Spell Fade (30 page)

Its head came to rest on his foot, the slender neck stretched out behind. The sword wavered a bit in the air as the dragon opened its eyes to take in the first sight of this new world.

The scene was terrifying. It scrambled backwards as best it could on unused and unsteady limbs, trying to escape the strange creature poised over it. At the same time, Logan was bombarded with feelings of fear, confusion, and abandonment. It was so overwhelming the sword dropped from his limp hands, clattering to the ground. Where was the hate? The rage? The vengeance? Those feelings, he realized, he could only find within himself.

“It’s alright,” Logan cooed, his empty hands held palms out to the frightened beast.

“How did it feel?” Alain’s voice played back in his head again. “What was it like while you were riding the wind on that dragon’s back?”

“You mean before it tried to kill me?” Logan shot back.

“Well, of course.”

He hadn’t been able to keep the smile from his face as he recalled the flight. “It felt … ,” incredible, exciting, free, “right.” The idea that soaring above the clouds on the back of a monstrous beast could feel natural seemed beyond ridiculous. Yet, he had lived it.

Maybe, just maybe, he thought as he approached the confused and still frightened dragon. It had curled into a ball, encircled by its tail, feet tucked under its body, and the still small wings trying to cover its head. As Logan drew near, it slowly raised its head and looked at him with wide eyes. Logan tried to project feelings of calm and moved painfully slow. While it might be frightened, those teeth and claws were still plenty deadly, and he wasn’t sure whether it had plans to use them.

Logan knew almost nothing about babies, of any kind, but he did have an idea of what to do with this one. He knelt in front of it and placed his hands on either side of its head. There was the slightest tinge of resistance, but curiosity was getting the better of it now. What was this creature that seemed able to communicate? Logan couldn’t hear the thought, but he sensed it.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” he mumbled, then leaned forward, placed his forehead against the dragon’s, and opened his mind. It was a process allowing rider and dragon to experience one another’s thoughts and memories, resulting in a unit that could think and act almost as one. The problem was how to coax the newborn into his head. Again, curiosity won out and led the dragon to delve into Logan’s mind.

It could have lasted only a moment, or hours, or even days for all he knew. What he did know was that every memory, thought, feeling, hope, and dream was being replayed right before his eyes. It was like reliving his entire life, including memories he could never recall, like his birth. He would never be able to look at his mother the same way again.

Learning to walk and talk flew by, and that was followed by his training. It was here the dragon lingered. Lessons on dragons from his father, accounts of the war handed down from the precious few survivors, and even illustrations of the atrocities committed by both dragon and man – all were laid bare.

There was more, lessons he barely remembered, lessons on the riders. He could sense his own feelings from the memory, and the strongest at this point was boredom. He remembered now how much he hated these lessons more than any other. What use did he have for lessons on riding a dragon? He was a slayer.

This time through he paid closer attention, and not just to the lesson, but also to his father. There was a simple joy in his face and a light in his eyes as he shared these lessons with his son. It was only now he realized these were his father’s favorites. If only his father could have known the feeling of being a rider, he thought as a tear escaped one eye.

After the lessons came his wanderings. Moving from place to place, searching for something, but never finding it. Mixed in between his travels were the women. So many women. Honestly, he had lost count, and did again watching them all go by another time. Was that pride or embarrassment he felt now? He had no regrets about his life, and pride would not have shocked him at all. There it was though, mixed in with the memory, embarrassment. But it wasn’t coming from him.

The last few weeks passed by as a blur and the last image was himself standing, sword raised, over a newborn dragon. The link broke and his eyes opened.

The dragon eyes regarding him now were no longer wide-eyed and full of fear. There was not only intelligence in them, but also age. Logan nervously glanced over his shoulder. He found what he was searching for, his sword, just a little more than an arm’s length away. It was much further than the teeth and claws directly in front of him.

“So,” a decidedly female voice broadcast into his mind. “Which will it be – slayer or rider?”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Where was he? It was a question he kept coming back to, over and over again. What started as little more than a footpath in the valley gradually widened into a road large enough to accommodate a wagon, but he had yet to see any signs of life. The answer, therefore, remained the same: the Northern Kingdom. Then, after spending a night alone in the desolate landscape, the question was the same, but the subject changed.

Where was he?
became something he wondered about Alain. The wizard was supposed to be his guide, but had yet to ‘catch up’. Each step he took, and twist he followed that did not reveal a waiting Alain only made his anger grow.

The wizard had yet to show up when he actually wanted him around. Although, why should that be such a surprise? He had never been there when he wondered about his father as a child, so why should now be any different?

Dartan stopped mid-stride. Where did that come from? He had given no more than a passing thought to his father in over ten years. Assured by Mother his father’s absence had been ‘for the best’, he had put aside any fantasy of him suddenly reappearing in his life.

“You might want to hide.” Alain’s voice and image materialized in front of him, and Dartan found himself wishing in equal measure that Logan was still around to give him some warning, and for a change of underclothes.

“What?” was all he could manage in reply.

“There’s a patrol headed this way. You may want to hide.”

The only thing close by affording any type of cover was a medium sized boulder. It had been deposited near the path by some landslide in the past, and Dartan headed straight for it. As he crouched uncomfortably behind it, Alain remained in the middle of the road.

“Don’t you think maybe you should hide too?” Dartan suggested in a harsh whisper.

“Don’t be absurd,” Alain said dismissively. “You’re the only one who can see or hear me.”

Dartan’s jaw snapped shut. “How long has that been true?” he asked with some alarm.

“Quiet!” Alain replied, but Dartan barely heard him. His mind was racing, recalling every moment Alain had been around. Everyone else had seen him too, he was sure of it. Wasn’t he? And his companions. They were real as well, right? He quickly realized that crouched behind a rock, hiding because a man only he could see had told him to, was not the best place to question one’s sanity. As he started to stand, he heard approaching footsteps. Alain appeared in front of him.

“Stay still,” he said. “I’ll let you know once they’ve passed.” The uneven steps passed by his hiding spot with no hesitation, and Dartan decided to chance a quick glance around the boulder. What he saw was three men, their attention focused equally on two tasks: passing a flask between them, and trying not to stumble.

“That’s what you had me hide from?” Dartan pointed towards the receding soldiers. “A patrol of three men, who are not marching so much as staggering?”

“Keep your voice down,” Alain insisted.

“Why?” Dartan was growing bold. “Aren’t I a ‘great wizard’? Am I not more than a match for three drunken idiots?”

He had crossed a boundary somewhere. He could see it almost immediately in Alain’s eyes. The concern and slight annoyance that had been there were replaced with fiery disappointment and anger before Dartan could even blink. One part of him was pleased to have finally gotten some response out of the wizard, but the rest wished it could have been accomplished with a different emotion. Alain’s posture straightened, and Dartan swore the old man grew nearly a foot in height, towering over and looking down upon him.

“With great power, comes great ego.” While his face did nothing to disguise his anger, Alain’s voice was clear, loud, and nearly emotionless.

Dartan did his best not to sound intimidated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Alain took a deep breath and stepped back from Dartan. He returned to normal size, and the fire in his eyes dimmed. “It means I have seen more great wizards killed by their own pride, arrogance, and over confidence than anything else.”

Dartan was silent, and refused to meet the glare he could feel burning the top of his head.

“That attitude,” Alain continued, “is one of the reasons I told Marion to keep you away from magic and wizards. I wanted you to grow up without thinking magic was the solution to every problem.” Alain straightened his back again, although he didn’t appear a foot taller this time. “For a moment there I was truly proud of you, Dartan.”

Dartan lifted his head. The fire in Alain’s eyes had completely died, replaced with the dark emotionless stare to which he had grown accustomed.

“I asked you to hide,” Alain explained, seeing the question in Dartan’s eyes. “And you went straight for cover, without once thinking of magic. As hard as sending you away was, I knew in that moment, it had been the right decision.” Alain shook his head slowly. “Then you refer to yourself as a ‘great wizard’, and remind me how quickly power corrupts. How much have I changed you in such a short span of time?”

Dartan lowered his head. Did he actually feel shame? Did he care about making this man proud? More importantly,
why
did he care? They were all questions he just didn’t have time for. Aliet was waiting.

“I still don’t see why I had to hide,” Dartan mumbled with a shrug, and headed back to the road.

Alain remained still, but let out a frustrated breath. “What would you have done?”

“What?” Dartan turned back to face him, but Alain had disappeared.

“What would you have done?” Alain reappeared in the middle of the road, startling Dartan again. “They’re right on top of you, both of you surprised. What’s your move?”

Silent moments ticked by, and Alain began tapping his foot impatiently.

“I’m thinking!” Dartan declared defensively.

“Therein lies the problem,” Alain said. “Too many choices. Too many options. While you’re trying to decide whether to bury them in a landslide, or make yourself disappear, all they have to do is swing a sword. You’re dead before you can even think of a third option.”

He was right, of course, but Dartan felt no need to concede. Instead, he simply replied, “I have a sword as well,” indicating the scabbard at his side.

“Indeed you do,” Alain agreed. “And had you suggested using it, then we would have had an entirely different argument.”

Arguing with a wizard is like arguing with yourself – even when you’re right, you’re wrong. Dartan wasn’t familiar with the saying, but he had already learned the truth of it. Defeated, he shook his head and continued on past Alain without another word.

It was several minutes before Alain reappeared, and when he did, it was well ahead of Dartan. He had taken his place as guide. The two men continued on in silence for over an hour, and watching Alain disappear and reappear without a sound made Dartan wonder again. The next time Alain appeared near him, Dartan broke the silence.

“When you said I am the only one that can see or hear you,” he started.

“Yes?”

“That hasn’t always been true, has it?” he asked haltingly, not sure he really wanted it answered.

Alain shot him a backwards glance, and Dartan was sure he saw a small grin under the wizard’s beard.

“Of course not,” he replied, turning away to hide the now widening smile. “Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering why the change,” Dartan replied coolly, hiding his relief.

“You’re the only one that needs to see me now,” he explained, to which Dartan nodded. It had already come in handy once, and should they ever get to a more populated area, it would give them a huge advantage. “Plus, it requires a lot less power.”

“Why are you worried about using your power?”

Alain turned again with that same small smile. “Haven’t you been paying attention, Dartan?” Apparently not, because his confused expression didn’t change. “Look at me, and remember how I looked just a month ago.” He faced Dartan, stepping closer.

It was the same face, except, the closer he looked, the less it looked the same. The wrinkles around his mouth and eyes were deeper and more numerous. The cheeks were thinner, darker bags under the eyes, more white in the beard. Had it really been only a month?

“I’m dying, Dartan,” he stated. “The sands are almost to an end and they run faster when I use magic.”

“Then stop using magic.”

A single laugh escaped Alain’s lips. “I have no idea how to stop.” He turned and took up his position as lead, but stopped after a few steps. “Besides,” he added, “without magic I’d just be trapped in my body, lying in bed, waiting for Death to finally find me.” He looked back and gave Dartan a small wink. “I’d rather not be there when he shows up to collect.”

In spite of the morbid and depressing subject, Dartan couldn’t help but smile back. As Alain continued forward, Dartan could only shake his head. Damned if he didn’t like the old wizard. It would have been perfectly acceptable, if not for the fact it meant he also liked the father who abandoned him. For that, he hated himself.

When Alain had said he was proud of him, Dartan was both elated and disgusted at the same time. Then he remembered what Alain had said about his mother’s death. He wasn’t permitted to blame Alain the man, so he blamed Alain the wizard. Dartan would do the same. He wanted to make the wizard proud, not the father.