Read Faith Of The Dragon Tamer (Book 2) Online
Authors: Cole Pain
Until now.
When he had denounced Aidan he had started her merging. The roar of the dragon wasn’t one of rage, but one of pain – love’s pain. This dragon knew how to love. Aidan had taught it.
Although a vast sorrow engulfed him, acceptance did as well. Aidan would save the lands with her love. She would have chosen this course if she had known the outcome. He could only pray she had found some form of contentment. She deserved that, and more.
Ren stepped back from the Silver Eye and turned to the dragon.
The screams of the dying drifted on the wind like tolling bells. Some, Ren knew, belonged to friends. Ren felt a dragon’s breath of uncertainty, a doubt that his intuition was wrong. Then the dragon drew a deep breath and sent a blast of fire over the Silver Eye.
A white ray exploded from the top of the Silver Eye, mirroring the black now coming from the Dragon’s Fire. Ren felt the intensity of its love even from behind his door. Shouts echoed in the distance as people woke from their hatred and realized they had killed those they knew and loved. Wails of the undead thundered on the winds as the effects of the Silver Eye sunk them, once again, into eternal nothingness.
The white and black light from the crystals slowly moved toward each other, each drawn to the opposing power. With each tiny movement love and hate became more in balance.
A sudden flicker caught Ren’s attention. At the Red Eye’s core were two dark incessant red eyes, and they were looking at him.
Before Ren had a chance to prepare, something crashed into his mind. Ren fell to his knees, feeling the dark clutches of Barracus’ spirit claiming his body and demanding entrance to his mind.
Even though his essence was safe behind his door, Ren could feel the evil on the other side. His breath quickened as he realized what he had to do.
The defender’s power would be inadequate to banish the mage, but if he reclaimed his own power Barracus could use it against him. He couldn’t allow that to happen. First, he had to weaken the mage with the defender’s power. Then, and only then, could he reclaim his own.
Without warning his door crashed open. Ren found himself looking into the red eyes of a madman. The mage’s essence began searching for his power, reaching for his thread in order to claim the Quy once more.
Ren gathered all his strength and flung the force away, but not far enough. It immediately came back. Ren then did the only thing he knew to do.
Stumbling backwards he reached for the open door behind him, the one etched with three triangles in a circle. It was his only defense. Taking his power, he flung it through the door and quickly slammed it shut. The Druids had taught him a valuable lesson.
A deep growl of rage came from behind. Ren turned to face Barracus. He reached for the defenders, but before he could lock hold of them Barracus surged forward.
As the demon entered him, his memories were crushed beneath Barracus’ extensive diablerie. He felt his entire essence being used, down to the very hairs on his head.
Hate bubbled inside him. He felt his blood almost boiling as the hate took over, wrapping around every pore, taking control. He gritted his teeth as he felt the power of hate, the ecstasy of feeling no pain, start to seduce him by its allure.
As the hate tore through him something else did as well, and it was something that rose from the depths of his soul. It was a call he had felt his entire life, a whisper he had always respected yet never completely understood. And there it was, pulsing at his core, entreating him to deny the hate and fight for the light. As he had done so many times before, he obeyed the call.
Tightening the grip on his sword, a residue of emotion tingled through his hand. That emotion clashed with the hate he now carried.
Suddenly the hate repulsed him.
He looked down at his sword. The white stone seemed to call to him. He beckoned to it.
Love swelled inside him, washing through him, drowning the hate in its complete purity.
But the hate seeped inside him again, slowly eating away the love. He didn’t want the love to leave. He pulled for more love, but found the end of it. He hesitated. He didn’t want to take it all. He was afraid it would vanish forever if he did. Nothing should ever destroy something so beautiful. He needed something stronger than love, something strong enough to quench the darkness.
He looked down at the sword again. A second stone shivered with an emotion far different from hate. He called to it.
He felt a flicker of pain, an intense pain, and released his hold.
After the love, the pain was soul crushing, but the darkness was even more repulsive. He called to pain. It seared him, taking more of the hate away but filling his soul with anguish. It was hope crushed, betrayal, love lost, friendships broken, love denied, torture and death.
When he thought he couldn’t take any more he released the pain and looked inside to see the hate still there. It had weakened, but it wasn’t gone. If he refused to draw more pain the hate would begin to grow again. Taking a deep breath he summoned more pain. It enveloped him. Leaning his head back he screamed at the intensity of all who had been betrayed by the ones they loved. But the hate was still there, pulsing at his core.
He reached for the door standing in his mind’s eye. It was the door with the symbol of something powerful etched on its surface. Whatever lay beyond that door could help him. He put the tip of his sword in the lock and the door clinked open. He stepped inside.
His own memories and emotions hurtled over him, bringing the triangle together. He rose higher, reaching the calm, forming the straight-line syzygy of the Quy. He drew on the pain and love of the union, commingled the two emotions to one, creating the strongest emotion of all – love’s pain. It was the emotion that could banish the darkness. But as he stood, becoming the pain of love, he suddenly knew –
It was not enough.
The air began to quiver as the two extremes of the crystals battled for control. Soon their powers wouldn’t be in balance and each would fling off things no one wanted to escape.
Aidan looked through Sim’s eyes, sending a silent prayer to the Maker to help Ren prevail, but as she watched, Ren’s eyes, tinted a slight shade of red, grazed over Sim without any recognition.
“No,” she whispered.
“There’s nothing we can do, dear heart. We’ve done our duty. We’ve awoken the Silver Eye. Now only your Ren can end this. There’s hope yet. Have faith.”
“Sim?”
“Hmm?”
“I want you to stop him if he’s the other.”
“Yes, dear heart, but you have the power as well.”
Aidan knew she did. She could feel it inside her, but she couldn’t do it, not to Ren. “I can’t, Sim. I’m not that strong.”
“Yes, dear heart. I’ll do so if it comes to that.”
The wizard rounded the corner and skidded to a halt. When his eyes locked on Ista, his face became stone. Before Aidan could blink, Ista was lifted by invisible threads and hurled into the wall of the castle.
The wizard’s eyes were disks of hate, but Ista smiled in victory. Her eyes flickered to Ren. Ren immediately crumbled to the floor, clutching his head as if he wanted to tear it off. Aidan’s heart skipped a beat, hoping against hope Ren was fighting back.
Ista gave a wheezy laugh. “Don’t you see, Zorc? I’m in control of you, of Ren, and of the Lands. I had the Druids implant the needles in Ren’s mind after his closing. I control him whether or not Barracus has successfully claimed his body.”
Zorc stepped closer, undeterred.
“And if you kill me I’ll just pass through the Eye. I’ve already locked my calling and targeted my host.” Ista chuckled. “You’re my host, Zorc. I control you alive or dead.”
Zorc raised his eyebrows. “I’m stronger, Ista. You will be unable to claim me.”
“You seemed to have forgotten the redhead beauty of the Alcazar.”
Zorc paused.
Ista heaved a hearty laugh. “Have you failed to think through the full implications for Christa’s spirit?” Ista waited until the horror flashed across Zorc’s face. “She’ll be lost for eternity if she doesn’t join with her other half inside you. The only way she’ll be able to join with you is if I join with you. What will it be, Zorc? Do you choose to have my spirit residing inside you and Christa free from eternal loneliness, or my control of you? It matters not which.”
Zorc’s face softened into an emotionless mask. The Eyes still battled behind him, their light becoming more violent with each breath. Zorc bent to grab a smoldering stick that had received some of the dragon’s fire.
“Give her to me.”
Ista laughed, eyes alight with the pain of thousands. “Never.”
Zorc pulled a red velvet bag from his robe. “Never? Never is a word that should be wiped from the lexicon.”
Ista’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “The Eyes are about to break free, Zorc. Free me or kill me. It’s your choice.”
Zorc stepped forward, torch in hand. For the first time, Ista’s eyes flickered with fear.
“I’m not going to do either,” Zorc said, moving closer. “But you’ll choose death won’t you, Ista? Or do you want to feel the flames again, feel your skin melting as the fire churns around you?”
“No.”
“Oh, yes.” Zorc said, pushing the torch closer. Ista’s chest heaved as the panic overtook her. Her claw-like hand clutched Zorc’s arm.
Zorc smiled. “The only way to escape the flames is to give yourself to the sorceress’s death, and you need every ounce of energy to do so. You’ll have to release your bond to the Eye. You’ll have to release Christa.”
Zorc’s smile broadened. He moved the torch closer. Ista shuddered beneath his grip. The Eyes were flickering back and forth. The day was dark and then it was light. Soon the Lands would be flooded with love or hate, or both. Zorc ignited Ista’s hair. Zorc stepped back and rocked forward to his toes as he untied the string that kept the red pouch closed.
There was a loud implosion as Ista gave her life to the sorceress’s death, the only magic sorceresses could evoke at whim. Zorc whispered words, waving his hands over the small bag as ash rained down over Ista’s burning, empty robe. A thin stream of dust careened toward Zorc and wafted into the open velvet bag. When the last of the dust had entered, Zorc tied the bag closed and placed it back inside his robe.
- - -
Ren stumbled to his feet as the pain in his head dissipated only to find the presence inside had grown. He had thought love’s pain was the strongest emotion of all, but it couldn’t be, not if it wasn’t banishing the darkness.
The darkness inside him continued to grow. Ren tried to hold it, calling on the sword, the defenders, and his own emotions in the calm. Soon he had created a shaft of white-hot power inside him, but slowly, piece by piece, Barracus was eating through the light of the internal elements.
Zorc had told him the first truth could help him defeat the darkness, could lead him to the second truth.
Ren searched his heart, trying to find the answer. There had to be more he could draw on. He murmured prayers to the Maker as he thought of the first truth. His faith could damn him or raise him. He clutched his faith to him like a blanket, letting his heart fill to overflowing.
Love was stronger than hate. The pain love brought was stronger than love. But what was stronger than the pain of love?
Ren rose above the hate, the love, and the pain. The shaft of light glowed below him, but still the darkness continued to rise.
And it was complete. He could almost feel the terror of the lower Plains in the growing hate. It was saturated with corruption. He pulled on more love, calling it forth from the blade of light, but the love only caused the hate to pause. It by no means ate the darkness.
He studied the love. He could feel its brilliance, its intensity, but he also sensed a slight marring of its pureness. Ren realized the love of man wasn’t the opposite of the hate Barracus carried.
The love of man could stem from lust, from betrayal, from pain itself. Love, like the Silver Eye, could be used for evil.
Slowly, Ren felt the answer surfacing. There was only one way to banish Barracus. He had to rise above all the internal elements to find the only true, pure emotion.
He had to confront Barracus without hate of fear, but compassion. Barracus was the Maker’s creation. The Maker loved Barracus just as much as He loved a child of light. Barracus had strayed, he had turned to evil, but Ren couldn’t succumb to the same hate that drove Barracus to the darkness. He remembered the Quy’s words:
Before you strike make sure you do so out of love. If you begin to use other emotions like hate, lust, envy, or desire you’ll fail. Sometimes you’ll strike in anger, or shun the one you strike at, but if you remember the love inside, if the love inside is what drives you, all will be well
.
“Only use me in love,” she had said. But not just love – the emotion that mingled with pain and hate, but the Maker’s love. It was a love that was unbounded, a love that loved despite pain and corruption.
Ren cast one final glance at the darkness before turning his head to the sky. The shaft of light brightened as he reached for a love no evil could touch.
- - -
Zorc watched Ren stumble forward to place one hand over each Eye. The twin lights cut through his hands like a saber. Within heartbeats, the Eye’s flickering slowed. A glow came from within Ren and a silver shaft of light appeared, cutting through him and slicing through the lights of the Eyes.
Zorc turned away, shielding his face from the light. When he looked back the twin lights had separated and were slowly moving back to their individual crystals. Ren stood between them, a saber of light shooting through him. He drew breaths so deep Zorc thought he would collapse from the strain, but the lights quickly dissipated and the humming of the crystals soon silenced.
Ren dropped to his knees and held his sword above his head, muscles tensing. The stones in the sword shone with an ardent intensity, forming a triangular glow. The beam of light that had cut Ren before appeared again, this time slicing though the sword as well. The sword slowly turned black. Before Zorc could blink, the darkness shot from the sword and plummeted back into the Red Eye.