The Dragon Prince - Book 1: Cold War

Xadian Idol

Like the half-remembered trace of a nightmare, Callum couldn't shake the image of the strange wizard's face. Whenever he'd close his eyes he'd see the unfocused, indigo visage of the elf-like creature riding a dragon as blue as the sea. The creature's face tricked his mind and when viewed at different angles, Callum would see him take a different form. One side of the creature looked almost human, but from another angle he looked like an elf. A vexing impulse inside him believed a deeper look of the chimeric creature contained an image of himself.

    Callum shook away those thoughts as he looked at the resting face of his training master lying motionless in his bed. The old elf's face was ashen and pale from the exertion of bringing him back from the spirit world. Guilt streamed through Callum's mind, as he ruminated on how he had pushed his master into bringing he and his colleagues through the dangerous dimension of death.

    All morning, Callum had cast one healing spell after another over the elf's sleeping form. The crackling energies blazed into corporeal existence as the young mage poured all of his willpower and guilt into every spell. The mystical runes blazed not with brightness but with an incandescent quality beyond the mortal realm of imagining as if torn from a distant universe.

    Once more, Callum bellowed the draconic words of power, "Medeor Corporis!"

    Whirling motes of purple lights burst from the rune and floated delicately over Zelmai's body. The motes pulled themselves into the elf's motionless form, and for a moment, the colour of his skin changed from a pale grey into the vibrant mahogany that Callum remembered of his master in healthier days. For a moment, their minds joined as one as Callum forced opened the door of his mind to force Zelmai's pain to succour through him like a conduit into the nether. Though physical pain was there, the emotional pain was melancholic, like an unexplainable sadness on a sunny day. Callum used that brief moment in time to bridge his mind with his patient.

    "Zelmai, it's Callum... tell me how to fix you. We need you." He pleaded using his inner voice and - when the psychic connection was made - he could hear it echo through the mental tunnel. But silence was his only reply.

    There was a sudden flash at the forefront of Callum's mind. It was the visage of the strange wizard from his nightmare, its face contorted and bruised. One side of its face snarled with fury while the other grinned with gleeful malice. It tortured Callum's mind to witness the baleful image and though he tried wake himself up from this waking dream, he discovered the wizard had latched on to his mental tunnel using its writhing tendrils of magic like barbs of a hookworm. Panic coursed through the young mage's chest with the sudden realization that this was not a vision from his own subconscious, this was a very real and powerful mind forcing its will into Callum's soul. The strange wizard laughed at Callum's fear, feeding off it. The creature reached inside a gnarled claw inside Callum's own thoughts and he could smell the pungent stink of death under its fingernails.

    Callum screamed at the touch of someone behind him.

    "Sorry, sorry!" said Rayla, snapping back her hand.

    Callum heart pounded as realized he was back in the brightness of Zelmai's room. The morning breeze filled the room and he could smell freshly baked jelly rolls.

    "You were moaning there and your face is all sweaty," Rayla said in a dour voice, softly looking into his eyes while gently wiping away the sweat off of his brow. She perked up and said, "oh, the baker brought us some breakfast rolls!"

    She handed him a crisp pastry, still fixing him with a look of concern. Callum took a bite from the warm jelly roll and tried to smile but his exhaustion betrayed him. Placing the pastry down, he turned to look back at Zelmai for any sign of improvement. Though the colour of his skin had returned to normal, he knew it was a matter of time before it resumed the lacklustre sheen of grey. He exhaled softly.