The Blue Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 2)

by Salvador Mercer

  Together they walked, Alyssa on the ground, Seth on top of the beam, until they reached the open edge of the roof. Seth had to practically squat as the ceiling came down low, forcing him to keep low. The scoring became worse, and the markings on the wood were longer.

  Sheathing his sword, Seth leaped out, grabbing an iron bar that ran across the edge of the roof that sheer curtains hung from. His legs swung below him in a wide arc, and like a gymnast, he somersaulted backward using his intense momentum to fly both out and up onto the rooftop at the very edge of the temple building.

  Seth offered a hand, and Alyssa sheathed her sword as well, running at one of the marble columns and then switching to a nearby one as soon as her momentum had been arrested, and when the same thing happened the second time, she leaped out from halfway up the support and grabbed Seth’s hand, wrist to wrist as he swung her up beside him. From this vantage point they could clearly see the tiles cracked, broken and missing as something had destroyed them as it exited the temple interior and stood on the outside roof.

  The trail of destruction led to the southwest corner with tiles now visible in the garden below as they fell from the weight of the intruder. At the very edge, it stopped, no further signs of its passing.

  “What in Agon do you think this was?” Alyssa asked, wiping away a tear and placing her hand over her eyes, shading against the intense sunlight, looking in the far distance as if to spot the intruder.

  Seth had the top of his hood shading his face and eyes after drawing it up and over his head. “Remember that guardian creature of the dragon we encountered?” Alyssa nodded, never taking her eyes from the distance. “Well, I think perhaps it was one of those.”

  Alyssa did look at Seth now, dropping her hand and crouching to touch and feel the cracked roof tiles. “How do you know it wasn’t a dragon itself?”

  Seth crouched beside her. “The beast was too large to have been inside the temple. It would have destroyed those rafters. It had to have been something smaller.”

  “Perhaps, but I know Krom well, and in the interior of his own sanctuary, he would have been nigh to invincible to one of those beasts. It had to have been a dragon, if not worse.”

  “I don’t know.” Seth shook his head. “Better to get back to town. I have an idea.”

  “What’s that?” Alyssa asked.

  “Let’s set a trap for the assassin.”

  Chapter 11

  Trap

  “Are you mad?” Richtor said, resuming his pacing across the interior floor of the lobby in his main building.

  Seth shrugged, looking at his boss, Azex, who stood unmoving, showing no emotion. The trip back had been uneventful. They had laid their old comrade Krom on the altar of his temple and placed a white sheet over him as well as his wooden religious symbol. The others they buried at the front of the temple grounds in shallow graves and then rode like the wind back to Balax, arriving just before sundown.

  “Will you at least ask the Kesh?” Jayrel asked.

  “Why me? Better if you, or . . .”—at this, the governor ceased his pacing and pointed an accusatory finger at Seth—“this man should ask the wizard if he will be bait for your half-baked trap.”

  “But, you’re the governor. You represent our position in these kind of matters,” Jayrel retorted.

  “Political matters, matters of state, yes, but asking the man to be bait for a crazed assassin . . . well, that just goes too far,” Richtor said, resuming his pacing.

  “Actually, that sounds like a wonderful idea,” the soothing and melodious voice of Kaylor said, coming from the main corridor. The man and his apprentice walked silently, robes gliding across the marble-tiled floor as they approached the governing group for Balaria. Graz followed behind, also stealthy on the tiled floor, with his soft leather fur-lined boots making almost no sound.

  Richtor abruptly stopped his pacing, something that had become too habitual for Seth’s taste. “You do? Why on earth would you agree to be bait for a deadly killer?”

  “I did not say I would. I said I agree that having bait for the killer sounds like a wonderful idea,” Kaylor said, reaching the group and nodding as his apprentice did the same.

  “Who did you have in mind?” Richtor said, pressing a hand against his chest as if in shock at the news.

  “No need to worry, we will not expose one of your people,” Kaylor said. “We will have Abruxus, my apprentice, perform this service for you.”

  Abruxus didn’t move nor show emotion, as if he already knew that the plan called for him to risk his life. Either the man was courageous or accepted his position and fate as part of his duties in being an apprentice to a Kesh wizard. Graz, on the other hand, seemed indifferent to the plight of the apprentice. Seth wasn’t sure what to make of this trio.

  “Well, that would entirely be your decision,” Richtor said, choosing his words carefully. “You do understand that we can’t entirely guarantee your man’s safety?”

  “Understood, Governor,” Kaylor said, nodding and looking around the room. “Did you have a specific time and place in mind?”

  Richtor motioned to Seth. Seth nodded at the governor before speaking. “It appears our killer likes to work at night. It’s getting dark even now, and I suggest we have our subject sit on the benches that overlook the bay, right here on the governor’s patio. We’ll take up several key positions around him and wait till the killer shows himself.”

  “Or herself,” Richtor added.

  “Right. At any rate, he only needs to appear to be busy, reading, perhaps enjoying a glass of wine, something that seems legitimate for our purposes,” Seth said.

  “The trap would be more appealing if we added to the bait, would you not agree, Master Seth?” Kaylor asked.

  “What do you mean?” Seth asked.

  “I mean, the trap would be more convincing if Abruxus was talking to someone, perhaps even sharing a meal with another person,” Kaylor said.

  “An excellent idea,” Richtor said, beaming at the group with his teeth exposed. Seth thought it made the man look almost feral in nature and, of course, too eager for his comfort. “Jayrel, you can provide one of your members, no?”

  “No,” Jayrel protested, holding his hands up. “Why on Agon would you say such a thing?”

  “It can’t be one of my staff, or even one of my soldiers. The killer would smell that as a trap for sure. It should be someone who fits in. Someone who can help with the trap. You know, a member who is observant, capable with a sword or knife,” Richtor said, a tone of pleading in his voice.

  Jayrel shook his head. “Out of the question. I’m already providing members of my guild for the security of this operation. You can’t expect me to ask one of them to act as bait now, can you?”

  “Why not?” Azex asked. “You were ready to ask the Kesh to perform the same duty.”

  Azex didn’t often argue with Jayrel, especially in public, but the stress of recent events were starting to show in more than one place, and this stress created tension even within the ruling triumvirate of Balaria. The last time there was a purge amongst the Balarian ruling class a century ago, more than half of the factions had paid with their lives. Seth didn’t fancy another purge, even a century later. That would be even bloodier considering the parties involved.

  “It’s your man’s plan,” Jayrel said, gracing Seth with a scowling look, his eyes narrowing a bit with hate and suspicion. “Perhaps he can play the role of bait in all this, or one of your lesser assassins who are no less competent than my members.”

  Seth was about to speak and save his boss the trouble when Kaylor interrupted. “Master Jayrel. The trap would be most effective if the counterpart to Abraxus was also a member of our expedition. The current assumption is that the killer is eliminating those of us that were on the quest, correct?” The Kesh looked at each man in turn, but no one answered his rhetorical question. “So it behooves us to select someone that would also be attractive to the killer. Your member, Alyssa, if I rememb
er her name correctly, would serve this function perfectly.”

  Jayrel was about to protest, but Seth beat him to it. “That would be a very bad idea, Master Kaylor. Alyssa is part of my team that will be springing the trap.”

  “Do I detect a note of personal concern here?” the wizard said, his voice lilting ever so slightly, yet the connotation was more than clear, especially when it questioned the ruthless efficiency of Agon’s most deadly assassin.

  “Yes, are you actually concerned for her?” Jayrel asked, his eyebrows arching as he asked the same question.

  “Not like that,” Seth said not very convincingly, and he ignored the odd stare from Azex. “I simply need her abilities on the cliff face below the trap with me. Very few members of yours has her talent for climbing walls and scaling sheer cliff faces. It’s more a matter of necessity at this point.”

  “So if not her, then who?” Richtor asked as a servant walked to the group from the main corridor.

  “Sir, there is someone here to see you,” the servant said, bowing.

  “Who is it?” Richtor sounded annoyed.

  “Master Diamedes,” the servant said.

  “Tell him to return another time. We’re busy here right now,” Richtor said, waving a hand to dismiss the servant.

  “Wait a moment,” Kaylor said. “Do allow the royal historian to join us.”

  “Whatever for?” Richtor asked. “The man is practically an Ulathan spy, if not one for the King of Tyniria.”

  Kaylor didn’t speak, only nodding and waiting in an awkward silence. No one interrupted him as he stared at the hallway until the servant appeared again, motioning for the older man to enter the room.

  Diamedes walked over to the group, looking around and nodding before speaking. “I’m sorry, am I interrupting something?”

  “Well, actually, yes, you were,” Richtor began, but the Kesh wizard quickly turned his head to glare at the governor. “However,” the man quickly adapted, “our Kesh guest seems to have some business with you.”

  “Ah, very well, what would the Kesh have a poor historian like me?”

  Seth listened as the Kesh’s voice sounded so calming, so soothing, like silk run over his skin after a long bath. The man spoke and the words were ominous, but the delivery sounded appealing. “How would you like to dine tonight with us so that we may recount the tale of the death of the mighty blue dragon? Would the history of that tale be appealing to you?”

  “Oh my,” Diamedes said, looking around, eyes bright, excitement in his voice. “That would be most fascinating if you think you could find the time. Who would I be dining with tonight?”

  Kaylor smiled. It was a wicked yet alluring gesture. “We have a place reserved for you on the patio, just outside here with my apprentice Abraxus. He will be more than happy to recount the tale.”

  Seth had his bait.

  “He’s dead,” Madalena said, her tone flat, no emotion across her face.

  “Are you sure?” Orwell asked, stroking his beard and staring intently at his personal bodyguard.

  “Yes. He was under observation and left the day before to fetch wine for our stores when he went missing. Several of your soldiers and myself searched the area to no avail until late this afternoon when we found him hanging from a tree near the cliffedge just outside the compound. He was dressed the same as the day before, and he had no wine with him,” Madalena said.

  Justiciar Orwell shook his head and began pacing across the patio, his face displaying a stern look of contemplation before he stopped again in front of the group. “But why would anyone want to murder a common house servant?”

  “Unknown,” Madalena said.

  “I’ve used this group before,” Toray said, worry in his voice. “Vincent has always been one of our best hires for years.”

  “Perhaps that is part of the problem?” Diamedes offered.

  “What are you saying?” Toray asked, looking up and furrowing his brow at the historian.

  “This is Balaria. You are the ambassador for King Akula, representing Tyniria. Surely you must understand that they have spies within the servant ranks,” Diamedes said.

  “But I chose them from passing trade ships and brought more than a few from Tyniria proper,” Toray protested.

  “This is getting us nowhere,” Orwell said, shaking his head. “It would be a simple matter for the Balarians to plant a confidant on a ship or in Tyniria itself, for that matter. I’ve operated under the assumption that every servant in our villa now is a spy.” Several members of the group looked at the villa’s doorway where two servants were seen waiting, just out of casual earshot, but close enough to come if called for as any good servant would do.

  “Every one of them?” Toray asked.

  “The question remains,” Arwell said, who had been invited for a second night to the Ulathan villa, “why kill a servant?”

  Orwell looked at the Fist of Astor, who shrugged. The justiciar resumed his pacing for another trip and then stopped again to face the group. “We’re sure that the attack last night was from a dragon?”

  “Yes. It was hard to miss,” Madalena said.

  “Shocking, if you ask me,” Toray said.

  “And embarrassing,” Arwell said, looking at each person in turn. “They mounted that huge dragon skull in their main square, and the very next day, a dragon attacks. I doubt they’ll believe me in my own realm when I return to tell the tale.”

  “Yes,” Orwell said, again stroking his beard. “The farther south one resides, the less likely one is to believe these tales of rampaging dragons in the North.”

  “Not just the North,” Diamedes said. “I’ve done my research and feel confident that the Draconus species resides throughout Agon.”

  “Not that again.” Toray sighed.

  “Let the man speak,” Orwell said, his tone displaying the slightest hint of displeasure.

  Diamedes cleared his throat. “The dragon that the Balarians slayed was south of here, not north. You’ve all seen its skull in Merchant’s Square yourselves, and you’ve witnessed a second dragon attack on the city proper. What’s to deny? The dragons are awakening.”

  “I’ve got to agree with the good historian,” Arwell said. “I think the Kesh woke them prematurely. Couple that with the reports from the North and it’s pretty clear that a dragon war has commenced. Still, my initial question remains unanswered. Why kill a servant?”

  There was an awkward pause as each member of the group contemplated the servant’s death. Finally, Justiciar Orwell spoke, his voice even, concern clearly apparent in his tone. “Are you sure you want to return to the governor’s complex?”

  “I do,” Diamedes said. “I returned to fetch my quill and book in order to transcribe the tale of the dragon’s death. I need to return soon.”

  “You mean the first dragon, don’t you?” Arwell said.

  “Yes,” Diamedes responded. “The Kesh apprentice will relate the tale, and I’ll record it in detail.”

  “So why return for your quill and paper?” Orwell asked. “You know you don’t need them.”

  It was understood by those who knew Diamedes well that he could recite word for word an entire conversation, and so writing anything down was done only to pass the information along to others. Diamedes nodded. “Quite right, Justiciar Orwell, but usually if I engage myself in writing, I find that this allows the speaker to relate more when they feel their words are being written.”

  “So you can remember everything that someone says, even years later?” Arwell asked.

  “I can, but sometimes I forget the context in which I remembered, so taking notes is not a bad thing either,” Diamedes said.

  “Well, I’d feel better if you had an armed escort,” Orwell said, motioning to Madalena.

  Diamedes raised his hands to object. “No, please don’t. While I appreciate the concern, I fear it would do more to distract the Kesh apprentice than anything.”

  “He has a point,” Arwell said. “Nothing per
sonal, Fist Madalena, but I’m sure you would distract just about any man, Kesh or not, standing nearby.”

  Madalena looked at Arwell sideways before speaking. “I can accompany Master Diamedes to the complex and wait for him at the main gate. Would that be acceptable?”

  Diamedes nodded. “Would that assuage your concerns, Justiciar?”

  “It would, and to answer Master Arwell’s question, I think our Balarian hosts knew that Hand Madalena was suspicious of Servant Vincent and his handler had him eliminated,” Orwell said.

  “A heavy price to pay for secrecy.” Toray sighed.

  “Life is cheap in Balaria,” Orwell stated. “We all knew this when we agreed to meet the Kesh here. I’d still rather be here than in Keshtor, or anywhere near that sorcerous black tower of theirs. Still, we need to remain vigilant and ready. There is a dragon on the loose in Balaria, and it appears to be quite angry.”

  “Well, that is an understatement,” Arwell said, walking over to the edge of the villa’s waist-high wall and looking down at the twinkling lights of the city center near the harbor. “So what’s your next move?”

  Orwell and the others took a few steps to stand at the short wall. Stroking his beard for one last time, Orwell spoke. “Find the assassin.”

  Chapter 12

  Sprung

  The dinner had gone according to plan, and the Kesh apprentice Abruxus spoke clearly and slowly, allowing the time to pass. Diamedes was patient, enjoying his meal and then taking up his quill and paper and listening intently as the story unfolded, occasionally asking for a detail or two.

  During this time, Seth and Alyssa hung suspended from two thin though strong sets of ropes attached to a small metal grate that allowed for water to exit the expansive, flat-paved patio above and fall into a drainage ditch far below, which paralleled a walkway that zigzagged down the steep hillside.