Rotiaqua felt the hesitancy in Zhimosom.
“You fear the coming battle?” she asked him silently.
“I fear for the wizards and dragons. How many will die in this war?”
She looked around the room. The audience chamber was packed tightly with those who had come to witness the debate. She shuddered inwardly at his thought.
How many of them would survive?
35
The war did not come the next day, or even the moon after. Zhimosom started to think it might never come, but he harbored a core of unease knowing that one day he would face Sulrad again, and that meant risking his own life and Rotiaqua’s. He only hoped he would be prepared.
He wandered the halls of the main keep, turning over his options in his head. Nothing came to him. He was so distracted, he didn’t even know he had reached Alwroth’s study until he stood before it. He paused, knocked, and was admitted almost as if the wizard had been expecting him. The study was meticulously maintained. Bottles and jars of powders and liquids had long ago been carefully labeled and stored on shelves that were similarly labeled. Bits and pieces of string, beads, shells, gemstones, and ordinary river stones were corralled in their own storage bins along the wall.
Alwroth was hunched over a flame that flickered above the clear granite tabletop. He dipped a thin silver wire into a fine powder and slid it into the flame. The fire flared up with a bright orange flash and quickly returned to normal.
“What’s that?” Zhimosom asked.
“I’m tempering the silver for a spell.” Alwroth spoke without taking his eyes off his work. He gestured blindly to the stool next to him.
Zhimosom took a seat. In front of him was a small vial full of black powder and one of clear liquid. “Try that,” Alwroth said. “Pour out a little powder then add a drop of the liquid.”
Zhimosom tapped the vial and dropped some powder onto the granite surface.
He grabbed the clear liquid and held it at the ready, glancing at Alwroth for instructions.
“One drop of the fluid. Right into the center of the powder,” Alwroth instructed. “Stand back when you do it. Only one drop.”
Zhimosom tapped the vial until one glistening drop of the thick liquid clung to the lip. His hand shook slightly as he carefully moved it above the tiny pile of black crystals.
He twitched his hand, and the drop fell into the pile of black powder.
At first, nothing happened. Zhimosom leaned forward, but felt a hand on his chest.
“Wait.”
In a few heartbeats, the tiny black pile began to smoke. The smoke grew thicker until, suddenly, the pile erupted in a flash of orange and purple flame that flared brightly and quickly died. When the smoke cleared, there was only a tiny glowing dot in the middle of the powder where the clear liquid had landed.
Zhimosom wrinkled his nose. The stink was strong and bitter.
“Now dispose of it,” Alwroth said. “And take the vials with you. They may come in handy when you least expect it.”
“Dispose of it? How?”
“Raise fire and dispose of it.”
Zhimosom raised fire and carefully shaped it around the powder. The fireball burned bright with a violet light, spinning and spitting sparks. He slowly lowered it into the tiny pile of crystals until it vanished.
“What was that?” Zhimosom asked. “I’ve never seen magic work like that before.”
“That was not magic. It was alchemy. The study of the natural world. When you use magic, you are drawing power, the same power that drives the natural world. You use magic to subvert the laws of nature and turn them to your will.”
Alwroth finished with his work and then turned to Zhimosom. “When you use magic, your first inclination is to use brute force to make something happen. When you do that, you grow tired quickly. It takes energy out of you, just like doing physical work.”
Alwroth extended his hand. A bright violet fireball appeared in his palm. He bounced it up and down several times and then extinguished it.
“The more you know about the natural laws, the more you will be able to influence them subtly. It takes a lot less power to finesse them than force them, and you won’t tire out so quickly.”
Alwroth stood up and pushed his stool beneath the bench. He gathered the equipment he had used, wiped it down with a cloth, and stored each piece in its proper place. He wiped down the table and tossed the cloth into a small wooden pail sitting beside the table.
He furrowed his brow.
The pail flashed once, and the contents vanished.
“I think it’s time I taught you a very dangerous spell,” Alwroth said. “This one is particularly difficult, but it may well save your life, should you ever need it.”
Alwroth held his hands before him and motioned as if he were feeling the aura of his magic. “Feel my magic. See how it emanates from me?”
“Yes. Every wizard appears much like you do.”
“That is true, but not every wizard can do what I am going to do.” He reached out and took Zhimosom’s hand. “Here.” He positioned it close to his heart. “Feel this? Right here?”
Zhimosom felt a strange variation in Alwroth’s magic. It was as if the threads of his magic and life force had a tiny loose end that was tucked away just above his heart. “It’s almost as if there is a loose thread in your life force,” he said.
Alwroth nodded. “The spell I want you to learn will allow you take that loose thread and wrap it around your opponent. In so doing, you will use his own magic against him.”
“I don’t understand.” Zhimosom looked at Alwroth, then at the thin glimmering threads of this magic.
“If you pull the free end of my magic and wrap it tightly about me, or your opponent, you can seal it off, and his own magic will sustain the spell. It is almost impossible to break from within. You need another wizard to come along and undo it. One stronger than the one sealed away by his own magic.”
Zhimosom nodded. “It works against someone powerful? As powerful as Sulrad?”
“The more powerful the wizard, the more effective it is. That’s why we don’t teach it to many young wizards. It’s dangerous, but it may save your life someday.”
Alwroth opened a drawer and withdrew a rolled parchment tied with a light blue ribbon. He handed it to Zhimosom.
“Practice this spell. Don’t speak the words out loud. Don’t even read through the entire spell in your head until you need it. Just memorize the stanzas and be able to repeat them in any order – except the order they appear on the scroll.”
Zhimosom took the scroll. The writing on the outside was in the ancient wizard script. He groaned inwardly.
Alwroth must have noticed.
“How is your study coming? Reading getting any easier?”
“It’s difficult, but I think I’m learning. It’s saying the words that’s hard. They’re strange to my tongue.”
“Pronunciation is important when you do spells. Even when you don’t say them out loud, you have to get them right in your head.”
“I’m trying. It’s just that the old tongue is so strange.”
“And the most powerful. Keep practicing.” Alwroth opened the door and gestured Zhimosom through it. “Ask Rotiaqua to help you,” he said. “She has a good ear for the old tongue. She’s picking it up quickly.”
36
The next morning, Rotiaqua met with Uskin privately. The sorceress had asked her to drop by while Alwroth and Zhimosom were studying together.
“Thanks for coming.” Uskin motioned Rotiaqua to her customary seat. The fireplace was dark but stacked with wood ready to light should the day turn cold.
Rotiaqua looked expectantly at Uskin.
“We have spoken of the pair bonding.” Uskin poured a slender glass of dark red juice and handed it to Rotiaqua. “I have one more thing to bring to your attention. Consider it our last lesson.” Uskin raised her glass in salute and took a sip.
“Last lesson?”
�
��Our last lesson. Well, not really a lesson ... a warning ... no ... more advice than warning.”
Rotiaqua took a sip of the juice. It had a taste that she had never experienced before, sweet and sour at the same time with a hint of smokiness to it. It burst into flavor as it hit the back of her tongue and made her mouth water.
“Good, isn’t it?” Uskin shifted in her chair. “Do you know why Alwroth and I never had children?”
Rotiaqua was taken by surprise at the question. She thought she was here to learn more about magic. “One never asks, but I assumed you were unable.” Rotiaqua was embarrassed and slightly uncomfortable.
“We are able,” Uskin said. She placed her glass on the table beside her chair and leaned forward, hands on her knees. “We refrain for good reason.”
“Good reason?”
“You know that Alwroth and I are both powerful wizards. We are paired just as you and Zhimosom are. We have also been bonded for a number of years and have had ample opportunity. And I love children ... It’s just unwise.”
Uskin’s eyes were fixed off in the distance as if she were intently watching something.
Rotiaqua almost turned to see what it was.
“You see,” Uskin said. “When a pair is formed, your life energy is bonded along with your magic. You form one individual with two bodies, two minds, two centers of magic.”
Uskin slowly shifted her gaze to Rotiaqua. “You come to rely on each other just as you and Zhimosom have done. And that is the problem. If you were to have a child, your life force and magic would be joined together in that child. It would be born with the full power of the pair, but it would lack the judgment and balance of two minds. Such a child would have no moderating influence. Whatever it chose to do, it would be able to do.”
“I don’t see what you’re getting at.” Rotiaqua wondered what would be wrong with one person being that powerful.
“Without the moderation of the pair, the constant back and forth, the discussion of every important decision, the child would have a difficult time remaining evenly balanced. It has happened in the past, but never has it turned out for good. The child always turns toward evil and has to be destroyed.”
Rotiaqua laughed. “You think Zhimosom and I are going to be bonded?” She smiled. “That’s never going to happen. The man is afraid to be alone in the same room with me.” Rotiaqua was amused at the idea of the two of them together. She loved Zhimosom like a brother, but romantically? He was just an awkward boy who got flustered by the thought of her. She enjoyed teasing him and flirting just to see the reaction it caused, but no, he was not the sort of man she saw herself romantically involved with.
“I see the two of you,” Uskin said. “The bond will draw you closer as you continue to work your magic together. It’s inevitable.”
Rotiaqua laughed. “You don’t know Zhimosom. He’s not like that. He’s very focused on his magic, but what he really wants is to be left alone to study. He works with me because we were thrown together by circumstances. He stays with me because of those same circumstances. I believe that once the threat of war is over, he will quietly retire somewhere to pursue his studies.”
“Don’t be too certain of that. He may be awed by you now and a bit timid, but he is bonded to you with a bond stronger than bondmates. I foresee a long future for the two of you. He will not depart from your side no matter what. You two are going to be close for a very, very long time.”
Rotiaqua sat back and finished her drink. She thought of Zhimosom and how close they had already grown. Would they progress to the level of intimate relationship that Alwroth and Uskin shared? Were they to be bondmates, or were they just going to work together? She was not sure which she desired.
While Rotiaqua pondered her future, the door opened. In walked Alwroth and Zhimosom. The two men settled into their usual spots near the fire. As he took his seat, Zhimosom’s gaze landed on Uskin and his brow wrinkled.
“Is there something wrong?” he asked.
“As a matter of fact, there is. I had a vision last night.”
Rotiaqua expected her to bring the vision to life as she had done for them before, but this time, her hands shook slightly as she held them out.
No image appeared.
“The war is upon us,” she said. “I had hoped it was past. These last days have been peaceful, but I have seen it. Sulrad was not defeated. He was gathering his power. He is nearly ready to attack once more. If we do not take the war to him, he will bring it to us. So far, all of my visions have come true, save the final one concerning the dragons and the two of you.”
Rotiaqua squirmed at the mention of the vision.
Uskin had never revealed what it was that she had seen.
Whenever Rotiaqua asked her about it, she simply said that it was startling and had far-reaching consequences. Uskin would then favor her with a slight smile, tilt her head, and tell her that there would be plenty of time to find out on her own.
Plenty of time.
But now, she said there was no time left.
Whatever it was, it was going to begin soon, and things were never going to be the same again.
“The council will meet tomorrow,” Uskin said. “Tomorrow, we plan for war.”
37
The following day, Alwroth addressed the wizards’ council. He briefed them on Uskin’s vision and reiterated the part Zhimosom and Rotiaqua had played in the prior attack on Amedon. Zhimosom thought it would be a trivial matter, but things were not going as well as he had expected. The wizards were far from unified in their positions. He worried that not all the wizards would see things his way. It lightened his heart, that soon he would be handing over his duties to a new young pair. Not in a summer, or even a few, but definitely in the next ten or twenty. When Zhimosom and Rotiaqua had a chance to come fully into their powers. Then he and Uskin could hand over the council and finally get the rest he so desperately desired.
He shrugged. Best get things started. Moright would make for a lively start. He was already on Alwroth’s side. “What says the war council?” Alwroth asked.
Moright stood up to speak, the flickering torchlight highlighting his closely cropped brown hair and accentuating the deep scar across one cheek.
“War.” He looked around the room as if waiting for his words to sink in before continuing. “We were attacked in our home ... by a dragon.” He waved his hand in the air and brought a fist down on the table. “Right here in Amedon. According to our two young wizards, the culprit is this Sulrad. Some of you may recall him from his days as an apprentice. He is currently in Frostan and has discovered a spell to summon and command the dragons. If these two youngsters are to be believed, then he is trying to establish a new religion that would rule the land. With dragons at his command, he may well succeed. Our only hope is to attack before he can complete his preparations.” He slammed his fist into the table once more. “Attack and destroy him before he can bring more dragons to bear on us.”
Moright sat down with a humph, and Helmyer quickly raised his hand. He was the master of spells and had been so for longer than any of the other council members.
Alwroth looked around the room to silence any chatter and nodded to Helmyer.
“War is dangerous and disruptive,” Helmyer said. “Can we not find a way to end this without war? Can we not send spies? Perhaps some small team of wizards especially trained in assassination would be able to stop this before it starts. I am willing to train anyone who wishes to make the effort. I know spells that may work. I say spare us the pain and insanity of an all-out war. We need it not.”
Helmyer sat down and folded his hands in his lap.
When no one else spoke, Alwroth nodded his head to Tonor in invitation.
As head of the membership council, he was in charge of keeping track of wizards throughout the land. Even wizards that did not come to train in Amedon were required to be registered.
“Why do you believe the word of these two youngsters?” Tonor stood to add
ress the group. His hair was just turning from silver to white, but he spoke with the strong, confident tone of a much younger man.
“I have examined them carefully,” Alwroth said. “I can feel the connection. I saw the sorceress command the dragon and it obeyed.”
“Doesn’t that make you suspicious?” Tonor asked. “How do we know that Sulrad is the one behind the dragon’s attack? Maybe Rotiaqua is the one who called it forth, and that’s why she was able to command it to depart.”
“She does not command the dragons, but she and the dragons are linked,” Uskin said. “Their blood runs in her and her life is bound up with theirs, but she has no reason to call them down on Amedon.”
“Let her speak.” Alwroth stared at Tonor. “I am confident that you will agree. I have invited them here because I would like to vote to allow them to sit on the council since they have special knowledge that will be key to winning this war.”
“But they are just youngsters. He is only sixteen summers and she, nineteen. They have not passed the trials. They have not been trained.” Tonor pushed his chair back and started to pace the room.
“It’s just not done,” Tonor muttered. “They must pass the trials before they are allowed to sit on the council, and they must pass the tests before they are allowed a voice.” He returned to his seat and dropped into it. “This is most unusual.”
“Can you not feel their power?” Alwroth asked. “These two have been paired for some time already. They have tapped into a source of magic that many of us do not possess.”
“They know Sulrad and are connected to him by blood and magic. That means they may be able to help us gather valuable information that will aid us in our fight. They can command the dragons and have more power than most of you, and they grow stronger every day.” Alwroth looked around the table, challenging anyone to disagree. After a suitable pause, he called for a vote. “What say you?”
“I don’t like it,” Tonor said. “Promise me this – after the war, you will send them through the trials. We must not break our own rules, even for this.”
The Sorceress: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Origins Book 3) Page 26