The Sorceress: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Origins Book 3)

by James Eggebeen

  Alwroth queried each wizard in turn. Not all agreed, but in the end, they came to a consensus. They would march on Frostan but send an assassination team ahead of the main force.

  The debate was livelier when it came to allowing Zhimosom and Rotiaqua a seat on the council for the duration of the war. In the end, Alwroth won out. Zhimosom and Rotiaqua would be allowed to sit on the council until the threat of Sulrad and the dragons had passed, then they would undergo the trials.

  Alwroth waved to one of the attendants. “Please go fetch the wizard and sorceress.”

  Almost immediately, the attendant returned with the pair. They must have been waiting for his summons. Perhaps Uskin had warned them. No matter. As Zhimosom and Rotiaqua entered the council chambers, he stood and bowed. Earlier in the day, someone had added two chairs to those spread around the table. The new seats were plain, unadorned, and almost uninviting. Alwroth chuckled to himself. At least one of the wizards was hoping to establish his superior rank. He had his suspicions about who it might have been, but let it go.

  Zhimosom and Rotiaqua were to be initiated into the council. They were so young. So innocent. Alwroth almost pitied them for what he was about to do to them. He turned to the pair, straightened his robes, and began.

  “Before you take your seat, there is much you need to know,” Alwroth said. “The wizards’ council only accepts new members when there is a vacancy, and at the moment, there are none. Before a wizard is admitted to the council, they must prove themselves worthy. This is done through trials of their knowledge and character. Even then, they are not allowed a voice until they have undergone the test of courage, strength, and wisdom.”

  Alwroth looked sternly at the pair. “You have passed none of these tests.”

  He watched the two squirm. He could hardly believe he was about to elevate them both to full members of the council, but they had power and information that might well be the difference between failure and success in the upcoming battle.

  “You are granted membership in the full council for the duration of this war. At the conclusion of the war, you must undertake and pass the trials, or you will relinquish your seat. Is that clear?” he asked.

  “It is,” they said in unison.

  “Then take your seats, please.” Alwroth gestured to the empty chairs. “It’s to be war, and you two are key. I expect both of you to take an active part in the upcoming conflict.”

  Alwroth sucked in a breath and began to lay out the plans for a land battle with Sulrad. They would split the wizards into groups. Half would take the direct route to Frostan, marching straight across the plains,. The other half would stay behind to defend Amedon. It was less than efficient, but he could not leave the city undefended.

  Alwroth told Rotiaqua that she would be part of the latter group.

  He was certain her ability to influence the dragons would play a pivotal role, should they return.

  Zhimosom would accompany a small group who would attempt to take Sulrad by stealth. They would carry out Helmyer’s plan of assassination. It wasn’t something Alwroth favored, but he could not think of anything else that would stop Sulrad before he did even more damage. He felt guilty for pressing this on Zhimosom, but had a feeling that Zhimosom was somehow the key to ending Sulrad’s madness.

  “I do not agree with this plan,” Zhimosom argued. “Sulrad is strong, and he’s no fool. I don’t want to leave Rotiaqua here. We work as a pair; we need to stay together.”

  Alwroth sensed that Zhimosom was holding something back. In his questioning of the young man, it had become clear that Zhimosom had a secret he was not ready to reveal. He only hoped it wasn’t something that would interfere with their plans. “Is there something you need to tell me?” he asked.

  “I don’t want to kill Sulrad unless there’s no other way. And I don’t want to face him alone. I need Rotiaqua there with me.” Zhimosom folded his arms across his chest.

  “War is no time for personal feelings.” Alwroth tried to reason with Zhimosom. “We need your special insight into Sulrad to help us locate him. We can’t just walk into Frostan and ask for him. He is likely well-hidden and you may be the only way to find him.”

  Zhimosom shook his head. “We should capture him. Killing him should be our last resort.”

  “Do not shy away from killing him if you must.” Zhimosom’s insistence on capture was unsettling. Was the young wizard afraid? Did he have some moral convictions that prevented him from taking life? If Zhimosom failed, things could get bad. He would have to set an older wizard to watch him.

  38

  The morning after Uskin’s proclamation of imminent war, Zhimosom re-joined the battle strategy session. He was still worried about the plan to assassinate Sulrad. He didn’t want to admit that killing Sulrad would affect Rotiaqua and quietly tried to learn as many non-lethal spells as he could.

  “Why do the wizards have so many spells for war?” Zhimosom asked.

  “Wizards used to wage war on one another. Long ago,” Helmyer said. “These spells are handed down from ages gone by. Many of them have not been used for hundreds of summers, some longer. A few of the spells even date back to the days before the dragons left.”

  “What drove the dragons away?” Zhimosom asked.

  “Skelek was the wizard who learned to command the dragons. He had an insatiable appetite for blood, and he used the dragons against his enemies without care to the toll it took on the magnificent beasts. One day, the dragons found a way to flee his influence. They fled and left the world without these thousand summers. It’s hard to believe that Sulrad found a way to summon them back,” Helmyer said. “He must have discovered how Skelek commanded the dragons and improved on it. He must be planning to continue the war Skelek started so long ago. We have to march as soon as possible. I only hope our plan for assassination works. We can’t afford an all-out war.”

  Zhimosom still hoped to direct them toward a less lethal solution, but he hesitated to make his position known. “Surely not all of the spells are meant to kill. Are there spells that can be used to bind a wizard? To take his power and seal it away from him?” Zhimosom didn’t want to admit he had already learned some of those spells. He hoped Helmyer would teach him more. Perhaps he knew spells that Alwroth did not.

  Helmyer laughed. “It’s a lot easier to kill a wizard than to stop him. His power wraps him in a protective shield. Most of these spells are meant to turn a wizard’s power against him. You do that and you kill him. Taking a wizard’s power away from him kills too. A wizard and his life force are so intertwined that taking away his magic also snaps his life threads. It’s usually fatal.”

  “Surely there must be something we can do. I don’t like the idea of killing.”

  “You’re very curious about this, aren’t you?”

  “I want to put an end to the violence, but I don’t want to kill anyone.”

  Helmyer chuckled. “Such a compassionate young man. That could well be your downfall, you know.”

  “I just don’t think killing is the answer.”

  “Not even after what you witnessed during the attack? When the dragon killed all those people? Burned them alive or left them in pain for days before they expired. That doesn’t make you want to kill the one responsible?” Helmyer shook his fist in the air.

  “No.”

  “If you really believe that, then I’ll teach you a few non-lethal spells. But promise me. If it comes down to it, you won’t hesitate. You’ll kill Sulrad.” Helmyer hefted a heavy book onto the table. He blew the dust from the cover and opened it to the middle. There were drawings of wizards and sketches of hexagrams used to cast spells, but mostly, there were runes that looked only vaguely familiar.

  “What are these?” Zhimosom had been practicing reading and writing almost every day. Rotiaqua spent night after night reading along with him and coaching him when he grew frustrated. He’d studied the histories of the wizards, and of Amedon. He was getting proficient. But these. These he could
not make out.

  “These are written in the ancient language of the wizards,” Helmyer said. “You will need to learn it in order to cast these spells.” He flipped the book to a page containing a diagram like a stylized cage. The cage was washed with a brilliant purple light. On the next page, a wizard was trapped in the same cage, tugging at the glowing bars. “Containment.” Helmyer rubbed his hand over the image and traced the words beneath it. “This is the spell you probably want. It is derived from one used to direct and contain energy. It speaks of separating the wizard’s energy from him and fashioning it into this cage. If you can master this, you can contain your opponent.”

  “How do I practice this spell?” Zhimosom peered at the words.

  “I will prepare a transcription for you. First, you will need to master the language used in the spell. It’s not difficult. I will write out the words you need to learn, just don’t speak them aloud in order. They’re quite powerful.”

  Helmyer took out a piece of parchment, scrawled out the spell, and handed it to Zhimosom.

  Zhimosom scanned the words.

  They looked difficult to pronounce.

  He worried that he would forget them under pressure in the heat of battle.

  “I’ll do my best.” He pocketed the parchment and headed back to the study he shared with Rotiaqua. She was already there, head buried in a book. He sat across from her, smoothed out the parchment, and started working on memorizing the words to the spell. When Rotiaqua looked up, he turned the parchment to her. “I’ll never learn these.”

  She pointed to one character. “Roll your tongue and try to make the sound in the back of your throat.” She touched her throat and spoke slowly and distinctly. “Reprehendo.”

  Zhimosom tried to imitate her pronunciation. “Depdehendo.” He thought he was close, but she immediately corrected him.

  “Reprehendo.” Rotiaqua exaggerated the sound. She reached out, took his hand, and placed it on her throat. “Here, feel where I make the sound. Reprehendo,” she said. “It means to restrain, or as close as you can get to that. It means more than that, to hold back or coerce, but mostly restrain.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll get it wrong and the spell won’t work.” Zhimosom imagined himself stumbling over the words while Sulrad attacked. But even as he did, he realized that Sulrad would kill him no more than he would kill Sulrad. They were tied together. So how would he stop him? Wrap him up in his own magic. That was the only way. The spell had to work.

  “You’re doing fine. It takes practice.” Rotiaqua looked the parchment over. “The words all seem to deal with restraint and capture. What is this spell going to do?”

  “I want to stop Sulrad. Seal him up with his own magic. We know we can’t kill him.”

  “I see. But do you really think that’s wise?”

  “Do you want to die?” he asked.

  “Sometimes those who rule are called upon to make a sacrifice. Sometimes the ultimate sacrifice. If it came down to it, I would do it. Even knowing it meant both our deaths.”

  “I wish you were coming along with me. Then at least I could see if my attack on Sulrad had any effect on you.”

  Rotiaqua squeezed his hand. “That’s sweet, but you know that we have no choice. If it comes down to Sulrad dying to stop this war, then that’s what it takes. If that means both of us die with him, then so be it.”

  “No.” Zhimosom stood up and began to pace.

  “Zhimosom. We’re just two people. Look how many died in the last attack. How can you say your life is worth more than theirs?”

  “Not mine, yours.”

  “Even mine. I am no different from you.”

  “You’re royalty, I’m a commoner. I can’t forget that.”

  “I’m no more royalty than you are. Father has banished me. I’m on my own.”

  “That’s all the more reason why you have to live. One day, we can go back and you can reconcile with your father.”

  “Zhimosom, those days are past. There is no reconciliation with my father. I am dead to him and that’s the end of it. We have a life here in Amedon if we survive the war.”

  She stood up and grasped him by the shoulders.

  Zhimosom looked down on her.

  He was taller than she was, but that didn’t stop her from looking him in the eyes when she had something important to say.

  “If it comes down to it and you have the chance to kill Sulrad, don’t hesitate. Don’t think of me or anyone else. Kill him. He would do the same to you and not give it a second thought.”

  “I hear you,” Zhimosom said.

  “I know you hear me, but are you listening?” Rotiaqua asked.

  Zhimosom shrugged.

  They departed Amedon the next day and marched with all speed toward Frostan. Zhimosom asked why they didn’t travel by magic.

  “Few of our number have been to Frostan. Even those who have, have not been there in summers. No one knows the place well enough to call it up in the void, and you don’t want to trust your immortal soul to a faulty memory.”

  “Your soul?” Zhimosom asked.

  “Your soul. Your immortal being,” Alwroth explained. “When you enter the void. You experience all of space and all of time in the same instant. If you were to enter there without a clear idea of where you wished to exit, you would be trapped for all of time. You would be immortal, but stuck. It’s enough to dissuade even the bravest of us from attempting it unless we are certain we know where we wish to go.”

  “Is that why we have to leave in such a rush?” Zhimosom asked.

  “Uskin is frightened,” Alwroth said. “She has visions, and they are getting stronger.”

  “Surely she’s not afraid of Sulrad.”

  “She’s afraid for the dragons.”

  “For the dragons?” Sulrad had successfully commanded one dragon, but had only the one. Surely the rest of the dragons were safe.

  “Sulrad is preparing to call more dragons,” Alwroth said. “The more dragons he calls, the more he kills, and the more he can use to attack us. Uskin is certain of this. She urged us to get to Frostan and stop him. She was unsettled and couldn’t sleep.”

  “How soon will we get there?” Zhimosom asked.

  “A day or so. When we get there, I’m sending you to spy Sulrad out. Find out what he’s up to. How much time do we have?”

  “Why me?” Zhimosom asked. “Surely there are more powerful and better educated wizards who could do better.”

  “You’re attuned to him. You can direct Helmyer to him. Perhaps we can stop him with the simple assassination plan, as the council has recommended. I truly hope it does not come down to war.”

  “So do I,” Zhimosom said. “So do I.”

  The next morning, while they broke their fast, Helmyer asked Zhimosom, “How are you going to find Sulrad?”

  “I can already sense him,” Zhimosom answered. “He’s near. Somewhere outside of the city, somewhere where he can summon the dragons and not frighten the folk.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “We’re tied, if only weakly. It allows me to sense where he is when I really try. If I am tuned in when he performs magic, I can find him.”

  Zhimosom reached out and searched for Sulrad. He was near. That was all he could determine. Try as he might, he could discern nothing more. It wasn’t until near evening that he located Sulrad. He must be using magic. That was what alerted Zhimosom to him. And he was near. There was a small outcropping of rocks that poked out of the rolling hills less than a half league away.

  “There.” Zhimosom held out his arm to stop Helmyer. “He’s in that canyon there.”

  “You certain?” Helmyer asked.

  “Look up.” Zhimosom turned his gaze to the sky. The now familiar curtains of light appeared in the sky. The lights were muted in the daytime sky, but they were there. “He’s summoning a dragon.”

  Zhimosom scrambled over the rocks to get a closer look.

  Sulrad stood between the rocky ledges tha
t formed the walls of the shallow canyon. His arms were raised, and he was chanting a spell. Zhimosom noticed something around his neck. It was made of gold that glowed with an internal light and had a strong sense of magic to it. Was this how he was storing up the magic? With a talisman?

  Overhead, Zhimosom heard the beat of mighty wings as the dragon descended.

  He felt its magic as it drew nearer.

  This was the same one he had met before, the one Rotiaqua had sent back across the void after the attack on Amedon. It was large and brick red, and falling fast. And it was not alone.

  There was another dragon, black and smaller than the first.

  The black dragon’s magic was just as powerful as the red one’s from what Zhimosom could tell, but the black one was not bound to Sulrad’s will.

  It had been summoned but not commanded.

  Zhimosom reached out.

  Now was his chance.

  He would bind Sulrad in his own magic, just as he’d planned.

  “In tua magicae eritis involvint,” he cried out, willing Sulrad to be wrapped in his own magic.

  As the words rolled off his lips, he knew he had gotten it wrong.

  He tried again. “In tua magicae erititris involvent.”

  Still nothing.

  It didn’t work.

  Sulrad took no notice.

  “It’s not working,” Zhimosom whispered as Helmyer crawled up behind him. The wizard was preparing his own spell.

  Whatever Helmyer did, Sulrad must have sensed it. The priest twitched his hand toward the red dragon and it positioned itself behind the black one as they descended toward the ground.

  The black dragon landed outside the canyon and waddled in between the rocky ledges. When it reached Sulrad, it paused.

  Sulrad shouted something and the red dragon jumped on top of the black one. Powerful claws dug into wings and held them tight. The red dragon used its head to pin its victim to the ground, exposing its neck.

  Zhimosom jumped up as Sulrad drew his knife. He had to do something, but what? He had no more spells to try. No idea what to do. He panicked. How could he stop this?