The Realms of the Dragons 2

FREEDOM'S PROMISE

Kythorn, the Year of Wild Magic (1372 DR)

The ancient blue wyrm rolled lazily onto his stomach, fully rousing himself from his long slumber. He shifted, and coins and gems embedded in his azure hide fell from his body and clanked in the pool of treasure upon which he rested. His enormous orbs peered around the cave as he took note of every precious item that sprawled around him. The titanic beast magically dismissed the remaining wards around his lair with a sigh, allowing the visitor entrance to this innermost portion of the cavern.

"Well met, Gerinvioch," said the unfortunate intruder as he finally came into view, brushing sand and dust from his violet cloak.

Dampened by sweat, short, graying hair was matted so tightly against the human's steeply sloped forehead that it almost seemed as if his face simply continued on into his hair, flesh becoming strands of gray. The emblems embroidered on the sleeves of the man's robes announced him as a citizen of Estagund.

"You are Gerinvioch, are you not?" the man said as he continued to primp his robe.

A long moment passed as the dragon considered the human who stood before him, a wizard to judge from appearances. Gerinvioch blinked and let out a slow yawn.

"Dragon! You will hear me!"

The old wyrm sprang to his feet, lunging forward, coming to a stop with his single-horned snout mere inches from the stunned human's face. A smile widened on his reptilian lips as he slowly pulled his head back.

"I would ask you some questions, dragon," the wizard said as his body slowly gave up its rigid posture and went slack.

Laughter erupted from Gerinvioch's belly, resounding off the stone walls in a cacophony of mirth. "Would you give audience to an ant?" the wyrm responded. He continued, not allowing the human a chance to speak. "Seeking to procure some of my treasure for yourself? Where are your fellow thieves then, bug?"

"Treasure? Why would I want a pile of such worthless refuse as this?" the wizard replied, extending his arm to sweep across the cache of riches in the cavern. "What I seek, you could never own. What I seek requires real power to wield."

Gerinvioch stared silently at the man, the anticipation welling up in him.

"The item is somewhere here in the Dust Desert," the man began after clearing his throat. "You have made your home in these lands for many years, so I thought I might be able to use one relic," the wizard continued with a beaming grin, "to find another."

Gerinvioch returned the human's grin and replied, "Truly, you believe this item is valuable since you have come to face me, a Great Blue" the dragon said, emphasizing his heritage. "What is this object you seek, human?"

"It is called the Evise Jhontil. It was a divinely inspired gift from Set to his disciples," he responded sanctimoniously, obviously doubtful of the item's ecclesiastical origin.

Gerinvioch quickly cast his eyes downward.

"You've heard of it," the man stated more than asked. "Where is it? You must tell me!" he exclaimed, his bottom lip quivering.

"You do not want that item, wizard."

"Where is it?" the man replied, almost lunging forward.

"The finest clergy of Set and wizards in their employ could not control it," Gerinvioch asserted, pleased to see the man's anxious reaction.

"Where they failed, Kinase Bronihim will succeed, as he always does."

"Bronihim?" the wyrm said, his booming voice trailing off sharply. "Of Estagund…"

"Yes," the wizard replied as his head gave a slow turn.

"You are the one who defeated the Ancient Green, Ronatsi-naderin?" the dragon said, hoping the man would take the bait.

"Yes, I dispatched the sniveling coward," Bronihim said, standing taller, his face flushing at the same time. "How did you hear of that?"

"All of my kind for hundreds of miles know of it," Gerinvioch replied, doing his best not to smile at the man's lie. The wyrm congratulated himself on the ruse. Ronatsinaderin's death-of old age Gerinvioch reminded himself-would serve an enjoyable purpose on this day. To be sure, the old green was no friend of Gerinvioch's, but no wyrm deserved to have his death attributed to some human peasant. "I battled Ronatsinaderin myself, once," Gerinvioch said, lifting one of his enormous wings to reveal a deep, pale scar of two long, jagged lines. If the human insisted upon lying, why shouldn't he?

"I see I fared better than you did," the wizard said, his arms wide, as he slowly spun around once in place.

"So it would seem," Gerinvioch replied.

"Where is the artifact? I did not come here to discuss the worthless carcass of that miserable beast," the man said, obviously anxious to steer the conversation back to his desired goal.

"Why do you seek it?" Gerinvioch asked, peering at the man closely. "For its power?"

"For the same reason you lust after treasure, I'd imagine. Because I want it, and it should be mine," the wizard said, sweat now forming on his face.

"Its power is too great, human. No one could control it forever," Gerinvioch said, closing his enormous eyes slowly and pulling in a long, haggard breath. "No one."

"I, unlike many," Bronihim said, casting a sideways glance toward the dragon, "am more than capable of mastering its secrets."

A soft growl began wafting from the dragon's throat, building to a grating rumble, though he wanted nothing more than to laugh. The human was perfect in his arrogance. The wizard's hands began the gestures of a spell. The dragon ceased his vocalization and took a slow step back. The man's gesticulations stopped.

Gerinvioch almost let slip his mirth, but chided himself and continued to slink away.

"You must tell me where to find it," the wizard said, his voice taking on a frantic velveteen quality as though he were coaxing a child.

Gerinvioch could enjoy his game for many hours, but reminded himself of the short attention span of humans. It was time to let the trap unfold.

"Leave this place and travel south, staying close to the mountain line. When you reach the tallest peak, turn east. After some distance, you will see an unusually large rock rising from the desert sands. It is near there," the dragon said, lowering his head slightly.

"Where from the rock?" the wizard shouted as he strode toward the creature.

"I left it near there long ago. I don't know exactly where," the dragon replied, recoiling from the man.

"If I find you have deceived me, wyrm…" the wizard trailed off as he turned to leave.

"You will find your end lies within its magic, Gruanthe," Gerinvioch said, relishing that his genuine warning would only spur the idiotic human on further.

"Is that a derogatory term for humans in your language, wyrm?"

"My apologies. It is a name," Gerinvioch replied, hiding a smile. "You simply remind me of someone."

The wizard threw one last scowl over his shoulder as he departed.

After the man left, the great dragon lay back down on his bed of treasure, luxuriating in its cold embrace, and began to chuckle. Gruanthe would have liked this Bronihim, Gerinvioch thought. Then again, perhaps not. Shared goals often seemed desirable among humans, though the wyrm guessed that lust for power would be a rather divisive one to have in common. No matter, he thought. It always ended the same for those with the foolish desire to wield that kind of power and the single-mindedness not to recognize their folly. Gerinvioch had ensured that of two such fools now.

Kinase Bronihim floated several inches over the searing desert sands as he crested yet another dune. Finally, he spotted the stone he had been seeking. Standing three times taller than Bronihim, its ruddy form erupted out of the sand. After a quick inspection of the area, Bronihim continued east from the rock, figuring it as good a direction as any to begin his search. He cast a minor detection spell but could find no magic in the vicinity at all.

Bronihim looked up to the blazing sun and muttered curses at the blue wyrm under his breath. It had been many hours since he had left the dragon's lair, and he was beginning to think he had been deceived. He continued on, averting his eyes from the sun and blinking the spots from them. Suddenly he shifted his weight to the left and stumbled to the ground to avoid walking directly into the wall of a small hut. He stood, brushing himself off, and blinked in disbelief as he saw brightly colored thatched-roofed huts all around. Where there had been only the open desert a moment before stood a small town.

He turned to see a woman on the street run away, screaming as she went. Doors to many of the homes creaked open slightly as their wary inhabitants peered out. Emerging from a side street, a dark-skinned, muscular young man approached him and offered a smile.

"What is this place? " Bronihim asked, still craning his head around to take in the sight.

"Please come with me and I will take you to someone who can answer your questions," the man answered.

Bronihim followed the man to one of the huts closer to the center of town and entered to find a dim room. The air was full of incense and a plethora of furniture sat strewn about. A woman sat wide-eyed on a couch near the center of the room. She nodded to the young man who had escorted the wizard, and he took his leave. Her sharp, angular face held pleasant warmth but seemed almost harsh when viewed in context with her exceedingly lithe frame.

"I am Moriandro of Lliiress," she said.

"Kinase Bronihim of Chavyondat. What is this place? I know of no towns in Raurin."

"That you do not know it exists is not surprising," the woman said.

Bronihim considered her for a moment. Her eyes seemed to hold kindness and what he thought might be pity. Why this woman would pity him he could not imagine.

He said, "I came seeking-"

"The Evise Jhontil," Moriandro put in.

The wizard's face almost swallowed itself with an enormous grin. "You know where it is, then?"

"It is here, in the center of our town," she said, her shoulders slumping.

"Have you the authority to bargain for it?" Bronihim said.

The tall woman laughed, shaking her head. She motioned for him to have a seat.

Bronihim enjoyed bargaining, as did all his people. He doubted that the woman would be a challenge, but as he sat, he subtly began the gestures to a spell that would allow him to discern her honesty all the same.

"No! You must stop!" the woman shouted, lunging forward and grabbing his moving fingers with startling speed and force.

Bronihim sat in stunned silence for several moments as he watched Moriandro calm herself. He could not bring himself to mention what should have felt like an affront to him. Her touch was genuine and warm. She stopped him for reasons other than wanting to prevent him from gaining the upper hand in their dealings. Of that he felt certain.

"You are from Chavyondat, in Estagund," she said after several moments. "Do you know the name Aniolon Gruanthe?" she asked.

Bronihim's eyes widened at the mention of the same name the dragon had used. "You do, don't you?"

Bronihim's brow furrowed and he found himself slowly sinking further into the chair opposite the lovely woman. "The wyrm used-" he began. "Gerinvioch," Moriandro said, interrupting Bronihim.

"You know…" Bronihim began but found that his throat was tightening.

"Yes, we know the name Gerinvioch here. We know it well. It does not surprise me that he taunted you with the name of Aniolon Gruanthe," Moriandro said, gritting her teeth.

"Who is this Gruanthe?" the wizard asked, his original goal unexpectedly seeming very far away.

"Let me tell you of him and those of our ancestors who followed him here to their end in the Year of Slaying Spells," she said.

"This town has been here for three-hundred and ninety-six years?" Bronihim said, the doubt clear in his voice.

"It has been that long, then?" the woman asked, her shoulders slumping. "A few generations ago people tired of keeping time, and without the records of those years we have found it fruitless to begin again."

"How could you not…?"

"I promise, I will explain, but you must let me do so in my own way," she said.

Kinase Bronihim nodded, not knowing what he would say even if he were so inclined.

Moriandro paused, drew a long breath, and began her tale.

Aniolon Gruanthe walked through the fledgling town he had so recently founded. He took in the sights of his people forging their new life in the wasteland. Workers dug foundations for homes, while mud for their walls was mixed with pigments of various sorts to make the new homes vibrantly colored. The short man ran his stubby fingers through his thinning black hair and smiled.

"Aniolon, are you sure this is the only way?" asked the redheaded woman behind him.

He turned to regard her, his eyes following the soft lines of her voluptuous curves hidden only by a few scraps of bright red silk that barely served to provide even minimal modesty.

Aniolon ran his fingers over her bared hip as he leaned into her and replied, "Lliira and Sharess have blessed our journey and our town. How can we be wrong?"

A tall, old man in robes similar to Aniolon's moved to stand next to the pair. "Aniolon, you do not devote yourself to either of those goddesses, so please spare me the divinely inspired oratory," he said, then sighed. "We are fools to do this. The rajah's cursed mercenaries are bound to find us, and the powers know it could be soon. We should face them."

"We must preserve our dream, my friend," Aniolon replied, acknowledging the old man's words though still staring into the eyes of the lovely young priestess of Sharess before him. "We cannot defeat the rajah's wizard mercenaries, the poor deluded souls that they are. They are interested only in what their cursed master tells them they are interested in and of course, in the coin he pays them. It is that persecution of a life of duty and obeisance to nobility that we have fled. You should know as well as I that they will never cease their hunt."

"The truth is that you have no idea what you're doing. You simply want to lead… to feel important," the old man countered. "Asking a wyrm for help? This is madness, Aniolon."

"I'm leading you to salvation," Aniolon replied, finally turning to look at the man.

"We can defeat these hired wizards," the old man insisted.

"The wyrm is one, the rajah's hirelings are many… too many," Aniolon said, stepping away from the woman.

"What could we possibly offer this dragon for its help?" the old man inquired.

"We will offer it treasure, or whatever else may interest it," Aniolon replied with a wave of his hand.

Aniolon turned and shouted to the working townspeople,

"We are off, friends! Pray to Lliira and Sharess that I will find our way to freedom!"

Those around the wizard shared a concerned glance at his exclusion of anyone other than himself in his declaration. A cheer rose from the crowd. Some of the people waved, others shouted phrases of well-wishing to the departing group, and still others simply took the opportunity to rest themselves.

Aniolon stared on as some of the people opted for more pleasurable endeavors during their break. He watched as a short man and a young woman many years his junior embraced, kissing deeply. Their hands explored one another, each slowly divesting the other's body of its minimal clothing. Many of the townsfolk stopped to watch the two lovers, some of them forming their own pairs or groups to pursue similar activities. Aniolon drank in the view before him and grinned. A scene like the one unfolding before him would have been akin to heresy in Estagund, he knew.

He had found these people and they had showed him a different way of living. In turn, he had promised to lead them to a place where they could practice their religions and lifestyles as they saw fit, free from Estagund's so-called noble rulers. All it had cost them was to include him in their ways. Aniolon had to admit to enjoying the deference these people offered. That was pleasant, indeed, he thought. He had railed against the tyrannical rulers of Estagund in his speeches to them, inspiring them to ask him to lead them. Freedom was precious, after all.

One of the other men standing near him tapped him on the shoulder. Aniolon nodded, sighing softly as he turned away from the lustful vista before him to leave on his journey. Leadership was a harsh burden, he decided.

Aniolon and those he had selected to accompany him arrived at the beast's lair a few hours after they had departed. The magically granted flight had made the trip rather expeditious. With him were two warriors formerly of Estagund, two priests of Lliira, the priestess of Sharess, and the old wizard who had joined her in questioning Aniolon's plan.

The imp that Aniolon had summoned days before, a devious little creature by the name of Quiono, had told him the whereabouts of the dragon and had warned him that the lair would be magically defended. Aniolon had expected no less. He and the old wizard inspected the entrance to the cavern. Much to their surprise, they could find no evidence of any active magical traps or barriers.

They entered, finding a single, large tunnel with walls so perfectly smooth that they could not have been naturally formed. Aniolon wondered how the dragon had carved them so perfectly. Magic? Dwarf slaves? The young wizard would pity any such workers. Fealty to something in which one does not believe deteriorates one's very being. Aniolon strode onward, more resolved than ever. They followed the tunnel for a long while as it twisted erratically, leading them ever downward.

Never in his hundreds of years of life, had a living human entered Gerinvioch's lair. True, a lich had once come in search of a stash of enchanted sapphires for some grand spell, but liches were hardly living. With the proper application of spells of controlling, however, they made excellent guardians for a lair such as this. Gerinvioch mentally dismissed the wards and measures of protection leading into his den, including the annoyingly incessant one that had alerted him to the presence of the intruders in the first place. Excellent indeed, but annoying nevertheless.

Motivation for their intrusion was obvious. The wyrm glanced around his home, the sparkle of the many treasures reflecting in his eyes from their piles. Humans and their greed. Gerinvioch shook his head and prepared himself for a bit of merriment.

Seven? Only seven of these visitors, Gerinvioch thought. It was insulting. He could smell their filth and knew they would be within view at the mouth of his cavern at any moment. The great blue wyrm set his front legs firmly and craned his thick neck. The scales covering his body verily hummed with power and a familiar smell emanating from his own body filled his nostrils. The invaders rounded the final corner and were, at last, in view. He doubted they could see him as well in the murkiness of his home.

He opened his mouth and released the lightning that could accompany his breath. The energy poured from his throat and pulsed past his lips. It was invigorating.

The humans were ill prepared for the assault, as expected. Only one was spared. The tiny man had somehow managed to leap away, finding shelter in the deep shadows behind a stalagmite.

Another of the creatures was on the ground, smoke rising from his robes, but quite alive, no doubt thanks to an enchantment of some sort. A red-haired woman writhed in the last few moments of silent agony against the wall of the cave, while two other corpses stared blankly at the ceiling of the cavern, their clothing melted to their skin. The remaining two humans were no more than heaps of indistinguishable charred flesh.

"Please! We have come to talk! We do not wish to hurt you!" the human who had avoided the blast cried from behind the rock.

Gerinvioch advanced toward him slowly, wearing an amused countenance. "Help us," the man whimpered.

"Help?" the dragon replied, intrigued and bewildered at the same time. "Come out."

The man emerged, crawling on hands and knees. His face reminded Gerinvioch of a coin, it was so perfectly round. His robes and other accoutrements identified him as a wizard.

"Please. Help my town and…" the wizard sputtered and continued, "me. You must help my town."

The wyrm peered closely at the man. "You came to ask for help?"

"Yes. M-my name is Aniolon Gruanthe," he stuttered, rising to his feet. "We-we cannot stop them. You must help us."

"Who is it you cannot stop?" Gerinvioch asked, pacing around the shaking man. The human winced with each echoing impact of footsteps. This was quite easily the most unusual and amusing event Gerinvioch had experienced in many years.

"Estagund… hunters from Estagund. Sent by the rajah himself."

"You want me to fight them for you?"

The man nodded, his head looking as though it might fall off at any moment.

A long silence dwindled between them and the human finally continued, "We could offer you treasure. We could even mine the mountains for you."

"Why not simply flee?" the dragon asked, still pacing.

"No! They must not have it!" the man said, as his head shook violently.

Gerinvioch stopped his pacing and grinned. "What is it in this town that you covet so?"

"The town itself. There is nothing of value in it," the wizard replied. Much to his own surprise, the dragon believed the man. "Other than the treasure we would like to offer you, of course," the man said, pursing his lips and casting his eyes to the ground.

Well, half-truths were better than no truths, Gerinvioch thought.

"This town of yours is near here, I presume. Long have I been asleep else it would never have been built," the dragon said more to himself than to the man. "Why should I not simply go and destroy it myself?" he added, looking directly at the man.

"No!" Aniolon shouted, panting hard. "Please, do not do that. It is my dream." "Oh? And what is it that insects dream of?" "Freedom," the man said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Freedom? That is what you lust after so desperately?" The human only nodded.

Gerinvioch almost laughed at the word. Freedom. What could that mean to a human? Perhaps there was a way to find out, the wyrm thought. It was hard to keep from smiling.

"You are the leader of this town?"

Aniolon renewed his nodding.

"You led your people here from Estagund? For freedom from what?"

"The tyrannical rule of a madman," the man said as if repeating by rote.

"And your own rule is different?"

"Mine is benevolent," Aniolon said. Then the man shook his head and quickly amended, "We rule ourselves, we choose what we want. No one gives us orders."

Gerinvioch smiled and gave a nod. These humans were quite bold. To lust after treasure would be offense enough, but power? What could slake the lust of these humans, he wondered.

"I see. Freedom is an admirable gift to provide your people," he said, deciding to grant the man his gift. Thirsts must be quenched, after all.

The man's eyes grew wide. "Yes. It is. I am pleased that you… Thank you," the man offered with a bow.

"I will help you, Gruanthe."

Aniolon almost stumbled backward with surprise. "You will? That… that's wonderful! Thank you." The man stared off into the gloom of the cavern, obviously lost in thought. "That's wonderful," he repeated softly as a smile danced across his lips.

"It is an exhilarating feeling to wield power over others, is it not?" the dragon said, no longer hiding his grin.

"Yes," Aniolon said with a distant look in his eyes. "Yes, it most definitely is."

How wonderfully oblivious these creatures were, Gerinvioch thought as he shook his head and chuckled.

The little man seemed to awaken from a daydream. "You will fight them?"

"That will not be necessary. I will come to your town and grant it a protective spell."

Aniolon shrugged and nodded.

"The cost you pay for my assistance will be high. You will obtain an item for me that lies here in the desert. Also, you will leave these others for me," the dragon said motioning toward the man's smoldering companions.

The wizard grimaced but agreed.

Gerinvioch told him where to find the item, the Evise Jhontil, which would seal their pact and instructed him to make contact again once it had been obtained. After Aniolon departed, Gerinvioch inspected the first of his payments.

The other man who obviously fancied himself a wizard was still alive, though immobile. Gerinvioch sniffed at the man, letting the aroma of scorched human skin overwhelm him.

"Ple-please," the man stuttered.

"I have answered one man's pleas today. I think that quite generous of me," Gerinvioch replied.

"You are going to he-help him?" the human asked, swallowing back an eruption of blood.

Gerinvioch cocked his head. "You muster the strength to ask me one question and that one is your choice?"

The man assented.

"He wishes freedom from this Estagundian tyrant and his killers. I will grant him that," Gerinvioch answered, leaning in closer to the man.

The wizard's face contorted in obvious confusion. "Why?"

"Humans need to learn that desire is a dangerous pursuit. My desert has been invaded by your kind more times than I can count. I roam the skies beyond the desert and see that your disease has taken a firm hold in most of the lands I find. I tire of your endless quests and searches, your discoveries and advancements, your invasions and intrusions. It is in your nature to 'outdo' yourselves, so you say. What you are doing is outpacing yourselves, you are overstepping yourselves more and more each day. I tire of it," the wyrm said, his cadence slowing. "He wants freedom from this ruler when all humans do is imprison the world around them in their lustful, greedy pursuits? So be it."

"But our town is sm-" the man started, cut short by a surge of pain-"is small. We are but a few humans."

The wyrm conceded the point. "True. However, everything starts somewhere."

The man started to respond, but ceased abruptly as Ger-invioch's gargantuan maw creaked slowly open and lowered itself toward him. The wizard screamed so loudly as to cause his voice to crack and fade away.

"I have answered your question, human. Now you will answer my hunger," Gerinvioch said before he sank his teeth in slowly, savoring the squirming delicacy.

Aniolon returned to his town and shared the news with his followers. The people had their trepidations and were sorrowful over the loss of those who had accompanied him. He, naturally, didn't give all of the details of the journey, but insisted that the dragon would protect their new home.

A party of twenty was dispatched from the town to the location of ruins described by the dragon. Among them had once been a temple to the evil god Set. Aniolon told them the artifact would be there.

Aniolon enjoyed the attention of his people while they waited for the party's return. This is one of the rewards for being a good leader, he thought.

Upon their return, almost a tenday later, the intrepid searchers described the ordeal of their quest. The wards and defensive measures surrounding the artifact, mysteriously still in place nearly half a millennium after the temple was abandoned, had claimed the lives of almost a dozen of their ranks. Another four were killed when they had encountered a roaming ef reeti on their return journey. The others had barely escaped. Aniolon listened to the tale, adding empathetic remarks at moments he deemed most effective, attempting to console them for the loss of their friends. He was, of course, certain to remember to congratulate them on a job well done. The wizard turned leader took the item to the dragon. Upon his return to town he once again assured his people that they would be safe.

The next morning the great beast arrived at the edge of the freshly formed town, keeping his distance from the nervous inhabitants.

"Thank you for coming. Your largesse honors us," Aniolon greeted the Great Blue loudly as he approached, so everyone within earshot could hear his easy tone.

Aniolon led the beast to the center of the town, smiling at his followers and giving them reassuring nods. Gerinvioch " produced the artifact the townspeople had retrieved for him as if from thin air. Aniolon looked carefully and still could not begin to guess where the dragon had hidden it on his person or how it had been hidden in the first place. The wyrm placed the object on the ground at his feet and nodded to Aniolon.

"You are using the Evise Jhontil in your spell?" the wizlrd asked.

"It is essential to your protection," the dragon responded.

Aniolon regarded the dragon curiously and finally shrugged. The enormous creature reared onto his hind legs, exposing the gold-green scales of his belly. They were dull and void of life compared to the dazzling azure that adorned the rest of his body. Gerinvioch looked equally comfortable standing on two legs as he did on four, Aniolon noted.

The dragon began chanting in a language Aniolon did not recognize, occasionally gesturing with his large, three-fingered hands. Aniolon chuckled as he wondered if they were called fingers and hands when it came to dragons. The wizard turned to see his followers watching the great beast carefully. He smiled as he watched them, knowing soon they would be safe under the protection he had procured for them. They would be in his debt and provide him with a comfortable, free existence for the rest of his life.

The dragon ceased its incantation and turned to face the wizard. "It is done."

"What does it do?" Aniolon said doubtfully, looking at the still inert object on the ground.

"The barrier will make your home invisible and impenetrable. And if these men hunting you cannot see you…" the dragon began.

"They will pass by and continue their search elsewhere," Aniolon said, a large grin spreading across his face.

"But surely they will detect the magic of the barrier itself," said a man with graying hair named Umbeso, once one of Aniolon's rivals for positions of power in Estagund.

Like many of the arcanists in the town, Umbeso had desired a respite from the Estagundian worship of a class of warrior nobility. Most citizens held those warriors in high regard, but the hierarchy often led to political conflicts with the magic-using citizens of Estagund, who did much for the country but were not very highly regarded under the current regime.

Aniolon spun to face the man, red with anger, but before he could speak, Gerinvioch responded, "I have concealed the magical emanations that are usually a natural part of both spells and artifacts of this sort. However, I will need to place a finishing charm on it once I depart."

"But they will still be able to detect the people here in this place," Umbeso interrupted again.

"Enough, Umbeso," Aniolon said.

"His questions are reasonable, Gruanthe. I will answer them," Gerinvioch said. "I have concealed this area and all in it from detection of any sort."

"They could simply stumble into the town. If it is invisible, they may think they are simply proceeding through the desert," Umbeso put in.

Aniolon saw the townspeople looking between Umbeso and Gerinvioch and suddenly felt very unnecessary. It was a familiar feeling and not one he enjoyed.

"The barrier will not allow them passage," the wyrm replied, locking eyes with Umbeso.

"Yet if anyone from inside the town," Umbeso said waving his hand over the gathered crowd, "should leave the town, this barrier will allow them to enter once again?"

Aniolon broke in before the wyrm could respond. "Silence, Umbeso! We have an arrangement with Gerinvioch. It is settled," he said, glaring at the older man.

Gerinvioch looked at Umbeso and the man took a step back. "You are wise to surround yourself with capable advisors, Gruanthe," the blue said.

Aniolon turned to face his town's winged salvation once again. "Yes. Very well. Thank you for your assistance, Gerinvioch," he said, dismissing the dragon's comment. "I will contact you when we have your first payment," Aniolon said, hoping his informal tone did not distress the great wyrm, but knowing the comforting effect it would have on his followers.

Gerinvioch smiled, his eyes shifting from their locked position on Umbeso to rest on Aniolon. "Enjoy the freedom you covet so dearly," the dragon said. He then leaned in to Aniolon and spoke in as hushed a tone as a creature so enormous may. "Continue to enjoy the power, Gruanthe," he said, a grin slowly overtaking his mouth. "I certainly shall."

Gerinvioch spread his batlike wings and gave a mighty flap. Coming to a hover some forty feet off the ground he made a final magical gesture and bellowed a last arcane phrase. Aniolon raised an eyebrow and watched the great wyrm speed away.

Aniolon heard a wave of gasps erupt from the gathered citizens and turned to see the inert artifact on the ground begin to crackle to life. Orange lights surged inside it drawing pulsing, racing lights that shone through its dull exterior. It rose from the ground, levitating slowly, coming to a resting position nearly sixty feet off the ground and began to spin in place.

The sky momentarily flashed bright orange, like a burst of sunlight, and everything seemed as it had been, except for the dull whir of the spinning object hovering overhead.

Aniolon turned to look upon his people. "We are saved!"

Cheers rose tentatively from the crowd as everyone gathered closer to the object that would save them. Aniolon barked orders for the celebratory feast to be prepared and everyone scattered to do their part. It would be quite a celebration and they had much to be happy for. Indeed, there was much to celebrate, Aniolon thought. His people would throw a victory celebration in his name. Aniolon smiled. His people.

The next day, Aniolon awoke to shouts and screams. He left his home and jogged south. The hedonistic celebration had endured for many, many hours. Remnants of food and drink were strewn all about. People were passed out everywhere, some in piles of spent carnality. Aniolon found a crowd of frenzied people and pushed through the gasping throngs to find a young man screaming, being held upright by two other men. Streams of air poured from the young man's right hand as he held it before himself.

"I can't stop it!" the younger man being restrained cried, his voice cracking. "I can't stop the spell! I was using a simple wind gust to clean the refuse from the streets, and now I cannot stop it!"

Aniolon noticed a woman convulsing slightly as she let loose a small scream.

"I tried to dispel his magic and-" she stopped abruptly, convulsing again.

With the eyes of every person witnessing the spectacle turned on him, Aniolon could only stare at the convulsing woman. Her face seemed to be wrinkling in waves before him. It was as if a ripple was moving across her stern features.

"Someone stop this! What's causing it?" Aniolon heard someone shout. Questions echoed from all around the crowd.

Umbeso stepped through the crowd to stand directly in front of Aniolon. "The boy may simply be inexperienced. She, however," the man said, indicating the spasming woman behind him, "is not. There is something wrong here, Aniolon. Many of us cast spells as simple as these daily here. These particular spells are two very different kinds as well. It surely is not the magic itself."

The crowd was muttering amongst themselves but Aniolon could not hear. It could not be the magic, he knew. He stared into the eyes of his former competitor. The man was calm, his lips pursed as if waiting for an answer to a question he had asked.

"What is it?" Aniolon asked quietly. He wanted to scream at the man but could find no voice to do so. This was no time to play the role of teacher.

"Think, Ahiolon! What has changed?" the man asked, looking impatient.

"Tell me!" Aniolon cried.

Before the man could respond, a shrill scream rose above the din of befuddlement in the crowd. Aniolon turned to see a nude woman running toward the crowd, her auburn tresses bouncing around her shoulders. The crowd parted to admit her to the center.

"Daron…" the woman panted the name of a well-respected priest among the villagers. "Daron's dying!"

"Speak, child," Umbeso said calmly.

"Daron was praying to Sharess for…" she paused, looking flushed. "Praying for a spell to… enhance our pleasure in our…" she paused again, "activities this morning."

Umbeso nodded for her to continue.

"In the middle of his reverie, he collapsed. He's not breathing!" she said.

Umbeso turned to Aniolon and asked, "Now divine magic as well?"

Without another word, Aniolon pushed through the crowd and dashed to the site of the Evise Jhontil floating in the town square. Aniolon did not want his guess to be correct, but it was the only thing that had changed. The artifact's octagonal shape pulsed more brightly and was spinning faster than before.

Aniolon stared on in silence, hypnotized by the moment and the racing orange light that so entranced him. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"It must be the Jhontil. Do you agree?" Umbeso asked.

Aniolon nodded weakly. "What do we do?"

"You are our leader, Aniolon. You tell us," Umbeso said with a grin.

"Damn you to the Hells! Tell me!" Aniolon said as he spun to face the man. "This is not the time."

The man took a step back and stared hard at his leader. "You are right, of course. We need to discuss this with all those learned of the Weave."

A short while later, in his home, Aniolon met with the most skilled arcanists in the town.

"As we can all see, something, presumably the artifact, forces the caster of any spell to perpetuate the spell infinitely," said an old man named Sohj, who had instructed Aniolon some years before.

Murmurs wafted around the room. Aniolon hushed them, intent on hearing the man.

"Eventually any spell will consume the caster," Sohj continued, pointing to the dead young man who had attempted to cleanse the street and the still-convulsing older woman in the corner of the room. "There have been four others so far. The priest Daron, two young apprentices who attempted to combine their talents to dispel the effect, and Elder Grashtio. The old fool took it upon himself to rid of us the Evise Jhontil. Each attempt has only made the damned thing spin more quickly and glow more brightly."

"Then we must leave this place," Umbeso said.

"No!" Aniolon shouted.

"Gruanthe, we must leave. There are hundreds of us here and magic sustains us by providing food, water, even shelter. Without it, we will die and now the magic itself will kill us!" Umbeso replied.

Aniolon looked around the room. He saw assent in every pair of eyes. He simply nodded and listened for the next hour as plans were made to abandon the town. It was decided that scouts would be sent ahead to find another suitable location for the town, somewhere in the desert.

Not more than an hour after all was decided and the scouts sent, a dark-haired woman, one of the scouts, burst into the room and reported her news.

"There is a wall… an invisible wall," the woman said, her face twisted in confusion.

"A wall? " Umbeso asked.

"Yes. We were headed east, farther into the desert. We were no more than a mile outside of town and we hit a wall. It appears as if nothing is there, but you simply can no longer walk forward. One of my men has the knot on his head to prove it," she said.

"Then try east, south, or north!" Aniolon said, standing up so quickly that his chair tumbled to the floor.

"We have, sir," the woman said, shaking her head.

"We're trapped then," Sohj said quietly as the other gathered scholars fell silent. "The Evise Jhontil has us, it would seem. Its barrier holds us, yet if we attempt to disarm it, we will get trapped by its power," he said, motioning again to the dead boy in the corner.

"Wands!" Aniolon blurted out.

The others in attendance turned quizzical looks toward him.

"We have not tried a wand or other magical tool on the artifact," Aniolon said.

The gathered scholars talked amongst themselves. Aniolon watched nodding and shaking heads, theorems and postula-tions discussed with wild gestures, and Umbeso. His rival stood alone, discussing the option with no one.

"I will attempt it," Umbeso said over the raucous debaters.

A hush fell over the room.

Sohj hushed the chatter in the room. "Are you certain, Umbeso?" Umbeso affirmed his intentions.

A few minutes later, the group of academics reconvened in the town's center, beneath the light of the Evise Jhontil. One of the men provided Umbeso with an enchanted trinket he had once picked up from a Calashite magic dealer many years before. It was a brooch of fine silver laid over a polished onyx stone. He said it contained very powerful dispelling magic. The man imparted the magical command word unto Umbeso and joined the rest of his fellows several feet away.

Many of the townspeople gathered to watch as well and Aniolon could hear whispers among them, wondering why he was not the one risking his life for their benefit. He was their leader, after all. Aniolon did his best to block out their voices, but fotwd he could hear nothing else.

Umbeso looked into the orange light dancing around the Evise Jhontil and took a deep breath. He held the brooch aloft and spoke the command word. After a few moments, he turned to face the other scholars and shrugged.

"You feel nothing?" one of them asked.

"Nothing," Umbeso said.

As the others gathered in closer to congratulate Umbeso on his courage, the brooch began to vibrate in the man's hand. As quick as thought, he hurled the brooch away from the crowd. As it spun through the air, it released a flash of bright light and landed softly on the desert sand. An inspection of the item revealed that it was spent, unusable.

Other items were brought to him and Umbeso tried them all. They attempted to dispel, disrupt, destroy and even push by force, the Evise Jhontil. Each attempt only resulted in a defunct item and Umbeso's arm growing increasingly sore. The Evise Jhontil seemed undisturbed.

A dust-covered man interrupted to report that attempts to dig under the mysterious wall were yielding no results as of yet.

Sohj stood before the gathered people and said, "I am, of course, open to other ideas. Short of any, I see only one other option. I have not mentioned it because I have my doubts about its success."

No further ideas came from the crowd. Aniolon felt as though every last eye was a boulder upon him, crushing him slowly.

"Very well," Sohj said. "I will attempt to teleport out of the city. If successful, I will return and escort others out the same way."

Cries of protest whirled around, but the old teacher ceased them with a pat of his hands in the air and said, "I have made my decision."

Sohj cast a look to Aniolon and rolled his eyes when the younger man shrank away. He glanced to Umbeso ami gave a smiling nod.

He spoke the words to his spell. It was a simple one that would take immediate effect. His form disappeared from sight. After a few heartbeats the crowd began to cheer. His form reappeared but did not move. The noise from the gathered people ceased immediately. The wizard vanished again. Confusion took hold of the crowd and the shouting began. Sohj returned yet again, his form still frozen, and just as quickly left again.

Umbeso hung his head as he quieted the people. "He is trapped. His spell may not reach its fruition, so he is neither here nor at his destination, but constantly moving between the two."

No one spoke. Aniolon quietly weaved his way through the crowd and returned to his hut. He sat in his home with his head in his hands and laughed. He thought of Gerinvioch and what the dragon had said to him: "Enjoy the power, Gruanthe. I certainly shall." The words raced through Aniolon's mind again and again. His dream was lost to him. His people would never again look upon him as anything but the source of their doom.

Later that evening Umbeso entered Aniolon's home to find the man staring, sobbing and heaving, into a large bowl of water.

Umbeso gasped at the sight. He knelt next to Aniolon, tears welling in his eyes.

"I had to know, Umbeso. I had to. He took everything…" Aniolon said, his eyes never leaving the bowl.

Umbeso nodded, blinking away more tears. "I know, Aniolon. What do you see in your scrying?"

"He's laughing at me," Aniolon answered through his sobs as his mind's eye showed him the great blue wyrm chuckling to himself as he lay down to sleep another long sleep.

"He died shortly after, the scrying sapping the last of his life," Moriandro said, finally lifting her eyes to meet Bronihim's once again.

Bronihim ran from the small hut in disbelief, his head shaking violently. He stared a moment at the Evise Jhontil hanging in the sky a short distance away and raced toward the large rock he had used as a landmark. He ran past a pair of the homes and finally spotted it off in the distance. Suddenly he found himself on the ground, a dull ache in his head. He had collided with something. He rolled onto his side and saw Moriandro running toward him just as the light of consciousness flittered away.

When he awoke the next day he found himself on a couch in Moriandro's home. She was bringing him fresh water. The light fabric of her dress swayed in the slight breeze.

"How do you get water?" Bronihim asked.

Seeming startled, Moriandro struggled to keep from spilling the bowl, setting it down on a table in the corner of the room.

She asked, "How are you feeling?"

"My head is sore."

"I would imagine so," she said with a soft smile. "The water?" Bronihim asked again. Moriandro sighed and sat down opposite him. "The Evise perpetuates any spell that is cast, Kinase." "Yes, but…"

The woman raised an eyebrow and leaned in slightly.

"Oh, you mean…" Bronihim said, genuinely shocked.

"Yes, Kinase. Whenever the need arises, one of us volunteers to sacrifice his own life by casting a spell to provide the rest of us with food, water, or whatever else we might need. We gather and store everything that is produced." She let out a long breath, stood, and walked back to the bowl.

"Occasionally desert animals wander in and we have food for a while that does not require such a sacrifice."

Bronihim nodded and moved to stand next to the woman.

"Has anyone else ever joined you the way that 1 did?" he asked, moving even closer to her.

"You mean has anyone else just… stumbled in?" she said, turning to face him, obviously surprised by how close he stood.

Bronihim nodded and smiled.

"Small bands of people, no more than two or three at a time have joined us. Except once, an entire nomadic tribe, more than a hundred people in all, passing through Raurin, came about twenty years ago," she said, flushing slightly. "We have since adapted to one another's ways of life and now we are simply one with them, and they with us."

Bronihim spent many days meeting the other townspeople and getting tours of the facilities. Many of the innovations in use to avoid the need for magic were truly marvels, he thought.

The months passed and Bronihim settled into his life in Lliiress. After his new duties were completed each day, he sat beneath the Evise Jhontil, watching the orange lights course through it like blood pumping through veins. He felt compelled to understand the thing that had led him there. He had once sought the Evise for power. Now he sought freedom.

He felt that he'd come to understand Gerinvioch as well. The wyrm had seen in Aniolon Gruanthe the worst aspects of humanity, though Bronihim had to admit that, in his day, he had known many men more deserving of punishment than Gruanthe. Perhaps he himself had been one of those men. Gerinvioch had seen those things in him as well, Bronihim thought, and maybe the wyrm had been right. It was not so bad here. These people were now his people. His life held no important schedules or constraints. Other than leaving, he said, felt, and did whatever he pleased and was granted the space and social leeway to do so.

"Kinase, it is very late, you should get some sleep," Moriandro said from behind him as he sat in the center of town one evening months after arriving.

Bronihim took his eyes away from the spinning Evise and turned to face her. "Soon," he said with a smile.

She turned to leave but stopped. "There is no way out, Kinase. Is your life here so bad?"

He took her hand in his. "It improves every day," he said.

She flushed briefly and brushed his face with her hands. "Then why do you still sit here, staring at the accursed thing?"

"There is always a way, Moriandro," he replied as they set off.

He glanced behind him one last time for the evening, let- ting the light of the Evise Jhontil burn itself into his mind. He would dream of that light, he knew. He would dream of it just as he had every night for tendays.

"There's always a way," he whispered to himself.