Grusa-kal's Burden

Chapter 8

"It is time," Grusa-kal murmured. In his mind he thought of Klhega, but he let go of her memory. He needed to focus. For her, for dragon kind, for humankind even. Failure was not an option.

The other conjurers around him nodded in agreement. The Greatest Elder had practiced tapping into Raw Magic. They all knew the spell. Many days of instructing each as they arrived would culminate now. Four hundred and thirteen in total arrived, all Masters and Elders around the world, ready to bring peace. And they had brought a welcome surprise. Nearly every conjurer in the world would participate in this spell, and a number of spirit dragons wanted to help too. While they will not say the words, they would pool their magic together as an additional source. All agreed to begin as soon as they felt the touch of the Greatest Elder, calling out with a beacon spell one foreign conjurer had developed.

How they organized that, Grusa-kal will never know. He wanted to, but there are more important things for him to devote his time to.

Closing his eyes, Grusa-kal began the chant to alert the conjuring dragons. Such a spell he should have written down before now, but it was too late. After all of this, if he remembered the words, he would study them and see if additional long-distance communication spells could be developed. It would make things so much easier to speak to anyone anywhere in the world.

He shook his head, bringing his focus back to the task at hand. The spell was not complicated, but he needed to be precise so that he did not alert every dragon in the world and thus create panic. Just the ones wanting to help.

Before too long, Grusa-kal finished that spell, and felt waves of power crash against him. So much power. Dragon kind was indeed the mightiest of Laku. He would need every bit of it.

When he began the process of binding the two species, all the other conjurers present spoke the same words in unison. All adding their magic to the mix, and though they spoke as one, they were all still independent. If one misspoke, none of the rest would follow.

Quickly, Grusa-kal's inner focus turned to the well of Raw Magic all around him. A well that made the worldwide contributions of the conjuring dragons feel like drips. And it reminded him why their magic was considered tame.

The Raw Magic felt like it was boiling his blood and oozing through his scales. No, blasting through his scales. If his outer focus was not paying attention to the spell he was casting he might have noticed if the feelings were real or imagined. But he could not distract himself like that. Even if it kills him this needs to be done.

And the focus of the rest matched his: join two species. Humans become dragons and dragons become humans. Two forms, one soul and body. A hybrid with so many paradoxes and eccentricities, but all of which are addressed in the spell. Not one conjurer here raised any concerns to the spell he presented to them. All thought it was sound. None would expect any less from something developed by the spirits.

The earliest of the spells addressed the features of the joined individuals. The ability to transform even in human form, the dragon form being the only one that can access magic, limiting breeding to solely the dragon form, the scaling of eaten food when one transforms, letting the human form keep any inanimate items they wear or carry through transformations. So many things that spirits thought of, things that would never cross his mind.

And through it all, Grusa-kal endured the pain the Raw Magic subjected him to. From what little he knew, the experience was different based on the user and the spell. No patterns have ever been noticed. He could not make a judgement to determine whether the pain was good, bad, or just pain with no meaning.

Hours passed. No conjurer had backed out. No Turns have been witnessed. But the hardest part came now. The actual fusion of the two species. The Joining.

Still in sync, they all spoke the words that would seal their fate together. One ambiguity they all talked about was if the spell created a new human form to join with theirs or bind each and every one of them to an existing human and combine their souls. Even Angond had no answer to that. All they knew was that when the spell was done, they would be part human. They would be a part of a new race.

But after another hour, Grusa-kal's focus was shattered. The flow of magic to him from the conjurers was dwindling. His contact with them was shrinking. Either they were backing out from lack of power or they were dying.

Grusa-kal could not stop the spell. He had long since passed the point of no return. If absolutely necessary he could finish the incantation on his own, drawing solely from the Raw Magic that seemed to burn even more of him away.

And yet, even though he was losing the conjurers, something else began to build. It was a force he could not identify, but it was trying to surround him, to smother him.

He realized too late it was trying to kill him.

"Turn!" his subconscious screamed. Something was very wrong. But the Greatest Elder could think no more. Unknowingly, he fell to the ground littered with four hundred and thirteen other conjurers, all dead. Even his spirit had ceased all thought, succumbing to the death grip of the Turn. Grusa-kal would not ascend to the sprint world. Nor would any of the other conjurers around the world, also dead.

# # #

(Anyle's POV)

Anyle had watched with horror as the conjurers began to fall. Not only them, but others within the clan, even the younglings. Later he realized to his horror that unmorphed younglings had died as well.

And yet, he knew he could not sit around grieving or experimenting with his new human form. Now was not the time to see if the humans have realized what they now have. Something worse than anything imaginable happened. A new force had been unleashed.

Corrupt magic, as a few had whispered, thinking he was not listening. He knew better. There was nothing inherently corrupt about it. Misunderstood, yes. Deadly, yes. Malevolent, not at all. Some Laku use it on a normal basis, though it was not common knowledge.

Dragon kind had no place with this other force. That the Joining had created a wave of it spoke more of the nature of the spells than to the magic itself. Somewhere, somehow, every dragon involved at all had missed something vitally important. And it cost dragon kind every conjurer that ever existed. Even now, after three days, it was evident from all messengers that there exists only four types of dragon.

Anyle had to figure out what happened. He had to share his thoughts with others. Tell them about the force they called corrupt magic, about what it did. Answers still needed to be sought. Questions needed to be asked.

Dragons needed to be buried or burned. Not even they lived on in spirit.

Blowing his flame onto the bundle of sticks in his pit, he quickly made more charcoal. An ingredient for his ink. Later, he knew he would search for lengths of paper to write on. So much needed to be written. So much needed to be discovered.

For dragon kind. For the few conjuring friends he once had. For Grusa-kal.

For all who died. For all who lived.