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

“I thought you might want to follow me to the
solarium,” Lord Lokton said as he tossed an orange to Erik. “Perhaps we can
discuss what happened yesterday.”

Yesterday?
Erik wondered to himself. He looked down and saw that
his hands were bandaged. He flexed his fingers and felt the sting where the
blisters and lesions had formed and then he remembered.
The
pull ups.
Master Lepkin had ordered an impossible amount of pull ups to
be done as punishment for breaking into Dimwater’s tower.

Dimwater’s tower!
That was it. That was why Lord Lokton wanted to talk with him. Erik’s
stomach turned. He knew this was not going to be a pleasant conversation to
have.

Lord Lokton stopped in the doorway. He turned and the
oranges fell from his hand as he clutched at his stomach.

Erik froze when he saw the dagger embedded up to the
hilt in his father’s gut. Blood oozed out and spread through the pajamas around
the dagger. Lord Lokton’s eyes went wide and his mouth quivered. “What have you
done?” he asked.

“I didn’t—” Erik started but then his father fell to
the floor and a man stood behind him cackling wildly.

The man wore black robes with shiny, purple trim on
the sleeves. A long hood hung loosely over his face, covering his features.
Strands of silver hair poked out from the hood like old, wispy snakes. A golden
medallion in the shape of a triangle enclosing an open eye hung over the man’s
chest. The man held a long staff of wood in his left hand and pointed at Erik.

“I warned you. I warned you all. I said that you would
destroy House Lokton. Your power is a dangerous one. I told you that the power
would consume all living. Yet still you persist. Your father is
dead,
your house is in ruin. The Middle Kingdom is at war,
and you still press forward. Can you not see that it is
you
who
must be stopped?”

Erik fell back to sit on the bed, but he crashed to
the glass floor.

The room transformed back to the empty, cold cell of
glass.

“Tukai was right,” Erik muttered. “I may not have
killed my father, but I am the one who set him on his path. If not for me,
Lokton Manor would still stand.”

“Hogwash and horse-apples,” a familiar, nasal voice
called out from behind him. Erik jumped and spun around. No one was there.

“Who is there?” Erik asked, almost afraid to see who
was visiting him now.

A hand materialized in the air holding a pair of
gold-rimmed glasses.

“If only you hadn’t left these, they could help you
see the truth of it.”

Erik recognized the voice now. It was Tatev. Just as
he started to say something the hand vanished, and the Eyes of Dowr along with
it.

“It’s cold here, Erik. Why is it so cold?”

“NO!” Erik shouted. His eyes opened and he slowly
understood that he had been dreaming all along. He was still lying upon the
floor. His tears had formed a small puddle next to his face. He turned around
to look at the door. It was still closed, as it had been after he entered the
room. His father was no longer lying upon the floor, and there was no warlock
in the doorway.

Darkness had fallen outside, which meant that now the
chandelier inside the chamber created a mirror-like effect on all the walls so
that no matter which way Erik turned, he saw himself.
His
red, puffy eyes and his guilt-stricken face.

Still, dream or no dream, perhaps Tukai’s words were
right. What if Erik would end up consuming all living with his power in his
futile attempt to save them? After all, he didn’t fit any of the visions that
Allun Rha had seen of the Champion of Truth. Perhaps he was not the right
person. Perhaps he was simply good enough to pass the tests, and with the help
of others able to put down some of the enemies that sought Nagar’s Secret.
Would that mean that he couldn’t conquer the final battle? Or perhaps he was
too strong. What if his power was uncontrollable?

Goosebumps tightened his skin along his arms and
shoulders. He scooted up to the nearby wall and rubbed his arms furiously. Then
he remembered Tatev’s words about being cold and the sadness hit him again.
Tears would have streamed down his face, but he had no more to give. He dropped
his head into his arms folded atop his knees and sobbed, going mad with grief
and guilt.

*****

Aparen walked through the lush thicket and upon
exiting found a large, emerald pool of water. Njar sat upon the grassy bank
with his legs crossed in front of him. The satyr gestured for Aparen to sit
near him. The young boy sat, with his legs stretched out before him so that
they almost touched the reeds shooting up from the edge of the water.

“Today, I have a small lesson prepared for you,” Njar
said. “You must simply relax and watch.”

Aparen nodded his head. “Very well, show it to me,” he
replied. His voice was neither eager nor uninterested. He was accustomed to
Njar, and the goat-man’s lessons, but he wouldn’t go so far as to say he was
completely comfortable with him yet.”

Njar held out his left hand and his staff appeared
instantly. He touched the head of the staff to the waters. The surface danced
and swirled. Steam rose up and formed figures that waved and shimmered above
the pool. “What is that?”

Aparen looked and beheld the form of a satyr. “It is a
satyr,” he said.
“A being that is half man and half goat.”

“Not precisely,” Njar replied. Aparen screwed up his
face and cast an impatient glance to Njar. Njar held up a hand. “I am not the
offspring of some human who fell for a goat, that would be preposterous,” he
said. “I am a wholly separate being, created by Terramyr herself, as all of the
Natural Races are.”

Aparen nodded. “Yes, I remember.”

Njar gestured to the water with his head. “Then name
all of the Natural Races, let’s see what you know.”

“Satyrs, minotaurs, and centaurs,” Aparen said.

“Very good,” Njar replied. His staff touched the water
again and several forms of each race sprung up from the mist. “However, there
are many more. Can you think of any?”

Aparen thought for a moment. “Gnomes?” he guessed.

Njar nodded. “Here, let me speed this along.” He
tapped the water with his staff once more and the mists rose high over them.
Njar
laid
back, folding his arms behind his head as he
smiled and looked up at the images taking shape.

Aparen did likewise, watching the mist swirl into
different shapes.

First it formed into a ball. Soon there were masses
upon the globe.

“This is Terramyr,” Njar said.

“It is round?” Aparen asked.

“You didn’t know?” Njar asked astonished. Then he
nodded. “That’s
right,
you were an apprentice of the
sword, the art of brute force and subjugation. Why would I have thought you
should know anything important?”

Aparen reddened in the face, but he let the comment
go. He knew the satyr well enough by now to know that the creature meant no
insult by his words, it was simply an observation.

“The world is indeed round. The masses of land you see
are continents. There are many of those, each subdivided into kingdoms,
countries, and wastelands.”

The globe grew to enormous proportions, capable of
showing massive armies and other groups of peoples and creatures across the
surface.

“There are so many,” Aparen said.

Njar nodded. “This is just a representation, mind you,”
he said. “I haven’t the space or time to show you all of the creatures upon the
face of Terramyr, but hopefully this will give you incentive to seek balance.”
Njar held up his hand and the globe spun over until a large continent faced
them. Nearly the whole of it was covered with a dense fog, and encircled by
steep, jagged mountains that rose out of the seas.

“What is that large area?” Aparen asked.

“It is Terra’s Navel. It is a lost continent that is
hidden to the rest of the world. A dense fog surrounds it, and borders of
impassable mountains seal it away from explorers. Its area is so vast that
there are actually seas and continents within its covered borders.”

“Where is it?”

Njar smiled. “That is the secret,” he said. “For
within Terra’s Navel lies the life force of Terramyr. From that, the source of
all life springs throughout the world. That is why it is hidden. When the Old
Gods formed the world, they created a bond between Terramyr and Hammenfein, the
underworld or Hell if you prefer. When that bond was formed, Terramyr protected
itself by creating Terra’s Navel and hiding the sacred source of life.”

Njar motioned with his fingers and the glob spun to
show a continent off in the east.

“Do you see the large island to the northwest of the
continent?”

Aparen nodded. “I do.”

“That is Icadion’s Footstool. It is thus named because
the rainbow bridge that connects Terramyr to Volganor, the heaven city, used to
rest there.”

“Before the Old Gods abandoned the world,” Aparen said
with a nod. “I have heard of it.”

Njar offered a half smile and then pointed to the
continent before them. “Starting from the west and going eastward, we see a
large kingdom built upon a lush plateau that is raised above the rest of the
continent. This is where the first human civilization was established after the
Old Gods created the continent. Going east across the lower plains, the forest
and a large lake, which could pass for a sea, and then over the first range of
mountains and over the large canyon that nearly severs the continent in twain,
we come to Tanglewood Forest.” Each place on the continent glowed slightly as
it was
named,
helping Aparen trace his way across the
continent as Njar spoke. Tanglewood Forest now glowed brightly with a golden
hue. “This is the first home of the elves. All elvish peoples come from here,
though they have spread over the globe just as far as the humans have.

“Now, moving on we pass over the Nahktun Mountains and
pass into a wasteland that is shrouded in darkness every hour of every day. The
creatures and abominations that live here would give an army of wizards more
trouble than they are worth. Luckily, they are unable to sustain themselves in
sunlight, and thus cannot spread over into neighboring lands lest the sun would
burn them like chaff in an oven.”

“What kinds of creatures?” Aparen asked.

Njar turned a fierce eye to him.
“Creatures
that shall not be named within my home.”
Njar then turned back to the
globe. “Deep within this land lies Gaia’s Tear.”

“The volcano that connects Terramyr to Hammenfein,”
Aparen said.

Njar smiled pleasantly. “So, you are more than a
sword-wielding brute after all.”

Aparen sniggered. “And it is this connection that
caused Terramyr to create the Natural Races.”

Njar shook his head. “No,” he said.
“Many
people think that is correct, but that is an oversimplification.
When
Gaia’s Tear was created, the world formed Terra’s Navel, to protect all life.
However, it was not until the War of the Gods that Terramyr realized the danger
it was truly in. When the Old Gods could no longer stay for fear of being
overrun by Atek and his minions, they withdrew. Lysander, Icadion’s most
faithful son, remained behind, and has vowed to find a way to save the world
and restore order, but none have heard from him in centuries. So, when Terramyr
found itself in peril, and only the Ancients remained upon her face, she
created the Natural Races. We were created in an attempt to protect the life
source, and to spread balance throughout the world. That is what we still are
trying to do. However, you humans are a greedy, selfish, and bloodthirsty lot.
We are slowly losing the battle for the hearts and minds of Terramyr.
Ultimately, it will likely boil down to a final war upon the heart of Terramyr.”

Njar pointed his staff and the globe dissolved to form
into several different beings. Njar explained each of them as they appeared.

The first image stood before them with a pointy hat
atop a short body with a long beard and sharp, pointed ears. The image wore
spectacles, and held a book in front of its face.

“The gnome.
A short creature, usually averaging between two and three feet
tall.
They live for about six hundred years. They are highly skilled
wizards, and love the forests. They are distrustful of all other races that
were not created directly by Terramyr, but they can coexist with humans.”

The gnome pushed its glasses up on its narrow nose and
then disappeared. In its place appeared an extremely small, winged humanoid.
Its body resembled a human in every respect, save for the butterfly-like
translucent wings that kept it afloat.

“Fairies are an odd lot. They are fairly reclusive.
They are incredibly small, usually only about six inches tall. They live in
small glass-like towers they create by freezing the morning dew. Oddly enough,
some of them choose to live with wizards or sorceresses as familiars. They tend
to focus on scholarly research rather than seeking balance. They can live for
as long as one thousand years.”