Dragon Master

By W. H. Cann

Alayn, the mercenaries, and the villagers continue their journey through the desolate land of Pembrolia, during which they are attached by a force of Lekaran warriors who outnumber them at least four to one. Their chances would be better than average if it were not for the presence of Gabroel, the Lekaran sorcerer, who uses his magic to affect the battle.

Davit arrives in the Gallen mountains where he must confront the largest and most ferocious beast to have lived: Jehagondosiris, an eight hundred year old dragon. Davit believes the salvation of the southern kingdoms of Ferantiana partly depends on his surviving the confrontation and securing one of the two missing pieces of the lost amulet of Marlon.

Meanwhile, Katriana, who has been keeping watch on the mercenaries, utilises her fast growing magical powers to confound the Lekara by delaying their confrontation with the mercenaries. The mercenaries' survival is of paramount importance to the survival of the southern kingdoms, but is Katriana’s intervention enough, and can Davit reach them in time to prevent a slaughter and the premature end to his scheming and plotting.

• Language: English
• Publisher: W. H. Cann
• Release date: Jul 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005025519

W. H. Cann

I am an indie author of science fiction and fantasy novels. I live in Pembrokeshire, Wales, am married with two children, and three grandchildren.I have served with the Royal Air Force as a dual trade aircraft engineer after completing a 3 year apprenticeship, run my own business for several years until a back injury prevented me from continuing, and then entered the world of finance. I am currently employed as a Local Government Finance Officer.I have been a passionate reader since early childhood, but was introduced to the fantasy genre at the age of 10 when my father gave me some Conan books and the Thongor of Lemuria series by Lin Carter. I did not actually start writing until my mid thirties, after injuring my back and was off work for a while. It was then that I first penned the drafts of the Science Fiction series The Guardians, followed by the fantasy series The Chronicles of Ferantiana.My favourite activities other than writing are walking, reading, researching family history, watching classic British Sitcoms, good dramas and films, and listening to music.W. H. Cann

Book preview

Copyright 2002 W. H. Cann

Published by W. H. Cann

Smashwords / First Edition July 2021

Cover Illustration W. H. Cann

Copyright 2021 W. H. Cann

ISBN: 978-0000000000

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, or organisations are entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Title

Copyright

Contents

Chapter 01

Chapter 02

Chapter 03

Chapter 04

Chapter 05

Chapter 06

Chapter 07

Chapter 08

Chapter 09

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Books by W. H. Cann

Chapter One

Morgaron Castle, Kingdom of Argorilium

Davit awoke with a pounding headache. He had the sound of whistling in his ears, his eyes throbbed, and his head felt as if it had been struck with something hard. Every muscle in his body seemed to be aching, the change in sleeping pattern having affected him far more than he expected it to. He felt weak and feeble, and knew his age was finally taking its toll upon him, as did riding on the back of dragon.

It was a very difficult and demanding way for one as old as Davit to travel, but it was the price he had to pay if he was to complete his task. The ageing sorcerer was as unaccustomed to riding horses as he was to dragons, and throughout his long life, he had always preferred walking or riding on a cart. ‘If we were meant to fly or ride, we would have been given wings or four legs,’ was something he often said to those who asked him why he never rode.

The sorcerer rode a horse once, but that was almost forty years ago. As a result of his indulgence, he had suffered all winter with aches that his magic seemed unable to cure. He then vowed never to ride again, unless another person’s life or his carefully construed plans were dependent on it, which was the only reason he now travelled on the back of a dragon.

The sun had long since sunk beneath the horizon, darkness now covered the land, and a chill wind was blowing from the north. He wrapped his cloak around his shoulders a little tighter, but it did little to help. There was still no sign of Eldere, not that he was concerned about his absence. The dragon would return when he was ready to do so, most probably after having satiated his hunger on fresh meat.

His legs were stiff and numb. He moaned at his discomfort, wishing he was in his warm chamber at Morgaron Castle with plenty of hot food and tea to drink. His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it in favour of getting some warmth and renewed circulation in his body. He got to his feet very slowly to avoid becoming light headed, and then walked just as slowly around the small clearing. He yawned deeply, his stomach continued to rumble, so when he felt more comfortable, he gathered a few sticks to make a fire.

Once he collected enough wood, he made a circle of stones and then laid a small fire within. He sat back and merely thought the words of a spell and then clicked his fingers. The wood burst into flames and when it was burning steadily, he placed a few larger sticks onto it and erected his small tripod. He held his hands out to the fire for a few moments, relishing the warmth as it helped ease his aches and pains.

Davit poured some water into a small pot and placed in on the tripod to heat. He then brewed his tea using chopped and dried leaves from nettle and lemon plants, the aroma of which stimulated his senses and relaxed his mind. After straining the fluid through his muslin cloth, he put more water in the pot to make porridge. To this, he added some blueberries for sweetness and additional flavour.

While he chewed on some dried meat, Davit thought of his protégé, Katriana. He was worried about her not having any family around her while he was away, but not as much as he was for the southern kingdoms. They were the main focus of his attention and concern at the moment. Even his instruction and dedication to Katriana’s development in the magical arts had a direct bearing on the fate of those kingdoms, which was also a contributing factor on the outcome of future events. She was much stronger than he expected her to be, and he knew her skills would be essential to his work when the time came for her to become involved.

He cautiously took a sip of his tea to avoid scalding his lips. It was still hot, but refreshing, and it warmed his body from the inside out. After adding a little water to cool the porridge, he wolfed it down and quickly washed out the pot. By the time Davit finished drinking his tea, he was feeling rather drowsy. He wanted to do nothing more than sleep and recuperate, so he leant up against a tree to relax and was asleep in moments.

The sorcerer awoke to the distinctive sound of beating wings. He sighed when he saw it was Eldere. When the dragon landed at the centre of the clearing and folded his wings, Davit arose. Hello Eldere, he said yawning deeply.

The dragon shuffled about before settling down on his haunches and lowering his neck to the sorcerer’s height. He gazed around the clearing and saw the remains of the fire. The wood was still glowing with only small flames flickering in the centre. You are ready to leave? he asked.

I just need to pack the last of my things and douse the fire, he said turning away from the dragon. He completed his task as slowly as he could without making it look too obvious that he was doing it on purpose. If truth were known, Davit was not looking forward to the next leg of the journey. His body still ached terribly, his hands were sore and tired from the constant holding onto the rope sling, and his head was still muzzy from sleep. Even the mere thought of riding on the back of the dragon was making his body ache, which was eroding what little courage he possessed. He sincerely hoped to be near the lair of the Alsias dragon by dawn. At least then he would be able to rest a little longer.

While the sorcerer was busy, Eldere scraped some loose earth at the tree line to his right. He then scooped up some of it and carefully dropped in onto the fire, instantly dousing it. The sound of the fire hissing under the wet soil startled Davit, who turned sharply to see what was happening. He smiled and nodded his thanks when he saw the last of the soil falling from Eldere’s hand. ‘That dragon is more intelligent than I give him credit for,’ thought Davit as he returned to his packing. Before he got up, he closed his eyes and tried to calm his nerves and settle his mind.

Come on sorcerer, night is passing rapidly, said Eldere impatiently.

Davit got up and turned to face the dragon. That is a fine statement coming from you, my friend. If you had not taken so long in your hunt for food, I am sure we would be some distance from here by now, he replied sarcastically, but humorously.

For a few moments, the beast held his head still, staring directly at the sorcerer. Suddenly, he roared and cackled while shaking his head, showing his amusement. Well now, sorcerer, you are getting more confident and trusting of me, he said. Come, let us depart and enjoy the cool night. It is a good night for flying and we should make good distance.

Davit exhaled heavily and felt a wave of relief wash over him. When he first heard Eldere roar he thought the worst, fearing that his friend would either kill him or fly off and leave him. Dragons were basically friendly, although very temperamental and unpredictable in nature, but this Elgarosga revealed why Marlon had trusted him so. For a dragon, he had a very strange but good sense of humour. Davit wondered if it was natural, or developed over the years under the influence of humans. The sorcerer strapped on his pack, climbed onto the dragon’s back, and held his breath as it leapt into the air.

The dragon flew high and fast, making it hard for the sorcerer to breathe. Once Eldere reached the height he wanted, he levelled out and beat his wings in a steady rhythm. Davit was relieved despite him flying much faster than during the previous night. Much to the sorcerer’s delight, it was dry and not too cold.

After leaving the forest behind, Eldere swooped toward the ground, forcing Davit to grip the rope even more tightly. He felt his stomach rising as quickly as the dragon descended, causing bile to rise in his throat. The taste made him wretch. Regardless of how many times the dragon swooped and dived, the sorcerer would never become accustomed to it, not that he wanted to. All he wanted was to return to his peaceful life of walking, but that would have to wait until his task was complete. For now, he would have to grin and bear whatever style of flying suited the dragon.

The ground rushed by so fast, it made the sorcerer feel rather queasy whenever he looked downward, so he did so infrequently and only briefly. He was unable to see much despite the silvery glow that bathed the land. There was no apparent sign of life, not even nocturnal creatures that were supposed to roam the wastelands of Pembrolia. No owls flew and the night remained unusually quiet without their calls.

On several occasions Eldere would suddenly swerve one way or another, or climb steeply to avoid an object that appeared in his flight path, but he kept flying low as much as was possible. It gave the poor sorcerer too many shocks for him to feel comfortable or safe, and had to grip the leather strap with all his strength to avoid being thrown from the dragon’s back. He understood its reasons for flying the way he did, even if it was not appreciated, or liked.

By the time the moon started waning, Davit’s body was aching so much he feared his grip would fail and he would plummet to his death, so he managed to persuade Eldere to land enabling him to rest a little. The dragon was not very keen on the idea, but understood the sorcerer’s need. He sniffed the air, smelt fresh water in the distance ahead, and decided to land near it so the sorcerer could drink and refill his water container.

While he stretched out his wings and glided low across the land, he recalled the last time he carried a human on his back. It was an exhilarating flight and the passenger never complained. All the human had done was encourage him to fly as he did when hunting or soaring. Eldere recalled it with great pleasure. He had been surprised to hear the cries of delight from that passenger.

Never in his lifetime had he known of a human that found such delight in flying on his back, not that there had been many. He wondered if Sortar would ever ride on his back again, to enjoy the sheer exhilaration of flying, to feel the air rushing past, the adrenalin rush as he swooped low over the ground, and the anticipation and excitement as he swooped in for the kill.

Eldere angled his wings to reduce his speed and then gently eased himself to the ground, the beating of his wings blowing dust and dirt in a large cloud. Once settled, he stood high on his hind legs, stretched his wings fully and shook them a little before folding them neatly at his side.

We must not remain here for too long, sorcerer, he said, dropping on his haunches enabling Davit to climb down. The dragon had eaten enough food to last all night with the hope of not having to stop until dawn. His body was full of energy he wanted to expend, and stopping like this would cause the build-up of acids in his bloodstream making him stiff.

I know, replied Davit stretching his arms, but I am getting too old for all this excitement and physical exertion. I need to rest and recuperate. I will not need long, just enough to make some tea and eat a few morsels. He also knew he had to be at his best for the task he needed to undertake after this one, which would be far more demanding on his strength and stamina.

Eldere made a snorting high-pitched squeal.

Davit glared at the dragon. Are you laughing at me? he demanded.

The dragon nodded his head while still making the unusual sound. You amuse me, sorcerer, so yes, I am laughing at you, but I mean no offence. I am curious. If you find travelling this way too demanding for your puny body, why embark on this journey? Eldere lay down and stretched his neck out on the ground before the sorcerer.

Davit filled his container and pot with water from the stream, and then set about preparing a small fire to make his tea. It is of paramount importance that I locate and enter the lair of the reclusive Alsias dragon sooner rather than later. He piled the wood, clicked his fingers and the fire ignited. Sitting down cross-legged beside it, he took out his tripod and placed it over the fire and then put his pot on top. There is, well, I hope there is a certain metallic object being guarded by the dragon. The metallic object is of vital importance for the future of the southern kingdoms.

The dragon cocked his head sideways a little and sniffed. How could a little insignificant piece of metal make such a difference?

I know it seems foolish to think a small piece of metal could have such an impact, but I speak the truth. The metallic object is one part of three that make a magical amulet, forged by three powerful sorcerers.

Marlon, Chograss and Fedwen.

Davit looked up sharply and asked how he knew that.

I am a dragon, or so I was told that was what the Carderran called my kind. I am an Elgarosga, which is the nearest word to your human tongue, but the Carderran preferred to call us dragons for some reason. We are not just hunters by sight and smell, but we are also seers of vision and can use magic. We use our magic for the hunt. It makes it much easier, but takes the fun and pleasure from it, he said with obvious delight.

An Elgarosga? How is it that you only tell me now?

Eldere snorted a few times. Because I regard you worthy enough to know the true name of my kind. I like you, as I liked your brother and your nephew.

Davit smiled. You honour me, although I know Eldere is not your true name. It is one that cannot be used against you, and does not have the power over you that your true name would have.

The dragon cocked his head sideways again and rolled its eyes several times.

No, Eldere, I do not ask to know that name, nor do I expect you to give it me. It is enough to have a name to call you by, my friend.

You are wise for a human, sorcerer Davit, and worthy to be called a friend of the Elgarosga. Perhaps one day, I might reveal my true name to you. Now tell me, why is this amulet so important to you that you risk your life to gain its possession?

It is a magical amulet forged using a rare metal, imbued with the blood of those who cast the spells over it. He refrained from telling him about the scale of the Alsias dragon that was also used in its making, for fear of upsetting or angering Eldere.

You should not be concerned about it falling into the hands of another then.

Not so, Eldere, not so. I have the centrepiece and have used it without danger coming to me. So, if the amulet falls into the hands of one who wished to use it for their own purposes of greed and power, well, who knows what evil might befall this land and the people. The sorcerer looked down and saw his water had boiled enough to brew his tea. He took out a small amount of his nettle & lemon leaves and stirred it in.

The dragon moved his position, slightly curling his neck and coiled his tail beside him, getting a little more comfortable. Then it is important to find the last pieces.

David nodded while pouring his tea through his muslin cloth and tapping the waste leaves into the fire. So, what have you seen in your visions? Anything that might be of importance?

The Lekara intend to march north. Once another has left enough death and destruction behind and slaughtered many peoples, they will continue what has begun until there are no more to kill.

The sorcerer added a small amount of cold water to his tea so he could drink it quickly. The one who precedes the Lekara is Garoth, the king of Heltronia. However, all is not what it seems. Garoth was never an evil, greedy man. He was content to sit beneath his father’s rule until the day came for him to succeed his father. Evil is afoot, evil magic that sways and alters the course of events here in the southern land.

He drank some of his tea, welcoming its warming effect and refreshing taste. That is why I must obtain the lost pieces before another. If the Lekara gain possession of the amulet, even a single piece, the result could be devastating.

After a brief period of silence, during which Davit continued to sip his drink and nibble on a few morsels of biscuit, Eldere raised his head gazed toward the west. "It is time for us to be on our way. I sense and smell creatures approaching from the west, and they are hungry.

The sorcerer waved his hand over the fire and the flames flickered out. He then sprinkled some earth over the embers to ensure it was fully extinguished. His few things were soon packed and he was climbing back onto the dragon. He took a firm grip on the strap and Eldere set off into the night. The rest was of considerable benefit, but he knew the aches and pains would return soon enough.

Eldere flew fast and low, sensing the creatures were getting close to where they rested. The ravenous beasts were now angry at having been deprived of their prey. He could see them looking upward as he flew over them and was delighted at their misfortune. The dragon settled into steady flight, the land being open and flat. A short while later he dived toward the ground without warning, causing his rider great discomfort. He then veered around sharply, and flew back in the direction they had come for several heartbeats before beginning to circle around in a wide arc.

What are you trying to do to me, Eldere, kill me off with fright? asked Davit.

Did you not see it sorcerer? asked Eldere.

See what? There was nothing to see.

The dragon snorted. Of course, your eyesight is not as good as mine, especially in the dark. It was one of the last of the Yaghranak, or Alsias Dragon as it is known to you.

Davit was shocked. He had not expected to see the dragon in flight, but realised he should not have been so surprised. He was also surprised by the strange name he heard Eldere call the Alsias Dragon. We must be much closer to the dragon’s lair than I thought.

The great Yaghranak can travel vast distances; it is much larger and faster than me. I know you are curious sorcerer, but even the Elgarosga are not safe when in the same area as the Yaghranak. They are fierce-some beasts with little regard for other creatures.

Davit shook his head in confusion. I was under the impression that all dragons were friendly to one another, whether Alsias or Attoran, and looked out for each other regardless of size.

Eldere hissed and snorted in his own form of laughter. Unfortunately, that is not so. Even the Elgarosga are regarded as prey to them. In the times before the ancients settled in Pembrolia, the Yaghranak and the Elgarosga may have been more amiable toward each other, but not in my lifetime. It can also sense my presence as easily as it can yours, especially when you are spirit walking.

How do you know all of this?

Because I can sense the presence of a sorcerer when he is spirit walking. I have seen you, but declined from making my presence known to you. There is grave danger when the weak spirited walk the realms, and I mean all two-legged creatures, not just the southern peoples. What you do not understand, and few have ever known, is that the sensation caused by a spirit walker impacts on the sensory perception of a dragon. It can even make one angry and irritable. That particular dragon we encountered, Jehagondosiris, is, suffice to say, extremely angry.

A shiver ran through the sorcerer’s body at the hearing of the dragon’s name. He was shocked that Eldere would speak the name of another dragon, even if the two species were more like enemies than fellow creatures of the air. The name sounded familiar to him, as if he had seen a word written that resembled the spoken word, or had possibly heard it somewhere before. He cast his mind back to the reading of his scrolls, and then remembered exactly where he had seen the written word: The scroll of Morgaron the dragon Master.

He had always thought it was the name of an ancient Carderran village, and now realised that it was linked to a position on the map of Pembrolia drawn on the scroll. There was only one meaning behind it, it was the location of the dragon’s lair, the lair of Jehagondosiris. Davit wondered if this could be the same dragon Morgaron helped protect.

This also meant he now possessed power over the great Alsias dragon, the Yaghranak, and would be able to gain entry to the lair without the fear of being killed in the beast’s great maw. It now appeared that events were finally transpiring in favour of the sorcerer, but he refused to become too confident about being successful or complacent.

Eldere, why did you reveal the name of the Yaghranak?

Because you need his name to be able to enter his lair, and I have no loyalty to his kind. Perhaps in the future, when dragons are able to fly freely in the realm of the air again, the Yaghranak and the Elgarosga may become friends once more. Jehagondosiris has a special kind of loyalty to the offspring of Morgaron, and I expect you will find him easier to ensorcel than any other.

We shall just have to wait and see about that. You said he was angry, why?

It is hard to say why exactly, but I feel he has been alerted to the presence of another sorcerer, one who has prevented him from taking prey. That will make one such as him far more dangerous than usual.

Davit’s doubts returned. He may now possess the name, which he was assured would give him power over the dragon, but an extremely angry dragon was another matter altogether. To succeed, Jehagondosiris had to be in a placid and amiable mood, if there was such a state for a Yaghranak. Even though Eldere assured him they were safe from attack, Davit remained sceptical. The sorcerer had a lot to ponder, things that would require his attention, if and when the current problems were dealt with in a successful manner. There were few dragons left, more Elgarosga than Yaghranak, but even their existence was threatened.

The dragon turned his head and gazed at the sorcerer. His eyes rolled a few times and Davit’s went wide in response. The dragon used his magic to open a pathway between the two telepathically, allowing a bond to develop between them. From Eldere’s point of view, the bond was already strong enough by the fact that he allowed Davit to ride on his back. Now they would be able to commune and share understanding of each other, and of the nature of life through a more powerful and intimate way, something few people had ever had the privilege of being allowed to do.

Far beyond the memories of mere mortals, dragons flew freely across the northern continent, unhampered by the greed and evil of the peoples of the southern lands. The ancient peoples that once inhabited the northern continent were the friends of both species of dragon, and they called them the ‘long neck flying lizard’. The two flew in the air without contest, sharing prey and even nesting grounds, although the two never interbred.

Eldere remembered many of the tales passed down by his ancestors, but even those memories faded after time, especially if they were not retold and passed on to new generations. Eldere shared some of those stories and memories with Davit, but there was little of the present times, of the times following the unexpected rise of enmity between the Yaghranak and the Elgarosga. The sadness of that wrenching time passed through the bond, and Davit felt it as clearly as if it was his own memory.

It grieved the ancient sorcerer more than he could have expected.

Davit gazed into Eldere’s eyes. It is time to bring the Yaghranak and the Elgarosga back from the brink of disappearance. Your kind must not be allowed to disappear forever, my friend. Instead, you will grace the land and the skies with your beauty and power. It will take time, but I vow to be a part of the resurrection of the winged lizards of the northern land.

Chapter Two

Breton Castle, Kingdom of Battora

Terandol paced back and forth within his chamber, his anger having reached boiling point. Damn that sorcerer Davit and his infernal meddling, he cursed furiously. This was not the first time Davit’s meddling had spoilt his plans. What must I do to stop you interfering?

Terandol, the son of Gabroel, was as powerful as his father, although Gabroel was unaware of this fact. It suited the young Carderran to keep his father believing he was not yet ready for the initiation to become a full sorcerer. He did not need the initiation or the approval of his father to know he was already powerful and competent. His spells were strong and effective, despite being ruined by the interference of the human. His concentration, skills in casting spells, and even his ability to spirit walk through the astral realm were as good, if not better than his father’s. In most instances, their skills and knowledge were comparable, although Gabroel had the advantage in experience and maturity in the arts.

Father and son were working in collusion for the greater purpose of the Lekara, and always attempting to confound the interfering human sorcerers. Terandol, without his father’s knowledge, also had hidden motives and agenda, but these were kept very secret, shared only with his one true friend. If he succeeded, it would have greater consequences both for the Carderran and the humans.

Night was falling, dark and threatening clouds rolled across the sky. Cold southern winds had swept across the land, driving the storm northward throughout the day. It whistled through the castle, through the windows and cracks in the doors, sapping all remnants of heat from chambers where the fires had died.

Terandol felt the chill wind coming through the un-shuttered windows and cursed. He spun round sharply to face the fire, thrusting his arms out before him with his hands pointing toward the hearth. The logs in the grate burst into flames and were engulfed with unchecked ferocity. Most of the wood was burnt in moments, not that he really cared. There was plenty more wood and black stone stored in the corner and in the small store chamber next door.

The young sorcerer smiled with delight at the power he had over even such simple spells. His father could ignite a fire, but never had the flames burnt through a large pile of wood so swiftly. He took the shovel, scooped some of the black stone from the bucket nearby and poured it onto the glowing wood. It crackled and spat for a short while, but then burnt bright red, its heat most welcome. Terandol hated the cold and the snow, and he did not want to return to the northern land from where the Lekara originated. It was a land he did not know, did not want to know, nor really cared for.

His belief that the land of the Carderran was as cold as the surrounding mountain kingdoms was unfounded. In fact, they were protected from the worst of the ravages of the weather that affected the mountain kingdoms by the magic of the land and the tribal sorcerers. The magic not only sheltered the land, but it acted against the treacherous snows that fell, although it did not prevent the snows altogether. None of the Carderran that lived there despised the snow or hated the cold, but saw it as a part of the natural cycle of nature, enhancing and even helping to preserve the balance, an essential part of life’s cycle.

The elders often told stories of their homeland, and of how the land had been shaped and enhanced to what it was now. They also spoke of the need for the snows of winter, the frosts and the spring melt waters, but many of the younger generation born in Battora had grown up to despise the cold, believing what they experienced in the south was the worst they need endure. They were not really pleased at the prospect of venturing north, just like Terandol.

The wind continued blowing through the un-shuttered window counteracting the benefit of the fire’s warmth. Terandol turned to face it, raised his staff and pointed it at the shutters. They closed with a thud and the latch fell into place. With the draught blocked, warmth quickly filled the chamber, the fire adding a warm orange glow. He welcomed the heat as it banished the cold from his body, making him feel more alive. Damn, that feels so good, he said, but inside his anger still raged like a confined ill-tempered bull. With three clicks of his fingers, the large beeswax candles ignited, gradually banishing the darkness as the flames continued to grow.

He sat down and relaxed for a few moments, letting his thoughts focus on his king. The young sorcerer failed to understand why Ariental wanted to return to the homeland so much. Terandol did not believe the elders’ stories, preferring to believe the summers in the southern region were much hotter and more conducive to good health and prosperity than they were in the north.

He acknowledged the fact that Battora was probably not as lush as the Lekaran homeland, but regarded this as an irrelevant issue. With their magic and love of life, he believed Battora could blossom and become a jewel of a kingdom. Carderran magic had already had a great influence on the land, which had become more fruitful and was now a desirable place to dwell. Is it not enough that we have all we need here? he asked softly. Here, we can be more than we ever expected to be in the homeland. Here we reign supreme.

Battora had always been a pleasant land with large open grassland, hills, rivers, and an abundance of wild animals and plants. It was mild in winter, although often wet, but even the worst they had experienced was more than acceptable. They occasionally suffered heavy frosts, but it never lasted long, and the long summer season more than compensated.

Terandol was happy living in Battora. He found the humans of the southern kingdoms were malleable, easily deceived, and much to his delight, easily manipulated.

The fire was now burning adequately, but he added a few more chunks of black stone to keep it burning hot and bright. He was impressed with the black stone that burnt leaving mostly ash, which they also found good for the soil. The Carderran did not know of its existence until they arrived in Battora and were amazed at the way it burned. The black stone gave off more heat than wood, but more importantly, burnt much longer. The only drawback was the dust. A fine layer of black dust gradually built up over all the surfaces, which was only a minor inconvenience, especially when he had servants to clean up for him.

Now the young sorcerer was comfortable, he turned his attention to the cause behind his angry outburst. It was also his major problem at the moment: How Davit had managed to prevent the Heltronian soldiers from killing the mercenaries. Terandol’s plan was perfect. There were two hundred of the Heltronian army’s finest soldiers, two divisions of the elite Hawk legion facing about fifty mercenaries.

Terandol had expected a slaughter.

The nine mercenaries, swelled in number by about forty deserters from the Wolf legion, should have been no match for those of the Hawk legion, and yet they defeated them with ease. Terandol knew there was only one explanation for it: The human sorcerer Davit had intervened and disrupted his spell.

‘How could Davit have known how to disrupt the spell?’ he wondered. Ancient Carderran enchantments were extremely difficult to construct and perfect. It was believed impossible for a human sorcerer to disrupt or break a spell constructed by a Carderran, even if that sorcerer understood the ancient language of his people. Davit was an old man with associations to the northern clans, and Terandol had no doubt he was adept in the ancient tongue. He did not, however, believe him capable of breaking such an intricate and carefully constructed enchantment.

Damn it, he cursed. He must have had help from a Carderran, but who? The puzzle was perplexing and intriguing, one he was finding difficult to focus on. He drank some water as he wondered if there were any survivors among the Heltronian soldiers. He hoped so, but somehow doubted it. Not that it truly mattered, not now.

He knew the mercenaries who survived would soon be far out of Garoth’s reach, even if he sent his horsemen in pursuit. Magic and the ravenous beasts of Pembrolia gave Terandol his only hope of preventing Alayn from reaching Mattonia. Terandol hated the fact that his success depended so much on Alayn’s death and cursed his misfortune.

The collapse of the spell had been sudden, and because it was so unexpected, he was unprepared for it. Its failure sent a surge of magic through the astral realm, which struck Terandol with an intensity that shocked him to the core of his spirit. It took a while for the after effects to dissipate. Even after he had recovered from the onslaught, his body still tingled. Even though his father had never mentioned anything about such a phenomenon, he decided not to mention it to him, unless asked.

Terandol drummed his fingers irritably on the desk while pondering all possibilities. Gabroel knew nothing of the spell or Terandol’s part in it. For a brief moment, he considered the possibility of his father having broken the spell, perhaps believing it was conjured by Davit. The young sorcerer shook his head and dismissed the idea knowing his father had no reason to do such a thing.

The sorcerer was most displeased when a knock at the door disrupted his thoughts and disturbed his deliberations. Come! he said gruffly, his voice tinged with anger. When the servant entered carrying a tray with a steaming cup of tea and a plate of hot, spiced pastries, his stomach rumbled. He may have been irked at the disturbance, but he welcomed what was brought.

The servant approached with caution and an expression of fear etched on his young face. He was afraid of the sorcerer when he was not angry, but quivered in fear when he was. Your supper, my Lord, he stammered nervously. Will there be anything else, my Lord? He was hoping the sorcerer would say no.

Terandol looked up at the young boy. He saw in the soft features a resemblance of himself when younger, not in looks, but in character and bearing. It had taken many summers for him to overcome his fear of others, having always been the one taunted and mocked by other young males. He had been weak and lacked confidence, but then the king’s son Elgindal befriended him. The years that followed changed his life, so much so, that even the gift of magic sprouted with vigour and strength much earlier than his father expected. He suddenly felt some pity for the young serving boy, wondering if his fear