Of Dragon Riders and Shadows

Chapter Seven - When History Speaks

Rex had never explored the Gray Palace with others before, making it another first in a long list of them.

This time, there was the sounds of footsteps accompanying his trek down the corridor. Xatho and Athol murmured to each other, Ander mumbled to himself as he inspected the walls and the floors, and Adrien oohed and awed as they passed a certain mosaic or an especially colourful tapestry. In a way, their presence was comforting.

"Is it just me, or are the lights dimming?" Old-fashioned lamps of carefully crafted glass provided the only illumination, lining the walls at irregular intervals. Their purple flames, enchanted to never flicker out, seemed to shrink as they continued to walk.

"Unless our eyes have started to go blind, I would say you are correct in your observation," Ander quipped.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Adrien queried immediately after Ander fell silent. "I'm not very knowledgeable on magyk in general, so..."

They continued to walk, Rex leading the little group. He looked at their surroundings apprehensively. There was something very strange, very out-of-place about this mysterious section.

"Well, the Gray Palace – for the most part – makes use of torches that are regularly lighted, and light sources that only go out by the will of the enchanter who made them. This...is different."

"Different or not, I hope someone brought a light, or is willing to make some, because those flames will fade within minutes," Xatho replied brusquely.

Now it was darker than the grounds of the palace at night, and the floor and walls had all but disappeared.

"I was...serious," Xatho gasped from somewhere behind Rex.

"Stop!" Athol's panicked voice made them all halt their cautious, slow pace. "Light? Please?"

Rex looked down at a hand he could barely make out. He could summon a light, had done so on a few occasions...

"Let me." A few muttered words in mangled Ryané came from Rex's left, and soon the entire corridor was awash with flickers of amber light. Turning, Rex saw Ander creating thin streams of light that twined around each of them; they were coming from his palms, which were facing the air in front of him.

Rex didn't know much about the ways of enchanters and sorcerers, but he nevertheless recognized that technique.

"I learnt it from some highly censored texts, written in the sixth age," Ander replied to Rex's unspoken question.

Now provided with light, Rex began to walk forward again, this time with Ander by his side.

"Once I was old enough to begin making up my own mind, I decided to learn the ways of sorcerers. I wasn't going to wait around for my death – I learnt, practiced - did something with the magyk inside of me." The words were defiant, a challenge to them and to the world specifically, one where children were forced to contemplate their impending demise.

"But...forgive me if I'm wrong," Xatho began haltingly, seemingly recovered from his panic at the complete darkness, "aren't sorcerers supposed to use the elements? Only adepts have innate magyk! How does that work?"

"The intent is the same, whether it's to create flame, or light, or to levitate objects. I took the theory and the techniques, and applied it to my own magyk. The only real difference that I've been able to find is the visibility of the magyk."

"Truly! That's quite impressive," Athol chimed from behind Rex. "How many advanced techniques have you mastered?"

"A good number," Ander admitted smugly. Rex didn't blame him – what an accomplishment!