. I have come. Now I leave. Trouble me no more.”
The dragon drew a deep breath and released fire against Sulrad. As the flames washed over him, Sulrad thought he had breathed his last, but his flesh remained whole. It was his magic that was affected. It rushed from him to mix with the flames and vanish in a shower of sparks. The emptiness in his chest was a strange feeling, something he had not experienced since the magic first came awake in him.
He reached for fire. The simplest of spells. Nothing. He was completely and utterly without his magic.
With that, the dragon blew fire into the night sky, flapped its mighty wings, and leapt into the air.
Sulrad fell to the ground, exhausted and frustrated.
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Dragon Lord: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Origins Book 2) Page 17