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

by D. C. Clemens

  They were humans, something that shouldn’t have been possible if freewill had anything to say in the matter. A caster only carried the ability to summon creatures either too dumb to resist or who agreed to be bound, and few humans would allow the whim of another to determine their fates. Not to mention the long-term risks of being kept in an alien realm. The fourth being was an eight foot tall stone sprite, a faceless humanoid entity made from hundreds of peach colored rocks. They all mutely attacked in a single wave.

  My father barked some orders to his men, which prompted an eruption of elements from both sides. Surges of fire met jets of water, colliding to become a gust of mist. Lightning blasted away hurled spikes of stone, and wind whirled around enough dust to create a miniature dust storm. I left the experience of the pirate gang to their own maneuvers. My focus stayed on the summoner, who hung about at the back of the pack. His magical shield remained up as he turned to stare at me with dead, hollow eyes. The veins in his face swelled with a dark purplish hue that reminded me of the corrupted I killed a lifetime ago. Yet he didn’t appear insane like they did.

  Just as I was about to impact his ward with my blade, the ward became enveloped in crackling lightning. I couldn’t avoid it. The sword struck. While Aranath’s power deadened the shock before it reached me, it was still powerful enough to force me to clench my teeth and twist my muscles for a painful moment. I barely recovered in time to roll out of the way of the lunging electric shield. His back was now exposed to an arrow from Sophia, who had been ordered to support me.

  Although the projectile hit its mark, the enemy took no notice of the wound by his upper spine. He instead generated a spear of lightning with his free hand and swung for me. He did not have good control over his weapon. The electricity wildly frayed the clothing up his arm, blistering his skin on contact. Again, he took no notice.

  “He’s a puppet,” said Aranath. “Just as the other humans are. Use only long range attacks or they will sacrifice themselves to injure you.”

  “Sophia! They’re all being controlled! Tell everyone to keep back!”

  She yelled my advice to everyone who could hear her high-pitched voice, advice that was easier said than done. My thrall swung away with mad abandon, dashing ever closer with every backward step I took. I would have been hard pressed to come up with an unpainful strategy if I were alone, but since I wasn’t, I maneuvered the tactless slave until I had him where I wanted.

  “Sophia! Leg!”

  The instant our enemy lunged, the back of his knee was impaled by her arrow. Whether it pained him or not didn’t matter, the interrupted momentum tripped him up. Halfway to the ground, my sword swung upward and caught him by the neck. Aranath nearly lopped off his head, but a remaining strand of skin prevented a true beheading. The blood that had been boiling inside him came out in one big squirt.

  I was disappointed, but not surprised to see that killing the summoner didn’t release the others. The almost headless man may have called upon them, but he had merely been a mediator for the true-

  “Get back!” exclaimed Aranath.

  The dead body became sheathed in fizzing sparks before a shockwave of lightning exploded outward. I shouldn’t have had time to dodge the thunderous outburst, but I found myself only feeling a mild tingle of electricity going up my body as I laid on the ground. I looked up to see a ward enveloped by water between me and the corpse. Looking behind me showed a relieved Clarissa and a surprisingly stoic Ghevont approaching me with spell-enwrapped arms. I gave my thanks with a nod and we moved to support the others.

  With everyone switching to long range tactics, the worst injury anyone received from the human puppets was a gash suffered by Athan’s thigh, which came from a shattering spear of ice. The stone sprite dished out a little more punishment. Offsetting its lumbering body somewhat, it could fling the rocks that made up its body with great force. A flung stone rammed into Aristos’ gut, but the tougher than he looked pirate still contributed to the sprite’s downfall. He and Clarissa joined their abilities and cast their water spells around one of the sprite’s legs. The water then froze into a dense coating of ice, holding the brute down for the needed moment.

  With the pinned sprite smashing pieces of the ice off its leg, Lorcan and Athan combined their spells, my father helping to fuel his subordinate’s flame with a sharp outpouring of air. They gave it a second to further concentrate its vivacious heat before firing it at the creature’s weakest point—a narrow waist where legs met torso. For good measure, Sophia shot an arrow she had wreathed in flame. The well-aimed flames burst forth at the target, the impact splitting it half. The sprite’s body broke apart into regular looking rocks.

  As Athan’s wound was being treated, Ghevont took the time to study the best enemy corpse available, which happened to be the one I first attacked. The electric surge had charred it badly, but it stayed in better shape than the others, all three having been burnt to near ash by a torrent of flame. I explained to the scholar what I saw when the puppet was still alive and then gave him a few moments to inspect the grisly, horrid smelling body.

  When the red light of whatever spell he cast faded from his hands, I asked, “What do you think?”

  “I would have once thought that too broad a question to answer, but now I really hear what you mean. I suspect a powerful mind rune was manipulating these people, but even that shouldn’t have been enough to force the utter lack of consciousness these subjects displayed, not unless their will was destabilized beforehand.”

  “So you think they were corrupted.”

  “Not so simple as that.” Ghevont pulled out a small knife and began to cut at the surface of the man’s blackened chest. “Raw corruption spreads uncontrollably throughout the body, but I’m picking up a single concentrated point… Ah! Here we go.”

  He mined his knife in the bloody little hole and used it to dig out a half inch long object from the crater of seared flesh. He wiped off the blood with his cloak and laid it on his palm. The crystalized item emanated a red-violet color. I could feel as my own hungry corruption reached out, frantically attempting to add to its own influence. I clenched my hands to keep from snatching it.

  “A corrupted prana crystal,” I inferred.

  “It seems the Advent’s experiments on corruption are producing fruitful results. With a blend of mind runes and corrupted crystals to wipe away someone’s resistance, a capable caster can link his prana with multiple subjects and accomplish much without ever having to endanger himself. All the same, I imagine the caster can’t be too far away. I’m assuming I don’t have time to do a complete dissection, do I?”

  “No. Destroy the crystal, or at least bury it if you can’t.”

  “Why can’t I keep it?”

  “Do you want to suffer your father’s fate?”

  “Excellent point.”

  Soon after Athan was helped back onto his horse, we began a hurried journey back to the ship. All of us knew it. If we had been attacked, then it was probable that the Little Lydia had also been made a target.

  It was well past midnight when we reached the docks. The cloudy sky prevented a clean view of the ship until we came quite close. Even for my inexperienced appraisal of ships, I could tell that something was wrong with her. The shade of the upper masts had been made the same as the dusky sky and the sails were nowhere to be found. Almost all of the crew could be seen above deck. Thoris walked up to meet us on the pier.

  “What happened?” Lorcan asked. “Were you attacked?”

  “Yes. Menalcus and Leo were on watch, but some bastard with a halberd still set both sails aflame. He then almost cut Menalcus down, but the rest of us came up to chase him off. Both masts will have to be replaced. What about you? I assume you were attacked as well if you’re back this early.”

  “Aye. There’s no doubt we’ve caught the attention of these fuckers, so it’s dangerous to split up. Cyrus says he knows of another lead in Ecrin. Take who you want and check the docks for anyone leaving for the
capital today or tomorrow.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Thoris found a small cargo ship leaving for Ecrin at noon. I wasn’t thrilled by its size. If the Advent had a ship nearby, it would be a simple matter of using their suicidal slaves to ram us and sink the ship. I was on watch as often as possible for this reason. Concern over Advent meddling also stopped me from sending a letter to the guild to let them know we were coming.

  Except for Lorcan’s men taking over the sailing themselves, the trip ended up being uneventful, with even the weather staying abnormally calm during the shift of seasons. While Lorcan and Lucetta went with my group to the guild house, the others stayed in Eastern Ecrin at a tavern called the Fat Witch.

  It was late in the evening, so I wasn’t surprised to learn from the guild clerk that Braden was at home. I thus asked for Cat or her brother. Both ended up being present. They each came down wearing leather armor plated with thin sheets of steel on the inflexible sections. It was unadorned, standard fare, but Ethan walked in it as though he were royalty.

  Cat hugged Clarissa and asked, “What brings you back so soon?”

  “This is Mercer we’re talking about,” said Ethan with stern calculation. “He’s here on serious business.”

  I shook his offered hand. “Only a true friend would have figured that out.” I knew everyone but him picked up on the sarcasm. “Does Braden have any letters for me?”

  “Uh, I’m not-”

  “Yes,” inputted his sister. “You can follow us to his office.”

  “Hey, why didn’t you update me before?”

  “I did, but I guess you didn’t hear me when you were flirting with the stable girl.”

  “Err, well… So, Mercer, who are your new friends?”

  Filling in for me, Lorcan pulled in Lucetta by her waist and said, “This is Lucetta Ambrose, my savagely endearing wife. I am Lorcan Eberwolf, infamous seafarer and father to your friend here.”

  Ethan stopped in the middle of the stairs we were climbing. “You’re his parents?”

  “He is,” I clarified. “There’s no blood relation to the woman.”

  “But I thought… So you-”

  “Later, please.”

  We entered Braden’s office, and using a key she had with her, Cat unlocked a drawer and grabbed some letters. She rifled through them until she reached the desired one. She handed me a rolled up paper kept curled up by a string. After reading the amazing penmanship, I regretted leaving Ecrin so soon. The letter was dated only a few days after I left, meaning Odet was forced to wait all this time knowing a traitor was possibly in her midst.

  “Well?” asked Lucetta.

  “It seems we might have what we came for.”

  “Really?” said Lorcan. “So where is it?”

  “In a noble’s home, but we can’t get it just yet.”

  “Why not?” asked the piratess. “I can steal from anywhere.”

  “Stealing won’t answer exactly who’s using it. Besides, I doubt even you’ve stolen anything from a valkrean’s home. No, first I have to get in contact with someone. Cat, can you use the guild’s seal to send something to Odet tonight?”

  “Probably. I’ll even go drop it off myself.”

  “Good. Get me an inkwell and some paper.”

  “That’s funny,” said Lorcan. “I could have sworn you said ‘Odet’ just now.”

  “He did,” said Clarissa.

  “So your noble friend has the same name as the princess, then?”

  “The same name, face, status, whatever you got.”

  I had begun writing my letter, so I only heard my father begin his bellowing laugh. “Why didn’t you say so before?! My son knows royalty!”

  “That’s not the sort of thing I like shouted out in public, Dad.”

  “Yes, of course… They say the Astor women are quite the beauties. Hope you gave them a good impression of the Eberwolf family! Hey, do you think I could get all my crimes pardoned?”

  “Mine too!” added his wife.

  “Everybody’s crimes!”

  “I believe you’re closer to being turned in by your son,” correctly evaluated Ghevont.

  I wrote what I needed to say—and what I didn’t need to, such as Clarissa’s regards—and gave it to Cat. She was off with it so splendidly quickly that she couldn’t have departed the building any faster if she jumped out the window.

  “Um, where’s Marcela?” asked Ghevont.

  “She’s in a little place my sister and I rent not far from here. Do you want to see her?”

  Ghevont looked for my approval, which I gave when I said, “We’re done here until we get a reply. You and Clarissa can go, I’ll be resting here.” To my father, I asked, “What will you do?”

  “I suppose I’ll go update my men.”

  “If you can help it, I’d prefer you don’t spread word about my connection.”

  He smiled. “If I can help it. I’ll return at dawn.”

  Before leaving with Ghevont and Clarissa, Ethan showed me to a room being used by other guildsmen as sleeping quarters. Surrounded by stone walls and warriors allowed my mind to drift off faster than normal.

  It was still dark when Ethan shook me awake from my unusually deep slumber. “Bell is here,” he whispered.

  I followed him into Braden’s office, where the former guild master was waiting in his noncombatant dress. Waiting in her combat attire was Odet’s royal protector.

  “Hello again, Mercer,” greeted the bodyguard with a small bow.

  “Sorry for making your princess wait so long for a reply. Is Summertide still with Owen’s family?”

  “As of yesterday morning.”

  “I hope Ghevont is truly the best person to translate and decode this work,” said Braden. “If the princess didn’t instruct me to give you more time to reach us, I would’ve seized it myself and handed it over to our best men.”

  “I assure you, Ghevont is the best man for the job. Not only does he know better than anyone else what his father’s line of thinking was, he can work with it far quieter than the guild can. Anyway, taking the scroll would force you to charge both Owen’s mother and father, but they’ll each have plausible deniability. I’ve come up with a way we can obtain the item and know whether one or both parents is the conspirator.”

  “How?”

  “It was in his letter,” explained Bell. “You didn’t read it?”

  “Catherine only woke me once the letter was delivered.” Back to me, he asked, “What plan did you give the princess?”

  “She’ll tell Owen to make an exact handwritten copy of the poem when he gets the chance. This he will give to Odet and she will give it to us. After Ghevont translates the work, he’ll be able to create an encoded message that we’ll deliver to each of his parents.”

  “A snare, then. I suppose you do trust in this Ghevont fellow, but do you really wish to use Owen in this? I haven’t seen much of the boy, but few sons would willingly help turn in their parents, especially if he knows something himself.”

  “Odet’s letter specifically mentioned that he was the one to lead her to the scroll. So even if he is involved, then he’s a very stupid fellow we can manipulate easily enough. As for his motivation, I’m certain Bell’s mistress will see to that.”

  “And Princess Astor is fine with this?” Braden asked Bell.

  “She is, but she sent me here with the express purpose of gaining your approval, guild master. She realizes that if your experience objects to the idea, then she will have to rethink Mercer’s strategy.”

  A pleased expression flashed across his face before reverting to its former gravity. “Well, I don’t see the harm in going about it the subtle way. We can always just barge in if something goes wrong.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” I said.

  “Who exactly is Ghevont?” Ethan asked me.

  “Currently more useful than you unless you go find everyone and bring them up to speed. Bell, tell Odet that Owen has two nights to copy every
thing down.”

  “Why the time limit?”

  “Mostly because I feel like it, but also because the faster we get this done, the better.”

  “I’ll merely inform the princess of your preference.”

  Shrugging, I said, “I’m going back to sleep.”

  I spent the next two days sharpening my skills against my father. We sparred with real steel in an isolated slice of Eastern Ecrin’s shoreline. The beach became too rocky here for regular beach going activities, so people were specks in the horizon. It was obvious that our first sparring session had him going easy on me. I was on my ass more often than he broke a sweat. His footwork was faster and his strength more ruthless. It wasn’t until I shifted every drop of my focus into Lorcan’s movements—and get punished more for it—did I learn how he did this.

  As I laid on my back, attempting to regather the air Lorcan had kicked out of me, I said, “You’re… using… wind spells to…”

  “To quicken my steps, yes,” he finished, grabbing my arm and pulling me back up to my feet. “I also use it to reinforce my slashes. Pretty nifty, eh?”

  “I have further to go than I thought.”

  “Ah, don’t be discouraged. My old man kicked my ass until I was thirty! He’s senile now, but he’s a tough son of a bitch, I’ll tell you what. Anyway, you’re farther along than I was at your age. Do you want me to show you how to cast some wind spells?” He opened his palm to allow a whirling ball of hissing air to form above it. “You’ll be able to bust through boulders with this!”

  “Thanks, but I have enough on my plate right now.”

  “Your illusion and fire spells are nice, but I feel you could use extra power in your attacks. You can’t always rely on your corruption to bail you out.”

  “You’re right, but once I master my fire spell, I’ll soon succeed in summoning all the power I need.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I mulled it over a moment, only to conclude that there was no reason to think it over. “My sword’s name is Aranath.”