Return of the Dragon (The Dragon's Champion Book 6) (14 page)

“That is exactly my point,” Salarion said as she dealt
three cards to each of them. “I don’t understand why the armies of Hammenfein
don’t rise up and conquer Terramyr. An army of immortal orcs crushing every
living thing on the surface would be quite the campaign.”

“You mock us?” Maernok asked. “You elves are supposed
to possess wisdom unmatched and yet you don’t grasp something as simple as the
rules that bind us to Hammenfein?” Maernok shook his head and sat at the table
opposite Salarion to take his cards. “Without bodies, we can do little in the
realm of the living. The gods that rule Hammenfein are not able to give us our
bodies
back,
otherwise we would have spilled out from
Hammenfein ages ago to avenge our ancestors.”

“Hatmul and Khefir are the current lords of
Hammenfein, yes?” Salarion asked.

“Yes, the sons of Khullan, our Creator.”

“Why not send the valiant orcs down to liberate
Khullan? Surely he could resurrect you into your bodies,” she pointed out.”

“Bah,” Maernok groused. “Khullan is bound in Vishnull,
with a limb lashed to each pillar of Hell. Not even Hatmul could survive a
descent through the lower levels of Hell. Only Icadion has the power to do
that.”

“Which brings me back to my original question,”
Salarion said. “If there is nothing you can do to change anything on a lasting
scale, then why try to seek glory?”

Maernok growled and tossed a card onto the table face
down. “What do you fight for elf?”

Salarion placed her card down on the table. “I say my
card is high.”

Maernok reached over and the two flipped their cards
over. Salarion’s card was indeed higher and she took both cards. “Answer my
question, drow,” Maernok pressed. “Tell me what you fight for. Show me the
fabled wisdom of the elves.”

Salarion placed another card down on the table.
“High,” she said. Maernok placed his card down. She watched the orc overturn
his card and then hesitated on hers. “I fight for those who cannot. I fight to
keep the world alive.”

“That’s it?” Maernok said. “You fight to save the
world?” Maernok chuckled and shook his head. “If other elves are half as idealistic
as you, then the wisdom of elves is foolishness.”

“Is it?” Salarion asked as she overturned her card.
She won the round and stuck a finger on her card to accentuate the victory.
“What else is there to fight for but the world? Nothing else we ever do will
mean anything to anyone else on any realistic level. You can keep your songs of
bravery and greatness. I fight so that others will live to sing those songs.
They need not know my name. It is enough for me that they will have
breath
.”

Erik sat in his glass room. His eyes stung, his
stomach growled and churned, and his head ached. He could only manage to focus
on his training until the Immortal Mystic would send him back to his room at
the end of a day. Then the shadows and nightmares found him. Voices of enemies
and fallen friends haunted him. He should have felt safe in the palace. He
should be expanding his power. Instead he felt numb at best. When he wasn’t
dead to everything he was cold and empty. He lost hold of the hopes for saving
the world. Those thoughts drowned in the sea of doubts that pummeled him with
unrelenting waves.

He leaned his head back against the cold wall and then
he felt a slight breeze. He turned his head to the right and saw the Immortal
Mystic standing in the doorway.

“You don’t truly believe I haven’t noticed the ghosts
that torment you, do you?” he asked pointedly.

Erik didn’t know what to say. He sat and shrugged.

“I have seen them, but you have to know something.”
The Immortal Mystic walked in and sat cross legged on the floor in front of
Erik.

“You’re going to tell me it is good to face my fears?”
Erik asked dryly. “Or are you going to say that only by vanquishing my doubts
will I finally come into my power? Whatever it is, I don’t think it will help.”

The Immortal Mystic frowned and sighed. “Your heart is
closed. I cannot help you unless you open it.”

“Ah,” Erik said with mock surprise. “That is a great
pearl of wisdom. I am honored to be here to hear it.”

“Erik—”

“No,” Erik said, cutting the man off. His voice wasn’t
raised, but the tone was decisive and curt. “I have been here for months. I see
the snow falling outside. In training I can only think of my friends who are
out fighting a battle that I caused. When I am not training, and my body begs
to sleep, I am visited by nightmares that burn me to my core. You say you have
seen
the
ghosts? You saw my father? Did you see Tatev? Or did you see Janik and Tukai?
Tell me why you let them in this palace if you can see them?”

The Immortal Mystic shook his head once. “Specters
cannot enter here of their own accord. They must be brought by someone else.
They hang around you, like familiars. Until you banish them, there is little I
can do for you.”

“Some sage you are,” Erik snapped. “I traveled the
world to find you. I lost…” Erik’s words trailed off and he closed his eyes.

“Erik, listen to me and I will offer you the best help
I can,” the Immortal Mystic said.

Erik opened his eyes and raised his brows at the man.
He didn’t say
anything,
he just stared with a clenched
jaw and unrelenting, fierce blue eyes.

“You didn’t cause this war,” the Immortal Mystic said.
“You see your father’s ghost and see your own faults, but you fail to see the
whole picture. You are looking at a single thread in a tapestry and wondering
why it touches neighboring threads the way that it does, but what you need to
see is the overall design.”

“I don’t believe in fate,” Erik said. “I was supposed
to be a prophesied champion, but instead I find out that I don’t fit any
description that you have seen of the champion. I am a mistake.”

“No, it isn’t that way, Erik.”

“Then tell me I am wrong,” Erik pressed. “Tell me that
your visions showed me to you. Tell me that you saw me destroy Nagar’s Blight.
Tell me that everything I have lost is actually worth it. Tell me that we
haven’t fouled everything up by wasting time on me when we should have been
looking for someone else.”

The Immortal Mystic sat silently, looking back at
Erik. His emotionless features rested on his face as though he were chiseled
from stone. No words emerged, nor was there any smile of comfort. There was
only the silent stare.

“You can’t, can you?” Erik asked. “I figured it out,
you know. Only, it’s too late to fix it. I don’t know who the real champion is,
and we don’t have the time to find him.”

“Visions are not without faults. There are mistakes,
and misunderstandings.”

“Don’t do that,” Erik said. “That is what Marlin would
say. I expect you to be straightforward. Just tell me the truth.”

“Very well,” the Immortal Mystic said with a nod. “You
are not the champion I saw in visions.”

Erik’s head dropped backward to thud against the glass
wall.

“That doesn’t mean all is lost,” the Immortal Mystic
continued.

Erik shook his head.
“Really?
You know who I should find? Do we have time to train him?” The Immortal Mystic
held up a hand. Erik felt a tingling sensation fill his mouth. No matter how he
tried, he was unable to speak.

“Forgive me, but lessons work best if the student is
listening,” the Immortal Mystic said. When Erik stopped squirming, the man
continued. “Despite all the visions I have had, and all the books of prophecy
that we have written here and given to Valtuu Temple or other orders, I also do
not believe in fate. The visions show me what can be, given a specific set of
circumstances. Usually they are highly accurate, but there are always minor
inconsistencies. However, I was never surer of my visions as I was with those
concerning the Champion of Truth.

“You were never seen as the champion in any of my
visions. You come from a different lineage, and were destined for a much darker
path. I will speak plainly.” The Immortal Mystic cleared his throat and tears
came to his eyes. “You are the son of a powerful shadowfiend named Dremathor.
Your mother died in childbirth. You were destined to follow in your father’s
footsteps. I am not privy to all the details, so I can’t explain everything
that happened to change your course. However, I believe Dimwater will have
answers for you.”

Erik’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth to ask
questions, but the words didn’t come out.

“There are other factors as well,” the Immortal Mystic
said. “Some of them remain clouded, even to me. Whatever happened, it set you
on a different path. You were able to grow without the shadow of your father.
Then, you were adopted and your course was changed even more so. You may not
have been the champion I saw in my visions, but I need you to hear me now. You
are
the
Champion of Truth. You have every potential to end this terrible plague and
remove Nagar’s Blight from this plane. Tu’luh seeks to enslave the realm, but
he fails to understand that a world darkened by slavery and despotism will also
bring about the end he is trying to avoid.

“The four horsemen are real, Erik.” The man rose to
his feet and waved a hand. The glass wall opposite from Erik became colored
with the scene of a beautiful valley. Trees swayed in the wind and flowers
dotted the green valley as far as the eye could see. Then, off in the distance,
a great fiery cloud fell from the sky. It was soon joined by three more. They
crashed far from the vantage point Erik was watching from. The sky grew dark.
The waters turned red with blood. Veins of brown and black ripped through the
green valley. Trees died and turned to dust. The sun ceased to give its light.
Finally, a great wall of fire rose in the distance and ravaged all that Erik
could see.

A chill ran down Erik’s spine.

“This is no vision,” the Immortal Mystic said. “It is
a memory. It happened much slower than the way you just saw it, but time is
relative when looking through the eyes of a dragon.”

Erik wanted to ask whose memory it was. He wanted to
know where it had happened, but his mouth was still sealed. The Immortal Mystic
turned to Erik and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“When your eyes are fully opened, you will know where
that memory came from, but until then you must continue your training.” The
Immortal Mystic placed his other hand on Erik’s other shoulder and looked deep
into Erik’s eyes. “You must understand that you can succeed. There is no fate.
There
is
only us, and the moments we have been given
to use. Do you understand?”

Erik nodded.

“I will tell you one more thing,” the Immortal Mystic
said. “Dremathor was the son of Allun Rha. That means you are the grandson of
the great wizard who defeated Nagar and Tu’luh in Hamath Valley. So, when I
tell you that the power to be victorious flows in your veins, you had better
believe that I mean every word of it. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t waste time with
you, and neither would your friends. You have lost friends and family, so have
I. This is a war that has been dragging on longer than I care to think about
any longer. It is time to end it.”

The man pulled away from Erik and then folded his
arms. “After we win, I can also show you how to defeat the four horsemen.”

Erik’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull. His mouth
opened and had he not been silenced by magic he would have shouted his
excitement.

“It will not be easy, but it is possible. They will
come eventually, that much is certain. The only question is whether the greed
and envy of men is what will bring them down on Terramyr, or the corruption
that Tu’luh would force upon the world. Both are equally unacceptable to the
four horsemen. They are powerful beings, but they can be stopped,
if
you
are able to finish your training.”

Erik nodded his head quickly.

The Immortal Mystic waved his hand and Erik’s mouth
was freed.

“What do I do?”

“You leave,” the Immortal Mystic said. Erik’s face
went from one of excitement to one of confusion in an instant. The Immortal
Mystic smiled and continued. “To finish your training you need to banish these
ghosts that plague you. To do that, you need to help Tatev’s soul find rest. He
wanders the plains, looking for the Eyes of Dowr. Go out and find them, then
come back here and your eyes will be free of clouds and you will finally be
able to see.”

Erik couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Won’t that
take a long time?” he asked. He wasn’t trying to be argumentative, but he was
more than a little worried by the proposition.

“It will take as long as it needs to. When you have
finished, return to complete your training.”

“Then I should go now,” Erik said.

“I have already prepared a pack for you with food and
water.”

“I’ll get Jaleal,” Erik said.

The Immortal Mystic shook his head. “No, this is one
journey you make alone.”

Erik’s mouth fell open.

“Trust in who you are,” the Immortal Mystic said. “You
come from a noble, powerful heritage. You have been trained well, and you have
more potential locked away in that small frame of yours than you can possibly
fathom.”

“I have never been alone,” Erik said.

“This is the best way for you to chase away your
ghosts. They won’t come near you while friends guard you, but when you are
alone they perceive your fear and will plague you. That is when you will battle
them and conquer them. Remember, you have more power than they do. Focus on who
you are and what your mission is, and you will succeed.”

Erik took in a deep breath and ran a hand through his
hair.

“I have something for you,” the Immortal Mystic said.
He reached into a fold in his robes and pulled out a blue crystal. “You may not
have noticed, but your birthday passed a few weeks ago. This is my gift.”

“What is it?” Erik asked.

The Immortal Mystic smiled. “Some answers you must
find on your own,” he said. “Go on. When you need the crystal, you will know.”