The Dragon Knight's Curse (The Dragon Knight Series Book 2)

by D. C. Clemens

  “Frankly,” I continued, “I have nowhere else to put her, but she’s spirited and I wouldn’t have brought her here if I believed her unable to cope with the training.”

  “Say no more, Mercer,” said Braden. “We were undermanned even before this valkrean business. If someone vouched by you can help, I’ll accept it. In fact, I wouldn’t mind hearing that your other friend here wants to join as well.”

  “He’s more scholar than warrior, I’m afraid. Nonetheless, his aid in Gremly has proven useful in our mission.”

  “You were in Gremly, scholar?”

  “Lived in it for some time, former guild, err, I mean, current guild master. Hmm, that’s not right either, is it?”

  Turning to a more succinct speaker, Braden asked me, “What happened when you crossed into Gremly?”

  “I learned that an ancient spell is cast over that place, one that is subtle and looks to disorient the mind. Once that was subverted, I was able to find an old fort and this man in its basement. Braden Silver, meet Ghevont Rathmore.”

  “Hullo,” said Ghevont cheerily, blissfully unaware that the sharpening eyes and straightening back from Braden meant he was ready to cut him down at a moment’s notice.

  “Riskel’s son?”

  “Correct, but I assure you that I have not inherited my father’s partiality toward unscrupulous experimentation on living entities. However, I will say I inherited his insatiable thirst for knowledge. Indeed, few men will be able to claim-”

  I cleared my throat, getting him to stop. “As I was saying, Ghevont has demonstrated his desire to not be confused with the rest of his bloodline. He helped me trap Vey Rathmore, his sister, who was following in her father’s footsteps. She was killed in combat with us, along with one of her masters.”

  “Her masters?”

  “Yes. This one in particular funded projects and supplied her research with victims. He was a former Voreen ambassador turned business man named Corbin Tolosa. Recognize the name?”

  “Can’t say that I do.”

  “Do you know the name ‘Advent’?”

  His eyes went to the ceiling as pulled out a hidden memory. “They are an old cult, are they not?”

  “Yes, and Corbin and Vey belonged to it. Vey only joined to get revenge, since it was apparently they who lured Riskel into a trap all those years ago. The Advent seem to want to resurrect a dead god, and that old business was to find a map leading to its grave. According to Vey, they succeeded in finding it, but they now need a great deal of power to accomplish their ultimate goal. The way they’re choosing to acquire that power is to steal it from eidolons.”

  “Wait, you’re saying the Advent are responsible for the valkrean abductions?”

  “It fits everything I’ve experienced so far.”

  “The fit is one-sided, it seems.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Clarissa.

  Braden stood up and looked out his little window. “The last few weeks have brought word of eidolon summoners being abducted beyond Iazali, and much of our intel points the finger at the Sisterhood.”

  “I’ll claim ignorance on that group,” I said.

  “The latest leadership of Vlaukris, the southernmost nation in Kozuth. They aren’t all women, mind you, but every major general is. They led a coup about fifteen years back and haven’t given up power since.”

  “And how are they connected with the valkrean incidents?”

  “For one, no valkrean has been attacked within their country, and I know our guild there has encountered resistance to their investigation. More than that, we learned the Dracera Empire was able to extract information out of a captured enemy warrior before he killed himself, though exactly who he was and what he said hasn’t been revealed. In fact, little of what I’m saying is official.”

  “We understand, guild master. We won’t spread this in taverns.”

  “Yes, I know, but if what you say is true…”

  “So you think the Sisterhood is using the Advent?” wondered Clarissa in the guild master’s pause.

  “Or the other way around,” inputted Ghevont. “Hmm, but then why didn’t Vey mention them to us?”

  “She admitted herself that she wasn’t a high-ranking member,” I reminded him. “Still, you’d think she’d notice the Advent weren’t working alone.”

  “Whatever information I’m getting behind my desk,” began Braden, “I’ll assume that people encountering real opposition in the field have the best information. I can at least guess the Advent are acting as stealthy foot soldiers in this. Although, I find it concerning that their name has not come to our attention yet, even if it simply means our investigation isn’t being as thorough as it should be.”

  “But you should prepare for the worst case implication.”

  “Aye, it’s how I’ve lived this long, young swordsman.”

  “Uh, what’s the worse implication?” Marcela asked.

  “They’re worried someone is giving everyone bad information,” replied Clarissa. “Right?”

  “There’s already signs Alslana has someone abetting the Advent,” I explained. “The cult appears well-organized, and the Riskel matter suggests they’ve been active for at least a few decades. Who’s to say they haven’t infiltrated a major information organization here and there? Bad information is always worse than none at all.”

  “Untrue,” said Braden. “Reacting to bad information is worse than having none to respond to. We all have to tread carefully.” He used his mantle to wipe beads of sweat off his brow. “It’d be best that this cult remains believing that we’re on another track, so I’ll refrain from spreading official word of them, but duty will oblige me to bring them up if our other leads continue hitting dead ends. What’s your next step?”

  “Dranall. Vey informed us that more information can be found there, so I’m going.”

  “Ah, our only permanent guild house in Etoc is in Dranall. Last I heard, Malcolm Greer heads that chapter. Kind of a bastard, but an honorable man and will assist you if you mention the help you’re giving me. I’ll even send a message to let him know you might be visiting. However, I would keep Clarissa away from him, as he’ll recognize a vampire as easily as I can.” The vampire shifted her feet and narrowed her eyes in alarm. “You have no worries from me, miss. I’ve concluded that Mercer is not the type to have a trail of bodies following him, so I can guess you don’t feed on people, but Malcolm won’t take that into consideration. His parents were killed by one, you see. His entire purpose is now to be rid of your race.”

  “That’s been the purpose of many people, I fear,” said Clarissa. “Thank you for the warning.”

  Braden nodded. “Now then, anything more you need to tell me?”

  “No,” I answered, pulling out a sealed letter from my pocket, “but can you make sure this gets to the proper person?”

  He took it, read the name on the front, and said, “It’ll be done.” He then stared at me a moment before saying, “You know, I left the arena in Qutrios confused about something. Our lone enemy was outnumbered by my men and the city guards, but he sliced and burned through us with only one limp arm to show for it. Then you show up. You don’t even cross blades with him before he decides to retreat. I’m beginning to see what he saw in you.”

  Marcela, who had not let go of Ghevont’s hand, turned her confused expression from me to the former guild master. “What? He’s not that great. He’d rather run from a fight.”

  “Then let that be your first lesson, little miss,” said Braden. “Not every battle should be fought. The guild’s job is to support citizens, not nations in conflict, even if it’s supposedly obvious when one party is in the wrong. The most difficult decision a warrior can make is when not to fight. I’m sure Mercer has his reasons to not want to draw a blade, just as I have mine. You’ll have your own as well. Now, I’m assuming all of you would like to rest up before morning arrives.”

  We all agreed.

  As we headed for a room full of beds,
Clarissa asked, “What was that letter you gave him?”

  “A note to a noble.”

  “Wait, you mean Odet?” she whispered, making certain no guild member who passed overheard.

  I nodded. “I’ve updated her on what we found, but I also told her to keep an eye out for any original copies of Summertide.”

  “And why not tell Braden about it?”

  “I trust him, but I can’t trust his comrades if they’re the ones to find it. Besides, after thinking it over, I believe Odet is clever enough to look without drawing as much notice as the guild would.”

  “But you could still be getting her into danger.”

  “Royals are always in danger.”

  “Did you at least send my regards or something?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  “Liar.”

  We had to wait a day and a half for Ethan and Catherine to return from whatever they were doing. I never bothered to ask. Ethan wanted to spar, but I used my mending wound as an excuse to avoid the pointless exercise. He then asked Ghevont, but the scholar just laughed as though it were the funniest joke he had ever heard. As I expected, Cat seemed receptive to having Marcela around, if only to give her brother another target for his incessant mouth.

  Once everyone became acquainted, I booked passage to Dranall. The soonest available ship was large, cheap, and crowded, but it at least looked sturdy enough to survive a storm, though I couldn’t say I was an expert at evaluating boat durability. No tears left Marcela as the sails unfurled and the ship began to be steered by wind and rudder, but I had a feeling she was simply waiting for us to be out of sight.

  Chapter Six

  Odet

  A fluttering pair of little legs roused me, as they often did throughout the night, but what forced me to stay awake was the harsh beam of sunlight inflaming my eyes. I pulled the blanket over my face. Elisa groaned beside me. I hauled her side of the silky covers to my own. She groaned more. I spun around so that the covers enveloped only me. My sister tried clawing back her share of blanket, but did not have the strength to drag it away from me. Her kicking legs then rolled me to the edge of the bed until I fell off it. I landed on the wooden floor with a stifled thud.

  Elisa immediately regretted what she did and, looking over the brink, said, “Odet! Why didn’t you stop me? Are you dead?”

  I squirmed in fake pain. “No, but five ribs are broken. Oh no! I can’t feel my legs!”

  “You’re a bad actress.”

  I shot a hand upward, curling my fingers for dramatic effect. “There goes my dreams of being on stage.”

  After unraveling myself, I did everything required to make me presentable to the outside world. I tolerated most of the hour long routine I had to endure to accomplish this mission. It wasn’t so much the acts of bathing, dressing, combing, and teeth scrubbing that irked me, it was the obligation itself. Unless illness had me clinging to life’s ever crumbling cliff, my parents become rather dismayed every time I neglected to keep up my appearances in public. My younger self experienced quite a few laughs when I exited my room wearing only my nightgown.

  My more ostentatious mother never understood these sentiments of mine. In fact, the queen once told me that of every aristocrat she ever met, which included my sisters and some men, that I could most easily revert to living among the foulmouthed commoners. I think she was trying to scold me, but I took it as a compliment. I also don’t know why she equated being foulmouthed to being a commoner. Nearly every filthy word I could recite came from overhearing it from my father. Honestly, she verbally slugged it out with the best of them when she howled at the king.

  My itinerary for the day did not include going out of the castle, so I wore a simple green dress and kept my hair loose. The last donned item was an inch long crystal secured to a necklace. The normally transparent crystal was a rare mineral called vlimphite, though most people just called them prana crystals. Certain caves speckled throughout Orda held most of the world’s vlimphite reserve deep within their bowels, a few holding several hundred pounds of the stuff.

  The mineral was remarkably efficient at holding prana, getting several prominent scholars to declare the material as a new living organism. Their research even suggests it “grows” under the right conditions. But whatever its precise standing in nature, its importance to the magically inclined made sure a noble house always sprang up with the discovery of another crystal cave, sometimes after a battle or two.

  Until the crystal caught an influx of someone’s spirit energy, it stayed a translucent color, but as my particular gemstone possessed the pure prana of my deceased grandmother, it gave off a bluish hue. Like the current queen, my grandmother wouldn’t have been regarded as a great caster. All the same, as a valkrean, every Astor woman had to learn to channel holy prana, the prana given to us by way of our family eidolon. Without mastering this power it would be impossible to summon the eidolon in times of great need. To help me in that endeavor, the crystal was handed down to me instead of Beatrice.

  My mother noticed early on that my skills as a warrior-caster were far ahead of most children in my station and said the crystal would be better left with someone who could make use of its sacred potential. If a time ever came when my prana reserve dropped to dire straits, then I could use the prana stored in the crystal for an emergency spell or two. I first refused the offered crystal. Something in me said it was wrong for me to keep such a treasured memento, but Leandra’s adamant bearing would not yield.

  Her manner confused me. I plainly saw in her unsteady eyes that she did not like the reality that one of her daughters wanted to train in the art of blades and casting, but her open support contrasted that inner feeling. I concluded that my father convinced her it was best I learn to fight if I so desired it. Still, while the king enjoyed our sparring sessions—something I’m certain he feared he would miss out on with no sons—he carried a pang of reluctance as well. It seemed as though the gods themselves had persuaded them to train me, whether they enjoyed the idea or not.

  Bell, who had been up for two hours before me so she could eat, put on her leather armor, and guard my door, handed me my letters for the morning as I sat down to eat. My family had already awoken an hour before me, so it was just us younger sisters at the table. Most of the two dozen letters came from friends, but one had the shield and crossed-blades insignia of the Warriors Guild. I pulled the string to allow the paper to unfurl.

  The title of the letter was “A Business Proposal.” The rest of it never stated his name, but reading through its contents soon had me realizing Mercer was taking advantage of my offer to help him. He explained that an old cult called the Advent were responsible for the valkrean attacks and that an important item of theirs was the original work of Summertide. This work was key to disclosing a possible stronghold of theirs. Anyone with this rare edition could very well be in league with the cult and should be treated with suspicion.

  He entreated me to use my “very, very vast resources and feminine wiles” to “very, very quietly” seek out any existing copy of the poem in any collection within my grasp. If I found it, I was then to keep a close “eye, nose, tongue, and ear” on it until he retrieved it himself someday, as he knew someone with the ability to solve the mystery it held. As per his request, I threw the letter in a fireplace after I finished eating.

  I next made my way up to the throne hall. This open-aired room had forty foot high marble pillars of glorious white supporting the squat domed roof. Enclosing the elongated space from three sides was a flight of steps one had to climb for ten feet to reach. My mother loved this high, airy room. It would have been her favorite if she didn’t have to meet with a tireless flow of dignitaries every morning. Before I reached her at the other end, Elisa and I curtsied to the nobles waiting to be met with the queen, slowing my progress.

  Standing alongside her, wearing an increasingly common expression of seriousness, was my eldest sister. I did not blame Beatrice for the change in her conduct the last c
ouple of years. I would be much the same if I was next in line to become a ruler of a kingdom. Everyone expected her to continue the peaceful legacy our family have worked tirelessly to maintain. Everything would be scrutinized, from her choice of dress to the men she could make king someday. I knew of a close friendship that had recently become strained due to her turning down his requests for a more intimate relationship. She was already comparing young men to the standards of an old king.

  I saw the weight bearing down on her every day, but she had all the support in the world, so I did not so much worry about her mental state as much as pity it. I strove to give Beatrice a flash of levity by telling Elisa to run as fast as possible to our eldest sister and hug her. With all her gusto in tow, Elisa did as I bid, almost making a giggling Beatrice tumble over when she embraced her legs. My older sibling, however, presented a playful scowl to me, knowing I had been the one to let the girl off her leash.

  I waited a moment for Leandra to finish speaking with a man I recognized to be a financial advisor. When he left, I asked, “Can we still afford this place?”

  “As long as I refrain from anymore major renovations for another decade or so. What is it you need?”

  “There’s a change of plans in my day. I’ve been given a top secret project that might require research outside the castle.”

  She frowned. “Are you sure this isn’t merely an excuse to meet with Gerard? And what about the training session with your father? He so enjoys those, and he leaves for Brey Stor tomorrow.”

  “Gerard and I already have non-secret plans to meet later, and Dad leaves in two days.”

  “What? Gods, what day is it? Is it not Lindus? I swore your father told me he was leaving on… Oh! That wicked man! Never mind. Very well, go play whatever game you have planned.”

  “I swear it’s not a game, Mother. I’m not even taking Elisa with me. Her orders are to keep Beatrice’s spirits up for me.”