Suzerain of the Beast (Vision Dream Series Book 3), page 78
“Is everything all right over here?” asked Captain Zemmerdar.
The captain and Jarn were standing there, looking at Ardwyrin and Trevelarna with concern.
“We heard hollering from over by the fire,” said Jarn.
“Tis nothing…I was just…helping this stubborn wizard to still his rage,” said Trevelarna.
Still his rage? But Eara, it is rage that holds the key to his power, said Chyndared to his brother, then to Trevelarna he said, Ye must not have him try to quell it, girl.
“He has to control it, you two-headed troublemaker,” said Trevelarna, and she pointed at the being of First Magic. “It is both of your faults that he has done what he has to innocent people!”
“My fault?” said Captain Zemmerdar.
Ardwyrin had to chuckle when he saw that his two-headed twin of First Magic had maneuvered itself to stand just behind Captain Zemmerdar, causing Trevelarna to point her accusations right at the captain.
“No, no. Not you. It is…them!” said Trevelarna, still pointing at the captain.
Both Captain Zemmerdar and Jarn looked around, but saw nothing.
“Take care, Trevelarna, being in the company of a wizard too long can make you lose your mind,” said Jarn with a grin. “Now you are seeing things of magic.”
“It does not matter,” said the captain. “At first light, the men and I will be heading towards the pass side of the city to wait for Prince Dareldin. You three will be on your own from here out. As you near the city, keep an eye out for enemy patrols. Our scout has seen a lot of them since our fire incident.”
“Fear not, I will get them safely into and out of the capital,” said Jarn, confidently.
Beyond this point, if you use your magic, the battle sorcerers occupying Palzin will be alerted, for your magic leaves a mark, said Eara to Ardwyrin, while Chyndared nodded his agreement.
He could tell by Trevelarna’s face that she had not heard that bit of information from his two-headed twin of First Magic. Then his First Magic twin simply vanished.
“I will keep our wizard from giving us away as I promised,” said Trevelarna, and she put a hand on Ardwyrin’s shoulder.
“Will you be able to keep yourself from being detected?” Captain Zemmerdar asked the wizard.
Ardwyrin just nodded yes, though he was not at all sure that he could.
“On the what you call Vissy Yule Eve, I will have those gates open,” said Ardwyrin.
“I believe you,” said the captain, then he went back to the first with the rest of his men, leaving the three of them alone.
“What did you mean by what you call Vissy Yule?” asked Trevelarna.
“I am not very religious,” replied Ardwyrin. “My mother followed the Sacredist Heart sect and my father was from the Infinite Spirit sect.”
Trevelarna punched Ardwyrin hard in the arm. “Not religious? We are going into a place where we might not come out alive. I will not travel with a heathen; you need to find favor with the Heavenly Father one way or another. Prayer or chant.”
She stormed off to get ready to move on to the capital. Jarn came over to Ardwyrin and put his arm around the wizard.
“I think that one may be more dangerous than any battle wizard you are likely to go up against,” said Jarn.
Ardwyrin just nodded in agreement.
❖ ❖ ❖
“The mausoleum is at the top of this hill,” whispered Jarn. “Mind where you step. There is liable to be an open grave or two around here.”
Ardwyrin desperately wished he could use a wizard’s light to light their way through the cemetery. Even though the snow helped, there were dark patches of brambles and thick patches of fir trees that cast impenetrable shadows. More than once he bashed his knee into a short, shadow-covered stone grave marker. One time he nearly knocked Trevelarna to the snow when he tripped over one, for which he received a solid whack in the back of his head.
“Everyone get down!” whispered Jarn.
Each of them quickly hid behind a large grave stone and waited. Soon four armed men and a hooded figure came towards where Ardwyrin and his friends lay hidden.
“He is…here. I smell his magic,” said the hooded figure. “Search everywhere.”
“Aye, Sorcerer Crazevn,” said one of the men who must have been the leader. “Spread out. If you find anyone…kill them.”
The Venordaladian soldiers separated and began to search. Ardwyrin glanced over and saw that both Jarn and Trevelarna were now behind a single massive tombstone. They waved for him to join them. Waiting until the hooded figure and the soldiers were not looking his way, Ardwyrin crawled over to where his two companions were.
“I have drawn a sorcerer here…even without doing any magic,” whispered Ardwyrin. “We are doomed before we start.”
“If we can just make it to the mausoleum, we can seal them out and escape,” said Jarn in a hushed tone.
Both Ardwyrin and Trevelarna nodded their heads.
“Then follow me and keep low,” whispered Jarn.
Jarn started to crawl on his belly towards the next tombstone on their way to the top of the small hill. Ardwyrin and Trevelarna followed, and by the time they reached the relative safety of their third tombstone, Ardwyrin was beginning to think this plan was going to work. Just one more tombstone stood in the way between them and the shelter of the mausoleum. Then all five of the Venordaladians reappeared and surrounded the mausoleum, swords drawn. The soldiers spread out along the small hill, while the hooded figure stood at the entrance to the mausoleum.
“They know exactly where we are going,” whispered Ardwyrin.
“Not necessarily,” said Jarn. “I think they are using the hill to get a better vantage point to search for us.”
“Either way, they are standing in our way,” said Trevelarna.
“We have to get out of here and come back when they leave,” said Ardwyrin.
“I know them. They will not leave without finding us,” said Trevelarna.
She quietly drew her sword and crouched in a runner’s stance.
“Where are you going?” asked Ardwyrin.
“To the mausoleum,” replied Trevelarna, and she darted out from the shadows.
“That lass is going to get herself and us killed,” said Jarn, as he quickly drew his sword and charged on behind her.
Ardwyrin watched as Trevelarna sliced the stomach of the nearest Venordaladian soldier before the soldier had a chance to realize what had happened. The solider clutched his gut and fell forward. Two other soldiers swarmed on Jarn.
“I have to go help. I have to go help.” Ardwyrin said to himself.
He drew his own sword and ran clumsily up the hill in the dark, nearly tripping on a smaller grave marker.
Ardwyrin immediately engaged one of the two soldiers who were battling with Jarn. The soldier Ardwyrin picked was twice his size and in the dim light of the moon and snow, Ardwyrin saw the man grinning at his advantage. And with a savage ferocity the man pounded Ardwyrin’s short sword with his massive blade. Every blow threatened to break Ardwyrin’s wrist right off. He could feel anger building within him, so Ardwyrin tried to empty his mind of everything but sailing along upon a calm sea. With this behemoth trying to cut him to pieces, he was having a hard time concentrating on serenity. Out the corner of his eye, Ardwyrin watched the hooded figure approaching.
“Leave this one to me,” said the hooded figure.
The soldier immediately disengaged Ardwyrin and stepped back.
“Go kill the girl,” said the hooded figure.
“Aye, Sorcerer,” said the big man, and he started off toward where Trevelarna and another soldier were battling.
Trevelarna!
Ardwyrin sliced at the man as he passed cutting into his arm. The big man grabbed his arm, but he did not break his stride toward the slender Palzintine rebel.
“You have feelings for the girl,” said the hooded figure. “You wizards are so young. Strong, but inexperienced. Your elders must all be dead.”
“Not all of them,” said Ardwyrin, hoping that some of the high wizards other than the Lord Wizard still lived.
The sorcerer put up his hands into a spell battle stance. A stance Ardwyrin had learned about in one of his classes at the wizard’s college in Bazzleron. Ardwyrin put his hands into a similar stance, but feeling rage build suddenly within him, he put his hands to his side.
I will not hurt Trevelarna or Jarn.
A jolt of red energy leapt off of the sorcerer’s hands and knocked Ardwyrin to the ground. He picked himself up from the ground.
That was not a powerful attack, thought Ardwyrin. He is testing me.
“Why do you not fight? Why do you hold back?” asked the sorcerer, sounding puzzled. “Your teacher would have taught you to press your attack.”
“Tis true,” admitted Ardwyrin. “But if I do, I will destroy you and everyone here on the hill. I would burn you all to death.”
“You would not kill your friends,” said the sorcerer.
“Not on purpose,” replied Ardwyrin. “But I cannot always control it.”
“He tells the truth,” said Trevelarna, holding up her bandaged hand. “He would burn up everyone here.”
The three soldiers stopped fighting and began to back away.
“You fools, the wizard and the girl lie,” hissed the sorcerer.
Bradlindar, came the voice of Eara.
Yes, your old teacher, whispered Chyndared in agreement.
“Bradlindar?” Ardwyrin said out loud, shocked that the name of his dead mentor would come to him now.
“What name did you say, Wizard?” asked the sorcerer.
“Bradlindar,” repeated Ardwyrin. “He was my mentor. And my friend.”
“Do not speak that wretched name to me. Your Bradlindar is long dead,” growled the sorcerer.
A second bolt of red energy flashed at Ardwyrin, but instinctively he put up his arms and an orange translucent wizard’s shield appeared to deflect it. He had never been able to evoke that spell before. He had struggled and struggled with it, but he remembered learning that in times of great danger or need some spells happened effortlessly. Even though his newly acquired shield had protected him from the deadly dark magic, the jolt from the impact by the red energy was jarring.
“You must have disliked my former mentor,” noted Ardwyrin.
“On the contrary,” said the sorcerer, and he pulled down his hood. “I was him. I am Sorcerer Crazevn now.”
There was his mentor, his friend standing before him. Ardwyrin wanted to run to him and hug him. The man had been more than a teacher to him, he had been more like a father. Then Ardwyrin noticed that in Bradlindar’s eyes there was something different, something sinister. His mentor now belonged to the dark sorcerer.
“Look in your heart. Do you not recognize me? Tis I, Ardwyrin,” said the young wizard.
“No, wizard. You are unfamiliar to me,” said the sorcerer. “My Sovereign has remade me with his power.”
“But why? Why did you not resist him?”
“My sovereign called and I obeyed. As we all do. As you will do, too,” said Crazevn, and then he put his fist to his chest. “Shutharja, se Mihtig! Shutharja, the Mighty!”
The soldiers did the same.
“Enough of this. I am here to destroy you, so fight, boy!” growled the sorcerer. “I want the pleasure of killing my best former student.”
He did remember I was his best student. Wizard Bradlindar must still be inside of him somewhere.
Then the sorcerer began to hurl bolt after bolt of red energy against Ardwyrin and his orange shield. Soon Ardwyrin found himself on his knees, beat down by the onslaught.
You have brought a tiny bit of him to the surface. You must bring him all the way back, said his being of First Magic in his mind.
But how?
No answer came.
The darkest of sorcerers, Shutharja, had claimed his favorite teacher, his friend, and turned him against Ardwyrin. The dark sorcerer’s soldiers were attacking Jarn and Trevelarna. Ardwyrin glanced over and saw that the soldiers were wearing his friends down. A hatred rose up in him. It was stronger than mere rage. He hated the dark sorcerer. The hatred fueled his rage. Ardwyrin got to his feet and with his shield before him he began to walk towards the sorcerer who used to be his friend. He was going to destroy Shutharja’s hold on Bradlindar. And still the sorcerer pounded Ardwyrin with energy bolts.
Light brushes aside the darkness, his two-headed twin of magic said to him.
Ardwyrin held open his palm and a roaring flame three-feet tall appeared.
I need more! More light!
Ardwyrin closed his eyes and became light, wizard’s light. In his hand he felt the flame grow higher and higher. A loud blast shook everything. He could feel blue wizard’s light all around him. Ardwyrin found himself suddenly outside of his own body staring at himself. His whole body was a blazing azure. The brilliant light was not just around him, but shot straight up in a translucent pillar of extremely bright-blue light. The pillar seemed to reach to heaven itself. Bradlindar lay in a stupefied heap at the foot of the mausoleum’s entrance. His friends Jarn and Trevelarna also lay unconscious on the snow. The soldiers were nowhere to be found. His two-headed twin of First Magic stood beside Ardwyrin’s ethereal self.
You are burning up your energy. It is time to ride upon Trevelarna’s ship, were the words that came to Ardwyrin’s mind.
Suddenly, he was standing at the bow of a great sailing ship. The seas were smooth, the winds light and warm. Someone was beside him. He looked over and saw that it was…Lord Bazzleron. The Lord Wizard smiled at him.
You have graduated, but you are beyond the rank of a Common Wizard….
Ardwyrin opened his eyes.
“You are not dead,” growled Trevelarna looking down at him. “But you should be!”
“What?”
Ardwyrin realized he was lying on his back in the snow.
“You heard me,” snapped Trevelarna. “You could have killed us all with your rage!”
“But I didn’t this time,” said Ardwyrin, pulling himself up into a sitting position. “I…I think I actually saved us.”
“The lad does have a point,” said Jarn. “The sorcerer is out, and the soldiers are gone.”
“It is exactly the wrong point,” said Trevelarna, unmoved. “He let his rage get the best of him. And that light was probably seen as far south as Riveladich, not to mention everyone in Palzin.”
“But I controlled it. I used…your ship.”
“You used the ship?” said Trevelarna, her fury suddenly dying down.
“Yes. And it worked.”
“Well…” Trevelarna was at a loss for words. “But you still left this sorcerer alive. And he will most likely kill us.”
“I could not kill him. He is…my teacher,” said Ardwyrin.
“Teacher?” Trevelarna looked both puzzled and ready to slap him.
“We need to get out of here,” said Jarn. “Once we are in the mausoleum, we can seal it up and no one, not even a sorcerer, will be able to follow us.”
Jarn and Trevelarna started towards the entrance, pushing aside the unconscious sorcerer. Jarn touched a few hidden panels and the door of the mausoleum opened up.
“Hurry,” said Jarn. He and Trevelarna disappeared inside.
Ardwyrin on the other hand bent down and with a little effort picked up the listless sorcerer and threw him gently over his right shoulder. The extra weight nearly toppled him, but after a few stumbling steps, he caught his balance again with his new burden. Ardwyrin stepped through the entrance of the mausoleum. Inside it was pitch black.
“No one move,” said Jarn from somewhere nearby in the sea of darkness. “Let me seal the entrance, and we can light a torch.”
There was a shuffling sound and then several loud clicks, followed by a grinding noise of the entrance closing. A spark flashed once in the pitch-blackness; then it flashed again; Until finally a torch burst into flames, bathing the small, stone room in a shifting uncertain light.
“You didn’t!” Ardwyrin heard Trevelarna exclaim.
“I am afraid I did,” replied Ardwyrin.
❖ CHAPTER 81 ❖
“I AM CONCERNED that all this magic is taking a toll on these children,” she heard her mother’s voice saying.
Felly opened her eyes. Her mother and Prince Dareldin were kneeling next to her. Her head was in her mother’s lap and the rest of her was lying on the cold stone at the entrance to the pass.
“Drink some of this,” said her mother.
Felly obeyed. It was bitter, and she wanted to spit it out. But she knew her mother’s remedies were powerful, so she choked it down.
“Where is…Lair? Is he all right?”
“He is just fine. Look,” said her mother, and she pointed to the wizard boy who had also collapsed nearby. Jesdoril was administering the same bitter liquid to him.
Felly started to get up.
“Not too fast, Felly,” said her mother.
“We have to get to Palzin,” replied the girl.
“You do not have to carry the weight of everyone on your shoulders, Dear,” said her mother.
“No…but we do. Lair and I,” said Felly.
She stood up. At first she was a little wobbly, but after a step or two she felt better. Her mother’s healing potions usually did the trick. Felly saw that Lair too, out of obligation to keep going, got up and was walking towards them. Felly realized she was becoming just like him—feeling responsible for everyone.
“That weakness caught me by surprise,” said Lair.
“Me too,” agreed Felly. “One moment I was looking at what our dance had created, and the next I was waking up to my mother pouring healer’s drink down my throat.”
Felly pulled out Isnordella’s necklace, now her necklace, with its large amber crystal. Lair pulled out his own.
“Even with the added power of these talismans, we will still need to be careful when we expend magic,” advised Lair. He put his necklace back under his tunic. Then a mischievous smile crossed his face. “Race you to the gates of Palzin. Remember, I am the greatest wizard of Ardenon.”
