Pressure began to build within him.
That much, at least, was familiar to Laric. He had felt that pressure before and had come to know that strange energy as it had worked through him—all because of Sashaak. That was the same sense that he was picking up on now, only it wasn’t his dragon.
That worried him.
Laric began to back away. He knew what was coming.
As the dragon squeezed through the portal, reminding him all too much of how his dragon had done so in the past, Laric didn’t know if he should be concerned or not. Part of him hoped that maybe he would be able to somehow use this dragon. There would be potential within the creature, but he knew that feeling the potential and having the ability to reach—and use—that potential were different matters. He wasn’t sure he would be capable of drawing on the potential of a different dragon.
Why not, though?
Hadn’t he drawn on the potential from a dragon before? Could he do the same with this dragon—and this potential?
He reached out for it, recognizing what he did with the dragon and beginning to fill with additional potential, fortifying the smoky haze building around him.
The dragon roared.
Pain surged through Laric, and he cried out.
Then the dragon slithered past him. The thing continued to swell and grow, power expanding and filling the entirety of the dragon, and an enormous amount of potential spilled out from the dragon. Laric could scarcely keep track of that, and he didn’t know if there was anything that he should try, other than to fight.
The dragon ignored him altogether.
Laric glanced toward the portal. The doorway looked different than it had before. The glyphs had taken on different shapes and positions, which suggested to him that it had opened to a different place.
How was that possible? What had the mages learned to do?
“You don’t have to fight,” a voice said, curling through the haze.
The smoke in the air lingered, and he worried about it. He didn’t have control over it the way he had at first. It felt as if something—and someone, he suspected—had ripped that control free from him, making it so that he no longer had power over it.
“You do not have to fight us.”
Laric backed toward the portal, and he wondered if there would be any way he could activate it.
“We can help you.” A note of something like urgency was evident in the voice.
Somebody strode forward. They were shrouded in the smoky haze, making it difficult for Laric to see much of anything. He tried to stare through it while focusing on the potential, thinking about different spellcraft forms and different spellslips that might be useful here.
Nothing came to mind that would work.
The man was tall, and about Laric’s height, and had a slight build. His eyes were deep, intense, and every so often it seemed as if there was a bit of fire that flashed in them. Those eyes terrified him.
“You have some potential,” the man said.
“You aren’t going to hold me here,” Laric spat.
The man flicked his gaze around the chamber. “Hold you? Where were you going to go?”
“Through the portal.”
The man snorted. Laric was aware of others who were with him, but they didn’t come forward. They were still shrouded in the smoke he had generated.
“How did you learn to do all this?” The man gestured to the haze around him.
Laric felt the portal behind him. He was hesitant, yet he couldn’t help but feel as if he needed to try to open it. At least staying close to it would give him an opportunity to open it if it came down to it.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said.
“Well, it matters a little,” the man said. He shuffled slightly farther forward. “I’m just looking to see where you learned this. A bit different than a mage trick.”
“A mage trick?”
The man shrugged. “It takes control. It takes an understanding of the link. And it takes an understanding of drawing on that potential. So I’m asking you where you learned it.”
The tone of the question was different than Laric had expected. He had thought that this man was with the mages, and that he had captured the dragon. Hadn’t he?
Now Laric was not nearly as certain.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Well, that’s a very different sort of question now, isn’t it? You’re here in my space, and—”
“It’s not your space,” Laric said.
The man arched one brow. It made him look almost playful, rather than dangerous. “Yours?”
“It was my grandmother’s, but it’s mine now. And you’re not taking it.”
