The Second Symbol Read online

  “What is it?” Zamna asked.

  “There are words on the page,” Taren said, his throat dry and painful.

  “You can read it?” the La’kertan asked. Had dragon fire revealed something to Taren?

  “The symbol,” Taren said. “It’s a message from the symbol, I think. It reads, ‘Destroy or be destroyed.’ I don’t know what that means.”

  Neither did Zamna. “You should get some rest,” he suggested. Taren had been through an ordeal as well. Zamna knew the herbalist hadn’t intended to harm Imrit. His power had gone out of his control, using his body as a vessel. The pain Taren was feeling would consume him, and he’d be no help to anyone. If Imrit was going to pull through, he’d need Taren’s skills to do it.

  The young man plopped himself on the floor and buried his head in his hands. What had he done? How could he be so stupid? The symbol would never obey him. It desired only death and destruction. The two would never live together in peace. His only option would be to abandon the symbol through his own death. But before he did so, he would have to find a place to hide it where it could never hurt another living soul.

  * * * * *

  At some point Taren drifted off to sleep, his back propped against the wall of the ship. When he woke, Imrit was sitting up in bed, and Zamna was applying salve to his burns. One glance out the porthole let him know that he’d slept for several hours.

  “Ah, you’re awake,” Imrit said. “Are you hurt?”

  Taren moved to the old man’s side. “You were the one who was hurt,” he replied. “I’m the one who caused it.”

  Shaking his head, Imrit refused to hear Taren’s admission of guilt. “It’s my fault,” Imrit said. “In my greed to have the symbol’s power, I didn’t see what was right before me.”

  “I don’t understand,” Taren said.

  “Zamna told me the words you saw written in fire,” Imrit replied. “Destroy or be destroyed can mean only one thing. The two symbols are at odds with one another. Perhaps yours sees mine as a rival.”

  Taren nodded as he eyed the burns on Imrit’s arms. “I should make more salve,” he said.

  “I wouldn’t be in this mess if I’d listened to your assassin.” A slight smile on Imrit’s face suggested he’d grown to like the La’kertan.

  “Remember that the next time,” Zamna grumbled.

  “It’s my nature to be hasty and irrational at times,” Imrit admitted. “It’ll be the death of me one day.” He chuckled, his spirits surprisingly high considering what he’d been through.

  Retrieving another pot of ointment from his bag, Taren settled next to Imrit. When he went to touch the old man’s arm, he felt a jolt of magic. Imrit felt it too. Saliva dripped from Taren’s mouth, his scales prickling.

  “What’s happening?” Zamna asked. Taren was changing before his eyes, and he feared he might have to fight his friend to protect the old man. He wasn’t sure he had the strength. Taren’s magic was strong and entirely unpredictable. He could probably kill the La’kertan with a single spell.

  “The symbol,” Taren said, his tone flat. “It won’t let me touch you.” Putting some distance between himself and his mentor, he began to feel more like himself. His scales settled, and his mouth no longer watered. Would he have bitten the old sorcerer? A heavy stone settled in the herbalist’s stomach, a foul taste lingering in his mouth.

  “That’s to be expected, given that it tried to kill me.” Imrit’s words held no malice.

  Swallowing hard, Taren fought back his anger and heartbreak. “I’d rather the symbol were destroyed than have to be apart from you,” he said. “You are more than a father to me, and you’re far more important than any symbol.”

  “You mustn’t talk like that,” Imrit said. “I appreciate your affection for me, and you know I think of you as a son. But the symbol can’t be destroyed, at least not by any means we possess. I’m happy for you.”

  “Happy?” Taren replied. “Happy that I’ve stolen the one thing you’ve desired all your life?”

  “You haven’t stolen anything,” the old sorcerer replied. “I’ve given it to you, and fate has chosen that your symbol should activate now. Once we have yours under control, we’ll search for a way to awaken mine. We’ll find a way, and I doubt it will take long.”

  Taren couldn’t believe how easy Imrit made everything sound. He wasn’t even angry with Taren for trying to set him ablaze. The herbalist had no desire to become a dragon, nor did he desire the symbol’s constant presence inside his body. Death was preferable to him. Otherwise, he’d have to endure Imrit’s eventual death, along with the loss of everyone else he would ever come to care about. There was no chance for a normal life. The symbol was a curse.

  “All I ask,” Imrit went on, “is that I’m allowed some time to heal. That means we’ll have to tread carefully around each other for a while.”

  He was right, and Taren knew it. If the symbol decided to attack the old sorcerer again, Taren would have no way of stopping it. Until they managed to decode its secrets and force it back to dormancy, he and Imrit would remain at odds.

  “The question is where to begin now,” Imrit said. “We know the symbols can’t be controlled, only partnered with. There must be something missing. Maybe you should try more dragon fire on that book.”

  “Never,” Taren replied. He had no intention of using dragon fire ever again, regardless of what the symbol wanted. It had only the power to harm and destroy. That wasn’t a power the young herbalist wanted.

  “Excuse me,” the captain’s voice sounded from the door. For a second, he sniffed at the air. The distinct smell of smoke and flame still permeated the cabin. Asking questions of sorcerers, however, was never wise. “The ship will be ready to depart tomorrow,” he announced.

  “Thank you,” Imrit called to him.

  “We can discuss our destination over dinner,” the captain said. Without waiting for a reply, he hurried away from the room.

  “I suppose our only option is to return to Ky’sall and continue our research,” Imrit said with a sigh. “We’ll have some time to go through the book again before we reach home.”

  “It’s going to be a long, tedious journey,” Taren said.

  “Indeed,” Imrit agreed. “I’ll likely be climbing the mast before we make landfall. I’ve never been a patient man.”

  “There could be more hidden in the tome,” Zamna said. All eyes focused on him. “We still have no idea why I’m able to read it. That suggests there is something about that book that isn’t right.”

  “Magic, of course,” Imrit said.

  “Yes,” Zamna said. “And Taren’s fire brought out new words, so that’s proof there is more than I can see upon those pages.”

  “I suspect whatever is in there can be drawn forth only by magic,” Imrit said. “Since Taren is unwilling to use his new skill, I’ll have to run down all the spells I can think of that might help.”

  The words were accusatory, and Taren felt guilty upon hearing them. “I’ll try,” he said. “But if the book is destroyed, then what?”

  “We won’t know until we try,” Imrit said.

  “That’s what you said before you were nearly burned to death,” Zamna reminded him.

  The old man laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is. All right, I’ll try a few spells and so will Taren. Then we’ll see if anything new emerges. If we still haven’t found anything by the time we reach Ky’sall, Taren can try the flames.”

  “While standing as far from you as he can get,” Zamna added.

  “Yes, that’s for the best,” Taren agreed. With any luck, it wouldn’t come to that point. There were many spells the two hadn’t tried, difficult ones. And what of potions? Once they returned to Ky’sall, Taren could craft tinctures that might reveal hidden words. Hope once again found its way into his heart, but a sadness settled over the top of it. If only he could forget the symbol existed. It was a plague on his existence.

  The ship set sail the following day, and the two s
orcerers set about casting spells over the tome. With each try, they offered the book to Zamna, who still saw only the same words. They continued with their enchantments, casting spells together, separately, and drawing on every bit of elemental magic they possessed. Imrit even tried tapping into void magic, which was a complete failure.

  All the while, the ship continued to sail. Taren slept upon the deck each night, nestled beneath the stars. He refused to allow a single moment of weakness in Imrit’s presence. If he was too tired to fight against the symbol’s wrath, it might harm the old man, and Taren could not risk it. Even feeling hungry meant he had to distance himself from Imrit. There couldn’t be any distractions. His mind had to stay focused.

  One night Zamna approached his friend as he sat near the water’s edge, staring down at the darkened waves. Breathing deeply of the salty air, the La’kertan seated himself next to Taren. “It’s a beautiful night,” he said.

  “It is,” Taren agreed, still staring at the sea.

  “I think you and Imrit should come back to La’kerta with me,” Zamna said. “I know you’re in a hurry to return to Ky’sall, but I think it’ll be worth your time.”

  Shaking his head, Taren disagreed. “No, Imrit won’t hear of a delay. He’s far too impatient, and he’ll call it a waste of time.” Taren regretted that he wouldn’t be able to visit La’kerta again. There was much he could learn about the island’s herb lore, and he wondered if Lilla would still be willing to teach him.

  “It’s on the way,” Zamna argued. “And the ship will be docked there for a day while they take on supplies anyway. Just give me that one day.”

  Wrinkling his brow, Taren studied his friend’s face. “You know something.”

  “Not exactly,” Zamna said. “But I do know someone. I’ve never trusted anyone as much as Ynaja, and that’s saying quite a lot. She’s knowledgeable, and she practices a kind of magic far different from what I’ve seen from you or Imrit. There’s also the chance that the Cultists were right, and my people have dragon ancestry.” He paused to look toward home. “I know Ynaja can help you.”

  Seeing the sincerity in Zamna’s eyes was all the convincing Taren needed. “Then I’ll go with you,” he said. There was nothing left to lose. Each day brought him closer to the edge, to the point of taking his own life. He hadn’t spoken of it again, but the dread gnawed at his soul. The symbol would destroy him from the inside, forcing him down a path he refused to walk. If there was no hope of taming the symbol, he would lose himself to its evil.

  Chapter 21

  Sleep became more difficult for Taren throughout the weeks-long journey. His supply of sleep tonics had long since been depleted. The constant motion of the ship wreaked havoc with his stomach, and he barely ate more than a few spoonfuls of broth during the day. At night, however, he feasted on the insects attracted to the lanterns aboard ship. Though he knew such actions would disgust the average human, he couldn’t help himself. Something about the tiny, winged creatures had become irresistible to his taste buds.

  Imrit said nothing but looked upon his former apprentice with silent concern. The sailors constantly averted their gaze when Taren passed by, which was quite often. Zamna alone passed no judgment on his companion, silent or otherwise.

  With his thoughts plagued by visions of flame and despair, Taren took to perching himself on the mast throughout the night. The feeling of flying high above the sea gave him immense comfort. It was the only place he could find solace.

  The scales continued to spread, though slowly. The majority of his face was now scaled, and there were no bare patches left on his legs and feet. His right arm was covered, but the left was blotchy, as was his torso. He longed to return home to his library, where a simple potion might put his skin right. Not permanently, of course. That would require the obedience of the symbol. But he could mask the effect through his knowledge of herb lore. All he lacked was the proper recipe, equipment, and ingredients.

  By the final week of the voyage to La’kerta, Taren took to wearing his hooded cloak at all times. Dressed all in black, he knew he would continue to frighten the sailors, but that couldn’t be avoided. He wore it to console himself, to hide his changing visage from the world, including his own eyes. Seeing his reflection upset him. It wasn’t his vanity. Taren had never thought of himself among the most attractive of wizards. But the inability to control the changes affecting him wore down his resolve, inviting despair into his heart. He had never felt so lost.

  Zamna’s spirits remained high and continued to improve as they neared La’kerta. He was confident in Ynaja, knowing she would find a way to help Taren and Imrit. The two missed each other’s company, but as time wore on, Taren’s symbol made it more and more difficult for them to come into contact. Zamna suspected it was more a product of Taren’s own paranoia than of actual magic. The young man was terrified of causing more harm to Imrit. Though Imrit’s burns were almost entirely healed, thanks to Taren’s medicine, the herbalist still carried the guilt in his heart. No amount of lighthearted joking on Zamna’s part could diminish it.

  Eventually land came into view, the isle of La’kerta shrouded in mist on the horizon. Zamna breathed a sigh of relief. He was convinced that a typhoon or some mythical beast would lay waste to the ship, but it didn’t happen. There was no sign of the kraken or his vengeance, and no random dragons swooped down to spirit Taren away. All in all, the trip was uneventful.

  Imrit, who had spent the majority of his time clinging to the dragon’s tome, finally made his way to the deck. Taren was huddled near the bulkhead, looking out upon the waves. Despite knowing his companion’s discomfort, Imrit approached him. “Looks like we’re about to arrive,” he commented.

  “You should keep your distance,” Taren warned. It wouldn’t take much effort to knock the old man into the water and leave him for dead. The symbol would be pleased, though Taren shuddered at the thought. Never before had such dark intentions entered his mind. They sickened him, and he gripped his arm, ready to rip the symbol from his body.

  Kneeling next to him, Imrit said, “None of that, now.” He reached for Taren’s arm, but hesitated. The young man had no control over the symbol’s power, and if it truly wanted Imrit dead, touching it could prove disastrous.

  “Do you think Ynaja can help us?” Taren asked, his eyes pleading.

  “Hard to say,” Imrit replied, standing up straight. “She knows a form of magic that we don’t, so it’s at least worth a visit. Your friend seems to think she’s some sort of genius.” He inclined his head toward Zamna, who stood near the front of the ship. “He seems eager to make landfall.”

  “This is his home,” Taren said. Despite his desire to travel the world, Taren found himself a bit homesick. He wondered if it would still feel like home when he arrived there, given his current condition. What would Vita think of him? And his customers? Would they recoil at the sight of him? Of course they would.

  As long as he could convince Vita to stay on as his assistant, he’d have a chance. She could continue to run the business and meet with the customers, leaving Taren free to lurk in the shadows. There would be few places in the world that would accept him. Was La’kerta one of those places? If Ynaja sent him away, all hope was lost. He would have to return home and seek his own cure.

  As the ship pulled into the docks, Imrit produced a sizable amount of gold coins from his trunk. Turning them over to the captain, he said, “Here’s most of what I owe,” he said. “The rest of it you’ll get when we return to Ky’sall.”

  The captain seemed pleased, the gold glinting in his eyes. “We’re not going anywhere without you,” he assured his passenger. “We can stay a few days if need be.”

  Imrit clapped the captain on his back and proceeded down the gangplank. All the medicine he’d received to treat his burns had left him with a youthful spring in his step. Except for some minor scarring on his skin, one would never guess he’d sustained any injuries.

  “Ready?” Zamna asked, looking at T
aren.

  “I was waiting for Imrit to get ahead of me,” he said.

  “I gave him directions to the temple, but we don’t want to be too far apart,” Zamna cautioned. “Outlaws sometimes take advantage of travelers, and they have no way of knowing Imrit is a wizard. If he’s attacked, it could be fun to watch.” He hissed with laughter.

  “How can you say that?” Taren asked.

  “We La’kertans don’t see many sorcerers,” Zamna replied. “When that old man unleashes his magic on those outlaws, they’re going to soil themselves. I’d like to see it.” A wide grin spread across his scaly face.

  Taren smiled despite his dour mood. “I suppose that would be fun.” He remembered his first trip to the temple, and the bandits that had attempted to rob him. Assuming the symbol didn’t send his spells haywire, Imrit would probably put up an impressive fight.

  They journeyed on, keeping several feet behind Imrit at all times. Zamna stayed at Taren’s side in case the young man needed him. He hadn’t been himself at all these last few weeks, and Zamna feared for his health.

  They passed through the wilderness without incident. When they reached the marketplace, Zamna asked, “Would you like to say hello to Lilla?” Surely that would make Taren feel better.

  Pulling his hood forward to shield his face, Taren replied, “She shouldn’t see me like this.”

  “What, with scales?” Zamna hissed with laughter. “I’m sure she’d think it was an improvement.”

  Taren had to concede the point. “You might be right,” he said. “Let’s visit with Ynaja first.” Given the choice, he wouldn’t see Lilla again until he was feeling like his old self. Recent events had left him troubled, and she would easily sense the change in him. Once he was back in control of his own life, he would love to speak with her again.

  “Here it is,” Zamna said as they neared the Temple of Auk. Imrit awaited them on the steps out front.