Chapter 3

His eyes opened. He was sitting in front of a stone table. Dylan tried to move his arms and realized he was tied to a chair.

Out of thin air a boy richly dressed in silver appeared, sitting on the chair opposite to Dylan's side of the table. Dylan started to work on the ropes around his wrists just as an older man with a well-trimmed black beard showed up beside the Magician, dressed in a long blue robe. Dylan recognized the true King's pendant, shaped in the likeness of the sun, hung around the Magician's neck on a gold chain.

"I wondered when we would meet, Dylan Jones," the Magician said.

"I can't say I feel the same way about you," Dylan said, trying not to make his attempts to free himself very obvious.

Dylan kept trying to slacken the ropes, but the job would be more difficult since he had been tied in his sleep and hadn't been able to flex his wrists against them.

The "king" smirked. "Our fathers met once a long time ago. Let's see—it was already more than 2000 years since your so-called King hadn't returned. If it wasn't for the fact that I need your for something, I would have made a public example of your disloyalty."
Keep him talking, Dylan thought as the ropes began to loosen just a bit. "And this is your solution to getting me to help? You're wrong if you think I'll be threatened into doing what you want.”

A smile played on the Magician's mouth and he said, "I think we both know why you're here.”

Actually, Dylan wasn't quite sure. As the descendant of a Swordbearer, it would have made more sense for the Magician to just kill him—like his father had ordered. But Dylan decided to play along anyway.

"Then again," the Magician continued as a red goblet appeared on the table in front of him, "I may have some explaining to do." He drank from the goblet and then set it noiselessly back onto the table.

So while Dylan kept working to free himself, the Magician began what would probably be a long explanation. Bored out of his mind, Dylan pretended to listen.

"Years ago your father was among the Three Swordbearers who tried to take this castle back from my father, the previous Magician. Before his recent death that is. Those Swordbearers claimed to be fighting in the name of the King. Of course," he said with the same arrogance Dylan had seen on his face during the procession, "I am the king now.”

Dylan laughed. "Really? I'm sure when the true King returns he'll be falling at your feet in subjection.”

The man in the blue robe, who hadn't spoken until now, drew out his knife and lifted Dylan's chin to face him, looking him in the eyes. "Your king is dead. The true king is before you now and deserves your respect.”

Dylan jerked his chin away. "You wish the true King was dead.”

"And you will be too," the man threatened, "when we are finished with you.”

"Enough," the Magician said, slamming his goblet onto the table for emphasis.

"So," Dylan said with irritation, "was that the only reason you brought me here? To give me a monologue?”

The Magician sipped from his red goblet again and said, "There were three Elemental Discs that the Swordbearers kept, for Ice, Fire and Lightning. But somewhere between their annihilation and the claiming of the swords by my father, they were lost. Where are they?”

The question was straightforward, and it had come quicker than Dylan expected. "I don't know," he said, deciding it didn't matter anymore whether he pretended to know what was going on or not. They would likely kill him either way.

The man in the blue robe looked Dylan in the eyes again. Dylan felt himself being pulled into a trance-like state and shifted the focus of his gaze towards the table. He could sense the man probing his thoughts, though he couldn't explain how he knew. "There isn't the fear from lying in him," the man said finally. "He doesn't know.”

"Unfortunate," the Magician said with a mocking smile. "I'd hoped to keep you around for a little longer.”

"I could do without that," Dylan answered cooly, "thank you very much." He was almost free and making surprisingly rapid progress in removing the ropes from his hands.

"Well...there is one more thing," the Magician said thoughtfully, setting a dagger on the table beside his red goblet for no apparent reason.

The ropes were about halfway down his hand now, and Dylan moved them towards his fingertips. He felt a knot and started trying to loosen it.

"Your brothers and sisters," the Magician said. "Where are they?”

How did he know Dylan had brothers and sisters? Something wasn't right about that.

"What are you talking about?" Dylan said, pretending to be confused. He tried to avoid the other man's eyes without looking uneasy. He sensed probing again and mentally blocked his thoughts from being read. He wasn't sure if he could do that, but it was worth a shot.

"He resists my mind reading," the man in the blue robe said. "He is hiding something."
The ropes were still really tight, and Dylan struggled to keep loosening them. He wasn't sure how to respond to the robed man's claim, so he waited for the Magician to react first, still trying to maintain his fake innocence. Still, it was true he didn't really know where any of his siblings were.

"Hiding something?" The Magician said, as if he had come up with the idea himself. But it was all a show, Dylan could tell. He looked at Dylan and smirked. "Why would you have to hide something from me?”

Dylan felt cold metal touch his wrists and froze in the middle of what he was doing. "They can't see me," a woman's voice whispered, and Dylan realized a knife was slicing through the ropes. "But I'm here to help you.”

Dylan wanted to give a signal that he had heard whoever it was, but he didn't know how to do it without the Magician or the robed man noticing. Behind his back he tried to give a thumbs up while keeping the ropes together.

"Let's see," the Magician continued, "two sisters and two brothers. You escaped with the youngest girl and then something happened to her afterward, so that we only found you.”

"What are you talking about?" Dylan said, seeing the dagger on the table out of the corner of his eye.

The man in the robe stiffened and said, "He's not the only one here—I sense someone else…"

Dylan jumped from his seat and grabbed the dagger, pointing it at them. "Stay where you are.”

"Guards!" the Magician shouted, and Dylan saw him create a forcefield around him and the man with the robe.

Three men burst through the wooden double doors, crossbows in hand. They aimed their weapons at Dylan. "Drop the dagger!" one of them ordered.

"Keep going," the female voice said assuringly. "I'll take care of them.”

Although it didn't quite make sense, Dylan felt a strange peace about doing as the voice told him. Still holding the dagger, he walked towards the double doors. At that moment the crossbows were jerked from the guards' hands by a mysterious force, and they fell to the ground.

Dylan ran down the hall past the double doors just as the robed man's voice came from behind, "Stop him! Don't let him get away!”

"Isirien the Sorcerer," the mysterious voice said aloud as Dylan kept running, "I remember you well.”

"Who goes there?" he demanded. "Show yourself.”

"I do not obey anyone's commands except the King's, you who end the lives of the voiceless and destroy the faithful," the voice answered calmly but firmly. Someone responded, but Dylan was too far away to hear what was being said.

"Where do I go now?" Dylan murmured aloud. He took random turns down different halls—there were no lights—and tried not to run into anything on the way.

He stumbled into an empty room, lit with torches at the edges. There were three small stone tables in the center of the room. Suddenly curious, he walked toward them and heard a cracking noise beneath his feet. Ice was spreading over the ground.
"He's in here!" a guard's voice shouted.

Each table had a sword set on it. A path of ice formed between Dylan and one of the swords, crawling up the side of the table. Snow began to swirl violently around the room as Dylan reached for the Ice Sword.

He turned around, the sword in his hand, and saw all the guards unconscious on the ground, taken out by the violent storm. It was then he spotted something inserted into a hilt—a small disc with a snowflake engraved on the top. He took it out and the snowstorm ended.

A shadow suddenly lunged at him, and Dylan realized he had dropped the dagger while reaching for the Ice Sword—and now the Magician had it.

"You're not getting out alive!" he said angrily as Dylan blocked the dagger.
Only a moment ago he had been saying he wasn't going to kill Dylan because he still needed him. Apparently he had changed his mind.

Dylan inserted the disc back into the hilt of the sword and held the blade out in front of him. He had never fought with a sword in his life, and he couldn't remember the last time he had even picked one up, if ever. A wall of ice sprang up between him and the Magician. It began to crack as the Magician worked to break it down with whatever spells or magic he had at his disposal. Dylan took the opportunity and ran back out of the room, going through the entrance he had come since there was no other way. He dodged down different halls again until he saw light ahead.

After following it for a while he saw a courtyard outside in the daylight, and beyond that was an open black gate. He darted past the guards who were stationed in front of it, mentally struggling to keep the Ice Sword under control. He didn't want to start another snowstorm unless he needed to. He could feel himself already drained from the last one.

The guards put up little resistance—they were probably surprised to see him.

"He's getting away!" a voice bellowed.

The bridge in front of the open gate was being drawn up. Running faster than he'd ever run before, Dylan pushed past the gate before it could be closed and jumped over the growing gap between the grounds of the courtyard and the bridge.

****
"He made it.”

"I know.”

"So the game begins sir?”

The Magician looked out from the porch as Dylan, son of the Ice Swordbearer, slid off the other side of the half-drawn bridge and sought cover in the forest of Lilithia. The Magician gave a sly smile. "If only he knew.”