Albrek's Tomb

It was all he could do to conjure a single faint weir light, its dim glow reflected back to him by the crystal on Nethrom’s table. Without thinking, Alex reached out and took the crystal, but he was too tired to put it inside his magic bag. Instead, he held it close to him with his free hand and pushed himself away from the table with his other hand.

It was difficult for Alex to find his way out of the room. He was dizzy, and the feeble light he’d conjured did little to illuminate the path. He managed to close the door to Nethrom’s prison behind him and then staggered across the chamber where he’d faced the golem. He felt like the weight of the mountain was pressing down on him.

The great cavern where he’d met the dwarf king, Set, was empty, and Alex hoped that that meant the king and his long-dead people had finally found their rest. As he made his way slowly across the wide floor, the darkness continued to press in on him, but he knew he had to go on, to return to his friends.

Pausing at the bottom of the cliff to rest, Alex looked up. He could not see very far in the darkness, but he felt a sudden surge of energy. He had to hurry. The darkness was growing heavier, and he could feel it all around him, trying to hold him where he was. More than once he had to stop and rest on the long climb to the top of the cliff, but each time he stopped, he felt the same urge to hurry push him forward. He longed for the feel of the wind on his face, but the air in the cave was deathly still.

By the time Alex reached the first chamber he’d entered, he was barely moving. His feet slid across the stone floor, and each movement took all the strength he could find. Only a strange light in the chamber drew him on, and when he stepped into the light, he had to blink to focus his eyes.

In the center of the chamber was a circle of torches. The jewels that had once been bats had been gathered into a great pile, and on the top of the pile sat the broken crown of Set. It had once been a beautiful crown of true silver, inlayed with gold and precious stones, and on its top was a star sapphire as large as an egg. The sapphire had been cut in half along with the crown, and Alex felt a great sorrow that such a beautiful object had been destroyed.

He thought he would leave the gems where they were, not having the energy to put them into his magic bag, but he had promised Set he would return the crown to Thorgood. He took a deep breath, and was pleased to discover that when he simply thought, treasure room,Set’s crown, along with the entire pile of jewels, vanished into his magic bag.

Alex closed his eyes, trying to gather the strength to go on. It seemed only a moment later when he opened his eyes again, but the torches had almost gone out, and he realized he’d been standing still for a very long time. He felt stiff and found it difficult to move, but the sudden, loud crashing sound of stone falling on stone in the tu

Daylight shining into the mouth of the cave gave Alex hope, and he moved as quickly as he could to reach it. A cold breeze blew across his face as he left the cave, and he wiped away the tears that the bright light brought to his eyes. A huge weight seemed to lift from him as he stepped into the icy snow, and the cold, clean air woke him as if from a deep sleep. He crunched his way through the snow, moving away from the cave of the necromancer. Alex paused to look back just before he turned round the bend in the path. He felt the mountain shake, and as he watched, the cave crumbled into an unrecognizable pile of stones.

It was only then that Alex realized that he had been holding the mountain in check. It had been the weight of the mountain that had been pressing down on him, trying to cover the dark caverns below, and it had been his own unconscious will that had held it back. The realization shocked him, but he was too tired and weak to worry about it too much. If he had held back the mountain without knowing it, well, that was fine. At least he’d managed to get out before the caves had collapsed on top of him.

Alex started down the path once more, but it was slow going. The snow was deep, and he was still weak. After he’d walked a little more than a mile, he sat down in the snow to rest. He ate some dried meat from his magic bag and drank a great deal of water. He didn’t remember water ever tasting so good before, or the air smelling so fresh. When he began to feel the cold bite of winter, he got up and started down the mountain again.

He thought about changing into a bird or a breeze, but the transformation spell seemed too difficult. Besides, he wasn’t sure he would be strong enough to change back to himself when he reached Neplee.

Alex made his way slowly through the untouched snow of the Lost Mountains on foot. He was careful not to slip as he went along; the last thing he wanted right now was to roll down an icy mountainside and be covered with snow.

When the sun began to sink in the west, Alex began looking for a place to spend the night. He knew the clear sky would make the night much colder than the day had been. Normally, he could withstand the cold in the form of a tree, or he would conjure a fire to keep himself warm. He still felt too tired to change his shape, though, and he wasn’t sure he could sustain a fire all through the night. Instead he found a sheltered spot close to some trees where a old pine had fallen. After resting for several minutes, he was able to ignite a small pile of branches with the inferno spell he knew so well, and he was grateful for the warmth the fire offered.

The night was long and cold, but even though Alex was terribly tired, he did not sleep. Instead he spent the time thinking about what had happened in the darkness below the mountain. An incredible amount of power had flowed through him when he needed it, a power he had not known was possible. It had come to him, filling him with both a wild recklessness and a joy he could not describe in words.

Then there was Mog’s final word before he fled from Nethrom’s body.

“Dragon,” Alex finally said to himself in the darkness.

That was the name Mog had given him, the name Salinor had suggested that Alex would one day take, and the name he had been afraid of since he had first felt its power. Now that the reckless power had rescued him from despair, and, in a way, had become part of him, Alex knew why he was so weak. When he had released the power of the dragon and forced himself away from it, it had drained him. He also knew that the power was still there, waiting for him to call on it, or for some need to force it out of him. He knew that he would have to learn more about this power. But he could only do that if he took the shape of the dragon.

“Not yet,” said Alex to the blowing wind. “Not yet.”

He also thought about Nethrom’s final words, his answer to the question Alex had asked: The order of Malgor.Alex’s thoughts ran through his mind like the winter wind, and he was unable to hold on to them for long.

In the cold hour before dawn, Alex built up his fire and cooked some food. He wasn’t really hungry, but he knew he should eat. He didn’t know how long he had been in the mountains. He could remember the two days it took to reach the necromancer, but he had no idea how long he’d been in the dark caverns under the mountain, asleep. It felt like a long time, but that might have been because he’d woken in darkness.

When the sun rose, he was ready to move again. For a moment, Alex considered taking a form other than his own so he could return to Neplee more quickly. He felt stronger, but still he hesitated. A part of him wanted to take the shape of the dragon, the shape that was at least part of what he was. But he knew that taking the dragon form now would be foolish; he wasn’t sure what changes it would make in him, and he wasn’t even sure he would ever return to his friends if he took that shape now.