Wizard Pair (Book 3) (16 page)

“He has a mini dragon,” Rotiaqua said. “I heard him talking. I hope he’ll want to sacrifice that himself. I don't want to touch it. I don't want to take its magic.”

“When did he get it?” This could be the break Zhimosom was waiting for. If Sulrad sacrificed the animal himself, they could put Zhimosom's plan into action.

“Today," Rotiaqua said. "A servant came in just after the morning sacrifice with it. Maybe tonight will be our opportunity.”

“Be prepared,” Zhimosom said. “If he performs the sacrifice, we’re going to travel to that grove where you and I met before. Sulrad won’t know how to find us." Zhimosom hoped the Priest would not be able to follow them. "Then we run.”

“I’ll contact you when he’s ready,” Rotiaqua said.

Zhimosom felt Rotiaqua drop the contact. She was weak despite the additional life force Sulrad had her taking at the sacrifices. Sulrad must have a spell on her that we keeping her drained. Zhimosom hoped she would have enough magic to escape when the time came.

Zhimosom sat in the darkness of his cell. He didn't know if it was night or day, when a tingling feeling came over him shaking him back to consciousness. It was.

"He's preparing to sacrifice the mini dragon. Now's our chance."

Zhimosom forced his head to clear despite the spell that had been placed on his confines. "How long do we have to prepare?"

"He just summoned me for the sacrifice. I can sense the mini dragon in the altar room. It won't be long."

"We wait for Sulrad's power to ebb, and then we go. Are you ready?" Zhimosom had replenished his magic as he sat in the cell in the Temple. He'd spent his time probing around and absorbing any power he could in preparation for this chance.

"I'm worried. Do you think it will work? Can we really get away?" Rotiaqua sounded skeptical.

"I've been studying Sulrad's spells," Zhimosom said. "He has stolen magic at his disposal, but Sulrad must use his native magic to create and maintain his spells. The stolen magic just reinforces the spells it does not create them. I think I can defeat him through his native magic. Without the stolen magic, he's not that strong."

"Be careful. He's still dangerous. I'd rather just get away from him without a fight if that's possible."

"I won't make any promises,” Zhimosom said. “If I get the chance to kill Sulrad, I'll take it without hesitation. He's killed too many people already. He must be stopped."

"I'm at the altar room. I'll open my sight to you so you can see what happens, but I have to be quiet."

Rotiaqua's vision overlaid Zhimosom's and the dark cell faded out and was replaced by the altar room. Sulrad stood before the blood encrusted altar, knife in hand. On the altar, a mini dragon was trussed and ready for the sacrifice. Through the slit in the wall, a moonbeam shown on the altar. It was close to the statue and signaled the time for the sacrifice was near.

Sulrad looked up as Rotiaqua entered the room. "Watch this sacrifice carefully. The mini dragon has magical power much like a Wizard. Feel how I take its power for my own, how I integrate its magic into mine. You will need to know how to do this yourself."

Sulrad gestured to the mini dragon. "Soon, you will perform a similar sacrifice and take the magic of the Wizard. Then you will be a Priestess of Ran and ready to join me as we will build the Temple into a force to rule the land."

Rotiaqua stood in silence.

"Do you understand?" Sulrad demanded.

"I understand," she said.

"Good. You must do this to gain power to heal the faithful. It's an important part of how we keep them faithful."

Rotiaqua simply nodded her head.

"Start speaking the words of the spell before you strike the sacrifice. Feel for the creature's magic and grasp it. It will resist you at first, but as you become accustomed to it, it will become easier."

Zhimosom felt Rotiaqua reach for the magic of the mini dragon. It was clear and pure, not like Sulrad's dirty twisted magic.

Sulrad muttered his spell and the magic of the mini dragon lifted ever so slightly away from the beast. A faint cloud of gold flecks shimmered in the air a scant digit away from the creature's fur.

Sulrad took the knife and slit the mini dragon's throat. Blood spurted out to splatter the altar before settling into a pulsing stream.

The cloud of magic grew more pronounced. It swirled above the creature as if a small tornado had settled there.

Sulrad raised his voice and the magic altered its course. It twisted and turned around the Priest moving faster and faster. Finally it settled into Sulrad's skin and vanished.

Sulrad's magic faltered. That was what Zhimosom had been waiting for. He visualized the copse of trees where he'd met Rotiaqua. He imagined what it would look like beneath the light of the moon and how the grass beneath his feet would feel.

Zhimosom reached out to Rotiaqua and grasped her magic. Just as he pulled her to the safety, he saw her yank the sacrificial knife out of Sulrad's hand.

The temple faded to be replaced by the familiar copse of trees. The moonlight filtered through the branches illuminating the rock where Zhimosom had sealed the pack between him and Rotiaqua with their blood.

"I thought we might need a weapon," Rotiaqua said, holding up the knife.

Zhimosom sighed with relief. "Is it really over?" Was it really going to be that simple? Were they free of the Temple? Would their shields be enough to keep Sulrad from finding them?

"We should leave as quickly as we can," Rotiaqua said. "Sulrad will find us if we stick around Frostan." Rotiaqua put her arm around Zhimosom's shoulder. "I'm sorry I put you through that. I should have left with you before."

"Let's get going while we have the moon to light our way." Zhimosom started for the road, but didn't get far before Rotiaqua called out.

"Behind you!"

Zhimosom turned back to Rotiaqua. There in the air between them a shimmering cloud of violet took shape. The sparking motes of light quickly solidified in the shape of the Priest.

"You didn't think you were going to get away that easily did you?" Sulrad took a step towards Zhimosom. In his hand, he held another knife; much like the one Rotiaqua had snatched from him before they'd disappeared.

"I'll take your magic right here. It's not as efficient as in the Temple, but some things can't be helped." Sulrad reached his hand out and a binding spell enmeshed Zhimosom. Zhimosom struggled to move, but he was held fast.

Zhimosom picked at the spell, looking for Sulrad's native magic between the strands of stolen magic. It was faint, but Zhimosom thought he had it. He tugged at the cord that was Sulrad's magic and the containment fell apart releasing him.

"Well, the young Wizard has a few tricks up his sleeve." Sulrad raised the knife and took a step towards Zhimosom. "No matter, this will work on you, bound or free."

Zhimosom strengthened his shields. Sulrad push against them. They held for a moment, but then slipped. Sulrad took another step towards Zhimosom, muttering the spell he had used to take the magic of the mini dragon.

Zhimosom's magic pulled away from him. He fought against Sulrad's spell, but he was too weak. The Priest had the advantage on him.

Sulrad's knife came closer and closer to Zhimosom's throat.

Zhimosom's magic draw farther away from his body. He panicked, probing once again for Sulrad's magic. He had to find a way to break the spell. He was losing the battle.

Suddenly Zhimosom's magic snapped back into him with a physical shock that threw him backwards. Zhimosom stumbled to the ground stunned. He scrambled to get to his feet fearful of another attack from Sulrad, but none came.

Sulrad stood where he was, stiff with a look of pain on his face.

Behind Sulrad, Rotiaqua held the sacrificial knife in her hand, the blade buried deep in Sulrad's back. "Don't move," she said.

Zhimosom carefully approached Sulrad. The Priest's magic was bleeding away, swirling around the knife and into Rotiaqua.

"What are you doing?" Zhimosom cried.

"Saving your life," Rotiaqua answered. "Get over here and help me."

Zhimosom wrenched the sacrificial knife from Sulrad's hand and stepped around beside Rotiaqua.

"Let's draw his magic out of him and spill it on the ground." Rotiaqua said.

Zhimosom took the knife and slid the point into Sulrad, penetrating his back next to Rotiaqua's blade. Blood spurted forth to coat the blade.

Sulrad screamed in pain as Zhimosom pulled at his magic. Zhimosom was prepared to separate the Sulrad's magic from the Priest and kill him.

Sulrad's magic bled out of him but soon stopped. Sulrad was hanging on to a small core of magic. Zhimosom reached for that tiny core to separate it from Sulrad and end the struggle, but he was not able to wrest it away from the Priest.

Sulrad groaned as Zhimosom pulled at the magic, but it did not come free. Zhimosom frowned. It was not Sulrad's magic that the Priest was holding on to so desperately.

It was Rotiaqua's.

Zhimosom probed Rotiaqua. She had a tiny core of Sulrad's magic in her. Not much, but it was there, inextricably twisted with her own magic.

Zhimosom didn't know what to do. He couldn't separate Rotiaqua's magic from Sulrad. If he killed the Priest while Rotiaqua's magic was still in him, would that affect Rotiaqua?

He couldn't take that chance. Zhimosom released his hold on Sulrad's magic. He felt it rush back into the Priest.

Zhimosom pulled the knife from Sulrad.

"We have to let him live." Zhimosom spat.

"Why?" Rotiaqua stood firm still holding the knife in the Priest's back.

"Because he has your magic in him, and you have his in you. I can't separate them out." Zhimosom stepped away from Sulrad and nodded to Rotiaqua.

"Are you sure?"

"Can't you feel it?" Zhimosom was sure. Now that he knew what to look for, it was as plain as could be. Rotiaqua and Sulrad were intertwined and inseparable.

Rotiaqua slowly pulled the knife from Sulrad's back. The Priest slumped to the ground.

"Don't think we won't kill you if we ever see you again" Zhimosom said.

Before he was done speaking, Sulrad turned to a cloud of violet sparkles and vanished.

Garlath

Garlath left Amedon and traveled to Tustow, where he took up residence and set himself up as an Apothecary. He located a suitable room with plenty of space for his own work and a room where he could train a couple of young Wizards.

He hoped he was right. If dragons were involved, the young couple would be drawn here eventually. This was where the Dragon Master was rumored to live. Garlath would have to find the Dragon Master and discover what he could about the prophecy, and how the Wizard and Sorceress would affect the dragons. Uskin's visions had made it clear that something was happening to the dragons.

Garlath searched the nearby countryside for the Dragon Master, carefully probing for the magic he sought until he found it. It was close enough that Garlath could easily walk the distance. Garlath followed the scent of the Dragon Master as he made his way across the plain until he came to a rocky outcropping.

The magic of the Dragon Master was strong, but the house nestled amongst the rocks looked rundown, almost as if it were abandoned. Without the scent of magic, Garlath would have mistaken it for the abode of some decrepit hermit.

Garlath knocked hard, but no answer came. He reached out with his magic to find the old man asleep inside, so he entered.

The interior of the abode was decorated with dragons. Dragons everywhere. Dragons were carved into door posts and lintels. Dragons perched on shelves. Dragons formed the legs of every chair and table in the room. Even the massive chair in which the old Wizard sat snoozing was formed in the likeness of a dragon. The old Wizard snored loud enough to wake any dragons that might have been nearby.

"Em'hin! Are you Em'hin?" he asked. When the old man didn't answer, Garlath shook him gently. "Are you Em'hin?"

The old man slowly opened his eyes. They were deep blue and milked over with age. He sat up, slowly coming awake. "What ... Who are you?"

Garlath wondered what the old man had seen with those ancient eyes. He must barely be able to make out that Garlath stood before him. "Em'hin. I need your help."

"Help?" Em'hin struggled to sit up.

"I come from Amedon."

"From Amedon, you say? I haven't been there in years. How is the place? Still crawling with young Wizards hoping to make their mark on the world?"

Garlath laughed along with Em'hin. "Much the same."

"Why do you disturb an old man's rest?"

"I need your help. The Wizards' Council has located a pair. A Wizard and a Sorceress. They are somehow wrapped up with dragons."

"Dragons," Em'hin mumbled. He reached out his hand. "Help me up, sonny, there's a staff over by the fireplace."

Garlath fetched the staff for the old Wizard. Em'hin struggled to his feet and hobbled over to his kitchen where he stumbled about preparing tea. Em'hin felt his way around the kitchen more than saw it. Garlath wanted to help, but Em'hin pushed him out of the way.

"I'm used to taking care of myself," Em'hin said. "What makes you think I can help you?"

"You are the Dragon Master. You're the most knowledgeable man alive when it comes to dragons."

"So?" Em'hin placed his hand over a pot of water that immediately began to boil. He stirred in the tea and spices and placed the pot on the table.

"Uskin had a vision about this pair, and the dragons. She sensed that they are somehow tied up with the dragons. There's a scent of dragon in their magic."

"Dragon, you say?" Em'hin turned his milky eyes on Garlath. "Seems to me I spoke to one of them lately."

"You spoke to a dragon?" Garlath asked. He thought the dragons were all gone. How had Em'hin spoken to one?

Em'hin motioned Garlath to sit and lowered himself onto the bench. "Yep ... he said there would be a couple of young Wizards along ... That's probably the ones you're talking about."