Dragon Blessed (The Dragonwalker Book 2)

by D. K. Holmberg

  Dragon Blessed

  The Dragonwalker Book 2

  D.K. Holmberg

  Copyright © 2018 by D.K. Holmberg

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Author’s Note

  Also by D.K. Holmberg

  Chapter One

  Fes reached for his dagger and ran his finger along the hilt. There was usually something relaxing about the way the dagger felt in his hand, and today was no different. The only difference today was that he was prepared to use it if it became necessary.

  A crowd filled the street in front of him, most of the people heading away from the busy market. It wasn’t quite as impressive a market as that in the capital city, but because Vayan sat along the southern coast, there was enough trade to make it interesting. Some of the things he’d seen were quite intriguing, but none were the reason he was here.

  He remained crouched in an alley, trying to remain hidden as he watched the street for signs of his assignment. This was to be a simple job, and one he wouldn’t have taken, except for the fact that he felt compelled to continue to work for Azithan. The fire mage had been good to him and Fes still felt a little guilty how he had slipped him a replica instead of a real dragon relic. So far, Azithan had said nothing to Fes, and it was either because he didn’t know or because he was biding his time before confronting Fes. With Azithan, it would be difficult to know which.

  The target was there.

  Dark hair tumbled to her shoulders. She was tall, slender, and striking. A simple robe striped with red embroidery marked her, and she carried a relic Azithan wanted Fes to recover.

  What was he thinking, following a fire mage?

  There was a time when Fes wouldn’t have identified a fire mage, and a time when he would have feared the repercussions for doing so, but now that he had survived a powerful one and had some idea of how to limit their magic, he no longer feared them quite the way that he had.

  He crept behind her.

  Keeping her in sight was not difficult. With her height, she was easy to spot, almost as easy as Fes himself. His height made concealing his presence difficult, and he often stooped, not wanting to stick up above the crowd, but in this city, he doubted he would be recognized. In the capital, it was more important to remain concealed.

  She headed away from the market. When he had first spotted her, Fes thought that perhaps she would make her way toward it, but she hadn’t, heading instead into one of the less populated parts of the city. He didn’t think she knew he followed, and he intended to keep it that way.

  She passed someone, bumping into them.

  Fes frowned.

  That wasn’t only a bump. It was a handoff.

  Maybe she had known he followed.

  He watched the fire mage disappear along the street, considering whether he needed to follow her or the man she had handed off to. He was shorter than her, compact and muscular, the kind of person one hired for protection rather than the kind of person a fire mage might normally interact with.

  There was no question that the man slipped something into his pocket.

  Skies of Fire! That had to be the relic, didn’t it?

  Tearing his attention away from the fire mage, he followed this man rather than the fire mage, worried that if he let him get too far away, he would lose sight of the relic and would fail at this job.

  Failure was not an option. Fes loathed failing, which was the reason that Azithan prized him for his ability to collect.

  The man weaved through the streets and Fes stayed close to him, but not so close as to be noticeable. Every so often, he would make a sharp turn and Fes would watch, standing on his toes if necessary to see if the man turned back, always managing to keep an eye on him.

  Then he ducked down an alley, and Fes followed him.

  This wasn’t supposed to be a difficult job. He was asked to track the fire mage, keep an eye on the relic, and report back.

  That was it. That was the job.

  Until he knew where the relic went, he wouldn’t be able to report back. He wouldn’t be able to finalize the job.

  He slipped along the alleyway and maneuvered down the street. At one point, he splashed in a puddle, and an awful stench reached his nose. When he reached the end of the alley, he headed from there to the side street as the man disappeared into a building.

  Fes paused, watching. If the man inside knew that Fes was following, maybe he was only doing this to avoid detection. If that were the case, the man might have slipped out some back entrance. It was enough to get him moving.

  He hesitated at the entrance to the building before pushing it open.

  It was a home, and a relatively well appointed one. A basket of flowers rested on the table, three chairs angled around it. A hearth with a kettle resting inside it filled one wall, and a doorway separated the kitchen from the rest of the home.

  There was no sign of the man he had been following.

  He made his way through the entrance and toward the back of the home. How long was he willing to search? How long was he willing to remain exposed, putting himself in danger for the possibility of information?

  Fes knew the answer. Ten gold coins bought enough time.

  That was more than enough to coax Fes out of the city and to take the job. As much as he wanted to remain anonymous and hidden, the prospect of having another ten coins to add to his growing wealth was almost too appealing to pass up.

  As he hurried through the home, he found another doorway. This led to a bedroom, and there was a comfortable-appearing bed in it, with sheets pulled up, keeping it neat.

  Still no sign of the other man.

  He turned, and when he reached the doorway, a shadow separated from the hall and slammed into his stomach.

  Fes grunted.

  He pushed on the man, trying to throw him off, but he was heavy—heavier than he looked, and Fes was strong. He shouldn’t have had any difficulty throwing the man free.

  A knee came up into his stomach, knocking away his breath.

  Fes bent over, trying not to gasp but struggling.

  He reached for his dagger. It wasn’t that he wanted to kill this man, but he did want to slow him. If that meant drawing a little blood, that would be what he was willing to do.

  The man grabbed his arm, pinning it.

  Fes tried to jerk, attempting to pull himself free, but he couldn’t.

  Another knee came up, and this time, Fes ac
counted for it, twisting off to the side and absorbing most of the blow. It hurt, but not as much as it could have.

  He made another attempt at throwing the man free and pushed off, sending him rolling away. As he did, Fes unsheathed both daggers. The man eyed the daggers for a moment before lowering his shoulder and barreling toward Fes.

  He sliced at the man, trying to connect, but his dagger seemed to bounce off the other man’s arm.

  That was new. The daggers cut through almost everything. Dragonglass was incredibly strong, much stronger than flesh, so he was surprised that he hadn’t managed to so much as draw blood.

  The man crashed into him, driving Fes down once again. He pushed, trying to get him off, but the man was too heavy. It was like moving stone.

  So much for an easy job. Maybe that was why Azithan had offered ten gold coins. Maybe he’d known it would be much more challenging than it had first appeared.

  The man brought his knee up again and Fes contorted, twisting out of the way.

  When he did, he managed to get one arm free, so he shoved again, throwing the man off.

  Fes got to his feet and looked toward the entrance of the home. All he wanted now was to get out, regroup, and think of another way that he could acquire the dragon relic.

  The man positioned himself in front of the hallway, preventing Fes from making a clean break. Either he would have to attempt to run through the man or he would have to find another way. The longer he stared, the more it became clear that something was off about him, though he couldn’t quite figure out what it might be.

  There would be time to figure that out later. For now, he needed to get free.

  A quick glance over his shoulder told him that there was unlikely to be another way out. That meant he somehow had to go through.

  He took a deep breath and brought his daggers together, then raced toward the man, launching himself.

  The man stepped off to the side and Fes went tumbling.

  The ground rumbled as the man raced after him.

  Fes lumbered to his feet and staggered toward the doorway. He headed out into the street.

  Once back into the sunlight, he raced toward the nearby alley.

  The man chased him but he seemed a step slower.

  The raven-haired fire mage waited in the mouth of the alley. She pointed something at Fes and he reacted without thinking, slashing with his daggers. The stream of fire that leapt from the dragon relic she held fizzled out, falling harmlessly to the stone.

  The fire mage eyed him. “Azithan sent you.”

  Fes glanced over his shoulder. The man was approaching, and he didn’t like the idea of being caught between the strange man, who had some ability to withstand his daggers, and the fire mage. Either option left him uncomfortable.

  When he turned his attention back to the fire mage, she was pointing another dragon relic at him. This had a curved tip to it and reminded him of the dragon claw Talmund carried with him.

  Fes crossed his daggers in front of himself and swiped them out, cutting off the magic she aimed in his direction. At least the fire mage was easier to deal with.

  “Azithan will not have it,” the fire mage said as Fes neared her.

  “What is it?”

  “As I said, Azithan will not have it.”

  Something struck Fes in the back. It felt as if he were hit with a hammer. He staggered forward and would have tumbled into the fire mage, but she seemed to have known what was coming and stepped off to the side. He sprawled along the stones and nearly dropped his daggers. Only years of training and experience with his daggers helped him avoid losing them. If he were to drop his daggers, he would be helpless against the fire mage’s magic.

  He rolled and staggered to his feet.

  The strange man stood next to the fire mage, positioning himself in front of her. It was odd to see knowing that she was the one with power, but surprisingly, he had been the one most difficult to deal with.

  “I only want the relic. Then I will let the two of you go.”

  The fire mage pointed at Fes, and the man took a step toward him. He seemed to swell with each step, and the ground beneath his feet crackled as if he weighed too much for the cobbles to support.

  As he did, Fes stared at him, realizing that something about him truly didn’t seem quite right. He just wasn’t able to explain what it was. Maybe it was the angular set to his jaw, or the way he held his arms out, almost as if his muscles were too large to stay at his sides. Or maybe it was simply the way the ground cracked as he walked.

  He knew with certainty that he didn’t want the man to reach him. Whatever else he might be, there was power within him that was something different to what the fire mage possessed.

  Fes took a step back, moving along the alleyway. If he did nothing, he would be trapped here, and he didn’t want to let the fire mage do so, not between her and this man.

  Heat began to build.

  Fes had experienced heat like that before, and he crossed his daggers in front of him, preparing to separate whatever spell the fire mage might throw his way.

  The heat continued to grow, building with increasing intensity, and Fes stared at the strange man, trying to decide whether the ten gold was worth it.

  How could it be?

  He had enough gold the way it was considering the fact that for his last job, he had practically tricked Azithan into paying him a hundred gold, and the priest had paid him at least twenty-five. After seeing the strange stone man approaching him, it was enough for him to disappear. He continued backing up along the alley, retreating.

  “Azithan will not have it.”

  “I don’t care if Azithan has it.”

  “You should care, scavenger.”

  At the name, Fes hesitated.

  The man reached him and pushed.

  Fes went flying and slammed into a nearby wall.

  Pain surged through his back, and he worried for a moment that it might be broken, but he shook away that thought. He couldn’t remain where he was, unable to get up. Not with a strange man who seemed to be made of stone coming at him.

  Attempting to escape wasn’t going to be possible. There was one way that Fes might be able to get free, but it would require that he summon a part of him that he hated. And yet, that part that he hated had kept him alive more often lately than he cared to admit.

  He focused on painful memories. Losing his parents. Seeing a caravan of merchants destroyed. Not having Alison in his life.

  That last was new, but it was incredibly painful.

  Anger boiled within him. Everything else was forgotten, and Fes launched to his feet. He slammed into the stone man and sent him staggering back. Unlike when Fes had summoned this rage in the past, this man didn’t fall before it. He somehow managed to withstand the force.

  The man swung, and Fes ducked beneath it. His movements were slow, but only slightly slow. Had Fes not been able to draw upon the strange energy that came to him when he allowed himself to be filled with rage, he doubted that he would have been able to duck beneath the attack.

  He jabbed with his dagger, but it bounced off the man’s chest.

  The heat continued to build around him.

  Something was going to happen. He needed to finish this fight, and soon, or he would run the risk of whatever the fire mage was doing.

  Was there a way to complete the task?

  Fes slipped off to the side, and rather than trying to stab the man with the daggers, he sliced at the fabric of his clothing. He cut through his jacket, trying to open his pockets, but nothing spilled out. He spun beneath another attack and brought the dagger around, carving through his pants. As he did, a pair of spheres clattered to the stone.

  Dragon pearls. Fes would bet his life on it.

  He dropped, rolling toward the dragon pearls and quickly stuffing them into his pockets.

  When he got to his feet, the man ambled toward him. Fes turned away but faced an end of the alley from which he couldn’t escape.


  Heat rose all around him.

  Fes crossed his daggers in front of him and slashed, trying to part the fire mage’s magic. It separated slowly, but it did separate.

  He jumped.

  Normally, such a jump would do little, but he had discovered that when he was full of the energy while angry, he had the ability to jump higher than normal. He kicked off the man’s shoulder and raced along the alley away from him.

  As he approached the fire mage, she merely watched, pointing a dragon relic at him. Fes readied his daggers, prepared to sweep them through her spell, but she never fired.

  “What are you?” she asked, curiosity filling her voice.

  “Nothing but a scavenger,” he said.

  He waited for her to block his way, but she simply stood, still pointing the dragon relic at him.

  “Not only a scavenger.” She frowned, tipping her head to the side. “Could you be…”

  He didn’t wait. The sound of the stone man thundering behind him sent Fes scurrying forward, crashing through the fire mage and sending the dragon relic skittering across the stones. He paused long enough to scoop it up and stuff it into his pocket along with the other dragon pearls.

  As he raced down the street, back into the crowd, he didn’t allow himself time to relax. How could he? He had barely survived, but that wasn’t the reason that he was uncomfortable. No, the reason that he was uncomfortable was the way that the fire mage had looked at him. It was the same way that Reina had looked at him, and had he remained behind, he suspected that he would have heard her call him Deshazl.

  Fes had begun to understand that it meant he had potential of some kind, though not what that was. Eventually, he would have to learn about it. It was the reason he could let the anger boil up within him and use that power.