The Dragon's Champion

by Sam Ferguson

  “People of Spiekery, you have been deceived. The man you know as Baltezer is a Shadowfiend. Your tormentor and savior are one and the same.”

  The crowd stopped advancing, but a wave of shouts protested Dimwater’s words. The sorceress tapped the head of her staff on the ground, releasing a sound like a great gong. The crowd covered their ears and shied away.

  “If you desire proof, here it is.” Dimwater unfolded the parchment and looked at the contents briefly. “One of your accusers gave us the demon’s name. Now I will reveal the truth behind your fraud, Baltezer the Brown, or should I say Be’alt the Black?”

  The crowd collectively gasped and started to scatter.

  Dimwater tapped the ground again to get their attention. “Stand and look at your priest, for he is the beast. He is the one who ravages your village, demanding sacrifices be made.”

  “Curse you woman,” Baltezer growled.

  Erik stepped back as he watched the priest’s mouth and nose elongate into a hideous, fang filled snout. His hair turned black and coarse. His ears became pointed. Bulging muscles filled the robes to their limits before the clothing finally burst and fell to the ground. The coarse, black hair covered his entire body now.

  “The demon is now revealed,” Dimwater announced.

  The crowd shrieked and ran. Some men drew swords or knives, but most rushed their families away to safety.

  “What do I do?” Erik asked. His voice cracked and his hands shook, but he held his sword out, trying to prepare for a fight.

  “Get yourself to a safe place, young apprentice. I will deal with this myself.” Dimwater pushed Erik away and then advanced toward the beast. Erik hid himself around the corner of a stone cottage, but he peered around and watched Lady Dimwater confront the beast.

  “Be’alt the Black, today you die,” Dimwater shouted.

  The beast snarled, revealing its teeth. Long, pointed talons grew from the tips of its fingers, but Dimwater was unafraid. She leveled her staff at the beast and sent a fireball at it. Be’alt waved his hand and the fireball turned to a puff of smoke.

  “I have dealt with meddling wizards before,” Be’alt growled. He lunged directly at Dimwater, but was punched back through the air by a psionic blast.

  “And I have dealt with more than a few Shadowfiends,” Dimwater countered after Be’alt landed on his back.

  Be’alt shook his massive head and roared defiantly. He charged again, this time unleashing a series of magical blasts from his hands. Lady Dimwater held out her left hand, palm facing out, and created a shield of golden light. Be’alt’s magical assault slammed into the shield like thunder claps, but the shield held firm. Even Be’alt was stopped by the shield. He clawed and punched the golden barrier but nothing worked. Lady Dimwater calmly raised her staff and spoke the words of an ancient spell.

  As Dimwater continued the spell, Be’alt tried to go around the shield, but the shield moved with him. No matter how fast he ran or switched directions, the shield was always in place between him and Dimwater. Be’alt, driven to madness, slammed his body into the shield time after time. He clawed at it, threw spells at it, and even bit it, but the shield continued to hold. Finally he let out a roar that shook the ground. His talons began to glow like hot coals, and then he punched the shield with such force that a blast of wind picked up dust around them. The shield began to crack. Be’alt struck again and it cracked some more, but Dimwater held her concentration and continued to complete the words of the spell.

  The shield broke. The golden light shattered and then dissipated like vapor in the wind. Be’alt, eyes crazed with bloodlust, lunged for Dimwater’s throat. At that moment, the sorceress completed the spell. She swung her staff as hard as she could. The brass lion’s head connected first with Be’alt’s snout, then his ribs, his throat, and finally his spine. Dimwater was so fast, and her magic so strong that the beast spun in midair with each strike.

  When Be’alt landed, Dimwater struck him once more on the skull. Golden sparks shot out as the staff connected with Be’alt’s head. Then the beast was still. Lady Dimwater knelt down and placed her right hand on Be’alt’s forehead.

  “Demon, be gone,” she commanded. A small spark flew from her hand and onto the demon’s head. She backed away several paces and then Be’alt’s body was consumed by fire. After she watched the fire she turned and beckoned Erik to her side.

  He hesitated at first, but only for a moment. “What can I do?” Erik asked as he approached.

  “When the fire is done you will collect ashes in this vial. I must take them back with me as proof of the demon’s death.”

  “Alright,” Erik said as he took the vial and watched the fire die down.

  “I will speak with the townsfolk. They deserve an explanation,” Dimwater said.

  Erik nodded and dutifully began collecting ash in the vial. The stench was unbelievable. He tried to shield his nose from it, but it was too strong. He had to fight back the urge to vomit as he scooped ash into the glass vial. He turned away from the stink and saw a group of men talking with Dimwater.

  Erik couldn’t hear the conversation, but it seemed to be going as well as one could hope. The men looked like they were in shock, but they behaved politely and were nodding periodically. Erik couldn’t even imagine what the people might be feeling. He tried to imagine what it might be like if this had happened in his town, or Kuldiga Academy, but the notion was so far beyond him that he couldn’t adequately evoke the emotions that the villagers likely felt.

  He finished collecting the ash, put a stopper in the vial and started to go back to Dimwater. As he walked he looked to his left and saw the man he had fought just minutes before. A young lady was bandaging his wounds as he sat with his back against a wooden fence. The expression on his face was distant and glazed. Erik wasn’t sure why, but he felt the need to talk with the man.

  “Are you alright?” Erik asked. The man looked up at him, and then looked back to the pile of ashes.

  “He will mend,” the young woman said. Erik could hear the anger in her words. “You didn’t have to slice him up so,” she scolded.

  “Actually, I did,” Erik replied with a shrug. “He meant to kill me, I couldn’t just stand there.”

  The young woman huffed and concentrated on her work. Her face was flush and her shoulders rose and fell angrily with each breath. “My father meant well, he didn’t know about Baltezer. None of us did. You ought not to have treated him like that.”

  “Be thankful that young Erik showed mercy, girl,” Dimwater chided as she strode up behind Erik. “I would not have been so kind.”

  The young woman seethed with anger. Her hands shook and she had to stop bandaging her father. Her father finally broke from his trance and placed a hand over his daughter’s hands.

  “We owe them our thanks,” he whispered. “I acted foolishly.”

  “Well, Erik, it is your choice whether we arrest this man for treason against the crown,” Dimwater said.

  Erik looked to Lady Dimwater questioningly. He didn’t know what to say, or what to do. The man had attacked Erik, but Erik could understand his motives. Furthermore, Erik remembered Master Lepkin’s words about killing another and the effect it would have on others. Treason was a crime punishable by death. “I think this village has suffered enough. I don’t want to arrest him.”

  “So be it,” Dimwater replied. “We must go.” The sorceress turned and left. Erik turned to follow but the man reached out and grabbed his arm.

  “I won’t forget your mercy, Sir Erik,” he said with a bow of his head.

  “Thank you,” the young woman added. The anger was gone from her face.

  Erik nodded and then caught up with Lady Dimwater. “Did I disappoint you?” Erik asked.

  “No, why would you ask that?” Dimwater replied.

  “I wasn’t sure if you approved of my decision,” Erik said.

  “I think it was wise,” Dimwater said. “He will remember your mercy long after the sting of
his wounds has faded.” Lady Dimwater snapped her fingers and the magic mirror appeared before them. “I was impressed with your swordsmanship,” she added. “It is a rare thing for an apprentice of your age to defeat a full-grown man. You also showed wisdom in disarming him. Things would have gone far differently if you had killed him.”

  Erik smiled and was about to thank her when she grabbed his arm and pulled him through the magic portal.

  “I really don’t like that,” Erik said as he hunched over, clutching his stomach.

  “It takes some practice to get used to it,” Lady Dimwater replied knowingly. “If it means anything, you handle it quite well for a first-timer.” She bent down, reached an arm under Erik’s left arm and pulled him up straight. “Come, the castle is just up this hill.”

  “Why didn’t the portal take us all the way to the castle?” Erik asked. “It took us right where we needed to be the first time.”

  “It is forbidden to teleport directly into the castle of a lord,” Dimwater replied. “Times being as troubled as they are now, no one much likes the idea of wizards popping into their homes uninvited.”

  “I never realized we lived in so much danger,” Erik commented.

  “Children should not have to know war,” Dimwater said soberly. “But, for good or for ill, you will learn of it soon enough.”

  Erik grew silent then as his thoughts drifted off. He did his best to follow Lady Dimwater as he imagined archers lurking in the lush pine forest on his right, or orcs spying on him from the field of boulders to his left. Like the events at Spiekery, it was hard for Erik to fully comprehend war and all of its woes. All he knew of war came from history books and the songs of bards. Soon his mind wandered and thought of other things as he followed Dimwater on the road.

  As the two of them began hiking upward, Erik stopped and took a good look around. The road switched back and forth as it climbed up toward the castle. The front wall of the castle was crude, made of stone with a wooden drawbridge, two towers in the gatehouse and two more at the corners of the wall. Erik could also make out the sharp points of a wooden pike fence around the outside of the stone wall. He couldn’t imagine a place like this needing such fortifications. He turned around and surveyed the forest and field below him. Everything looked peaceful and still.

  “Don’t dawdle,” Lady Dimwater called out.

  Erik turned and saw that she was quite far from him now. He jogged to catch up with her and apologized. “I was trying to get a feel for the area,” he explained.

  Lady Dimwater said nothing; she just kept walking up the road until they reached the top and stood outside of the wooden fence.

  “Who goes there?” a guard called out from one of the gatehouse towers.

  “I am Lady Dimwater, sent to speak with the Lord of Kuressar Castle.”

  Erik looked up at the tower. His heart skipped a beat when he saw that other guards were also in the tower, and they were aiming crossbows at him and Dimwater.

  “Lord Hischurn is not seeing guests today,” the guard replied.

  “He will see me,” Dimwater insisted. “I am here as an agent of King Mathias.”

  “I am sorry ma’am, but my orders are to refuse everyone,” the guard said.

  “You would do well to remind Lord Hischurn that he does not have the right to refuse an emissary from the king, whom he is bound to serve.”

  “I will give him your message, Lady Dimwater,” the guard promised.

  “Let’s go, Erik,” Dimwater said. She snapped her fingers to summon her magic portal, but before she left she gave the guard a warning. “I am not known for my patience. You tell Lord Hischurn that I will be back in one week. If he turns me away again, it will be at his own peril. Pray that your master remembers where his loyalties lie.”

  CHAPTER 3

  “You had no right to take Erik without my express permission,” Master Lepkin scolded. “He could have been killed.”

  “It is my right to punish intruders as I see fit,” Lady Dimwater countered. “Besides, he was not in any danger while he was with me, you know that.” Dimwater sighed and crossed the room to sit at her desk. “Perhaps you shouldn’t keep him in the dark.” She pulled a paper from the desk drawer and set it in front of her.

  “My secrets protect him. He isn’t strong enough yet.” Lepkin folded his arms and glared at Dimwater, ignoring the paper.

  “Your secrets shelter him too much,” Dimwater replied. “He is stronger than you think.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Lepkin demanded. His tone becoming more animal-like as his patience stretched thinner.

  “Did Erik tell you how I found him?”

  “He said only that you caught him after he tried to enter your room with a key that Janik gave him.”

  “He was too strong for the Natu,” Janik said from a seat on the opposite side of the room.

  “You let him face Dimwater’s wolf?” Lepkin’s face turned red and his muscles tensed. “Erik has no knowledge of such beings! You could have sent him to his death.”

  “Easy, my friend,” Janik replied apologetically. “I had no idea that he could get past the Natu. The ghost normally stops even the best apprentice wizards.”

  “You should have followed him to ensure his safety,” Lepkin chided.

  “I did,” Janik said. He leaned down and patted his twisted left leg. “I must have made some noise. I’m not as quiet as I used to be you know. Erik took off running after the hall with the wizards’ portraits. I tried to keep up, but he was far too fast for this old cripple.”

  “I’ve already spoken with Janik,” Dimwater put in.

  “As Erik’s master it is my decision what to do with Janik for contributing to Erik’s delinquency,” Lepkin replied. “Why did you send Erik to the tower?” Lepkin asked Janik.

  “Because he asked about you and Lady Dimwater. I thought it would be best to send him here for answers. Tell me, Lepkin, should I have told him the truth about you and Master Orres?”

  Lepkin thought for a moment before answering. He was angrier now than he had been in a very long time, but there was nothing he could do to fix the situation now.

  “Lepkin, Natu is harmless,” Dimwater said. “The ghost prays on a person’s fear and uses its powers to render would-be intruders unconscious. Janik couldn’t have known that Erik would be too strong for the Natu.”

  “Even so, you ought not to have sent him here. He may have been strong enough to fend off the Natu, but her wolf could have easily finished him.”

  “No offense, but I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my evening being interrogated about the two of you. You know how stubborn and determined the boy can be at times. If you want to protect the boy, then perhaps you should answer his questions before his curiosity gets him into real trouble.” Janik rose to his feet and stretched his creaky limbs.

  Lepkin nodded somberly. “I admit his incessant questions have driven me to imagine similar solutions to shut him up, especially when he nags me about Gelleirt monastery.”

  “I, too, have some questions about the monastery,” Dimwater added.

  “Not now, Dimwater, please,” Lepkin said.

  “Very well,” Dimwater said with a nod. “You should look at this.” She slid the paper across her desk.

  Lepkin picked up the paper and watched the magical image unfold. He was stunned to see Erik standing and throwing a punch at Dimwater’s wolf. “He attacked your wolf?” Lepkin whispered incredulously.

  “With his bare fist,” Dimwater added. “You know as well as I that Silverfang has killed several Shadowfiends who have made the mistake of invading my study. If the boy is strong enough to break the wolf’s paralysis spell, then he is ready to learn of his true calling.”

  Lepkin folded the paper and set it down on the desk. “He is stronger than I thought.”

  “He is stronger than any of us thought,” Janik said. “But, considering his bloodline, I suppose his strength really shouldn’t surprise us.”


  “Did you tell him about that?” Lepkin asked Dimwater sharply.

  “No, I did not,” she replied.

  “Good. He must not learn of that until he is completely ready.”

  “He’s your apprentice,” Dimwater said reluctantly.

  Lepkin knew her well enough to know that she disagreed with his decision, but he also knew that she would respect his wishes. “Janik, forgive my temper.”

  “It’s alright,” Janik replied. “I would have been a lot worse if someone had done the same thing to one of my apprentices.”

  “Yes, well you and your brother always did have bad tempers,” Dimwater chuckled.

  “Speaking of Master Orres, he wants to see you about Spiekery and Lord Hischurn,” Lepkin said dryly.

  “You spoke with him?” Dimwater asked.

  “I ran into him on my way to see you,” Lepkin replied.

  Lady Dimwater started to tap her fingernails and chew her bottom lip. “Did you tell him about Erik?”

  “No, I will leave it up to you whether you tell him about that,” Lepkin replied.

  “With the way Erik beat up our nephew, I might avoid bringing it up,” Janik suggested.

  “I have to report about the wounded swordsman in Spiekery,” Dimwater noted. “Orres will be furious if I don’t account for all uses of force.”

  “He is quite particular about writing his reports for the king,” Lepkin agreed. “Either way, I wish you luck.”

  “You’ll need it,” Janik agreed.

  *****

  Erik lay on his back in a pool of sweat. His arms ached, his legs were numb, and his stomach burned. He tried to get up, but his body was depleted of energy. Even the late night breeze from the window of his training room wasn’t enough to revive him.

  The door creaked open and then slammed shut, echoing off the walls of the room. Erik tried to turn his head, but he was so exhausted that he was only able to move his eyes. The soft slap of leather boots stepped closer to him. Pit…pat…pit…pat. Then the sound stopped. A large shadow loomed over Erik. He could see Master Lepkin standing next to him.