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The Dragon Rider (The Alaris Chronicles Book 2) Page 2
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“You are wiser than many of us, Bakari,” Nagasi said. “Being hesitant to take on such a role shows how good of a person you are. Events will prove us out.”
The regent moved to walk away, but Bakari called him back.
“Is what Kolo said true?” Bakari asked. “Are there more dragon eggs?”
Nagasi took a moment to answer, and, when he did, his face grew stone serious. “Yes it is, Bakari. It is true. There are records in our books about dragon eggs being in each kingdom, awaiting the day that a rider touches them and they are born and bonded.”
“More dragon riders?” whispered Zaire next to Bakari. “What does that mean?”
Bakari’s face held a determined look. “It means I need to find them before Kolo or Kanzar does.”
CHAPTER TWO
Three days later, Bakari sat neck high in books at the library in Amar. Although not as extensive as the libraries in Cassian or the Citadel, this one held many more books about his heritage and the doings before the barrier arose. It seemed that many times, in the history of Mahli, dragon riders emerged during times of great need. These men and women—some wizards, others not—helped to establish peace in many kingdoms on the Western Continent. The triggering of a first dragon rider—Bakari, in this case—seemed to be the catalyst every time for the emergence of other dragon riders. And, the dragons themselves seemed to hold the knowledge of where the other dragon eggs were.
Bakari rubbed his eyes. It was still hard for him to believe he didn’t need to wear glasses anymore. At this thought, he sensed amusement in the back of his mind from Abylar.
Soon Bakari grew weary of reading and realized that he must have missed lunch and that now it was approaching the evening meal. Just a few more books to get through, then he would eat. Bakari sighed and turned back to his reading.
Rider! His dragon screamed in his mind an hour later.
In distress, Bakari threw down his books.
Abylar? He sent his mind out to the dragon as he ran out of the room. Taking the steps two at a time, he descended two flights of stairs and hurried out into the evening. The cool air swirled around him as the sunlight faded behind the mountains. He sprinted over cobblestone paths, to gravel, then grass, out to where his dragon had called from.
Coming over a rise covered with trees, Bakari glanced down over a small, brown field and looked in horror at the sight below. A group of men, with huge coils of thick rope, had tied Abylar’s mouth closed. The dragon tried to claw at them and flapped his wings in a rapid fashion, but another group, of Mahlian wizards, stood around Abylar and hit him with a constant barrage of pain spells. Tears came to Bakari’s eyes as the bond exuded the terror going through the young dragon.
Bakari, help me.
This pleading came deep into his soul. So Bakari put his hand against a tree and took a deep breath, trying not to be overwhelmed by the pain of his young dragon. Even though Abylar was huge, by human standards, he was only a few weeks old—a baby still. He was still learning to control his own power, and he wasn’t used to having people hurting him.
Bakari ran even faster down this hill, gathering power into himself. Reaching the edge of the group of men, he caught the eye of Kolo, who sneered at him. Then Kolo tied a rope to one of Abylar’s thicker spikes and attempted to climb up onto the dragon. Abylar tried to buck Kolo off. But, every time he did, one of the wizards would shoot him with a bolt of lightning.
Bakari threw a bolt of fire himself, at the attackers. He wasn’t necessarily strong at that type of power, but the surprise attack from behind did divert their attention enough that Abylar was able to kick over two of them. The wizards then turned their attention to Bakari and shot fire and lightning at him. He had just barely put up a weak barrier in time to stop from being hurt too much, but their strikes did knock him down. He couldn’t fight against so many.
Used to having time to studiously figure things out, Bakari had to dig deep quickly into the reserves of his mind. There he found the records he had studied—many of them just that day—about the power of dragons. Dragon riders were known to defy dozens of wizards at once, but Abylar and Bakari were new at their bond. However, Bakari had bonded briefly with other creatures before. So, while running behind a small copse of evergreens, to gain time, he went into a quick trance and entered fully into his dragon’s mind.
But Bakari almost fell over and vomited. The terror his young dragon was experiencing was almost overwhelming. Steeling his will against the pain, Bakari again entered Abylar’s mind fully. First, he instructed the dragon to buck off Kolo. The man went flying off the noble creature and landed hard on the ground. Now Abylar flapped his wings hard and began to rise from the ground. A group of men, however, held on to the ropes encircling his feet, keeping him from taking off fully.
Bakari needed to touch his dragon physically. Looking around with the dragon’s eyes, he found a nearby horse. Calling the horse toward himself, from behind the trees, Bakari mounted it and took off at full speed toward his dragon.
As lightning shot around him, he used his powers to increase his speed and agility on the horse, and the two of them darted through unscathed. He approached Abylar and instructed him to put out his wings to their fullest. After Abylar did so, Bakari then jumped from his horse onto the wing. It sagged for a moment, and Bakari stumbled. Getting his balance, he ran up the wing and onto his dragon’s back.
Sitting in the usual soft spot, behind Abylar’s neck, Bakari placed his palms on his dragon’s neck. This personal contact raised their bond to new levels. The same thing had happened when he had first touched the Dragon Orb. Intelligence, power, and might flowed through Bakari’s body. He thrust out his hands, and fire burned away the ropes holding Abylar down. Then, lifting up into the air, Abylar flapped hard and knocked over the rest of their attackers.
Soon the dragon rider and his dragon flew upward into the cloudy skies. Wizard fire flew at them still, and, upon instinct, Bakari reached inside the saddlebag and pulled out a handful of wooden discs. Focusing his dragon sight on each wizard individually, Bakari let go of several discs in rapid succession. With perfect aim, his discs swerved through the air, making a swooshing sound as they hit into each of the powerful wizards, knocking them out onto the ground.
Kolo and a few of the other men stood up and tried to fire arrows at them, but these little sticks didn’t damage the majestic, blue dragon hide. Then Abylar opened his mouth wide and let out a stream of blue fire, both loud and ferocious. They were too high up for it to reach Kolo and his men, but the heat from the flames forced them back.
Bakari was euphoric with the power of his dragon. They were invincible. It was incredible. With the power Abylar held, Bakari could perceive each blade of grass and hear each leaf blowing in the breeze of Abylar’s wings. The air stirred, crisp with the approaching evening, and it seemed as if power filled his world.
The two, dragon rider and dragon, flew up high into the evening sky, then turned around and returned in a deep dive back toward earth. Kolo and his men scattered before them like ants. They were nothing, compared to the power Bakari held at the moment.
“Bak!” A familiar sound pushed through the fog of his power. “Bakari, stop!”
It was Zaire. He stood on the top of the hill where Bakari had stood just minutes before. Kolo’s men stood behind him, looking terrified. Zaire’s familiar voice broke the intimate bond Bakari was having with his dragon.
He commanded Abylar to stop the dive and rise back up.
I could have killed them all! Abylar said through their bond. The dragon did not seem happy about Bakari’s command, but he obeyed it nonetheless and rose back up into the air.
I know. Bakari patted Abylar and sent soothing thoughts through the bond. But we must be careful with our power.
The dragon harrumphed but still obeyed, eventually landing once again at the edge of the field. Then Bakari spoke in a low voice to his dragon with the suggestion that he leave and hunt.
After
Bakari jumped off his back, but before Abylar rose, he said into Bakari’s mind, I can find the other riders.
The thought jolted Bakari back to what he had found while studying earlier. He grimaced and turned back toward the approaching footsteps of Zaire.
“Are you all right?”
Bakari nodded, looking over Zaire’s shoulder at Kolo and his men. The regent’s son gave him another murderous glare. Bakari realized then that he couldn’t stay any longer. He needed to go and find the other dragon riders. He didn’t know if he was the fulfillment of prophecy or not, but he knew that he couldn’t let men like Kolo—or, for that matter, like Kanzar—rule the world. They were uncaring and inhumane.
“I will leave in the morning,” Bakari told Zaire. “Can you help me gather supplies?”
“Where will you go, Dragon Rider?”
“To visit the elves, then to find the other dragons and their riders.”
CHAPTER THREE
Roland Tyre stood in the middle of two elderly Council members. Kanzar Centari, self-proclaimed High Wizard, had left them behind to watch over the Wizard Citadel and over Roland himself. They were too old to travel with Kanzar and his army, made of wizards and mercenaries, when they had gone south to Cassian. But they were still young enough to be perturbed at Roland’s quick rise to power.
At sixteen and only a month out from becoming a full wizard, Roland now carried his level four wizard status quite prominently. Many of the young wizards and apprentices had immediately taken a liking to him. His good looks and arrogance annoyed some, but, for the most part, his good nature and his positive attitude made others want to be around him.
Roland pushed a lock of blond hair out of his face, grinned, and, with his sparkling blue eyes, winked at a young woman approaching them. She was one of a few new apprentices who had arrived at the Citadel that week. Tall and curvy, she also carried herself with more authority than the others. She stood in front of them, waiting for introductions.
“My lady,” Roland bowed and reached to kiss her hand. “Are you sure you are a wizard? Among these rough heathens, your beauty is a light to my soul.”
The young woman stifled a laugh, her eyes looking merry with surprise at Roland’s greeting. “I am Celia and hail from a border town in Solshi, just over the Mahli River, west of here.” The young woman had dark, wavy hair and had a pouty smile on her full lips. “I heard you are gathering apprentices from all kingdoms.”
Roland’s royal blue robes stirred around him with a slight breeze in the late-autumn air. “If I knew that ladies from Solshi were so beautiful, I would have broken through the barrier myself years ago.”
One of the other wizards cleared his throat and shook his head at Roland.
“Oh, Titus.” Roland frowned. “Lighten up, and let us have some fun. What harm does it do? There is time enough for work and formal affairs. Don’t you remember being young?”
Titus reluctantly gave a short bow to Roland, acknowledging the young wizard’s current preeminence over the other wizards at the Citadel.
Roland turned back to Celia. “Do you know if you are inclined toward any one of the three disciplines yet?”
Celia shook her head. “I’m not sure. Though I doubt I’m a counselor and war is abhorrent, so I must be best suited to be a scholar.”
“Ahh, I see.” Roland enjoyed talking to this young woman. “Quite boring, all in all, but one of my best friends is a scholar wizard, and now he is riding around on the back of a dragon, so you never know.”
“So it’s true, then?” Celia stood on her toes and clapped her hands with delight. “There is a dragon rider in the land once again.”
Roland frowned for only a moment. With all the power he held at his disposal, he should be the one riding the dragon, not Bak. Maybe he should find his own dragon. He filed this thought away for later.
“Well, Titus here is also a scholar wizard. I will put you under his fine tutelage, but I hope you will save a dance for me at the autumn ball.”
Celia blushed and bowed toward Roland. Then she moved over to stand next to Titus.
One by one, all of the new apprentices met with the three wizards. Titus moved away with one of them in tow, and Eryck, the other old wizard, took a counselor apprentice with him. Then Roland took the two remaining battle apprentices with him and led them down to the training grounds.
He was embarrassed to admit that the Citadel was short on battle trainers. All of its previous battle wizards had traveled with Kanzar to Cassian, in his quest to become king, leaving Roland here with only a few battle apprentices. He himself was quite polished with the sword and other weapons and could hold his own in most battles. But a real battle wizard, like his friend Alli, was a true sight to behold. He became mesmerized each time he saw her fight or train as she created a deadly dance that flowed from one position to another with such accuracy and grace that it almost made him jealous.
Putting the new battle apprentices with experienced ones that had been there for the past year, Roland walked back toward his rooms in the Citadel. Passing through the kitchens, he grabbed an apple. A smile and a wink to the cook’s helper enabled him to pass through without any scolding from the cook herself.
He climbed the stairs and entered his office, formerly Kanzar’s office. Sitting in the comfortable stuffed leather chair, he studied the richly decorated and overly ornate room. He would need to do something about it. This was Kanzar’s way of showing off his power, but Roland didn’t need to show off to anyone. His power spoke for itself.
Roland thought about how he had recently risen, in one unheard-of step, from apprentice to level four wizard by beating the wizard test and showing Kanzar and the Council that at sixteen years old, Roland was one of the most powerful wizards in the land. Trained at the Citadel from age thirteen, he had been living in Cassian as the Chief Judge’s apprentice counselor wizard for the previous year, and Onius Neeland had been his mentor.
Onius, it had turned out, knew generally of Kanzar’s thirst for power and his desires to bring down the barrier and to set himself up as king of Alaris. Onius, Roland’s former mentor, had assured Roland that he had things under control and was working to bring down Kanzar from the inside. But Roland was never all the way convinced.
Roland’s goals for the Citadel remained for him to stay out of the civil conflict as long as possible and for him to build up his followers—young apprentices that would soon be wizards of their own. But, in the end, he would do what needed to be done to stop Kanzar from becoming king. Kanzar had created the King-men, those men who wanted to do away with the judgeships and reestablish a kingship. Roland didn’t care one way or the other who became king. Soon enough, the Citadel would establish its own power base under himself, one that would have influence over many kingdoms, not just Alaris.
* * *
A few hours later, Roland stood up and gazed outside. Lamps were blinking on as the yard quieted down for the night. Then he noticed a shadow moving behind a group of trees. Soon another figure joined the first. Roland reached out his senses to see if he could hear what they were discussing—a magic power he was just learning to use. He couldn’t quite hear their words, but he memorized their magic signatures, something that was unique to each wizard. It might just be a clandestine meeting of two lovers, but Roland wanted to make sure that there wasn’t any trouble brewing in his Citadel.
“Sir.” A servant entered the room. “Dinner is ready. Would you like it brought in here? Or, will you be dining with the others tonight?”
Roland smiled. “With the others, Ollie.” This was a tradition he had begun—dining with the apprentices. It made him into their friend and, hopefully, ensured their loyalty to him over their former leader, Kanzar.
The servant led Roland to the dining area, even though Roland knew the way well. He nodded his thanks to the servant and dismissed him to go eat his own dinner. Then, greeting a few of the men by name, Roland seated himself among some of the older apprentices this evening
. Soon, a dinner of roast chicken, applesauce, and freshly baked bread was served.
Then one of the men turned to him. “Sir, what news of Kanzar and the Chief Judge?”
Roland turned toward the questioner. “Still at a standoff, it seems. The Chief Judge is receiving recruits from most of the southern cities, and it is rumored that Tillimot might also help him. Kanzar should have moved by now, but I hear there is unrest in Cassian.”
“The thieves are running the city, sir,” piped up a newer apprentice from one table away. “I escaped from there just last week.”
This was news to Roland. “The thieves held their peace when I lived there. They must be getting bolder with the Chief Judge gone.”
The man opened his mouth to reply, when the lamps in the room flickered off all at once, plunging the room into near darkness. Then Roland felt a cold breeze stir nearby him, and he shivered. With so many wizards here, the room didn’t stay dark for long. Mage lights and small flames popped up all around the room. The men and women began talking at once, and the guards looked to Roland for direction. He nodded for them to search the perimeter. Something was not right.
“My lord,” said a husky female voice behind him, making Roland jump. “Are you all right?” Roland turned. It was Celia, the lovely new apprentice.
“I’m fine,” he stammered. “But, where did you come from?” She hadn’t been standing there before.
“I just arrived,” she said with a devious and inviting smile.
Roland frowned. He reached his mind out slightly, as he was wont to do to others, to test her strength. Her mind was strong, and her power seemed somehow different. He promptly pulled back, hopefully before she had noticed. For he realized that she had been one of the two shadows he had noticed lurking behind the trees before dinner. He tried to act as if he didn’t know anything about her secrets, something his counselor training had taught him to do well.