The Phoenix Ring(68)

Aidan felt like he was stepping on a grave as his foot touched the earth, and the ring on his finger reminded him that he was, in a sense. Marcus’s spirit had lived, but his phoenix had died, and his body likely still rested under the black rock.

The place where the griffin landed was close to the hill, in a flat, barren area. Aidan hadn’t pushed the beast nearly as hard as he had on the ride to the elven encampment, so the journey had taken two days. For the first hour he had tried to turn the griffin around so that he could talk to Aeron about his father, but to no avail. Somehow the elf must have caused the creature to disobey Aidan and fly straight in the direction he started for a certain amount of time. Besides, Aidan somehow doubted the elf would give him any more information about his father. How Aeron knew anything about the man, Aidan could only guess.

“Bartemus?” the boy called. His voice seemed small on the empty island.

“I’m here,” a voice said from behind Aidan.

The mage spun around, staff in hand, to see his master, the dragon on his forehead glowing slightly.

“What happened, Aidan? And where is the amogh?”

So Aidan tried, in broken sentences and stutters, to tell his master all that he had left out when they spoke through the crystal. When he was done, his master was silent for a few moments, before slowly nodding his head.

“Very well. Follow me.”

Aidan was bewildered. “That’s it? No disappointment?”

Bartemus shook his head. “No, I have faith that you did everything in your power to come here, and to bring an amogh with you. Now come, I must show you something.”

They walked to the side of the hill, which Aidan suddenly realized was the only non-flat surface on the isle.

“Do you remember the word for earth in The Sorcerer’s Tongue?” Bartemus asked.

Aidan nodded.

“Remove the lava here. I’ve already prepared the earth so it will be easier to break.”

The young mage raised his staff. “Terrack.”

He frowned, as the spell took far more effort than he had expected, though the ground did break and crumble, revealing a door.

“It’s the amogh you’ve been travelling with. She has been slowly pushing the magic out of you. Don’t worry, you’ll be recharged within three days. Come inside.”

He cracked open the door and ushered Aidan into the dark space. From behind him, the mage heard his master say ingo, and the entire room was filled with light from a small candle the warlock was holding.

For a moment, Aidan thought he had somehow gone into the Phoenix Ring again. The room was certainly the same as the one inside the ring, except for the absence of Marcus and a thick layer of dust that had settled over everything.

“You look like you’ve been here before,” Bartemus said.

Aidan nodded. “It’s the room inside the ring. How is that possible?”

Bartemus smiled. “I’m not surprised. By the time his phoenix died, this was the only place that Marcus ever called home. He likely designed the spell that created the inside of your ring inside this very room. Marcus, Malachi and I were staying here when Malcommer’s armies attacked Gurvinite. Malachi and I were on a supply run when it happened. Marcus contacted me through a crystal to tell me goodbye, and then we saw black clouds of ash rise from the sea. How they kept the eruption from reaching the mainland, I will never know.” The warlock’s eyes were shining. “Marcus’s power was untouchable. Even Malcommer didn’t expect such strength to exist in any other warlock. I have to show you something.”

Bartemus walked to the back of the room, where a locked chest rested against the wall. Aidan had seen the chest in the ring, but had no idea what was in it.

Bartemus touched the lock and whispered the word “reklatorr.” There was a click as the top of the chest swung open, powered by spring loaded hinges.

Inside were the two broken halves of a wooden staff, a wand, and an old blue wizard robe. Bartemus pulled the robe up and held it in the air, letting the dust fall off. It was, surprisingly, mostly undamaged, except for a tear in the shoulder.

“Give it some power,” the warlock said.

Aidan had barely pushed any magic into it when the runes in the robe, which Aidan hadn’t seen before, began to light up, one at a time.

“This was Marcus’s battle robe. It guards against basic enchantments and curses as long as it has sufficient energy, and is one of the most important tools of a sorcerer going to war. He chose not to use it during his last stand because he planned to slay the enemy before they came close to shore, I assume. Now, it belongs to you.”

Aidan took it before realizing the full implications of what had been done.