The Flames of Rage - an Enchantica story (novel) by Peter Van Mol

Chapter Four

Thora'ahn - self-appointed Lord of Fire - came to a halt before the massive stone doors that separated his private domain from the rest of the subterrainean maze that had been his entire realm for the past years. The runic symbols carved on the doors led all the way up to the high-domed roof of the cavern, where they disappeared in darkness. Having spent more than four years of his life decyphering them, Thora'ahn knew them well enough by heart, however, and read them aloud in a solemn voice.

Surprising all those who passed this point for the first time, the huge slabs of nightblack stone moved aside with barely a whisper. Equally surprising was the immense heat that struck those who sought entry in the face with the force of a physical blow: a heat emmanating from the very heart of the mountain, reaching temperatures barely tolerable for anything even remotely human. Yet, it was here that Thora'ahn came to gather strength - and to confer with the creatures that'd become the focal point of his master plan.

Walking slowly to savour the energy that built inside of him, the wizard passed through his personal quarters and onwards through the wall. The rear wall of his study, although looking as real as any of the other walls, was merely an illusion and probably wouldn't stand up to the scrutiny of another wizard. Then again, it didn't have to : only few of the Lord's minions were invited this far, and none of them had any talent for magic. As to unwanted visitors, the evil one was sure he'd know of their presence long before they could hope to get this far. All things considered, the illusion only served to comfort the wizard himself, because the sight of what lay behind it, sometimes disturbed even him. If he wanted to go ahead with his grand scheme, though, another visit could not be put off any longer.

On the other side of the "wall", a huge circular cave stretched out before the Lord of Fire. Its floor was barely more than a ledge - perhaps four feet wide at best - running around a pool of liquid, always moving magma. The stench of sulphur hung heaviliy in the air, but that and the heat both seemed to please the cave's inhabitants.

Clinging to a craggy oucropping on the far wall, some twenty feet above the magma, one of the small black dragons unfurled its wings and turned to face its guest. The creature's tiny eyes fixed the wizard with a stare that conveyed pure malice, but the two had faced eachother before and knew who was master - at least for the time being. About the size of a goat, the creature truly was a dragon, clearly of a species akin to both Tsunamis and the Widgers, but with a completely different set of abilities.

What had caught Thora'ahn's attention on that fatefull day when he'd discovered this part of the mountain, was this species' natural aptitude for magic. He'd hypothesized that, due to their limited size and numbers, these dragons hadn't been able to hold their own against other, larger types of dragon. He'd also surmised that, with the help of a master magician like himself, they could be turned into a formidable weapon, more than sufficiently motivated to exact their own revenge on the more domesticated dragons who served man.

The one that looked down at him now, was the small group's leader, and the only one willing to actually communicate with him so far. As long as the other creatures seemed content to follow this one's lead, however, the arrangement suited the wizard just fine - if only they didn't have to look so nightmarishly ugly.

"The time has come to make our alliance known to the world outside the Burrief Mountains." he said to the dragon, hoping to sound as pursuasive as ever. "Tomorrow morning, when the sun rises, we will show them what our combined strength can do. One of yours will leave this cave and lay waste to the village in the valley below. My spells will give him the power to do so, and the few who manage to escape us, will spread the fear of our coming."

Pleased that the time to fight back had finally come, the dragon signalled its accord with a telepathic message straight into Thora'ahn's mind. In a way, it wasn't so much a message as it was an emotion - a brief surge of rage and lust, followed by a hint of relief - but the Lord of Fire had come to understand this form of communication quite well. This "reply" to his statement was as much as he could expect to get from the creature, but sometime during the night one of its breed would present itself to the wizard to receive the spell that would change it into the instrument of his revenge.

Thora'ahn reminded himself that his dragon-allies could never be completely trusted, but he felt confident that their mutual need for retaliation and revenge ensured their "loyalty" concerning the next phase of his plan. Tonight, the years of experimentation would come to an end, and in the morning, he would fulfill the last wish of his ancestors as it was passed down from generation to generation.

***

Hiding behind a pillar of sulphur-coated stone as he watched his master depart the magma-cavern, Durrogh suppressed a shudder of anguish. He knew that Thora'ahn would kill him on the spot if he knew the Ogre had been spying on him, but Durrogh was convinced the wizard hadn't been aware of his nearness.

The Lord of Fire had spoken the truth when he'd last shared his thoughts with the Ogre, and that - in some strange way - made the massive half-man even more unsure what to do next. He'd made up his mind to find some way of stopping his master before it was too late, but never fully managed to free himself from the gratitude he still felt towards the wizard.

Decennia ago, Durrogh's tribe had cast him and a small group of his closest supporters into an oubliette they'd found in an old abandoned castle. Left there to die by the tribal leader they'd tried to overthrow, the bound and wounded handfull of Ogres had lost all hope of survival - until Thora'ahn found them. In return for their oath of fealty, he'd saved them and restored them to health. As soon as they'd recovered enough to feel well, they'd returned to their tribe and had slain their ennemies in a final act of personal freedom.

***

Knowing that his master had treated him well, had even promoted him to a position of trust and honor, Durrogh should've been content to serve the man for the rest of his life. On the other hand, the total annihilation of every living being on the face of this world, was too much even for a bloodthirsty Ogre as he considered himself to be.

A sudden inspiration helped Durrogh to realize that he didn't want his master to get killed or even captured, just stopped - whereas he also knew that, even with the help of his fellows, they didn't have the kind of power it would take to put a halt to Thora'ahn's plans. If he wanted to get anything done before it was too late, he had to enlist the help of others, outsiders ... or he had to give others enough information to goad them into undertaking steps right away.

Unusually pleased with himself for arriving at such an amazing mental breakthrough, the Ogre cracked a smile and left his hiding place. Behind him, twenty feet higher, the black dragon's eyes twinkled with an unholy light that clearly spelled disaster.

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