The Chronicles of Amberdrake
By Loren K. Jones
Twilight Times Books
Kingsport Tennessee
The Chronicles of Amberdrake
This is a work of fiction. All concepts, characters and events portrayed in this book are used fictitiously and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Loren K. Jones. Expanded and revised from a previous electronic edition published by e-Quill Publishing, Brisbane, Australia 2011 with title “The Collected Tales of Amberdrake.”
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except brief extracts for the purpose of review, without the permission of the publisher and copyright owner.
Twilight Times Books
P O Box 3340
Kingsport, TN 37664
www.twilighttimesbooks.com/
Revised Electronic Edition: April 2019. Author’s preferred version.
Cover art by Brad Fraunfelter
Published in the United States of America
Table of Contents
Vernardia Prelude
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
*** The Chronicles of Amberdrake
Adventure 1 “Be Careful What You ask For—”
Adventure 2 Searching for a Meaningful Life
Adventure 3 “Tis Better to Have Loved And Lost—” Says Who?
Adventure 4 Estwick Is A Rough Place
Adventure 5 The Miscalculating Daemon of Port Royal
Adventure 6 Children
Adventure 7 The Silent Clan
Adventure 8 The Pirates of The Southern Islands
Adventure 9 A Family Patron?
Adventure 10 My Return to Chanders
Adventure 11 The Dragon’s Rest Inn
Adventure 12 The Rest of the Story
Adventure 13 The Gods of Men
Adventure 14 The Demon of Peregrine Falls
Adventure 15 The Egg of Dracol
Adventure 16 The Merciless Mage of Woodberry
Adventure 17 Darvin’s Port
Afterward What Amberdrake never knew about Shreverston—
Vernardia
Prelude
THE DRAGON AMBERDRAKE, IN HIS ALTERNATE identity as the human Drake Standralson, walked into the port city of Shreverston. He was dressed in the plain brown homespun wool of a peasant farmer, and he pushed a rickety wooden barrow loaded with assorted produce in front of him. The city Gate Guards didn’t bother to question the passage of a farmer bringing his produce to market, even this late in the day. Drake smiled thinly to himself as they waved him past, all but laughing at how easily he entered the city without giving his name.
He followed the few other farmers toward the market, then silently veered off into a dingy alley. To the others he simply appeared to be relieving himself. A pile of trash and rubbish hid him from the street as he did indeed relieve himself of his burden. Then he magically transformed his clothes and appearance. A remarkably changed person emerged from the other end of the alley. A laird, wealthy and well dressed, paused to straighten his clothing before continuing into the city. Having been there many times before, he traveled unerringly toward the wealthier portion of town. The barrow and produce were left behind for some poor soul to find.
Drake was quite pleased with himself. His simple ruse had worked as intended, and there was no record of his arrival in the city. The Gate Guards also hadn’t had the opportunity to shake him down for a few silver crowns. He didn’t mind the loss of the coin so much as he objected to civil servants acting like common strongarm thieves. Walking briskly, he made his way to an unimposing inn. Scanning the area, he found a few minor thieves to provide him with pocket money, enough for a day or so, then he boldly stepped inside.
A slight smile curved his lips as he contemplated his present occupation. The game was to remain unknown and unnoticed for long enough to book passage on a ship bound for Vernardia. He had encountered a reference to the island continent the year before, and had decided to make his way there. I’ve earned a little holiday.
The innkeeper met him as soon as he entered the dimly lit common room. “Yes, Laird, how may I serve you?” the man asked, peering through the gloom to see Drake’s face.
“A room and a meal, and no questions,” Drake replied softly, and saw the innkeeper step back. His voice held considerable menace, though it wasn’t directed at the innkeeper. He was looking about the common room with narrowed eyes, noting the men and women who lounged in the smoky atmosphere.
The innkeeper bowed slightly as he took another step back. “As you wish, Laird. This way please.” The innkeeper led him to the stairs and up to a second-floor room. “This room is my finest, Laird. Is it to your liking?”
Drake looked around the room and nodded. “How much?” he asked in an almost emotionless tone.
The innkeeper swallowed before answering. “A silver a night, Laird. That includes the meals for the day, Laird.”
Drake nodded and pulled a silver crown from his vest pocket. “Have someone bring the meal up here,” he said tightly. “I don’t want any company.”
The innkeeper nodded, all but bowing as he backed out of the room. “As you command, Laird. As you command.”
Drake shook his head as he looked at the room again. A whispered spell sent the fleas and lice from the bed out the window. No sense giving this place any more than I have to.
A serving girl came up to his room moments later with a tray full of food. He hadn’t specified what he wanted, so the innkeeper appeared to have sent everything. Meat that smelled like bison, fowl that appeared to be half a duck, mutton stew, bread, vegetables, beer, ale, and three different wines crowded each other on the tray.
“Laird? Your meal, Sair,” the girl said timidly, and Drake waved at the table by the window.
Once the girl was gone, he ate quickly. He hadn’t eaten in half a day and found that his appetite fit the meal nicely. Or vice versa. Sitting back, he belched before moving to the bed. His senses had easily found the spy hole, and he could feel the eyes of a stranger upon him. Pulling a sheaf of parchments from the pocket of his cloak, he pretended to study them. After a few moments he felt the watcher leave. He remained where he was. As Arandar began to set he laid back on the bed, closing his eyes. There were still several hours left before he was going to take to the streets again, and even he needed rest.
Darkness fell, and the city quieted to some extent, though not completely. Shreverston was much too large to ever become completely quiet. People who worked while their fellows slept were cleaning streets and shops. Ships were being loaded to catch the morning tide. And, of course, night was when the criminal element became most active.
It was the criminals who interested Drake.
In years past he had decided that robbing criminals was not wrong. Through the years since his transformation he had disposed of thousands of criminals, ranging from simple highwaymen who preyed on travelers to drug la
irds who preyed on whole populations. Here in Shreverston he planned on seeking out the drug lairds. They were the richest class of criminal, and also the least missed. They were always killing off one another anyway, so his depredations would not be remarkable. It would only be the manner of their deaths that would distinguish his actions from those of their own kind.
As the midnight bells rang, he slipped from his bed. There was no one at the spy hole, so he simply raised his arms to the ceiling. A nimbus of golden light surrounded him, and he again changed, but not his clothes this time.
Drake changed his form to become a daemon.
Daemons were the basis of a great many human legends about demons. Twice the size of a man, with two arms and legs, and a heavy, barbed tail, the daemons were fierce killing machines. Shiny black chitin covered their bodies, making them all but invulnerable to physical attack. Three-inch long claws ended each of its four fingers, while six-inch long claws ended each of its three toes. The head was equipped with massive jaws lined with curved, serrated teeth. Slit-pupiled eyes gave it night vision that would make a cat jealous. And as if that weren’t enough, they possessed magical abilities that were only surpassed by dragons. It was the deadliest creature that walked Dracana, and only a few people had ever faced one and lived to tell the tale. Slipping soundlessly out the window, the daemon went in search of prey.
* * *
Rory Halstead lounged in his bedroom, smoking a pipe of his favorite dreamweed. His latest plaything was asleep on the bed, sprawled ungracefully on top of the blankets. She was a beauty, with full breasts and an all but insatiable appetite for sex, but he was tiring of her. Her other insatiable appetite, for the powdered plant extract called Ice, was beginning to become expensive even for him. Soon he would discard her, like so many others before, and find another. His wealth and Ice supply could get him a new woman anytime he wanted.
A soft sound, just a whisper of disturbed air, was the only warning he had that he was not alone. Turning, he caught sight of the black nightmare of teeth and claws that had come in through his bedroom window. His scream died unuttered as the daemon’s right hand grasped him by the throat. The daemon’s left hand slashed his belly open, spilling his guts on the floor. Rory died kneeling on his own intestines, the fire blazing just inches from his face.
The daemon stalked over to the bed and sniffed the woman. She smelled of sex and drugs, but it didn’t kill her. Drake’s personality wouldn’t allow it. Turning away, it surveyed the room and found the cache of gold that drug lairds habitually kept near at hand. Their lifestyle occasionally required rapid escapes and bribes. It also found the drugs and tossed them into the fire with a flick of a claw. A king’s ransom in Ice flared and hissed as it burned, the smoke wafting up the chimney and into the night. The gold was magically transported back to Drake’s room at the inn, and then the daemon slipped back out the way that it had come.
* * *
Morning found Drake in the inn’s common room, enjoying a large meal of salt-cured ham and eggs, along with something the innkeeper had called grits. Drake looked at it suspiciously, poking at it with his fork until the serving girl explained that it was coarse ground hominy. Then she had to explain that hominy was a type of large, white corn that was grown in the southwestern reaches of the empire. He tried it while she smiled her encouragement and found that it was quite good. The girl suggested salt and butter, which made it better. For a boy who had grown up hating boiled wheat, it was quite a change.
After his morning meal was just a pleasant memory, Drake left the inn and walked down to the docks. There were numerous ships in port, both traders and cargo haulers, and it was to the former that he made his way. A few judicious questions, and a touch of silver, brought him to Captain Baird Sinclair of the Mistress Annette. The ship was a slim, fast sloop with a shallow draft and limited cargo space. Captain Sinclair made his living hauling small, high value commodities such as spices from the islands of the south. Including Vernardia.
“Excuse me, good Captain, might I have a moment of your time?” Drake asked as he stopped by the boarding plank.
Captain Sinclair looked up from his manifest and quickly scanned him, then turned his attention back to the manifest. “Speak your mind,” he said in a bored tone of voice.
Drake was slightly put out by the captain’s quick dismissal. “Captain, I would like to book passage on your ship to Vernardia.”
“The Annette is no pleasure yacht,” the captain answered, not bothering to look at Drake a second time.
Drake’s eyes narrowed. “No, she isn’t. But you’re the only ship headed that way.”
Now the captain did look up again. “No. I don’t haul spoiled passengers who want to be waited on. Go try the Eldritch Eye. Captain Forest occasionally hauls passengers.”
“Captain Forest is not headed to Vernardia. I am, and so are you.” Drake moved so that he was looking into the captain’s eyes. “I can be very persuasive if I must.”
The captain sneered, and his hand swung up to punch Drake, but failed to land. Instead, his fist passed through empty air where Drake had been. “Damn, what happened?” he asked, looking around to find Drake on his other side.
“I am an Adept, Captain. Do not anger me, or try that again,” Drake growled, letting his own anger show. “As for being a spoiled passenger, I am not. If need be, I can call the wind to your sails and earn my passage.”
Now the captain looked interested and leaned toward Drake. “For what price?” he asked, a gleam of avarice in his eyes.
“Passage,” Drake answered softly. “And no questions.”
Now the captain looked at Drake through narrowed eyes. “Trouble?”
“None that concerns you, Captain. And none that will follow me.” Drake eyed the captain closely. “Do we have a deal?”
“We do. The Annette sails with the evening tide, with you or without.” Captain Sinclair looked at Drake and nodded sharply.
“With me,” Drake answered and walked aboard. “Where do you want me?”
The captain nodded toward the stern. “Inside, second door to port. That’s the side toward the dock. I’ll call you when you’re needed. What’s your name?”
“Adept Drake.”
The sun was almost on the horizon when the captain called for Drake. “Well, Adept Drake, we’re ready. Let’s see some wind.”
Drake nodded and cast the spell. A breeze, light at first but freshening, billowed the sails. As the ship picked up speed, so did the breeze, finally becoming a true wind as the ship cleared the harbor.
Captain Sinclair nodded, seemingly content with Drake’s performance. It took a Master Mage or better to call wind from a calm sky, and few merchants could afford to hire such Magi. Only the major Trading Houses like Amberdrake’s Children could afford to man their ships with Magi. To have the services of an Adept for the mere price of passage was all but unheard-of.
Drake kept to himself throughout the voyage, only joining the crew at meal times. The rest of the time he amused himself with some books he’d purchased in Shreverston. The trip normally took between twenty-five and thirty days, depending on the wind, but with the constant wind of the spell the captain estimated they would make it much sooner. Before midday of the eighteenth day, the lookout called down, “Land ho!”
The ship became busy as the captain and sailors made preparations for port. Drake came on deck and began regulating the wind to slow them at the captain’s direction. On command, the wind died, and the Mistress Annette slid into port gracefully under the power of the natural breeze.
“Well, Adept Drake, you lived up to your part of the bargain. That was the fastest and smoothest trip I’ve made in a long time. Any chance you’d be interested in staying on?”
Drake smiled but shook his head. “No, Captain, this is where I was headed. Davenport and the rest of Vernardia should prove to be quite an adventure.”
Chapter 1
DRAKE WALKED AWAY FROM THE HARBOR area of Davenport with a l
ight heart. Heavy pockets, to be sure, but a light heart. Three hundred Shreverston gold crowns filled his satchel, pouch, and pockets. His first priority was to find a better way to carry it all.
A smallish inn looked inviting, and he entered the front door without hesitation. He should have hesitated. A loud female voice began bellowing before the door closed, and he found himself witness to a fight.
“Damn you, Channing, I told you I was going to cut your balls off the next time you showed your face around here!” a woman’s voice shouted.
“But, Mira, I love you!” a man’s voice, Channing he supposed, shouted back just as loudly. A man backed into view, holding his hands up in a placating gesture to the woman who followed him.
Mira stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Drake. Her expression made Channing twist in place to see who was behind him. “Ah, hello there,” he said cautiously.
Drake nodded. “I need a room.”
Mira pushed past Channing to face him. “Fifty coppers a day, meals included. Spirits are extra.”
Drake looked at her closely. Fifty copper sparks was a high toll for a room in an inn this size. “What’s that in Shreverston crowns?”
Now he really had her attention. “Shreverston silver? That’s one hundred eighty copper to the crown, Lord.” Her demeanor had quickly changed to that of a very demure and respectful woman. “How long will you be staying, Lord?”
Drake laughed. “A few days. Where can I find a moneychanger?”
Now the man stepped forward and stood beside Mira, then bowed. “Lord, if you please, Schuyler Blanton keeps shop just down the road. I would be happy to show you to his door.”
Drake nodded. “The room first. I’d like to drop my bag.”
Channing led him to a room in the back of the inn and, once his satchel was on the bed, led him back out of the inn. “This way, if you please,” he said over his shoulder, and lead off down the street.
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