Lusam: The Dragon Mage Wars Book Three (49 page)

Zedd had no idea how he would achieve what Lord Zelroth had commanded him to do: take command of all of his forces outside Lamuria. His new rank of
Baliaeter
was sufficient to take command of such a force, but Lord Zelroth had given him no indication of how he was to usurp the current
Baliaeter
already in command there. If he arrived and simply announced that he was taking command of the forces, he would certainly be challenged by the existing
Baliaeter
. And if that happened, Zedd didn’t stand a chance of winning a direct confrontation with him. Although his new rank was of the same level, his magical ability was certainly not—he would have to choose his tactics wisely.

Descending the mountain was far quicker and easier than their trip up it had been. Zedd simply levitated himself and Cole down the almost vertical walls, avoiding the many switchback paths they had been forced to use during their accent. Zedd could tell that Cole was very nervous each time they stepped off the mountainside to levitate down to the next plateau. He obviously thought Zedd would let him fall to his death, knowing that he couldn’t levitate himself if he did. It had crossed Zedd’s mind to let him fall, but the truth was, Cole was no longer a liability to him. In fact, his strong mental abilities had already been proven beyond doubt against the Darkseed Elite in Coldmont, and Zedd was confident he could make use of them again in the future. Everything Cole knew about Zedd’s indiscretions would now almost certainly remain a secret. Cole had already lied to Lord Zelroth, so he could no longer report Zedd’s actions to anyone, and it was extremely unlikely that anyone other than Lord Zelroth himself was powerful enough to read his mind directly. So as long as he didn’t annoy him too much, Zedd would let him live, for now at least.

It took them a further two days to traverse the foothills of The Elveen Mountains, before they finally emerged from the treeline onto a road. Zedd had no idea where they were, so he decided to head directly south, towards Lamuria. They hadn’t eaten anything for almost three days, and were both very relieved to find a copse of fruit trees growing by the side of the road, not far from where they had joined it.

Four hours later they arrived at a small village. Zedd recognised it as one he had passed through on his way to Helveel several months earlier, and if his memory was correct, it would put them about three days north of Stelgad. Zedd’s first thought had been to simply destroy the village, kill anyone who got in his way, and take what they needed for their trip south. But once he’d taken a moment to think about it, he came up with a far better plan, one that would not require him to use up most of his dwindling reserves of energy. Neither of them had eaten much for days, nor had they had any meaningful rest in that time. What Zedd
really
needed right now, was a hearty meal and a proper bed for the night. There would be no point at all in arriving exhausted and bedraggled at Lamuria, especially if he
did
end up having to confront the current
Baliaeter
there. No, he wouldn’t waste his energy here. Not when he could use Cole’s instead.

“We should spend the night at that inn, and recover our strength before we continue,” Zedd announced, pointing towards the two storey building across the street.

“Oh, do you have some Afaraon coin?” Cole asked, sounding a little surprised, and hopeful at the same time.

“Of course not, you fool!” Zedd spat at him, making him cringe. “Why would I need their coins, when I have you?” Cole stared at him, not knowing what he meant, and too afraid to ask. Although Lord Zelroth had also promoted him to the rank of
Baliaeter
—meaning Zedd could no longer kill him using his ring—it didn’t mean he would survive a direct attack from Zedd.

Zedd sighed loudly, dismayed at his travelling companion’s stupidity.

“You have level eight mind control. Use it to get us a bed and a meal,” Zedd said slowly and clearly, as if speaking to a dullard. Cole nodded mutely, and stared towards the inn opposite. He had never attempted to control the mind of another person before. Only Inquisitors were allowed to undertake the mind control of another Empire citizen. He knew how to do it in theory, but knowing how to do something, and actually doing it, were two completely different things. Then there was the limiting fact that mind control only worked for a short period of time, depending on the individuals natural resistance. There was no possible way he could maintain that amount of control long enough to achieve what Zedd was suggesting. The more complex the suggestion was to the victim’s mind, the more chance there was of him or her discovering the deception.

“I don’t think I can do it. I would need to keep control of their mind for far too long. It’s just not possible to do,” Cole said. Zedd closed his eyes, and tried to calm his anger at the fool standing before him.

“You wouldn’t need to keep control of anyone, you idiot. I will ask for what we need, and suggest we pay for it in the morning. All you have to do is make whoever we speak to think that’s acceptable. Or is that beyond your ability too?” Zedd replied through gritted teeth. He didn’t wait for an answer, he simply strode towards the inn. Either Cole would succeed, or he would kill whoever was inside. It made no difference to him either way.

As it turned out, it didn’t become necessary to kill anyone. Cole not only managed to convince the innkeeper to allow them to pay for their food and lodgings the following morning, he actually kept his word, too. After the previous evening’s meal, he had
suggested
to a table of wealthy looking traders that he might join their card game, to which of course, they readily agreed. By the time Cole left the card game and retired to his room, the poor traders had little more left than the shirts on their backs. The next morning they didn’t even have to steal any horses or supplies, they simply bought them with some of Cole’s ill-gotten funds.

“So, how much money did you actually take off those men?” Zedd asked quietly, as they set off south on horseback.

“More than enough so we don’t have to sleep rough again, or worry about replacing these horses,” Cole replied grinning at Zedd.

“Good. Just remind me never to play cards with you in the future,” said Zedd, kicking his horse into a gallop. Cole smiled to himself, knowing that was probably as close to a compliment he was ever likely to hear from Zedd, then he too spurred his horse into a gallop after him.

‘
If all goes well, we should reach Stelgad in a couple of days at this pace, then Lamuria in another seven or eight,
’ Zedd thought to himself, glad for a second time that he hadn’t killed Cole.

***

As Lord Zelroth entered the large hexagonal shaped room, the chained Netherworld creature shrieked fiercely in the far corner, violently testing its chains and their anchors with its great strength. The
Aznavor
was unique on this side of The Great Rift. It had been captured before the end of The Dragon-Mage Wars, and held captive by several early warlords in Thule, before Lord Zelroth had found it, and bound it in its current prison.

It was deep red in colour with shiny scales, and looked like a strange giant decapitated floating head, with a huge single cat-like eye in the centre of its skull. Its immense mouth was filled with thin razor sharp teeth, each one six inches long and curved inwards. It had no limbs, apart from six long tentacles that sprouted from its head, each one tipped with what appeared to be a blind eye. But Lord Zelroth had discovered their true use many centuries ago. The
Aznavor
was similar to a
Vesdari,
in the sense that it would consume any and all magical energy it came into contact with, but there, the similarities ended. It didn’t consume the magical energy as voraciously as a
Vesdari
, nor did it explode when it reached its full capacity. Instead, Lord Zelroth had discovered—by feeding it many prisoners of The Thule Empire—that it slowly bled out its magical energy again over time. At first he believed the magical energy simply re-entered the world at large, but later he discovered the truth: it was sent back to the Netherworld.

After Lord Zelroth realised the magic wasn’t being vented locally, he set about proving his new theory that the energy was being sent back to the Netherworld somehow. He believed that if the energy could enter the Netherworld, then maybe he could force open that conduit and allow his God, Aamon to escape. It took the lives of three of his best Inquisitors before the truth was finally discovered. Each one of them had attempted to form a mind-link with the creature while it vented its magical energy, and each one had ended up fully drained himself. Once the
Aznavor
locked onto an energy source, it would never relinquish that source until it was fully exhausted. It wasn’t until the fourth attempt that they discovered if they fed the
Aznavor
to capacity first—to start the venting process—then gave it another life to feed on during that venting process, the Inquisitor could then safely mind-link with the creature. As long as the mind-link was severed before the prisoner died, the Inquisitor was in no danger. Soon after their initial success, it was confirmed that the energy that the
Aznavor
vented, was indeed being sent back to the Netherworld.

At first, Lord Zelroth attempted to use the energy stream to force open a crack in The Great Rift, but he soon found that no matter what he tried, he could not influence the energy stream in any way, whatsoever. One unintended side effect of all the new magical energy being sent to the Netherworld, had been an accumulation of creatures gathering on the other side of The Great Rift, to feed on it. Eventually, that had attracted the attention of Aamon himself, and he was then able to use the
Aznavor’s
energy stream to communicate with the outside world. Ever since then, Lord Zelroth had been communicating and taking his commands directly from his God, Aamon.

There were five prisoners in the room. Each one magically bound and guarded by a Darkseed Elite guard. Most prisoners were usually from the lower classes of society, but they were all magi, and capable of using magic to one degree or another. They were selected at random from a large pool of prisoners, and all knew their possible fate once they entered the
Aznavor
room. Lord Zelroth’s method of delivering the prisoners to the
Aznavor
had changed over the years. At first, he had brought only the number of prisoners required for each successful communication. But he soon realised that almost every prisoner wasted a large amount of their magical energy trying to escape, knowing that their death was inevitable when they were fed to the
Aznavor
. Now he brought more than he needed, selected them at random, and always made sure at least one returned back to the general prison population. Any prisoner who tried to escape, became next in line for the
Aznavor
. It was a simple, and very effective way of controlling the prisoners, without wasting their magical energy in the process. It seemed that even a one in five chance of surviving the trip to the
Aznavor
room was enough to keep most of the prisoners in line.

Lord Zelroth finished his preparations and turned to address the prisoners.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen, oh, and lady,” he said, inclining his head slightly towards the woman within the group. “I’m sure you already know why you are all here, and what might happen to you within this room. I’m afraid, everything you have heard is true. But I
can
promise you two things. Firstly, not everyone in this room needs to die today. Not unless any of you are foolish enough to try and escape, that is. And secondly, if you
are
selected, I can assure you that no amount of struggling will change the outcome of your fate. All it will do is shorten the amount of time you will have, once the
Aznavor
starts feeding on you. So, you may be asking yourself this question: why shouldn’t I fight back, when I’m going to die anyway? Well let me tell you. If you try to fight back and waste your energy reserves, one or more of those people standing next to you, will have to make up that deficit. If that happens, it’s quite possible that none of you may live to see tomorrow. Then I would have the hardship of sending for more prisoners,” Lord Zelroth said with a sarcastic smile.

Standing to the side of the room was a single Inquisitor in bright red robes. At a silent command from Lord Zelroth he walked slowly to the centre of the room, stopping briefly in front of each prisoner to assess their magical capabilities on his way. Lord Zelroth turned his back to the prisoners, and began to chant a spell over and over. At first nothing seemed to happen, but after a moment a small silver disc appeared in front of him, floating at about chest height. It seemed to be spinning in mid air, and gradually increased in size, until it was twice the height of Lord Zelroth, and four times as wide. When he finally finished the incantation, the giant disc resembled a pool of silver liquid, rippling and moving as if disturbed by some great unseen force. Lord Zelroth signalled the Inquisitor, and the process began.

The Inquisitor pointed to one of the prisoners, and his legs buckled under him with fear. He pleaded for his life, as the Darkseed Elite dragged him back to his feet, but no one took any notice of him. The other prisoners remained silent and still, not wanting to draw attention to themselves in any way, while their fellow cellmate was dragged towards the waiting
Aznavor
. The creature shrieked with anticipation, knowing it was about to be fed once more. It surged forwards towards the man, straining at its bonds, reaching towards him with its six long tentacles, and opening its huge jaws to reveal the utter blackness within. It seemed to be reaching for the man with every essence of its being, but he remained just out of reach of the creature, whimpering and begging for his life. One push from the Darkseed Elite, and the man came within range of the creature’s influence. He froze in place, fighting against the mental control it exerted over him. Every blind-eyed tentacle now pointing directly towards him, and boring its way into his mind. He screamed in absolute terror, when first his left leg took an involuntary step towards the creature, then his right followed it. Each agonizing step took him closer to the creature, and his ultimate death. As he came closer to the creature, its control over his body became absolute, and the man walked right up to it. The
Aznavor
opened its huge jaws, reared up, and swallowed the top half of the man whole, clamping its thin six inch long fangs into his chest. The man screamed in agony, but the
Aznavor
didn’t bite deep enough to kill him. Instead, it started to drain his magical energy slowly through its razor sharp fangs.