A Sea of Shields (Book #10 in the Sorcerer's Ring) by Morgan Rice

away. The stench was overwhelming.
    “Come closer still,” came a dark, gravelly voice from the other side of the cave. It sounded like the voice of a demon.
    Romulus peered into the darkness, and suddenly the cave lit up as a ring of fire rose up on the floor before them. It illuminated a small man, standing on the far side, with no legs, his thumbs resting on the ground, wearing a red cloak with no hood, his bald head covered in warts. His shrunken hands were also covered in warts, his face was round and puffy, and he had slits for eyes. He opened them as he stared back at Romulus , his black eyes aglow in the blaze.
    “I have what you seek,” the man added.
    Romulus took several steps forward, to the edge of the ring of fire, and looked across the flames to the sorcerer.
    As he stared at this creature, Romulus felt something different inside him. He felt a tingling of excitement. He felt as if, for the first time, perhaps this sorcerer was the real thing.
    “You have a way to stop the dragons?” Romulus asked.
    The sorcerer shook his head.
    “No,” he replied, “I have something more powerful.”
    “And what could be more powerful than that?” Romulus asked.
    The sorcerer peered back at him, his eyes demonic, frightening, flashing against the flames.
    Romulus , inside, shuddered.
    “A way to control them.”
    Romulus stared back, unsure, trying to understand. There was something about him, something authentic. Authentically evil.
    “Control them?” he asked.
    “For one moon cycle,” the sorcerer replied, “the dragons will be yours. You shall control them as you will. Direct them anywhere you wish. Your own personal army. A chance to change the Empire forever. To do anything you wish. You will be the most powerful man alive.”
    Romulus narrowed his eyes, wondering, his heart pounding. Could such a thing be true? he wondered.
    “And if this is all true,” Romulus said, “what do you want from me in return?”
    The sorcerer laughed, an awful grating noise, sounding like a thousand chipmunks.
    “Why, only your soul,” he said. “Nothing else.”
    “My soul?” Romulus asked.
    The sorcerer nodded.
    “Upon your death, your soul be mine. Mine to do with as I wish. You see, I collect souls. It is my hobby.”
    Romulus narrowed his eyes, the hairs on his arms tingling.
    “And what do you do with these souls?” he asked.
    The sorcerer frowned, displeased.
    “That is none of your concern,” his voice boomed, suddenly amplified, echoing off the walls, so loud it nearly split Romulus’s ears.
    Romulus stared back at the creature, and wondered what he was. He felt an intense creepiness hanging over this cave, and a part of him wanted to turn and run.
    “Master, don’t do it,” Romulus’s advisor said. “Let us leave this place at once.”
    But Romulus shook his head and stared at the sorcerer. He could sense that he was real. That he had what he needed. And he could not let that go so easily.
    To control the dragons. Romulus imagined all that he could do with that sort of power. He could crush all the revolts. Consolidate his power for all time. Control the Empire. And even take control of the Ring. He would be the most powerful man who had ever walked the earth. More powerful than even he had ever imagined. Even if it were only for one moon cycle, it would be worth it, worth giving his soul. After all, he was going to hell anyway. Once he was dead, who cared what happened to his soul?
    “What do I need to do?” Romulus asked.
    The sorcerer smiled back.
    “Look down. Into my ring of flames. Into the reflecting water. That is all you must do.”
    “That is all?” Romulus asked, disbelieving. It couldn’t be that easy.
    Romulus looked down, slowly, and saw his reflection looking back up in the firelight. As he looked, his face contorted, changing shapes and sizes. He was terrified to watch.
    “Good,” the sorcerer purred. “Now hold your arms out to your sides.”
    Romulus did so, slowly,