It was mostly fire, Laric could tell, but not entirely. There was an element to it that he couldn’t quite identify. Dizarn glanced at the others behind him. Malik took a few steps back and stood in the center of the room. Even Janear did the same, though she gave her brother a few paces of distance.
“Potential is something with which we are born,” Dizarn said. “And it is what defines us and defines the ability that we have to channel the connection we share to the dragons. Potential is what binds us to everything in this world. With enough potential, we are able to draw upon a considerable amount of the resources that are present here. It is the power that guides us, the power that links.” He watched Laric for a moment. “And it is probably the same power my mother noticed inside of you.”
Laric nodded.
“You called her your grandmother.”
“She was my grandmother.”
Dizarn smiled tightly. “We shall see.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Do you know what Imelda was?”
Laric resisted the urge to snap at him and say the most obvious answer to him, which was that she was his grandmother, but he had the feeling that he might get something snarky in response if he did. At this point, he didn’t necessarily want snark. He wanted answers, and he felt like there was an answer to be found here. The problem was that he wasn’t sure he would like the answer he was going to get.
“She was some sort of a glyph master,” Laric said.
“Something along those lines. But she was more. Much more. She searched for those with potential. Did you know this?”
“I… I guess I didn’t.”
“She did. She traveled extensively, I might add, because that was the nature of what she was tasked with doing. There are not many born with such potential.”
“And by that, you mean dragonborn,” Laric said.
“You can call it what you like, but we shall use the term ‘potential.’ A characteristic, a definition, and the best way to describe it.”
“So she searched for people.”
“She did,” Dizarn said.
The man started to pace. At first, he moved from side to side, and it looked a little bit like he was just anxiously pacing. But the more Laric paid attention to the pattern he was making, the more he came to realize it wasn’t just random and that Dizarn was doing something more with the movements. It was almost as if he was performing some form of spellcraft.
Dizarn moved behind Laric and stood there, and his voice carried through the cavern. “Typically, when she would find somebody with the necessary potential, she would mark them in some way.”
Laric noticed a strange stirring inside of himself, which began to build. It was soft, steady, yet it slowly grew stronger. It worked its way through him, and there was some part of it that reminded him a bit of what his grandmother had once done with him, and to him. That couldn’t be coincidence, he knew.
“You carry her mark on you, though perhaps you knew that,” Dizarn said.
Laric shook his head, but he felt as if he couldn’t move. He wanted to, but his body wasn’t responding to him as well as it should.
“Perhaps not, then. I have been looking for her. There have been stories that she got lost. That would not be like her, as Imelda would never get lost. There were stories that she faced some dangerous threat from this northern realm,” he said, sneering as he said the words, “but again, she was too clever for that to be the case.”
“You mean mages?” Laric asked.
Dizarn pressed his lips together into a tight frown. He had moved again, now standing barely to Laric’s left, and more of the pattern that he was making began to solidify. Laric had no idea what that pattern was meant to do, other than he guessed that Dizarn was trying to trigger some proof that Laric had somehow been marked. That was the only thing he could think of, but he also didn’t know why that would be the case.
“Is that what you call them?”
Laric shrugged. “I was taught to believe that they were incredibly powerful. I was taught to revere them. They have the kind of power and magic that I was training to use.”
Janear snorted.
Dizarn shot her a look, and Laric wondered what passed between them.
“Is that correct?” Dizarn said. “Well, perhaps that is something my mother had gone to investigate.”
“I don’t know,” Laric said. “Mages have recently discovered a way to control dragons. But she knew that, I suspect, as she wasn’t trapped here. Especially since this doorway can open to many different places.”
“It depends on how you activate it, but yes.”
“So then what?”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“I’m asking what else,” Laric said. “You’re talking about opening doorways and accessing power, but about something else as well. And you’re concerned about where my grandmother”—he emphasized that because it felt like he needed to do so—“was involved in this in some way. I don’t know that I believe everything you’re saying, but I’m willing to have you try to convince me.”
Laric had not known where his grandmother had traveled, but after having spoken to Xavier and Malcolm’s father, he knew that she’d been traveling north through the mountains, and likely even to Korthal itself.
Dizarn snorted. “It is not on me to convince you. As I said, you have been marked. That tells me all I need to know—she was here, and she was aware of your potential.”
“You’re making it seem like she’s not my grandmother, but I know differently.”
“Do you?”
“Well, I know her. She is the one who taught me.”
