Wizard Pair (Book 3) (32 page)

"Sulrad appeared in my father's realm. He was just an itinerant Wizard, nothing remarkable. He asked my father to assist him in establishing his new religion. Ran, he called his god.

"It was all a sham. He had discovered a way to take the life force of another and use it for his own purposes. I saw him take the life and magic from a mini dragon and witnessed him kill a young Wizard and ordinary folk to take their life force and magic, too."

"How did you escape?" Alwroth asked.

"We defeated him with his own magic," Rotiaqua explained.

"Can you not do so again? You seem to have survived your last encounter unharmed."

"No," Rotiaqua said. "When we defeated him, we recovered our own magic and purged his from inside of us. Only a faint echo remains. That's why the dragon chose us, because we are connected to Sulrad by the tiniest bit of magic."

One of the Wizards stood up to speak. Garlath identified him as Moright, the head of the War Council.

"Is that why the dragon obeyed you and left? Because you are connected to its master? Is that why you are immune from its fire while so many of the Wizards burned and died?" Moright demanded.

"I don't know why the dragon left," Rotiaqua said. "I commanded it to return to its realm, and it departed. I presume that I was able to break the spell it was under."

Moright's brows wrinkled. "Why does the fire not touch you?"

Rotiaqua shrugged. "The first dragon we met said I had dragon's blood in my veins. I was injured when I was a little girl and my blood mixed with that of a mini dragon. Perhaps that's why the fire doesn't touch me."

The other Wizards whispered amongst themselves.

"It's all very suspicious," Moright said. "You came here asking us to engage in a war with this Sulrad. When we did not immediately agree, we were attacked by a dragon, which you claim is under his control."

Rotiaqua placed her hand on her hips. "Are you suggesting we had something to do with the attack?" She wasn't going to stand here and let them accuse her, when all she had done was help protect these very same Wizards.

Uskin raised her hand and the muttering of the Wizards trailed away. "I told you of my vision. These two are connected to the dragons, but they do not command them. They did not bring about the attack, they turned it away."

"I saw the dragon," Alwroth added. "It was not under her control. I felt the Wizard who commanded it."

Rotiaqua relaxed at Alwroth's words and gave a nod of agreement.

"If we are to take Sulrad on - and I hardly see a way where we could avoid it - Rotiaqua and Zhimosom will play a key role in the battle," Alwroth said.

He turned to Rotiaqua. "Are you willing to commit to this fight, to protect Amedon? Even if it threatens your very existence?"

Rotiaqua looked over at Zhimosom. He'd remained silent throughout the proceedings. She felt his magical connection and opened herself to him.

"Should we do this? Should we stand here and listen to their insults?" Zhimosom asked.

"Remember what the dragon said? Only we could save them, and we need their help to save the dragons."

"Do we have a responsibility to these Wizards?" Zhimosom was growing angry with the Council. He was tempted to leave and just let the dragons come. He and Rotiaqua had suffered much hardship to come to Amedon and warn the Wizards and they were being blamed for the attack.

"The Wizards and citizens of Amedon are in as much danger as the dragons."

"I fear we may be in for a bloody battle." Zhimosom didn't want a long drawn out war. He wanted to find Sulrad and take his magic, just as he had planned to do back home.

"Do you see any other choice?" Rotiaqua interrupted his thinking.

"None." Zhimosom resigned himself to the plan the Wizards' Council had devised. He didn't see any other way. "We must do this thing."

Rotiaqua turned back to the Council and spoke aloud. "We are committed."

Alwroth threw a questioning glance at Zhimosom.

"We are as one in this," Zhimosom said.

"Good. We have to find a way to defeat Sulrad and his dragons. You will have a hundred seasoned Wizards beside you, but you will lead them." Alwroth looked at Zhimosom. "Both of you."

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 at the gathered Wizards. The large 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 the carnage that must ensue?

Training

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. He only hoped he would be prepared for the confrontation.

He walked the halls of the main building until he reached Alwroth's laboratory. It was meticulously maintained. Bottles and jars of powders and liquids were carefully labeled and stored in shelves that were similarly labeled. Bits and pieces of string, beads, shells, gem stones, and ordinary river stones were corralled in their own storage bins along the wall.

The Wizard 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 of the powder onto the granite surface. He grabbed the clear liquid and held it at the ready.

"One drop of the fluid into 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," was all Alwroth had to say.

In a few heartbeats, the tiny black pile began to smoke. The smoke got thicker and suddenly erupted in a flash of orange and purple flame. It flared brightly and then died, leaving a tiny glowing dot in the powder where the drop had landed.

The stink of it was strong and bitter. Zhimosom wrinkled his nose.

"Now dispose of it," Alwroth said. "And take the vials with you. It might 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 brightly with a violet light, spinning and spitting sparks. He slowly lowered it into the tiny pile of crystals until it vanished.

"What was that? I've never seen magic work like that before."

"That was not magic. It was science."

"Science?"

"Science, 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 subtly influence them. It takes a lot less power from you, 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 teach you." 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."

"That's it. The spell I want you to learn will help you take that lose 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 that free end of magic and wrap it tight, encircling 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."

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 scroll of parchment. It was 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 am learning. It's saying the words that is 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 tongues are so strange."

"And the most powerful. Keep practicing." Alwroth opened the door to the lab and gestured Zhimosom through it. "Ask Rotiaqua to help you. She has a good ear for the old tongue. She's picking it up quickly."

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 flavor that she had never tasted 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.

Uskin smiled. "Good, isn't it?" She 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."

Rotiaqua leaned in to Uskin. "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 married 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, this child would have a difficult time remaining evenly balanced."

Uskin sat back in her chair and sipped the dark red juice. "It has happened in the past, but never has it turned out for good. The child always turns towards evil and has to be destroyed."

Rotiaqua laughed. "You think Zhimosom and I are going to be married?" She smiled at Uskin. "That's never going to happen. The man is afraid to be in the same room alone with me."