A Mage's Power (Journey to Chaos) (32 page)

“That's enough. It's dead.” The skirt was reduced to scraps
of fabric smaller than a fingernail.

“Not yet! Dimwit! Get me a blaze over here!”

Eric shrugged and chanted the spell. The first three times
he produced nothing. Tiza raised her hand to smack him, but Anuzat caught her
wrist and shook her head. Reluctantly, Tiza lowered it. On the fourteenth
attempt, Eric produced a ball of flame the size of an acorn. It burned the
skirt to ash.  

“Tiza, why do you . . ..” He trailed off at the sight of her
scowl. “ . . .Waste your time with me when you could be proving what an amazing
fighter you are to the locals?”

Tiza looked up to Anuzat. “Can I?”

“What else is a Warrior's Lodge for?”

Tiza smiled brightly and exclaimed, “Then what are we
waiting for? Where is it? Where is it?”

The kangaroo took the over-eager fighter by the hand and
guided her to the site where she would steal everyone's bragging rights.
Everyone
has a friend but me.
His staff grew slightly warm in his hands, but he
didn't notice. With nothing else to do, he checked on Basilard. Inside the Sun
and Moon Tent, he sat before the Healer.

 “How is he?”

She was hunched over Basilard and spreading cream over his
wounds. “He is fine, young one. I have healed the remaining physical wounds but
others remain.”

“What kind?”

“His soul is bruised from clashing with many powerful
spirits. Wounds of such nature are hard to heal.” The cream smelled of mint and
spring water. “This is a man of exceeding spiritual power. What could have done
so much harm to a warrior so strong?”

“A pack of xethras.” Eric said softly.

“Don't be ashamed.” The healer said kindly. “There was
nothing you could have done. Xethras are far too strong for a young one such as
yourself.”

“I know . . .”

“I see foreign blood. I assume the second was not so lucky.”

“He . . . he wasn't.”

“A friend of yours?”

The dam broke. Through the flight through the fusion spell
through the desert and the Stone Pile, he had to keep moving or he would die.
In this calm moment, it all unraveled. He cried and bawled and shook. “He was (sob)
my best friend! My
best friend
he . . . he died . . .darkness!”

The healer took him in her arms and patted his back. “There,
there, dearie, it wasn't your fault. You saved your team and client. That's
something to be proud of.”

“But my
best friend
!”

“I know, dearie, I know.” He clung to the healer until he
ran out of tears. He blurted everything: their first meeting, the strange late
night visit, Aio's death.

Eric sniffed. “All . . . all I have . . .is a clump of
ashes.”

“May I see them?” Eric froze. “I am a holy woman, dearie; I
can bless them.” With great care, he removed the jar from his pack. “I see . .
. such a tragedy . . .” Her eyes twinkled. “Would you like to get stronger?
Strong enough to prevent another such tragedy?”

Eric backed up. “Where are you going with this?”

The healer smiled mysteriously. “I take it you've heard of
Dengel?”

 Of course, Eric had heard of Dengel; he wrote
Introduction
to Magecraft
AND
The Spirit and Its Power
. A legendary mage who
lived two thousand year ago who codified magecraft as it was used today. Every
mage since owed him a debt. “He too came here seeking the help of my ancestor.”

This stoked his suspicion. Historical records
did
say
that Dengel came to Kyraa, but for research when he was old and established. On
the other hand, those records were silent in regards to his youth. The
opportunity to be like him was too tempting to pass up.

“I can give you what my ancestor gave him but first you must
prove yourself. I can't give power of this level to anyone, you understand.”

Eric nodded eagerly. “Of course. What is it?”

“There is a certain something in the Altar of Rebirth. I
want you to get it for me.”

“So there
is
something there. Elder Akag said it was
empty.”

The shaman picked up two cups. “Of course he did. It's not
something we like to advertise, shrine robbers you know. Water?”

Eric accepted one of them and drank from it. “Thank you.
Then why tell me about it?”

“You remind me of Dengel.” She took a sip. “He was a boy
with a lot of potential, but lacked the confidence to make use of it. I feel I
can trust you.” She placed the cup between them. He followed suit. Do we have a
deal?” She offered him the hand that wasn't holding Aio.

Eric grabbed it. “Yes! How do I get it!? . . .What is it,
anyway?”

“I'll leave that up to you—both questions. To prove
yourself.”

“How am I supposed to find what you want if you won't tell
me what it is?”

“How can I help you if you insist on holding my hand?” Eric
looked from the old woman's face, to their still clasped hands, and back again.

“Was that literal or metaphorical?” One never could tell
with mythic types.

“Both.”

Eric dropped the hand and scooted away. “Nothing? Not a
single hint?”

She shook her head. “All I will say is this: you must do it
on your own.”

“Can I have my friend back at least? He's emotional support.”

“Do you want me to do the blessing?”  . . .
A blessing is
the least I can do after failing him.

 Finding a hidden entrance to a secret shrine would take
time. He'd burn up with the clothes he had now. Fortunately, cloaks were
non-warrior attire. His next objective was finding replacements for his
magecraft.

Inside the item shop next door, he found magic scrolls, a grappling
hook, and smaller versions of the light stones Anuzat's giants used. He almost
bought a whip, but stopped himself just in time.
Why would I need a whip to
search for treasure in an ancient shrine?

First, he checked the altar. It was as good a place as any
but after twelve minutes of tapping stones and poking burned incense, he was no
closer to finding an entrance.
This could be harder than I thought
. He
circled the mound of sand on which Tiza had fought. The sand mound was in the
center of the Shrine's lap, which was in the center of the crater, which was in
the center of the desert; the sand mound the center of the desert. M
aybe
it's too obvious, or maybe they're expecting raiders to think it's too obvious
or maybe I'm expecting them to expect that it's too obvious . . .Arg! I'm just
gonna do it!
Eric dived into the sand mound. All he got for his trouble was
a bump on the head and sand up his nose.

Okay, that was stupid.
He rubbed his head and
sneezed. Systematically, he picked areas to poke or stomp.
There has to be a
secret entrance or trap door somewhere.
After hours of searching, he made a
discovery: the shrine's architects were smarter than he was.

As the sun went down, so did his spirits. He took a swig
from his water bottle and his hand drifted to Aio's pocket. He didn't feel the
jar. A chill seeped up his arm, but then he remembered. He slumped and put his
head in his hands.
What am I doing? This is a waste of time.
Images
flashed: Aio dying in a cave; Kasile tied up in a sack; Tiza wounded. He stood
up and continued his search.

The remaining stairs, then the base, and the back of the
shrine, but he found nothing. He threw his grappling hook up to the shrine's
peak and climbed hand over hand and still he found nothing. Night fell; dark
and cold and his stomach growled.

Eric stomped the ground in frustration.
“
ABYSS TAKE
IT! WHERE IS THE ENTRANCE!?”

The central mound flashed. An energy pulse slid along the
floor. Back and forth through the sand mound, the altar, up and over the Shrine
and round and round the base. Its final resting place was the ninth stair from
the bottom and three quarters from the right. The stair glowed with a steady
light.

 
I could've sworn I checked that stair . . .
He
stepped on it and energy surged into his body.
This is it!
He placed his
other foot on the tile and the feeling grew to the point of pain. The world
dropped out from under him and darkness consumed everything.

Wind rushed past; he was free falling.
At this speed,
I'll be a pancake!
He reached in his pack and pulled out a scroll.
Unfurling it, he slammed his hand on the flapping inscriptions.

“ACTIVATE!” Winds rushed out of the paper and slowed his
fall.
Come on! Come ON!
More winds joined the first. His descent slowed
and slowed until he crashed.

Owwww . . .
Eric rubbed his sore rear.
All right,
where am I?
The
floor was made of white stone and glowed faintly in
the darkness. The dim light was strangely comforting. He reached into his pack
again, put the wind scroll away, and felt for a light stone. Nothing but white
ground and black sky in every direction.
I guess I'll take a page from
Tiza's book.
He walked straight ahead.

He counted the paces in his head, and at five thousand, he
found a door.
Finally
. It was solid metal with a rune engraved on the center
and a dragonhead doorknocker beneath. The knob didn't budge.
I'm not looking
for another door
.
This place, wherever it is, could go on for miles.

He raised his light stone to examine the rune: swirly lines
from eleven directions entwined at the middle. Now he wished he paid more
attention to Basilard's lecture. The novice mage sat down and pulled out
Introduction
to Magecraft . . . Let's see . . .Recitations, Reversals, Rutabagas? . . . Here
we go . . . “Runes and their Meanings
.” He flipped to the chapter and found
a section specifically about Kyraan runes. There were many
similar
to
the one on the door but there were too many lines, more shapes, different
directions, or some other detail.
The meaning could be Tornado, Creation of
the World, Noodles . . .This is pointless.
The frustrated mage slammed the
book shut.

 
Why not?
He grabbed the ring in the dragon's mouth.
It burned his hand and he screamed in pain. He withdrew and blew on it. Then he
looked at the dragonhead again. The ring was attached to the upper snout and
hung directly in front of the mouth where flames would come. Instead of the
ring, he placed his hand in the dragon's mouth and it slowly closed. Eric sweated
bullets.
If I'm right, I'll be one step closer to Dengel's power. If I'm
wrong . . .
He gulped . . .
I'll be known as One-Handed Eric
.

Something slick moved across his hand.
That's impossible!
It's a statue!
Then he felt the teeth. He flinched and drew his hand back
on instinct. The teeth clamped further. Eric bit his tongue to keep from
screaming and held perfectly still as the statue's tongue moved over his hand.
Finally it stopped. The mouth opened and he heard a click. He tried the knob
again.
Well, what do you know . . .

He stepped inside the door and plucked his hand into mouth. Dragons
are a proud people, but they would respect others under certain conditions and
one of them was mental strength. He suspected the dragonhead might be a judge,
so he didn't want to show weakness.

The door led into a narrow tunnel that sloped slightly
downwards. It reminded him of the Yacian Caverns, which reminded him of the
xethras and Aio. His free hand drifted to his pack. There was a thud and the
sound of something rolling. He looked over his shoulder and—
You've gotta be
kidding!
A giant boulder picked up speed!

 His hand left his mouth, the light stone went in, and he
ran as fast as he could from Huge-Rolling-Death.
Please be earth, please be
earth!
One look at the scroll's insignia made his heart leap. He unfurled
the scroll and slammed his hand against the inscriptions. Turning around, he
shouted, “Acmtp!!” The light stone was still in his mouth!

He spat out the stone. The boulder crushed it and plunged
him into absolute darkness.

“Activate!” Something burst out of the scroll and collided with
the boulder. The recoil knocked him off his feet and he skidded on his back.
The rock crashed and jolted the scroll from his hands. He slowed to a crawl and
hit his head on the exit.
Owww!
He rubbed the new bump.

Well, that's one problem solved . . .
He fumbled for
another light stone. The boulder was now wedged in the entrance by the stone
pillar his scroll summoned from the floor . . .
And another one made.
He
sighed and flopped on the floor.
Onward and forward, I guess
.

He retrieved the scroll and returned to the door. It was
bare; no runes, no dragonheads, just a metal plank and knob. It looked
so
bare it made Eric nervous. He ran the light stone over every inch and
surrounding stone but found nothing. He shrugged and tried the knob.

 
Huh. Sometimes, I guess it's just that easy.

A large green crystal hung from the ceiling and illuminated
the center of the room. Under this spotlight was a stone pedestal and beyond
was the domain of darkness. Eric approached cautiously. The pedestal had a plaque.

If you've come this far,

You must be committed,

But how far does your
resolve go?

How do I prove my resolve to a plaque?
A crusty,
blackish smear crossed the bottom. The hand the dragon bit was still bleeding.
He rubbed it beneath the first smear and then wrapped it up with spare cloth
from his pack. New characters above his smear:

That far huh?

Let's see you prove it.

Gears groaned and a gate opened. Out of the darkness came a
creature that looked eerily like Laharg; a blue-skinned orc twice his height
with intimidating muscle mass, but this one was worse. Its eyes glowed red, it
was covered in spiked battle armor, and bared a bloody ax. Eric shivered. An
energy; a sensation; a malice; the orc's desire to kill him filled the room. He
reached into his pack.