Wizard Pair (Book 3) Read online

  Wizard's Pair

  James A Eggebeen

  Books by James A Eggebeen

  Foundling Wizard

  (Book #1 in the Apprentice to Master Series)

  Wizard's Education

  (Book #2 in the Apprentice to Master Series)

  Copyright 2013 James A Eggebeen

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1482575612

  ISBN 13: 978-1482575613

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

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  Prologue

  The Wizard Skelek stood before his home as he prepared to face his adversary, uncertain he would ever return. He raised his arms and chanted the spell that would bury his home beneath the earth, safe until his return. He felt the weight of the Charm of the Joiner about his neck as he invoked the incantation and drew on the Charm's stored magic. The earth swallowed the structure, until there was nothing but grass swaying in the gentle breeze.

  Skelek signaled to one of the three dragons he kept under his spell; the trio would make unbeatable weapons in the coming conflict. His mount circled overhead with the rush of wind and the snapping of leather wings. Massive claws dug into the earth as the dragon came to a halt before him.

  Out of the hundreds of dragons that made their home in the realm of man, Skelek was able to command only three of them at any one moment. Try as he might, he had never been able to manage any more than that. It took an immense amount of power to compel a dragon to act against its nature, but he would make do.

  He silently ordered the dragon to lower its head. He climbed aboard, straddling the dragon's thick muscular neck, grasping onto scales with nervous fingers and digging his toes beneath armor plates to secure his seat.

  He urged the beast on and it leaped skyward. Connected as he was to his mount, he instinctively felt the location of the rest of the dragon clan. They lay open to him, not only the three under his command, but the entire population. He sensed their presence and their individual life forces.

  Skelek could switch command to a new dragon almost instantly, and had used his influence to gather the dragons from around the realm. One never knew when having a ready replacement at hand would turn the tide in one's favor.

  Skelek had laboriously stored power in the Charm from his own personal reserves for almost a season. He had forgone the use of magic, preferring to store it in the charm. It would give him the advantage in this battle. He needed every bit of it to command the dragons.

  The charm only stored so much magic. It only had as much magic as he was able to accumulate. It would grow perilously low during the upcoming battle, and Skelek knew he would have no more than one or two passes. If he lost control before defeating Endra there would be no recovery. Skelek was confident that he had stored enough magic to defeat his enemy, but precious little extra.

  Skelek and his dragons reached the battle field where his adversary, the Wizard Endra, waited in challenge. Endra was no ordinary Wizard. He had ruthlessly taken the power from each of his adversaries and had the accumulated magic of a hundred Wizards at his command.

  Skelek fell on Endra from the air like a bird of prey. The scent of rotten eggs and swamp gas preceded him as the dragon let forth a stream of fire. The flame washed over Endra, splitting into harmless streams of fire that licked the ground ineffectively.

  Endra reached out his staff and lightning shot through the air, following the fire back to Skelek's mount. The dragon faltered, dropping for the ground, recovering with little room to spare. Skelek felt the power in Endra's spell, but with the help of the charm, he shook it off.

  Skelek turned his dragon and reeled skyward once more. He drew power from the Charm and pressed it into the dragon to supplement the beast's own natural magic. Skelek commanded his dragon and, together, they dove once more. This time, Skelek pressed the attack with his own magic along with that of the Charm. He directed the blast at Endra, laughing as the fire penetrated Endra's shields and the Wizard erupted in flames, but his laughter was short lived. Endra vanished, only to reappear across the field, unscathed.

  Once again, lightning flashed towards Skelek and his dragon. Skelek braced himself and turned his trio of dragons for the attack, but he was too late.

  Skelek felt the power drain form the Charm until he lost control of the dragons. He released his hold on his spare mounts and clung tight, seeking a place to land.

  He spied a safe spot and directed his mount towards it. The great beast flared its wings, snapped the air, and settled to the ground. Skelek felt the beast slipping from his control. In moments, he would be out of magic once again, stranded, impotent. What could he do now? Without the dragon, Endra would be upon him and that would be the end for Skelek.

  Skelek felt the Charm vibrate gently. If only he had a source of magic to power the Charm again. He had come so close.

  The dragon snorted, straining at Skelek's command as the power diminished and his hold loosened. Skelek slid from the beast's neck to the dry ground. He stood beside the dragon, commanding it to be still, knowing it was just a matter of time before his magic was completely gone, and the beast would be free once more.

  He grasped a scale to steady the dragon and his hand touched the soft skin beneath the hard plates.

  Soft skin!

  That was it. Skelek took his dagger and pried lose one of the thick armor plates that protected the dragon. He touched the soft skin beneath and felt the dragon's pulse.

  He drove the dagger home.

  Blood gushed forth.

  As the dragon bled out its life, Skelek grasped its magic and directed it towards the Charm of the Joiner. If he could capture the magic of the dragon, he could use it to command the whole clan. He would be undefeatable.

  Skelek felt Endra approach. He raised his shields as best he could and absorbed some of the dragon's magic for himself. Skelek felt elated as the dragon gave up its power to him. Magic circled like a swarm of golden fireflies spinning in tighter and tighter spirals, then swept into the Charm, disappearing. The dragon turned to a cloud of dust and vanished.

  Skelek gave a cry of victory. The dragons were his. He could command them all. He would be victorious. He reached out for another dragon to replace his mount, but something was wrong.

  The dragons were gone.

  He used the power of the Charm to scour the land, but there was not another dragon to be found. Above him, a curtain of diaphanous blue green light wavered in the ethereal wind. The dragons were gone; they had escaped across the void, safe from his magic.

  Skelek screamed at the sky.

  Lightning shot from Endra's staff, engulfing Skelek in a crackling blaze. Skelek tried to use the Charm to power a counter spell, but he was too late. The life force drained from Skelek just as it had from the dragon.

  Blood of the Dragon

  A millennium later

  Uskin came awake to a sharp pain in her chest. She was covered in sweat and cold as ice. "Dragons," she cried. The Wizard's Keep was always cold, no matter the season, but she was sweating as if she'd been running for her life.

  "Dragons?" Alwroth mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  "They're in danger." Uskin got out of bed and pulled on her robe; the warmth of the fur helped chase some of the cold away. She raised her hands and blew on her open pal
ms.

  A golden glow appeared, tenuous at first, but building in intensity until it lit the room, chasing the night away. It swirled into a tight spiral rising up from her palms, taking on a shape. The shape of a dragon.

  Its wings were made of fire and its horns of golden light. It solidified and became clear. The dragon snorted fire.

  Uskin peered closely at the vision. The dragon was curled around something ... No, someone. A girl. A young girl. Five summers in age. She was pudgy, with long curly hair and a pleasant smile.

  The dragon gazed at the girl soundly sleeping safe within its massive coil of muscle. It gently sniffed her, inhaled deeply, and breathed fire that washed over her.

  The little girl snoozed on, taking no notice. Her skin took on a bright hue under the ministration of the dragon's fire, glowing first red, then gold, then finally yellow as dazzling as the noonday sun.

  The dragon's fire ceased, but the girl continued to shine brightly. She woke and peered up at Uskin with a sad smile.

  Uskin knew she would never have a daughter of her own, yet somehow, when she looked at the child, she felt protective, as if the child were the daughter she could never have.

  "What is it, little one?" Uskin asked.

  The little girl remained silent, but slowly a new shape emerged beside her. It grew taller, taking on the shape of a man. Uskin felt that they belonged together somehow.

  The man gazed up at Uskin. "We couldn't save them. Not even one."

  The vision turned to a swirl of golden sparks and faded away, but Uskin stared on in wonder. What did this mean? The dragons had gone away long ago. They were off in their own realm, safe from the interference of mankind.

  Modest Beginning

  Zhimosom sat before the fire after his father, Zheet, had fallen into a drunken sleep. He watched the flames curl around each other, twisting and turning randomly in the still of the hovel to fade out before they reached the chimney. The bright yellow tongues were calming, soothing, mesmerizing. As he sat transfixed by the flame, a feeling of power grew in him. His eyes lost focus and the flames blurred into a nondescript yellow haze. The sound of Zheet snoring behind him faded as he emptied his mind, letting the flickering tongues take over his thoughts.

  A vague shape formed in the fire. It was a girl – no, a woman. She looked healthy, slightly chubby, definitely not underfed and spindly like most of the girls Zhimosom knew. She must live in the castle, because he could see the stone wall behind her. She sat at a table, staring out of the flames, eyes glazed over.

  Her expression turned to one of surprise, as if she'd suddenly caught sight of him. He watched closely as her lips moved, but he couldn't hear any sound. Then, in his head, came the words. "Who are you?"

  Zhimosom scurried back from the fire as if it would jump out of the hearth and attack him. She had spoken to him. She could see him just as he was seeing her. His heart beat louder, threatening to wake Zheet and betray him, but his curiosity got the better of him. He crept back towards the fire.

  "Don't be afraid," the woman said. "What's your name?"

  "I'm Zhimosom." He whispered so as not to wake Zheet. Zhimosom remained tense, ready to spring away.

  "Zhimosom. That's a lofty name for someone who lives in a hovel."

  Zhimosom looked around. The hovel was small, to be sure, but it was the only home he had known since the fire had claimed his mother. Not that the house had been much better.

  "My mother said I was destined for greatness." Zhimosom puffed his chest out in pride. He wasn't sure if he remembered his mother saying that, or if Zheet had repeated it enough that he'd come to believe she said it.

  The woman in the fire chuckled. She had a kind face and a pleasant laugh, even though it was directed at him. "Destined for greatness, of that I'm sure. How are you able to see me?"

  "I don't know." Zhimosom leaned closer to the fire trying to make out more detail in the room behind her. "I was just relaxing before the fire and thinking how beautiful it was and suddenly, there you were."

  "You have the sight then," she said emphatically. "Just as I do. How long have you had it?"

  "This ... This is the first time I ever saw anything in the fire," Zhimosom stammered. "Is that the sight then ... seeing things in the fire? I don't have the sight ... Do I?"

  She laughed again. It made him feel good. "That's the sight, and you have it, or else you would not be able to see me."

  "Who are you?" Zhimosom asked. "What's your name?"

  She gave a quick twist of her head, her long curls catching the light from the fire. "I'm Rotiaqua." She'd stated it as if he was supposed to recognize her name.

  "Should I know you?"

  "You live on my land." She leaned closer, her image separating from the flames and taking on a more solid form. "Well, on my father's land. Everyone around here does." Her brows wrinkled as she squinted at him. "You do live around the castle, don't you? I suppose you could be leagues away."

  "I live near castle Black. We farm the land for Baron Rieck. Is that the castle you mean?"

  "Yes, that one. The Baron is my father." She straightened up as she said it.

  Zhimosom bowed down. "My Lady, forgive me. I did not know it was you. I apologize. I will not bother you again." He sat up and tried to suppress the connection he had with her through the fire, but she fought to keep it open. Zheet had told him often of the danger of getting close to the Nobility. It was to be avoided at all cost.

  "Don't go." She reached out to him. Her hand extended from the fire, looking even more solid.

  Zhimosom shied away from contact. He knew the penalty for a commoner who touched someone of noble birth. He didn't want to spend a day in the stocks, exposed to the crowds and the cold. He backed away from her and tried to break the connection. He struggled to ignore the flames and the image, but he felt her holding on, almost as if her insubstantial hands had grabbed him, dragging him back to the fire.

  "I am truly sorry, My Lady. Please forgive me." He fought to blank the image from his mind, but it didn't help. She was still there, her hand reaching out of the fire. He gave out a yelp and slid away.

  "I don't mean you any harm." She withdrew her hand. "You are the first person I've been able to talk to like this. Please stay a while. I would like to learn more of you, Zhimosom. You see, I'm lonely here, in the castle. Please, let's just be friends."

  "Folk like me are not meant to be friends with folk like you." Zhimosom tried to relax at her insistence. He stopped struggling to break the connection, but he was still nervous about talking to one of the Nobility.

  "Zhim! Stop playing with that fire." Zheet sat up bleary eyed. When he caught sight of the woman in the fire, he came wide awake. "Who's that?"

  "That's ... Rotiaqua ... She's the Baron's daughter."

  "What?" Zheet demanded. He looked at the fire. "Get her out of here. You don't want to get involved with Nobility."

  Zheet bowed his head low. "Please forgive my son. He is a fool."

  Zhimosom tuned to Rotiaqua. "Please go." His heart raced. Would she let him go this time? What would Zheet do if she held on to him again?

  Before he could complete his though, she faded out and the fire settled back to normal.

  "What do you think you're doing?" Zheet hit Zhimosom across the back of the head. "The Baron?"

  "The Baron's daughter," Zhimosom said stepping backwards towards the fireplace, trying to keep his distance from his father.

  "The Baron's the one who took your mother, and your brothers. His men burned down our house with your mother in it. He drafted your brothers into his army and they were both killed.

  "You know what the Baron did to me, don't you?" Zheet reached for the ties that held his pants in place, fumbling with the cords.

  Zhimosom had seen the scar before. He knew the story that Zheet loved to tell when he had a little bit of ale in him.

  "I've seen your scar." Zhimosom held out his hands to shield his eyes and stop his father from undressing. "You were st
abbed with a spear. You were lucky to survive. Now they leave you alone. I know all that."

  Zheet stared at him, retied his pants, and sat down.

  "She came to me in the fire. I didn't seek her out," Zhimosom explained as he sat at the table, ready to jump if Zheet came at him again.

  "Stay away from the Baron and his daughter." Zheet shook his finger at Zhimosom. "You can't imagine how much trouble you can get yourself into."

  "Yes, father." Zhimosom crawled to his bedroll and lay down. She had seen him as plainly as he had seen her. While he was intrigued by her, he knew what a danger it was talking to the Baron's daughter. He shuddered at the thought.

  The wheat had come up nicely. The tall stalks were laden with heavy golden heads, their light brown tassels sticking straight up in the air, rippling in tune to the slightest breeze. The weather held out and there had been no rain for most of the moon. Harvest season was well under way. Everyone around labored to get the wheat in before the rain came and made the fields a muddy mess.

  Zhimosom and Zheet helped the neighboring farmers, bending their backs to the hard work that was the culmination of the summer growing season. Zhimosom had just finished his midday meal and was putting a new edge on his scythe with the sharpening stone he had found while planting this very field.

  He drew the stone along the edge of the blade from the shaft to the point, careful to hold it at just the right angle to create the sharpest edge he could. He wished he'd been able to afford a better blade, perhaps one made from a broken sword. One of those would hold an edge better than this rusty old thing, and it would make the harvest go that much easier.

  He imagined a blade made of the sparkling sky iron that was used to make the best swords. He visualized his own blade taking such an edge, that it would glide effortlessly though the golden stalks. If only ...

  "Zhim!" Zheet stood at the edge of the field, where they'd ceased their labor. "Get back to work."