Theft of Dragons (Princes of Naverstrom) (30 page)

She almost laughed dismissively at the ridiculous notion, but she stopped herself and kept her eyes interested.

"You see the mind of a fish is incredibly dull and easily suggestive." He stabbed the air with a bony finger. "You just prod inside their meager minds and make mention of a trove of insects on the surface and they'll believe your suggestion. Sounds silly, but it's not, it's quite true. Give it a try? The chanting is simple and the finger flourish a bit finicky, but I suspect you'll do all right."

His hands danced and Sebine memorized and duplicated his movements, listening to the chants bubbling from the sorcerer's mouth. Soon she'd perfected both and took aim at a fat fish feeding on algae at the bottom of the clear, swift river. She sent a simple picture to the trout, a memory of a swarm of mosquitoes buzzing along the water's surface, a memory from a few years ago in the summer with her mother by a lake.

The trout jerked and twitched its tail and charged towards her, towards the origin of the suggestion. Sebine flailed her hands in shock at the swiftness of its movements, and despite Master Vhelan's shouts to yank it to the surface, she stood there in stunned surprised as the fish leapt and open-mouthed, bit at the imaginary insects.

"Now you've learned another origin spell. Manipulating the mind of a fish is not so much different than manipulating a dog, or a horse, or even a human. Though each gets progressively more complex. Imagine the layers and layers of suggestions you'd need to deliver to the mind of a human in order to bend their will to yours."

The old sorcerer glanced back at the dragons. "Now imagine how much exponentially harder it is to rule the mind of a dragon. It takes most sorcerers a lifetime to master."

Chapter Thirty-One

AFTER ANOTHER FULL day of flying, the group gazed at the Ferelian Sea as the sun blazed low over the rippling ocean. Master Vhelan had guided them from memory and soon Tael could see a large village set at the mouth of a river as it spilled into the ocean. The old sorcerer led them to a series of sheer walls set high away from the village, and the dragons seemed to recognize a group of caves carved into the cliffs.

Inside the largest cave, they unloaded the gold from the packs and opened them to the enraptured eyes of the dragons.

"Leave them here and they'll nest until we return." Master Vhelan and the sorcerers stared at the dragons for a few heartbeats as if speaking to them in their minds. "They'll hunt but we asked them to keep away from the village. Don't worry, they won't go anywhere, and the gold is undoubtedly safe under their protection."

"And the villagers are friendly?" Bishop Draven winked at the old sorcerer, who scowled in disapproval at the priest's lewd look of longing.

"They won't kill a representative of the Calathian Church. And once they find out you're a Bishop, they're likely to declare you a local saint in the hopes of ensnaring the gods' luck for their fishermen."
 

The sorcerer shuffled softly over to the cliff's edge, with his fellows scurrying after him. "
The leap of faith
, the old devotees of the Qalian Religion used to call it, where most of the fervent fell futilely to their deaths. A short-lived religion, history tells us. They lacked a sufficient quantity of sorcerers to guide their jumps."

"Can't we just walk down like normal humans?" said the Bishop. "Or just ask the dragons to give us a lift?"

"No way to hike down, unless you excel at rock climbing, and even then the cliffs are sandstone and dangerous." Master Vhelan glanced back at the gaping maw of the cave. "And the dragons have worked hard all day carrying us, let's give them a rest, shall we? Now let's see, who's going to join me?"

"Wait a minute." Kealian raised a hand to stop the sorcerer. "We have too few magicians to make the jump."

Master Vhelan laughed and flourished his hands and mumbled a few words, and caused the knight to rise into the air. The man flailed his arms and legs in response, his face stricken with discomfort. The other sorcerers continued casting the spell until all the soldiers levitated.
 

Tael noticed Sebine copying her master's movements and soon found himself defying gravity, much to the delight of the Princess. Lastly, Master Vhelan cast the spell on the Bishop, who seemed resigned and almost pleased that his body didn't need to bear the brunt of his girth.

After Sebine had finished casting the spell on herself, Tael heard Kealian's concerned voice speak to the old sorcerer. "How do we bloody move? Is this a proper flying spell or do we just float around, flailing in the fucking air?"

"I could throw a lasso around you and drag you down, I suppose that would be the easiest." Master Vhelan chuckled at the knight, then quickly stopped himself as he saw the fury in Kealian's eyes. "Listen, it's really quite simple, just fix your eyes on a place you want to go and you'll go—just like walking."

The hard-faced knight looked up at the top of the cave's mouth and with a smooth acceleration flew over towards the rocky face. The other soldiers followed suit and joined him laughing and shouting at their newfound ability.

"This is not an entertainment spell," Master Vhelan said, his eyes fatigued. "The more you fly the more we deplete ourselves of magical reserves and will need to rest. And this particular spell is very draining."

Master Greyth snapped his fingers and a dust devil formed on the ground beside him. He stepped onto the cloud and it carried him off the cliff where he flew down towards the sea far below. The others joined his descent, and Tael, feeling giddy at the freedom, swam through the air towards their destination like he was underwater. Sebine rolled her eyes at him while he made bubbling sounds with his mouth.

Soon they reached the Ferelian Sea on the outskirts of the village as darkness firmly set its hold over the day. Master Vhelan cast a spell towards the sea and a small sailing cutter appeared in the water, masts popping under the firm breeze. He motioned them towards the vessel, and with some trepidation Tael flew over and landed on the deck, surprised at how the sorcerer had the power to conjure an entire ship.

"It's an illusion," the old sorcerer explained. The others in the group settled on deck and the soldiers rapped their boots on the wood and seized the railing.
 

"Pretty damn good illusion." Bishop Draven sauntered over to the ship's wheel and turned it left and right, a puzzled look on his face. "So this wheel turning in my hands, and the feel of the wood, is all an illusion? Just in my mind?"

Master Vhelan smiled a frightful, knowing smile and released a bubbling wave of energy at the priest. Draven's face went white in shock as he glanced down and whirled around. To Tael's eyes nothing had changed about the boat, but from how the Bishop moved about, it seemed like the ship had vanished for him.

"Where did it go?" cried the Bishop, and he glanced at the calm eyes of the others. "Has it disappeared for you also?" Heads shaking, the priest calmed himself and fixed a stare at the old sorcerer.

"Ancient Hakkadian lore says that all life is an illusion. A kind of vivid waking dream. The magic of illusions simply plays into your memories and your mind's object definition system. Likely this ship looks different to many of you, since each of your experience seeing and interacting with ships is different."

"To me I see strings of shimmering light emanating from your belly, sorcerer." Master Greyth cleared his throat. "And a haze of soft light bouncing off the heads of these blind fools. How long can you sustain this illusion? And for how many people?"

The old sorcerer grinned with sly, shifting eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know, wizard...."

Tael pondered both their words, wondering what kind of history the two men had with each other. Were they enemies caught in a mutually beneficial peace? How long would it last? The way the sorcerer acted he thought
he
was leading the expedition, and Tael had caught his grandfather's disapproving eyes at the old sorcerer's actions.
 

The cutter caught a gust of wind and the ship glided sleekly through the sea, the sorcerer guiding them towards an old, dilapidated dock outside the village. Set in a valley with steep cliffs on either side, the large village contained crammed-together shacks and wooden buildings higher up, with a menacing stone keep staring down from the highest point of the village. A flock of fishing boats tended vast nets out in the bay, bobbing lanterns creating a shimmering mesh across the water. Tael was curious why the sorcerer refused to sail the ship up to the main docks, but decided that the man wanted to avoid excess attention.
 

When they reached the dock, the group debarked the ship and moved away as if pleased to leave the vessel. An old man at the shore lit a lantern, and with a lame leg hobbled over to meet them. He scratched his balding, scabby head with hairy hands and farted in greeting at their arrival.

"Fine little cutter lass you're sailing there." The man shifted his balls around in his pants and spit out an enormous gob of black goo that stuck onto a pile. "I'm a guessin ye be wantin to avoid pryin eyes, am I right?"

Master Greyth flipped the old man a gold coin and strode past without so much as even a glance. Tael and the others followed the wizard across the creaking, complaining dock until they found comfort in having the earth under their feet. They followed a muddy path to the edge of the village and Tael took Sebine's hand and steered her around the areas with the most muck. He chuckled to himself after glancing at her silk shoes, realizing she hardly had the time to pack for their journey.

The dusty and drab villagers gawked at the group's arrival, and stared at the wizard's blue, silk robe, the blood-red robe of Master Vhelan, the shining, shimmering steel of the knight's chain mail armor, and the gold-trimmed silk of Princess Sebine's robe. Their stares turned reverent as they spotted Bishop Draven's gold and silver robes, and they touched thumbs to their foreheads in a gesture of worship. With holy eyes the priest sauntered up to the prettier girls and placed a thumb of blessing against their foreheads and whispered some invocation into their ears. Tael thought it likely that the Bishop's words were an invitation for a more
personal
prayer session with the priest in the privacy of his soon-to-be-found room.

And the girls smiled with hopeful eyes as they tittered away and merged into small gathered groups of friends gossiping about the strange arrival of the party. Bishop Draven humbly inquired regarding lodging for the night, talking to a wizened old man who appeared to garner the respect of a few well-dressed merchants standing and sipping ale from mugs at an outside bar overlooking the sea. He nodded and listened with fervent interest as the man's wrinkled lips mumbled oft-repeated words and looked to his friends for frequent confirmation.

"Let me guess," said Master Vhelan, an amused expression on his face. "They recommended we stay in the Pale Horse Inn?"

"Oh, why do I even bother, old man." The Bishop huffed as he followed the sorcerer. The reassertion of Master Vhelan's leadership on the party affirmed Tael's earlier suspicions, and his grandfather's raised eyebrows at him sent a silent note of distrust. If it weren't for the Hakkadians control over their dragon mounts, Tael had a feeling his grandfather would insist that they part ways.

Tael felt proud as the Princess paraded herself next to him, her silk gown swishing with the lithe steps of a dancer. Her hand even snaked into his and she beamed at him mischievously, as if granting him the grace of the village girls jealousy. And it worked. All around him young women whispered wistfully to each other, their eyes aiming at him while they shot cruel glances at the Princess. He knew they wanted to be her and shag him.

He grinned and enjoyed the attention, but understood that gossip flew fast in villages and faded just as quickly as the novelty wore off. They rounded mucky street corners lined with milling villagers sitting on porches of dilapidated houses, shops, restaurants, and inns. Higher they climbed until the streets were covered in cobblestone and the buildings painted white and the color of the emerald-blue sea. The few, important-looking people here dressed in pressed cotton and silk and satin, and their pompous faces were a stark contrast to the gleeful, innocent expressions of the poorer throngs below.
 

"We welcome you to Karth, Your Excellency." An unusually tall, distinguished-looking man wearing a stiff black hat and black silk suit stared at Bishop Draven with puzzled eyes. "I didn't realize the Calathian Church sent Bishops on missionary expeditions west. You've missed the Islands of Marr by quite a stretch, I must say. And the only thing you'll find west of here is the pirate town of Glar Bay and the heretics of the Malathian Kingdom. I highly doubt you'll find friendly flocks there." His arrogant chuckle sent snickers through the well-heeled ladies dressed in excessively lacy white gowns.

As Bishop Draven was about to retort, the man interrupted and said, "And how odd, the outlaw Master Greyth Shalinor and the
Hakkadian
...Master Vhelan together in the same group? Without fighting in a wild and wonderful contest of magical power?" He leaned around to face a brooding, indifferent woman. "And here we thought we'd have another boring night of getting ourselves pissed with only the prospect of partaking in the pleasures of each others' wives."