Dragonstone (Eligium Series Book 3)

by Jake Allen Coleman

  That was the point wasn’t it? The fact was he should have known something would happen and Krystelle had tried to tell him that. Now, things were worse. He wondered if maybe they were cursed. Opening his mouth to apologize, he stopped, thinking better of what he had been about to say. Yes, he made a mistake, and he had to own up to that, but he had learned over the past months that mistakes were not a reflection of his character. He had resolved to learn every time he stumbled. Groveling in front of this woman would not make things better. In fact, if history was any indicator, it would only make things worse. Much worse, most likely.

  He chose his every word with care. “Krystelle, I know my actions in harboring that dragon were ill-advised…” he began.

  “Ill-advised?” mere ice would have been warm and comforting compared to her tone.

  “It was a disaster.”

  “At least we can agree on that.”

  “I will find us a way off this island. I promise you that.”

  She held up a hand to stop him. “Do not make promises you have no ability to keep, Sebastian. It is a sign of weakness and is beneath you. I do not have the strength to discuss it tonight. I will eat my dinner and retire. I suggest you do the same.” She turned back to her rat and skewered it with a thin branch. It was clear to Sebastian that their conversation was over.

  Feeling better that he had at least said his peace, Sebastian busied himself with preparing his own dinner. Once they escaped their island prison, he swore to himself that he would never eat rat again. It was far from appetizing.

  Sitting back against his rock he chewed the leathery meat and ruminated on the day’s events. He had to admit, Krystelle was right. He had no idea of how they would get off this island now. With their building supplies dwindling it was not likely they would find enough new scraps. Finished with his meager rations, he stoked the fire, adding several scraps of wood to ensure it lasted the night and laid himself in the nook he’d burrowed for himself. Within moments he was fast asleep.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  As was his custom, Sterling Lex rose with the dawn and brewed the potion of herbs and spices he had discovered in his travels, speaking the associated spell over the brew that enhanced its natural efficacy in extending life. Settling into his chair he sipped the steaming liquid, allowing it warm his bowels. He could feel the restorative effects of the herbs as his system absorbed the tea. This day would see the culmination of his efforts with the boy, Cenric. All the training and testing came down to one final test. Should Cenric be successful, Sterling Lex would send him on his way to Cale Uriasz. Radomil and the boy would recover the Chronicles and cripple the wizards for decades to come. Time enough for him to establish his power and rule.

  Unfurling a crude map of Cynneweald, Sterling Lex placed weights at each of the four corners. The map itself had no magical properties, but would serve as a focus for his working. Chanting an ancient spell, he placed himself into a partial trance, allowing himself to open to the vision of his spell. Once during his travels he had sent his consciousness away from his body to spy on his enemies, but it had been at great cost. This spell would suffice for the present need.

  The vision carried him away from Cinaeth and he noted landmarks along the way that would serve as a guide to find what he sought. Swooping over one last ridge-line the tableau of the vision froze. A soldier’s camp lay before him in the valley and he drifted closer to learn more. There were no banners flying, but by their armaments and gear, he knew this was no mercenary camp or merchant caravan. A shield lay near one tent, the symbol of two swords crossed emblazoned on the front. They were from Gabirel. No doubt sent to spy upon him. This would do. Releasing the spell, he came back to his chambers. Rolling the map he placed it back within his chest.

  Looking out at the sun he saw that the working had taken the greater part of the day and it had begun its journey down toward the horizon. Sterling Lex set down his now empty mug and rose from his chair. Entering the hallway outside his chambers, he crossed over to the rooms he had given over to the boy and rapped on the door. “One moment,” came a voice from inside the room. A moment later, the door open to reveal Cenric standing in a grey cloak, leather belt tying it closed at the waist. He held an iron chain in his hand, with the red Dragonstone dangling from the end.

  “Put that around your neck,” said Sterling Lex, turning to stride down the hall. Hanging the stone as instructed, Cenric hurried after him. Catching up, the boy kept pace with the sorcerer, careful to stay half a step behind as the two of them exited into the bailey where a stable-boy waited with a pair of horses. Mounting up, they rode out the gates of the Cinaeth and Sterling Lex led them out across the valley and into the foothills overlooking the fortress.

  It was nearing dusk when Sterling Lex called a halt. Dismounting, Lex motioned for Cenric to follow him on foot. Leaving their horses, they climbed up to the top of the ridge-line. “We are here,” said the sorcerer.

  “Where is here?” asked Cenric. “Why have we come so far from Cinaeth?”

  Sterling Lex turned to look at the boy, “This is where we shall see if you have encampmentgained mastery of the stone.”

  Cenric looked down at the red stone hanging from his neck. “Do you there,think I am ready?”

  “We shall know soon,” said Sterling Lex. “Look down into the valley below. What do you see there?”

  Gazing down, Cenric saw immediately what the sorcerer intended. “There is an encampment in the valley. Who are they?”

  “They are spies,” said Sterling Lex. He needed to push Cenric over a certain line before he could place greater trust in the boy. “Rather than make some attempt to rescue you, your so-called friends at Gabirel are more concerned with preserving their own power. You are nothing to them. They must be stopped. That presence you feel within the stone? I want you to connect with that presence and summon it here.” He reached out through the threads connecting him with the boy and touched Cenric’s mind, prodding him in the correct direction.

  Closing his eyes, Cenric lifted the Dragonstone between his hands. Glowing with an inner fire that grew in intensity with each passing moment, the stone came alive in his hands. Sterling Lex felt the power growing and withdrew his presence to prevent what was coming from discovering him.

  “Cadeyrn Seaghda!” shouted Cenric. The earth shook beneath them with the power of those words. Below, in the valley, the soldiers stopped whatever they were doing to look about them for the quake’s cause. Cenric’s eyes popped open, and he looked over at Sterling Lex. “Did it work?”

  “You tell me. Reach out through the stone. What do you feel?”

  Furrowing his brow, Cenric focused again on the Dragonstone. “I feel it. It is coming closer,” he said at last.

  “Then the spell worked. You must prepare. Quickly now. Our time is short, it will be here before we know it.”

  “What will be here?” asked Cenric.

  “The Dragon.”

  Cenric gasped, “Dragon?”

  Sterling Lex smiled at the boy, “Surely you realize what it is you carry? That is the Eligius Muliach hanging from that chain. The Dragonstone. You are a Dragon-master. Now, young Dragon-master that beast is coming and you must be ready to command it when it does.”

  Cenric looked down at the stone hanging from his neck. “The Dragonstone,” he whispered. “How do I command it?”

  “Through the Dragonstone,” prompted Sterling Lex.

  “And what should I have it do?”

  This was the crucial moment. No longer able to use his influence over the boy directly, Sterling Lex had to depend on the foundation already laid. Placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder he pointed down toward the camp below, “Punish them.” Cenric stared down at the encampment as Sterling Lex’s words washed over him. The boy nodded and Sterling Lex took a step back.

  Down below in the valley, the camp settled from the quake’s interruption and the soldiers were striking their tents to prepare for a late departure. While they woul
d have scouts at a distance along the valley, none would think to look to the skies.

  “He is near,” said Cenric at last. His eyes glazed over and his lips continued to move, but more sound came from his mouth. Looking out toward the north, Lex saw a speck in the air moving in their direction. Rapidly growing in size, it was only moments before Lex could make out the wings, and then the head. It was out of his hands now and he took a step away from Cenric. He knew that physical proximity to the boy would not make it more or less likely that the dragon would sense him here, but he did it anyway.

  Swooping down over the encampment the dragon made an initial pass, causing the horses to scream and bolt. It wheeled around for another pass as the soldiers scrambled for their weapons. It would not make a difference. Closing in, the dragon picked up one soldier in each claw and unleashed a wash of fire across the remainder of the camp. It flew on a short distance before dropping the screaming soldiers, allowing them to smash into the rocks below. One last pass and it was done, the camp was destroyed.

  Cenric stood, transfixed as the dragon circled once and flew off to the north. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  Lex allowed him to remain as he was, absorbing the import of what had happened. When he judged the time was right, he came up behind the boy and placed his hands on either shoulder. “Well done.”

  “That was incredible,” said Cenric, a note of awe in his voice. “I want to call him back,” lifting the stone.

  Sterling Lex caught his arm, “That would not be wise. The dragon must be your slave, not the reverse. Working through the Dragonstone requires a delicate balance. Call upon the stone too much and that balance may shift against you.”

  Cenric nodded, “I understand, I think.”

  “It is time for us to return to Cinaeth. Once there, you will go with Radomil to Cale Uriasz to claim the Chronicles.”

  “You’re not going with us?”

  “I cannot. I must return to Naevean. The King requires my presence if we are to work together to stop Gabirel.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Sebastian found himself at a ball in the Dazhberg. He made quite the dashing figure in his formal attire, medals of honor draped on his chest from his victories. Reaching out his arm, he took Krystelle’s hand as the music played. Her features were softer, almost fuzzy, face framed with curled hair. He had never seen her in a gown like that one.

  The scene shifted and he found himself back on his uncle’s farm. If felt good to be back working the land. His little niece danced past. Why did that make him sad? He turned back to the plow and urged his two oxen forward. They were bigger and stronger than he remembered them.

  A voice penetrated his dream, “Sebastian.”

  Wait. That was wrong. Why was she on his uncle’s farm?

  “Sebastian, wake up!” It wasn’t part of the dream. That was Krystelle. Why did she want him to wake up? He snapped back to consciousness and peered across the fire to where she slept. A look of fright on her face, she was reaching out for her blade. Her fist closed on it when another voice came out of the blackness.

  “Now, little lady, you’ll not be needing that.” Krystelle froze. Tired as he was, Sebastian had trouble understanding the singsong voice. “Truth, we mean you no harm.”

  “Then why do you come on us out of the darkness?” Krystelle challenged the disembodied voice. “Show yourself.”

  “Of course, of course. But first you put down that cutter. I’d not like to get sliced.”

  Sebastian realized that they were not alone. He shifted to show Krystelle that he had his sword ready and out of sight of whoever was out there in the forest. His heart skipped a beat as he realized that this might mean they were rescued. Krystelle released her grip on her blade and retracted her arm. “There, I’ve set down my knife. Now show yourself.”

  A figure moved out of the darkness and into the flickering light of their fire. Naked to the waist, his baggy trousers were tied above the ankles and might have been blue at one point. A sash draped across his torso supported a rusty cutlass that had seen better days. He had no cover on his head except a mane of ratted hair that extended down to become a foot long beard that would have made a large bird very comfortable should it try to nest there. Dark ink stained the deep pits of his eyes and creases were etched into his forehead just above bushes that stood in for brows.

  “Well now, what ‘ave we here?” The voice was getting easier for Sebastian to understand although he still had to strain. “Naught been any folk on this island since afore I made my mark.”

  “Good sir,” Krystelle began in her best diplomat’s voice, “We were shipwrecked on this island. It is to our good fortune you have found us. We would enjoin you under the law of the sea to carry us to the nearest port. I can guarantee you fair payment for our passage and fare. I assume you have a vessel anchored offshore?”

  “Law of the sea indeed,” the man snorted. “Good fortune had naught to do wi’ it. ‘Twas your fire that brought us in to see what was what.”

  Sebastian was confused. “Our fire?” he said, looking at their little campfire.

  The strange man chortled, “No not that little firespeck. The one down on the beach was what done it.”

  “Luck for us then. We did not mean to set that fire.” She shot Sebastian a level stare, daring him to say something. He wisely chose to remain silent.

  “Well, good luck to you then and good luck to me and mine.” He looked about the darkened forest and let out a strange holler in no language Sebastian had ever heard. Moments later four more men emerged into the light, causing Krystelle to tense. Dressed in the same manner as the first, more or less, they had an array of different weapons about them and several had piercings in their noses and ears that made Sebastian wince to look at. All of them had tattoos marking their bodies in one way or another and when the first man turned to greet his fellows, Sebastian saw that his entire back was illustrated with an intricate design.

  With the addition of these newcomers, Sebastian and Krystelle both took to their feet, weapons near enough. Sebastian realized that with five to two odds things were not favorable should things degenerate into violence.

  “I am Krystelle Mora and my escort is Sebastian…of Gabirel.” Sebastian noticed the pause, and that she had not identified her own connection to the order of knights, nor his actual rank as the merest Squire. “We appreciate and accept your offer of passage. May I have the honor of your name and your ship’s master?” Sebastian wondered what game she was playing. They hadn’t actually offered passage. Either she was trying to bluff and bluster her way onto their ship or she knew something he didn’t.

  “Well Krystelle Mora, you can call me Nicjo, but I wager you’ll not have heard of our ship.” One of his compatriots mumbled at him in that strange language, and their new host responded in kind. “Come on then you two. The captain don’t want us out away from the ship long. He’ll want to be knowing what we found. He’ll not be expecting you two.”

  Sebastian and Krystelle gathered their meager belongings from the campsite and kicked sand on their fire. Covering Aedelric’s chest with a scrap of cloth to keep it out of sight from prying eyes, Sebastian took one last look around their camp. It was not much, but it had been home these last few days. Being marooned on an island with Krystelle had not been all bad. Except for the rats. He would not miss the rats. He followed Krystelle and Nicjo back down the path to their beach, the other four sailors trailing behind.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Boarding their rescuer’s longboat, Krystelle shot Sebastian a look warning him to stay silent. She held her tongue also and their voyage to the anchored ship passed in relative silence except for snippets of conversation between the five men, mostly consisting of commands from Nicjo to his companions in their guttural language.

  Their ship came into view just around the point from where Sebastian had found Aedelric’s case, out of sight from where the remains of the raft continued to smolder. At first sight, the vessel was
not especially impressive. Her rigging had a haphazard appearance and there was an air of causal indifference about the few crew members lounging on deck. The Grey Gull it was not, concluded Sebastian. He supposed it must be some sort of merchantman or smuggler’s vessel, which would explain Krystelle’s reaction to the sailors back at their camp.

  Reaching the side of the ship, a deckhand lowered a raggedy rope ladder and their whole escort save one scampered up onto the deck. Sebastian was forced to hand Aedelric’s chest, along with the rest of their possessions, up to a helping hand before making his way up the ladder, Krystelle close on his heels. Seeing the chest sitting amongst the rest of their gear, he breathed out a sigh of relief. There was nothing on the case to mark it as anything special and he was sure that these sailors would have no better luck than he in opening it. Yet he felt it was his duty to keep its contents safe.

  Nicjo was making his way back towards them from the stern of the ship, issuing more commands in that strange language. Sailors who had been occupied with their lounging moved into action with a grace and energy that belied their previous lethargy. For all his rough demeanor, the crew was quick to follow his orders.

  “Here you two. Captain wants us aways from this shore before the sun,” that sing-song voice combined with the rocking of the ship threatened to bring back Sebastian’s seasickness. “Clear your gear and follow me below.”

  Sebastian and Krystelle gathered their small pile of belongings and followed the man to nearby stairwell leading to the belly of the ship. Taking Krystelle’s lead, Sebastian remained silent, hoping she would reveal more once they were alone.

  He was not disappointed. No sooner had Nicjo closed the door to their little cabin when she rounded on him. “We’ve got to get off this ship!” she hissed.