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Dream II - Chapter 39
🕑 Added 2023-02-17 18:59:05 +0000 UTC- - - - -
Race: Draconian
Bloodline Powers: Improved Strength+, Rending, Firebreath+
Greater Mysteries: Fire (Noble) 5, Wind (Noble) 4, Sound (Advanced) 2
Lesser Mysteries: Heat 4, Oxygen 4, Embers 4, Pressure 4, Current/Flow 4
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“By the mysteries,” Rose said, shaking her head. “I recognized that water magus I killed. It was Saasmani. She graduated a year or so ahead of me but stayed on at the Academy to teach new students, to think that she was-”
Pothas coughed again, his entire body shaking as spasms wracked him. He tilted forward, his left arm trembling as it tried futilely to support his weight. Samazzar caught him just as it gave out, gripping Pothas by the shoulders and rolling the man over gently so that he was laying comfortably on the ground, his head propped up on a stack of books.
He smiled weakly up at his two apprentices, a spattering of red blood dribbling down his now blue lips and chin. When he addressed them, his voice was scratchy. Shaky and hesitant like he had aged a decade or two in a matter of minutes.
“Sorry about that you two, I guess that fight took a bit more out of me than I thought. Honestly, even with Percival being a disappointment, I don’t think I can put words to how proud I am of both of you.”
Rose shook. Sam had never seen her upset. The woman had always been a paragon of logic and calm reason, but now she looked like she didn’t know whether to cry or bolt.
“Stay here master.” She sprang to her feet, running toward the wreckage of the stairwell that led down to the archives. “I’ll get a healer for the wound and the poison. Just rest, I’ll be back before-”
Rose didn’t finish, instead leaping to her feet and running for the exit. Pothas watched her go, but the minute Samazzar stood up to join her search, the old man’s hand darted out and wrapped itself around his calf.
“Stay here Sam,” Pothas said with a strange intensity. “There’s no one to find and my time here is short.”
“No one?” Samazzar asked, cocking his head to the side slightly. “Surely there is a potion somewhere nearby, and even if that isn’t the case, the Dean is a life practitioner. He could purge the toxins from you and knit up the wound in your side in seconds.”
Pothas chuckled, breaking down into another fit of coughs. Samazzar opened his mouth to say something only for the master to shake his head, raising a single finger to hold him back while he finished the coughing jag.
“The Dean is busy, Sam,” Pothas replied, a hint of a smile curving the corners of his mouth. “You’d be surprised at how far I can scan with my wind. The Dean is winning, and your friends the Knights are making the difference at great cost to themselves, but he won’t be able to break free in time. I can feel the poison working through my veins and organs, Sam. The elf might have been lying about a lot of things, but he was deadly serious about the poison.”
Samazzar didn’t say anything. His lips tightened and he dropped down next to Pothas once more.
“Thank you,” his master said, smiling through blue lips. “I’m sorry for placing this burden upon you Sam. I had to send Rose away. She’s a remarkable woman, but I’ve looked into your eyes. She hasn’t seen death the way you have. I don’t want her to see me like this.”
“Master,” Samazzar whispered, unable to think of a meaningful response.
“Sam,” the old man continued. Samazzar wasn’t sure if his breath was a bit shallower or if it was just his imagination. “I know you’re strong enough to see me like this, and as much as I am putting on a brave front, I can’t be alone right now. So many years of study and research. I came so close and one moment of misplaced trust and it’s all gone. Ironic really that all of my accomplishments are as hard to contain as the wind itself.
Samazzar shifted slightly, unsure how to respond. Pothas’ eyes were slightly glazed and he was staring off into the space just above his shoulder. Honestly? It wasn’t entirely clear if the human was talking to the draconian or just musing out loud.
“Strange really,” Pothas said, his gaze still unfocused. “Here I am nearing the end and only now can I see my successes and failures with absolute clarity. Percival was skilled, but I let that blind me to his nature. The boy was lazy. He expected the mysteries to be handed to him rather than earned.”
“But you Sam,” he turned back to his apprentice, eyes snapping back into focus and a half smile tugging at his mouth. “You were both Called, but it’s clear that your Calling is stronger than his. More than that, you work your hands to the bone. I spent a life studying the wind, but you’ve advanced further in the last couple of months than I have in years. I might not be the one to finish the scholarship on our mystery but I can feel it in my bones. You have that potential. I can feel fate hanging over you, and for anyone else that would be a blessing. For you? I’m afraid it is one more curse for you to bear.”
Samazzar cleared his throat, uncomfortable and stumbling for some sort of remark or answer only for Pothas to keep going.
That’s why this is more important than ever, Sam.I need you to make me three promises, and I won’t be taking no for an answer.”
“But, I-” Samazzar began only for the grip on his leg to tighten slightly.
“Say it Sam. Say you’ll honor my last requests.”
His throat constricted, cutting off any response that Samazzar might have been able to voice. Instead of speaking, he just nodded, but that was enough. The grip on his leg relaxed and Pothas leaned back slightly
“Good.” Pothas cleared his throat. Samazzar did his best not to notice the blood staining his lips an ugly purplish blue, like a pair of nightcrawlers laying limp and plump on the cobblestones after a rainstorm. “
“You’re not going to stay in Vereton much longer are you?” Pothas asked, shifting slightly so that the books under his head and neck didn’t dig into him as much. Almost without thinking, Samazzar slipped an arm under his master’s back, lifting it slightly and cradling him from the debris and hard floor.
“No.” He admitted, unwilling to lie to his instructor.
“I thought so,” the human replied, resigned. “I’ve done what I could for you and your family, but perhaps I overestimated Vereton. This isn’t a place for your people. I wish that wasn’t the case, but I’m an old man full of regrets. I wish a lot of things.”
“I wish I could stay here too Master Pothas. Despite everything, learning with Rose and you and the friends I made. It’ll hurt to leave all of that.”
“Think of it like a baptism, Sam,” Pothas said with a wisp of a smile. “Progress and learning hurt sometimes. That doesn’t mean you can shy away from it forever.”
“It’s Samazzar sir,” he said quietly. “Sam is a nickname, but the entire time I’ve been here, no one has actually used my real name. If this is going to be our last-”
He stopped too choked up to continue. Pothas reached up, touching his hand to Samazzar’s cheek. It was gentle, barely a brush, but Sam could feel a firestorm of emotion and confusion welling up inside his chest.
“I can see that now,” Pothas said softly. “I’m sorry Samazzar. We’ve wronged you, all of us.”
“No,” he countered, shaking his head frantically. “That’s not what I meant, master. You’ve always been kind to me. I just wanted to hear you say it, at least once.”
A hand pressed down gently on Sam’s shoulder. He looked up to see Crone Tazzera’s muzzle above him, an uncharacteristically kind expression on her face as she rested her claws on his shoulder. Beside her, Dussok supported most of her weight. Even Takkla was a couple paces away, watching the seen Somberly.
“I didn’t do enough,” the Pothas mumbled. “To soften the hard edges of this City or to help your development. I tried, but I always thought there would be more time, but well. I should have known. Time will always be the enemy.”
Samazzar didn’t respond. His chest felt tight as his heart beat like a hammer in the forge, but there was nothing for him to say.
“That brings me to my first promise,” Pothas continued. “Samazzar, I don’t want you to treat them too harshly.”
He cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Who?” The word slipped out.
“Humans, Vereton, all of us Samazzar. If you ever feel hatred in your heart toward us, please just remember Rose, your friend Joosen and myself. Humans are as varied as the flowers of the prairie. Some of us are vile and wretched, no doubt about it, but there is plenty of beauty if you know where to look.”
“I will remember,” he replied, throat tight.
A swirl of wind reached out across the room grabbing hold of three books and dragging them through the air. They landed on the ground next to the two of them forming a neat stack. Samazzar looked over at them, sighting Dominque Morae’s Godfall atop the pile.
“Second promise, Samazzar,” Pothas said, patting the books with his free hand. “Take these with you when you return to the mountains. The Seekers won’t rest until they’re destroyed. I want the knowledge preserved, but I don’t want Vereton to burn. If you take the books, I’m sure they’ll find out that they’re gone. Enough priceless works were destroyed in the fight. Anyone taking a tally will just assume that the problematic tomes are gone.”
Samazzar looked down at the books. He’d read some of Godfall. It contained interesting facts that were concealed by the mists of time, but he couldn’t even place why it was in the forbidden archives. The idea that someone would actually attack Vereton to steal or destroy the book felt strange beyond belief.
“I see that look.” Pothas chuckled. “It is just a book of history, but it is a book of history written from before the Seekers were founded. Before their censors managed to rewrite what most people know of this broken world. Not much has changed, but if you look closely enough you can find the stories that slipped through the cracks. I don’t dare think that I have found everything, but there are revelations hidden in that book that were innocent at the time it was written, but that have the potential to shake the world today.”
“Like what?” Sam asked, leaning closer. If there was a secret of that gravity in the books, the sooner he learned it the better. “What is this revelation that could shake the world?”
The old man stiffened, pressing his lips together in pain as he let out a long, drawn out hiss. When he looked back at the draconian his eyes were a bit foggier, distant. As if he were slowly moving away from Sam even if his body lay in the same spot.
“I can’t say Samazzar. There are some secrets that are so great that the mysteries themselves will betray you if you speak them out loud. There are things listening that are beyond our scope and it is best not to draw their interest. But In books? Ink and paper are safe. You just need to have the time and destiny to find what I mean.”
Pothas winced again, body clenching for a second before he continued.
“Of course, when have time or fate been our allies? It seems like they oppose me at every turn.”
“I’ll take them, master,” Sam said. “I can keep anyone from finding out that they survived the attack.”
“Good my boy,” Pothas replied. “I can rest easy knowing that you will study the texts and learn their secrets while keeping them from seeing the light of day.”
He slumped back wearily, eyes half lidded as he stared past Samazzar, his chest rising and falling shallowly. For about five seconds, the room slipped into restive silence as the old man fought to breathe.
“Master,” Samazzar whispered insistently, his voice cracking. “The third promise?”
Pothas’ eyes snapped open as he gasped for air. Sam swore he could hear the old man’s heart fluttering in his chest.
“One final promise,” he wheezed, struggling to force a smile onto his face. “Samazzar.”
He reached up, touching a hand to the cool scales of Sam’s muzzle
“Live well, Samazzar,” the old man whispered. “Some may doubt you, but they’re wrong. There is a dragon inside you. Promise me that you will master your mysteries and free it. I am reaching my end, I can feel it, but for you, the future is limitless.”
Tazzaera’s hand on Sam’s shoulder squeezed gently. He could feel Dussok and Takkla’s eyes on his back, but he couldn’t turn around.
“Yes, master,” he replied. The old man felt so light, like he could float away at any moment.
“Good, Samazzar,” Pothas said, closing his eyes and slumping back into the draconian’s grip. “You were a better apprentice than I could ever ask for. I just wish I could have been there when you finally perfected your mysteries. I know that it would be…”
His breath rattled out, and the old man’s body went still. With horrifying precision, Samazzar watched his master’s body begin to cool through the mystery of heat.
