Spirit Blade: Book III of the Dragon Mage Trilogy (4 page)

Closing his eyes, the mage steeled himself for the spell. Then he opened his eyes and picked up his staff. With his other hand, he pulled a number of spell components from his pocket. He pointed the staff at the sword and squeezed the components in his fist. Then he began his spell. At first, only his mouth moved. Then his voice was heard, barely audible. When his incantation was complete, he began again, becoming louder as he chanted. The orb atop his staff began to glow, emanating a milky white iridescence. The mage frowned as he chanted. The spell did not appear to be working. He tried harder, drowning out the sound of the snoring dwarf as his chant rose in volume. Beads of sweat emanated from the pores on his forehead. With all the hard work he had put into this project so far, he was not about to give up. His arm shook with the strain, as did his voice.

Suddenly, ever so slightly, a wisp of the milky light in the staff stretched toward the sword’s edge. The mage chanted harder, and the stream of light continued channeling into the sword. Now the sword’s blade began to glow with magic as it absorbed the light. The sword’s light became brighter as the staff dimmed, its magic transferring to the new object. By now the mage’s arm was shaking uncontrollably and his voice trembled with exertion. The spell was nearly complete.

At last, the remaining light in the staff shot into the sword and the connection between staff and sword was broken. The mage stopped chanting and staggered for a moment before falling against the table. He recovered his balance and tried to catch his breath. His chest felt tight and his left arm tingled, but he was too excited to notice. His spell had finally worked!

The mage put down the staff, its energy now fully expended, and picked up the sword. At his touch, the blade gave a momentary flash of white light. The sword had taken the magic! Still gasping, the mage excitedly took the sword out to the cave entrance to examine it in the daylight, as well as to get some fresh air for himself. He held it aloft and regarded it in awe. Still holding it up, he gazed across the plain below where the ravens still feasted.

“This spirit blade is a culmination of the spirits of many of the fallen soldiers and warriors below,” murmured the mage in between breaths. “It is the sword of dead heroes.”

The mage slowly lowered the sword and gave it one more appraising glance before re-entering the cave.

The dwarf, amazingly, was still asleep. The mage listened and the only sounds in the cave were the crackling of the fire in the forge, the dwarf’s snoring, and his own ragged breathing. As he reached the table, the mage was surprised that he still hadn’t regained his breath. A weakness he had not known before was engulfing his entire body. At first he thought it was the exertion of the spell, but his chest continued to tighten. His arm lost its strength and the sword fell from his hand to clatter onto the pile of swords that lay at his feet.

The noise finally woke the dwarf with a start. He glanced over at the mage, who stood staring dumbly at the pile of swords at his feet. The grogginess of sleep immediately left the dwarf’s mind when he saw the old mage sink to the floor, scattering the pile of swords. Alarmed, he sprang from his chair and bolted to the mage’s side. With an expression of triumph mixed with sadness, the mage looked up at the dwarf. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. Trying again, he got his vocal cords to work one last time.

“The spirit blade is ready,” he gasped. “It is called The Sword of Dead-,” his voice trailed off and his eyes became vacant.

“The Sword of Dead?” murmured the dwarf gruffly. His mind became muddled as the reality of what had just happened set in. “The Sword of Dead?” he repeated dumbly. He looked at the pile of swords nearby. Then he blinked as the implication of what the mage had said dawned in his mind. He frantically scanned the swords with a critical eye but knew it was useless. They were jumbled about and all looked identical, because that was what the mage had instructed him to manufacture.

“Which one is it?” he asked no one in particular.

Chapter 4

S
ir Wilfred Galado twirled his mustache as he glanced around the armoury. With Sherman gone, it fell to him to take command of the army. He was here to inspect the weaponry available to the soldiers should war break out. It was unlikely to happen, but with rumours of unrest to the south near the mountain, anything was possible. The rumours indicated there was some sort of epidemic causing sickness and death. Mages with healing powers were dispatched to investigate and report back to the queen, but it was too soon to tell what was wrong. Nevertheless, Sir Wilfred Galado took his duty seriously.

Wilfred had been present during Sherman’s conversation the previous morning with the queen and was surprised at how adamant he had been about going on an important quest. He said it was to help Kazin, the dragon mage, and that he would be back before very long because time travel was involved.

The queen was not pleased about the idea, but relented at the last minute. Sherman hurriedly left the room, commenting that he needed to get his special magical sword first. Sir Galado knew it must really be important for Sherman to need his magical sword. He never used it unless it was absolutely necessary. Sherman left within the hour, riding on the dragon’s scaly back. “You’re in charge, Wilf!” he had shouted to Galado upon mounting the fiery beast.

So Sir Galado went ahead with his inspection of the weapons, beginning with the home guard’s weapons in the castle. His inspection went well until he got to the place where Sherman’s weapons were hung. An empty spot indicated which weapon the big warrior had taken on his mysterious quest. The scabbard to the right of the missing weapon hung askew, no doubt due to Sherman’s hasty departure. Wilfred, not patient with disorder, reached out to straighten it. As he let go, it swung back off kilter. He attempted it again, and once again it shifted off kilter. Something was wrong. The soldier grasped the sword’s hilt and lifted to see if it was jammed. In so doing, he nearly pulled it free of the scabbard. Shocked at the light weight of the sword, he pulled it out the rest of the way. He swung the sword around deftly and instantly knew it was magical. He regarded the scabbard and noted that it was not exactly the correct match for the sword. Then it dawned on him. This was the sword that Sherman had intended to take with him! The fool had taken the wrong sword and must not have noticed! The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. How important was this sword to the quest? Without waiting to find an answer, Sir Galado hastened to seek out the queen.

The queen was in her chambers and Lenny and Benny stood guard outside her quarters when Sir Galado trudged up to them. “Tell the queen I need to see her at once!” commanded Sir Galado.

The twins looked at one another in alarm. They knew Wilfred was in a state of mind not to be trifled with. They both responded at once and made a move to ring the door chime. Seeing each other make the motion, they both backed off to offer the other the opportunity. Seeing each other back off, they both moved forward again in unison. Both hesitated at the same instant and Sir Galado impatiently pushed them both aside to pull the chime himself.

“I don’t have time for your foolish games!” he snapped.

The queen called “enter!” and Sir Galado opened the door and left the twins standing red-faced in the hallway. He closed the door behind him.

“What is it?” asked the queen. She was dressed in her favourite dark-blue velvet robe with silver hems. It was a symbol of her magical experience with druid magic. With fair hair and kind blue eyes, those in her presence rarely felt uncomfortable. But those eyes could turn cold and harsh if she became angered. Many offenders had been fooled into thinking she was naive and weak. But she had a habit of seeing through their lies and deceit. She immediately noticed the look of concern on Sir Galado’s face.

Sir Galado explained about the sword to her. “We need to get the sword to Sherman quickly,” said Wilfred. “I hope he hasn’t gone beyond our reach yet.”

“It’s likely we’re too late already,” commented the queen. “Our only chance will be to fly one of the griffins. I can summon one, but who will go?”

“I will,” volunteered Sir Galado.

“But I need you here,” stated the queen.

“I do not trust anyone else with this task,” objected Sir Galado. “This sword is a very powerful artifact. In the wrong hands -.” He held out his hand in a helpless gesture.

“That’s a good point,” admitted the queen. She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Very well. But be back here within the week, whether you find Sherman or not.”

Sir Galado bowed. “Thank you, my queen.” He left the chamber to make preparations for departure.

Twenty minutes later, he arrived on the castle’s ramparts to spot a griffin that waited patiently beside the queen. It was a sight to behold for those who had never seen one before. They had a golden hue to their feathers and were often large enough to carry several people at once. They had four legs and soft fur on the undersides of their bodies. Their wing span was nearly half the diameter of an adult dragon. Few could control them. They had their own way of determining who could approach them or fly on their backs.

“I’ve given the griffin Sherman’s scent,” said the queen. “It should be able to track him even if he’s riding on the back of a dragon.”

Sir Galado nodded. The griffin sensed the importance of the mission and allowed him to climb upon its back. When he was settled, he nodded to the queen.

“Good,” said the queen. “It has accepted you. I was concerned it may not allow you near.” She pulled some spell components from her pocket. “I will now cast a spell so that you will not be separated from the sword until you find Sherman.” She chanted a spell and ended it with ‘Sherman’. A shaft of light engulfed Sir Galado and the sword and then dissipated. “There,” she said. “It is now a part of you. Good luck, Wilfred.” With a wave of her hand, the griffin took to the air. It swung to the south and flew out of sight with its rider.

Lenny and Benny watched the whole thing with interest. They both hoped they could go on exciting missions for the queen someday.

“Back to work, boys,” ordered the queen. “The excitement’s over for now. While Sir Galado’s gone, I expect you to be on your best behaviour.”

“Yes, your Majesty,” sang the boys in unison. Little did they know how impossible it was to keep that promise.

*      *      *      *      *

The companions rose early in the morning and Kazin reviewed their plans. He then went through the list of items necessary for their journey. Harran had his ice axe and chain mail. The axe was in his possession the last time he had traveled back in time and the chain mail was given to him before he returned back to his own time, so it was potentially an item that could have altered the future when it should have been left behind.

Sherman patted the sword at his side. “I have the sword you told me to bring.”

Kazin nodded. “Good. The rest of the items we need are in here.” He pulled a small pouch from his pocket and placed it on the ground in front of him. Then he chanted a quick spell and the pouch grew to many times its normal size.

“Wow!” exclaimed Sherman. “I’ve never seen that spell before!”

“It’s a miniaturizing magic that I’ve learned somewhere along the way,” explained Kazin. “It saves carrying around a giant pack.” He untied the string and pried the bag open. Inside, he rummaged around for a moment. “Here it is,” he commented, withdrawing a small ring. He presented it to Sherman. “This is the invisibility ring that was accidentally stuck to your boot the last time you came back from the past. It may be key to our quest.”

Sherman shuddered as he accepted the artifact. “I had forgotten about that.”

Then Kazin withdrew an amulet and handed it to Zylor. “You remember this?” It was an amulet that allowed a spell to be maintained on an individual wearing it, while the spell caster could be free to do other things without draining all their magical energy to maintain the spell.

Zylor’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed. I had forgotten where that ended up.”

“It took a bit of effort to track it down,” said Kazin. He then turned his attention to Olag, who looked somewhat crestfallen.

“I didn’t have any magical items in my possession last time,” said the skink warrior sadly.

“That’s a good thing,” said Kazin. “Of all of us, you are the least likely to have caused the disappearing problem we are having. But this time you will have something magical to aid you,” said the mage cheerfully. He reached into the sack and withdrew a bow and a quiver full of arrows. “This,” he said happily, “is a Quiver of Many Arrows.” His smile wavered. “It belonged to my wife, God rest her soul.”

“She’s dead?!” exclaimed Sherman.

“Not yet,” interjected Harran.

It took a moment or two for this to sink in. “Oh, yeah,” said Sherman sheepishly. “I forgot. Sorry.”

“Won’t it interfere with time travel and such?” asked Zylor.

Kazin nodded. “That’s a good point, Zylor. But do you remember what happened last time? Olag ran out of arrows and we almost died. I’m not taking that chance this time.”

“I’m with you there,” said Olag vehemently as he accepted the bow and quiver and slung it over his shoulder. “That’s the main reason I’m leery about going on this adventure in the first place.”

Kazin chanted again and his sack returned to palm size. He deftly scooped it up and slid it into his pocket. “That’s it folks. Let’s gather the rest of our gear and be on our way.”

The companions did not have much for provisions because Kazin had instructed them to travel light, so they were ready to go within fifteen minutes. Kazin stood apart from the others and transformed from a white-haired old human mage into his dragon form.

“I could never get used to that,” commented Olag with a shudder.

“Climb on,” ordered Kazin when the transformation was complete.

The companions approached the monstrous beast and Zylor gave the dwarf and skink warrior a boost. He turned to assist the warrior as well, but Sherman was already clambering along the wing to reach the scaly back. The minotaur sprang after him and found a relatively comfortable spot where the wing entered the body.

Kazin turned his head back to peer at them through reptilian eyes. “All set?”

“Yup!” said Sherman. He sounded somewhat nervous but didn’t show it. It was uncomfortable for him because he hated heights.

“Let’s get on with it,” muttered Olag. He didn’t like the thought of flying this way either.

Even Harran wasn’t happy to leave the ground. “Dwarves were meant to be under the ground, not above it,” he had said many times in the past when riding the dragon.

The only one who seemed to be enjoying himself was the minotaur. He grinned as the dragon launched himself high into the air. “I’ve missed this kind of fun!” he cried as the shoreline slipped past and the open water of North Lake sparkled below.

The sound of the wind rushing past competed only with the sound of leathery wings flapping rhythmically as the mainland disappeared from sight entirely. At this point the dragon banked left to a south westerly direction. The sun gleamed over the horizon behind them, reflecting off the water far below.

“Do we have to fly this high?” asked Sherman anxiously, glancing down at the smooth surface of the lake. “It’s really windy so high up.”

“Just hold on tight,” rumbled the dragon. “The height allows me to see over a wider area, and keeps me from being seen by any ships out on the water.”

“We aren’t going to go down the whirlpool again, are we?” asked Olag nervously.

“We are,” said Kazin.

Olag groaned.

“How will we do it?” asked Harran “I recall the last time we had mermaids to help us breathe under water.”

“We won’t need them,” responded Kazin. “My magic will see to that.”

“I hope so,” said Zylor.

“Do you even know where the whirlpool is?” asked Sherman. “Last time it was the magical druid ship that brought us there.”

Kazin laughed and his belly rumbled beneath them. “I’ve had plenty of years to find where the whirlpool was located. It can’t be found by a regular ship because it magically makes them navigate around it without their knowledge. By flying over it, I can see it and fly toward it. I’ve also spent a great deal of time studying how to go back in time. I wouldn’t risk bringing all of you on this journey if I thought it wasn’t achievable with minimal risk. The hardest part will be to cross the swing bridge safely.”

Sherman groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

After that the companions lapsed into silence, their thoughts turned to memories of that adventure years ago. It was an uneventful flight and the companions used the time to catch up on the latest stories since they had last seen one another.

The trip was a long one. The sun passed overhead and then went ahead of them in the west, still reflecting off the vast expanse of water below them. Before long, Kazin began to lower his altitude.

Harran was the first to catch on. “Are we getting close?”

Kazin glanced back at the dwarf who sat forward of the others on his neck. “I can see the whirlpool. It’s almost time.”

Olag looked down. “You must have exceptional eyesight. I can’t see anything.”

“What do you want us to do?” asked Sherman.

“Just sit tight,” answered Kazin. “When we get close, I’ll cast a spell on us to shield us from the water. You won’t even get wet.”

“Then what?” asked Olag nervously.

“Then I’m going to dive into the whirlpool.”

Sherman groaned. “I thought you’d say something like that.”

“Just sit back and hold on tight,” said Kazin. “It could get rough even with the magic.”

“Let’s get it over with,” stated Zylor firmly. “We’ve done it before. It can be done again.”

The whirlpool was finally visible to the rest of the group as it swirled menacingly below them. The water was frothy white and seemed to spiral at incredible speed, particularly in the middle. It came closer and closer as Kazin dove, picking up more and more speed as he plummeted like an arrow. Everyone held on for dear life.

Soon the whirlpool was the only thing visible, its sheer size making them feel inferior as the edges of the whirlpool rose above them and the center beckoned. At last, Kazin cast a spell and an invisible barrier surrounded them. Just before the companions penetrated the water, Kazin tilted his wings back to reduce the drag as the water churned around them. The spiraling water threatened to spin them around, so Kazin cast another spell that compensated. As the water rose above them, it darkened noticeably. Here was where Kazin had to concentrate. The transition between the whirlpool and the void beyond was still an unknown factor. His curiosity was satisfied moments later when the crushing pressure of the water gave way to black nothingness. At this point, Kazin cast a spell to light his surroundings and was thankful he did. A flat obsidian floor was immediately below him, and he barely had time to change course to avoid crashing into it at high speed. As he flew along the endless floor, he slowed and put his clawed feet down to screech to a halt. When he finally came to a stop, he canceled his shield spell and checked on his passengers.