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

by James Eggebeen

  It took the workers half a moon to clear the vines from around the temple and restore the stonework and decorations to their former glory. In no time, the old luster reemerged, and the temple was once more open for business. The faithful had begun returning, but not to the same extent that they had before. A god who could not protect his own temple had little attraction for the former faithful.

  How then was Sulrad supposed to defeat Amedon? Was there another way? Why had Ran done this? Was it the dragons? Were they the secret to the defeat of Amedon? Was that why Ran had shown him the dragons?

  The dragons consumed his thoughts day and night. He had taken to spending his time in the library beneath the temple. It afforded him peace and quiet that he could not get in the temple. He neglected his health, frequently spending the whole day poring over texts and skipping meals.

  It was getting to the point that both Veran and Ignal were worried for his health, but the tantalizing secret to the dragons drove him on. The Dragon Lord’s abode had been well preserved except for the dust. There was dust everywhere, and it made him sneeze, distracting him, so he had spent the whole day cleaning and was now ready to begin again.

  Things were progressing. He was growing to the language written on the scrolls. Over the last few days, he had been more and more able to decipher their meaning. He could hardly contain his excitement. The message on the scrolls was tantalizing. The writing hinted at a spell that had the power to command the dragons, not just summon them. Only hints, though, nothing that Sulrad could act upon. Still, the answer had to be somewhere in one of the scrolls. He would keep digging.

  Night after night, he sat behind the desk, reading, researching, and cross-referencing, until a story became clear. In the days of old, a wizard had fashioned a charm. The Charm of the Joiner had the ability to store magic, more magic than any one wizard could hope to hold inside himself and live. It reminded Sulrad of the stones the dwarves had given him, but if the text was right, it absorbed magic directly from the earth without need of a wizard to charge it.

  This wizard had fashioned the amulet out of gold mined beneath the face of the Ice Father. He had enhanced it with the magic of precious stones dug from the caves of fire. The most precious gem, he had stolen from the mines beneath Friega. That stone alone was worth more than any castle or kingdom.

  Precious as the stones were, little was written about them beyond the mere fact that gems from deep beneath the mountains carried power greater than those found close to the surface. The text hinted that they lay closer to the raw power of the earth, but never said much beyond that. How had the creator of the amulet come to possess such a vast array of gems? If he was so powerful, how had he lost control of them? The text stated that the wizard, Skelek, had come to own the amulet. They hinted that he had acquired it through some complex deception played on the dragons and a more powerful wizard named Endra. Skelek had used the charm on the dragons during his final battle with Endra. The scrolls said no more than that. Skelek had been wearing the Charm of the Joiner when he departed for Ryden to battle his enemies, and he had never returned.

  Sulrad took out a sheet of parchment and laid it on top of the drawing. He carefully traced the lines until he had a copy of the illustration of the charm. He rolled up the parchment and slid it into his sleeve. But that was not the end of his search. He knew that there had to be a spell to make the amulet work.

  He needed to find it.

  He searched day and night. At times, he thought of bringing the others in on the secret. Veran had a facility with the old language that impressed Sulrad, and Ignal brought insights he at times lacked, but he feared what might happen if they knew what he was thinking. They would say he was paranoid, that he was seeing things that were not there, but the inklings of what he was seeing drove his hatred of the dragons and the wizards of Amedon even deeper than before.

  Once plentiful, magic had flowed from the earth like water flowed in a stream. To be certain, in some places, magic was more abundant than in others, but almost every town or hamlet had enough magic to power simple healing spells, and when that magic had ceased — or been stolen — illness had become the common plight of every man, woman, and child. It was inexcusable.

  Sulrad needed to understand more of how the dragons and wizards had accomplished this. Perhaps he could reverse it, undo the damage. He drove himself even harder, but the secret he sought eluded him.

  That evening at dinner, Ignal and Veran pressed him.

  “You never eat. You look like a skeleton,” Verna said.

  “And I never see you. You spend all your time in that study,” Ignal said. “Why go down there? Why not bring the scrolls up here where we can all help?”

  “I’m studying.” He waved his hand to dismiss her, but as soon as he did, he realized it was the wrong thing to do.

  “Studying what? Why are you neglecting Ran’s work? You should be teaching, educating the faithful, searching for more priests, healing the nobles and bringing golds. What’s to study?”

  “Old scrolls,” he said. “I see the hand of Ran in the ancient texts. It gives me solace,” he lied.

  “Share them with us,” Ignal pressed. “Veran has a skill with languages. He can help. He can translate them so you can better understand.”

  Sulrad shook his head and proceeded to eat in silence. Veran and Ignal had learned not to intrude when he was deep in thought. Was it the right thing to do to let them in on what he had discovered? How would they take the plan he was only just starting to formulate? Would they help or would they think him a monster? How would it fit with Ran’s plans?

  He focused on the plate set before him, picked at one corner of it, dislodging a small bite of roasted vegetable with a light brown sauce, and raised it to his lips. As the morsel slid into his mouth, he savored the flavor. Subtle, smoky. The gravy was a bit salty and bitter at the same time, but that just added to its appeal. He chewed quietly for the longest time, swallowed, and placed his fork beside his plate. He pushed his chair back from the table.

  When everyone stood out of respect, he directed them back to their seats with an almost absentminded wave. He brushed his robe straight and drew a deep breath. He turned his gaze to Ignal and then Veran.

  “I have discovered that magic used to be more common than spit. In the ancient times, the dragons conspired with the wizards of Amedon to steal that magic, and having stolen the magic, the dragons departed so that they would not have to witness the horror they had unleashed. Folk who used magic to heal all manner of infirmity and disease now were beholden to the few who retained the ability to wield magic, and those few grew stingy. They claimed that their magic was limited and that they must conserve it. People fell ill. People died. The infirmities we see today, those that Ran so mercifully has been healing, were once cured by every washer woman and shepherd in the land. Ran has shown me how I may restore the magic, and it starts with the dragons.”

  Ignal fidgeted in her seat. “Is that what the scrolls talk of?” she asked.

  “That and more. I do not want to speak of it publicly, nor even in family. Not yet. The only thing I choose to reveal at this time is the fact that I have devised a plan, and it will become more common knowledge as I discern how it might be carried out.”

  “Whatever it is, we are here to help.” Ignal laid a hand on his. “No matter what.”

  27

  The secrets of the scrolls slowly made themselves known to Sulrad. The key to his success lay in Ryden. He had reason to believe that the charm he sought was there. If he could find it, he could command the dragons. He considered taking Ignal and Veran with him, but arriving in a strange town with too many folk at his side would get him noticed. For what he had planned, he needed to blend in until the time was right. He had to go alone. That much was certain.

  To make matters worse, the only way to get to Ryden in any reasonable time was by ship. He had never traveled by sea. Wizards, as a rule, didn’t. It disconnected them from their power, making t
hem weak and insecure.

  Knowing that the wizards of Amedon were once again moving openly against him, he needed to act. Why couldn’t they leave him alone? He had never asked for any of this. As he pondered his troubles, a small voice spoke to him. It told him that he was chosen to free the land from the grip of the evil wizards and destroy the meddling dragons once and for all. It was he who would restore magic to the land. Ran had chosen him for this and blessed his efforts. Ran would guide his hand, and Ran would assure his ultimate victory. It gave him comfort to hear the voice of Ran speak to him directly. The only thing that disturbed him was that the voices sounded so much like Ignal that, for a moment, he thought she was with him in his private study, but no. He was alone.

  He located a ship, one that carried cargo but could accommodate a limited number of passengers. The ship had room for one more, and Sulrad purchased that berth with a single gold and promise of one more at departure. He would have paid more, but the captain took pity on him when he saw him, saying anyone who couldn’t afford to feed himself was not someone he felt good about squeezing for more coin.

  The evening before departure, Sulrad finalized his studies. He had searched for the oldest scrolls he could find until one day he had located it. The key. The one final piece of information he needed to succeed. It was elegant in its simplicity. He berated himself for not seeing it earlier.

  It was right under his nose all along.

  The amulet could store magic, but it took a lot of magic to power the binding spell on a dragon. Binding a dragon took power almost equal to the magic possessed by the dragon one wished to enchant. He would take the life of one dragon and use its power to drive the binding spell on a second dragon. Only then would he have enough magic. This was the secret. The thing that Skelek had used to bind the dragons to his will. The one he, Sulrad, would use to do the same.

  He knew of several binding incantations that might work and located others within the study. He carefully transcribed them into his journal and spelled it to erase itself should anyone open the book but him. He pocketed the book and prepared to leave, but paused. He had packed his belongings, taking care not to leave anything behind that he might need, but what of the study? He could not leave it open on the chance that a wizard from Amedon would stumble upon it. No. The study contained too many secrets. It was a risk, leaving it alone and unguarded. He could not take that chance. He retrieved a few scrolls as he tidied up the place.

  He paused in the doorway and looked back.

  “Too much risk... No helping it,” he muttered to himself.

  He raised his hand and created a fireball of bright blue.

  He paused for a moment. It grated on him.

  Destroying knowledge, any knowledge, was a sin.

  Ran had created this knowledge.

  Ran had brought it to his attention.

  Would it not be a sin to destroy it?

  He let the fireball fade. Perhaps he could seal the door. Preserve the knowledge. There was no telling if one day he himself might need it once more. He backed out of the study, and closed and sealed the door.

  Sulrad made his way to the port.

  Veran and Ignal were waiting there.

  “Where are you going?” she demanded.

  “Hodon,” Sulrad lied.

  “The ship is going to Ryden,” Ignal said.

  Sulrad was growing worried. Ignal was digging at his lies as one dug at a carcass to find the tender meat within. He needed to distract her, to offer her something that would refocus her thoughts.

  “I will be gone for a short while. But, for now, you are the head of the temple in Frostan,” he said. “Veran has learned what it takes to find and train or sacrifice those with magic to strengthen himself and the temple. You know how to keep things running. Between the two of you, the temple is in the best hands it could be in. Take care of it while I am gone.”

  Ignal blinked.

  He knew this was what she wanted more than anything else, but was it enough to distract her?

  She bowed her head. “I am honored. I will keep watch against your return. You will not be disappointed.”

  “Know this. I am traveling by water. Water is a danger to any wizard. We lose contact with the earth and our powers are significantly impaired. I don’t anticipate any trouble, but one never knows.”

  “Then why are you traveling by water?” she asked.

  “Because the trip to Ryden is half a moon by water, but two full moons of walking. This will get me where I need to be much faster, even though I like it not.”

  “I’ll be watching for your contact, should you need my assistance. Simply call for me and I will come. I can always use the void to return immediately.”

  Ignal shuddered.

  “Do not worry. The void holds no danger for me,” he said.

  His words did little to settle her spirits. Ignal simply hugged herself as Sulrad turned toward the ship. “Watch over my temple,” he said.

  He placed his foot on the plank and paused. He was committed, committed to a course of action that would take him to the next stage of his quest.

  To destroy the dragons.

  28

  The sea swelled, great blue-green humps rolling in from the east, every so often shifting direction to toss the ship in a whole new way. The water itself had changed from a pleasant blue to a dark and forbidding color not long after the ship left port, a sure sign that they sailed in waters no man should have ever explored. Even the smell of the water had changed. So far from land that one could see nothing but water on the horizon, the sea itself had a different odor. Gone was the ever-present smell of decaying fish and rotting seaweed. Out here, the sea had a tinge of something else, something deadly that Sulrad could not place, but the worst of it was his total lack of magic. Until it was gone, Sulrad hadn’t realized that he had been carrying so much magic within him, or that that magic was constantly bleeding from him as he used it, and constantly being replenished by his contact with the earth, only now, there was no contact with the earth. There was still magic, to be sure, but very little. It was almost as if he were a young boy once more and his magic had yet to awaken in him.

  The fourth day at sea was the worst. A squall had risen off in the distance. It was so unusual that the captain had called him up on deck to witness it. The water was calm and sunny when the mariner had pointed to the far horizon. Ahead, the sky was dark with clouds, but they were the strangest clouds Sulrad had ever seen. It appeared as if someone had rolled up a layer of bedding that stretched for leagues and placed the white roll flat on the surface of the water. A Great Wall of murky gray rose from the surface of the sea and curved away to lose itself in the clouds behind it. Lightning played in those clouds, the crack and flash a regular occurrence.

  “Looks like we be in for some rough weather. Thought I’d call you up here and let you see what we’re in for.” The captain jabbed Sulrad’s ribs. “You best be strapped into your bunk when this hits. You being a greenhorn and all.”

  He turned Sulrad toward the door that led below deck and slapped him on the back. “Best hurry. The wind is strong. Won’t be long and we’ll be tossed about like a cork in a teakettle. And don’t forget your bucket. You’ll be needing that.”

  As Sulrad headed down the ladder to his quarters, he heard the captain calling out to furl the sails and lash down anything that might be tossed about. It seemed silly to Sulrad. It was calm and peaceful, almost pleasant, but then again, what did he know of the sea?

  He found his bunk and noticed someone had placed a handful of short ropes there along with a bucket that was used for wash water. Was that truly necessary?

  He shrugged and climbed into the bunk. It was only then he noticed that there were holes in the rails that easily accepted the ropes. Maybe this was more common than he imagined.

  He threaded the rope into the holes and quickly had a series of restraints that loosely held him to the mattress. He still felt silly about taking such extreme precautions
, but the ship was starting to roll in a strange new manner. Nothing drastic, just taking on a different feel. He was proud of himself that he was able to recognize such a slight change in the motion of the ship.

  Maybe he could use this time to meditate or sleep. He relaxed and let his thoughts drift. He imagined himself landing in Ryden and quickly making his way into the king’s good graces. He would heal one of the top nobles and be rewarded with his pick of the royal treasury, where he would find the Charm of the Joiner. From there, he would summon and command the dragons, forcing them to reveal what they had done to steal magic from the common man. His dream was most pleasant, that is until the dragon that he had summoned grabbed him in its jaws and began to shake and batter him about. He tried to draw himself from the dream, but no matter what he did, he was trapped, tossed to and fro against the ropes he had wrapped around his bunk.

  Even with his eyes open, the battering continued.

  He closed them again, opening them only once to make sure he had a grip on the bucket. He was going to need that. His guts were already protesting and threatening to empty themselves. It was agony, worse than any infirmity he had ever experienced. He wished he hadn’t eaten the morning meal. Perhaps then his stomach would be more patient with him, but that mattered not. The rolling had barely started when his morning meal departed the way it had entered him, leaving the bitter taste of bile to taunt him as he retched, trying to empty an already empty stomach.

  The storm abated after a hand of glasses. It was not completely gone, but the tossing and battering had settled down, and from the snap and lurch of the ship, Sulrad was certain the captain had raised the sails and they were once again underway. All this was lost on him as he continued to feel like his insides were trying to get to his outside. They might well have earned themselves even more time at sea if the storm had pushed them away from their destination.

  It was three more days before they made land, and Sulrad was never so glad to see a strange city. The port was dirty, the docks formed of wood coated with tar and sunken into the harbor with rough planks hastily cobbled together to top them off. The ever-present smell of dead fish and rotting seaweed was overlain with smoke and soot, and the aroma of something cooking that he imagined should never be cooked or eaten. As he made his way through the packed market, he noticed that most of the folk seemed immune to the odor, and soon enough, he barely noticed it.