Order Of The Dragon (Omnibus 1-4)

by Jason Halstead

  Kar ducked down the next side road and worked his way through the press of humanity. As hot as the early afternoon sun was, he'd expected fewer people in the streets. The opposite seemed to be true, although many of them were the city guards doing their best to either stay in shaded areas or harassing common travelers because they had nothing better to do. He kept away from them and endured the crowds and the sun's heat as he walked.

  The houses behind the shops and warehouses of the Merchant District were filled with fewer travelers. Kar walked freely, but took care to keep up the ruse of a lame leg until he reached the house of the only woman in all of Shazamir who he knew he could count on. To a point. If it was in her best interests. He rapped on the door with his staff and then knocked again, harder, when there was no answer.

  The door opened to reveal the tall and shapeless figure clad in a hooded midnight blue cloak covered with black sigils and runes. Kar stared into the shadowy outline of a head beneath the cowl and snorted.

  "Oh, get over yourself," he muttered as he pushed his way in.

  "Where are your bodyguards, the dwarf and the large young man?" the hooded figure asked. The door swung shut with neither of them touching it.

  "I need bodyguards to visit you?" Kar asked.

  "After what you've done? You need an army." The figure reached up, revealing a slender feminine hand from beneath the arm of the robe. She pulled the hood back to reveal a thin but pretty face covered with dark hair streaked with gray. She took the robe off and tossed it through the air. An unseen force caught it and wisped it away to a coat rack down the hall.

  Kar raised an eyebrow and studied her still lean and firm body. As before, she wore a loin cloth that offered little protection for her loins. A belt rode higher on her waist with pouches hanging from it. Farther up her body she wore a large necklace with feathers, jewels, and tufts of braided hair worked into it so that it fanned out across her chest, though not far enough to cover her small but still upturned breasts.

  "Kar?" she inquired again with a smirk. "Nice to know you haven't gotten that old, although your eyesight must be failing if you take interest in an old witch like me."

  "Never that old, Arcturia," Kar said with a wink. "And neither am I."

  She laughed. "Ever the charmer. So how did you manage it? How many did you lose? The boy and the dwarf, I'm guessing?"

  Kar shook his head. "No, none of them. How do you know so much already?"

  "So little, I think," she argued. "You've killed a dragon, wizard! That's no simple task that goes by unnoticed."

  Kar shrugged. "They're no more mystical than men or beasts. Bigger and stronger, perhaps, but still subject to the laws of life and death."

  "Perhaps, but big and strong enough to earn the attention of nearly everything for miles, including others of their kind. You've struck a blow to the Order. Myskrakoth was one of their leaders. I can't believe your friends all survived. Seems you've surrounded yourself with a hardy crew this time."

  Kar sighed. "They've got more than just skill and strength of arm aiding them. The saints themselves favor these boys."

  Arcturia turned and walked deeper into her house. "Do they?" she asked over her shoulder. "The saints seldom agree upon anything. Many are at odds with one another."

  "Alto has brought Jarook and Leander's powers together in a sword that he wields. The boy's also earned the blessing of Preth," Kar said, naming the saints of Fear, Light, and the Hunt.

  "And what of another boy. Your son? Has he fared as well?"

  Kar watched her as orbs that rested in sconces on the wall lit brighter as she approached them. "My son?" Kar asked her.

  "You've taken to him," Arcturia said. "You journey with him and, from what I've heard, go to great pains to make his life difficult from time to time. That makes him your son."

  "And you're keeping track of him. Of us. He's your son as well."

  Arcturia stared at a smooth silver basin on a table. Petals of roses floated in the water the basin held. "I have no time in my life for a child, even one grown so fully. I'm accustomed to this body now but the thought of nurturing such as a mother must—it's not for me."

  Kar stepped closer to her but stopped with several feet remaining between them. "Neither of us had the time nor wanted the responsibility, and look what happened to the poor boy. A priest, of all things!"

  "He should never have been," she whispered.

  "What, a priest? I know! It's shameful. I—we failed him greatly by turning him over to someone else for raising. The boy has a keen mind and he uses it well to figure out a problem before committing to it."

  The witch turned to face him. "No, I mean he should never have been born. What happened was an experiment between friends who had risked being more than friends. I never told you, but I feared of the consequences. I feared them so much I used magic to prevent such complications. And then after, when I learned my spells hadn't worked on him, I turned to alchemy and made a potion sure to purge my body. It failed."

  Kar stared at her for a long moment before he nodded. He glanced down and saw how the flap of her loin cloth seemed slightly off center due to a mysterious bulge behind it. "I will not judge you. We were younger and—wait, is that why you sought so hard to undo your mishap and become a man again?"

  She nodded. "I have potions that will allow a temporary transformation. I stopped searching for a permanent solution when I learned how valuable it was to be able to be anything I wanted."

  "So you can be a woman again fully? Or a man?"

  She nodded. "But my natural state is in-between."

  "Again, I won't judge you as I have not trod in your boots. Or slippers. Or whatever." Kar glanced away from her bare feet and back to her naked chest and then her eyes. "As for Karthor, we were younger and more foolish. We—"

  Arcturia laughed. "Younger? It was a score of years ago, no more. We were too old then to have a child, yet we did. I thought the saints were punishing me for turning from the laws of nature as I did. As we did. I'd worn the body of a woman for over a decade by then. Perhaps we were old but my body was not. It was young enough to be ripe and responsive to a handsome and confident wizard."

  Kar shook his head. "Magic is part of the world," he insisted. "It is a part of nature even if it seems to contradict it at times."

  Arcturia ignored him. "All those years and I still hadn't come to terms with how my body could sway my thinking. It swayed yours, too."

  Kar frowned and nodded.

  Arcturia let out a little smile. "It seems more than a generation—it seems a lifetime ago. You know, for a time I hated him. To be fair, I hated you too. I wasn't supposed to be this way. I wasn't born a woman. I wasn't meant to have a child. It was a careless mistake caused by a foolish misuse of magic."

  Kar nodded. "I stayed away because of that. I was worried returning when I did was too soon. I wanted to do more. To help more. But I didn't know how and I was afraid things would get, uh, complicated. Again."

  She chuckled. "Life is complicated, old friend. Everything in it is nothing more than a collection of possibilities and probabilities. Events that may or may not occur, based upon the results of other events that often seem unrelated. Sometimes it's hard to remember everything to know how it all began."

  "And we have long memories, you and I."

  She raised an eyebrow at him and said, "And we're nothing next to the great wizards."

  "Bah," Kar scoffed. "Most of them have removed themselves from the dealings of man. They think they have more important matters to attend to. Celestial concerns. Horse droppings! They forget themselves. Without man, they wouldn't be alive today."

  "Ever the impertinent one." Arcturia smiled at him. She stepped up to him and raised her hand to brush at the neck of his shirt. "Even now, after so many years, you're still rash."

  "To endure I've had to, ah, learn endurance," Kar mumbled.

  Arcturia raised an eyebrow. "Endurance? Perhaps we've stayed apart too long?"

 
Kar cleared his throat and smiled. "I think perhaps not," he offered. "We fought like cats and dogs over the simplest of things. Ingredients in a potion or the nuance of a spell. We make far better friends than we do, uh, companions."

  Arcturia stared at the silver hair twined about her fingers on her chest. She sighed and dropped her hand away from him. "You shouldn't look at me like that then, old friend. It gives a woman the wrong idea."

  Kar chuckled. "Perhaps you shouldn't walk around without any clothes on?"

  "It's my house," she reminded him. "I like to be comfortable."

  "And I like to see you comfortable," the wizard leered.

  Arcturia smiled as she rolled her eyes. "You didn't come here to flirt with an old witch, even one with knowledge such as mine."

  Kar laughed. "No, I did not. I did enjoy it though, if that helps to ease your pride? No, I came to find out what you know of the city and its lords."

  Arcturia's lips curled up into a sly grin. "Knowledge, the one true thing of worth. Tell me, old friend, what is such knowledge worth to you? I helped you before for old time's sake. This time only weeks, not years, have passed."

  "Then let me tell you what I know," he said. "I've heard that Lord Sulim Badawi is dead. Allegedly he's been murdered by the visitors from the north, namely myself, Alto, and our other companions. His wife, Alto's sister, is held in the dungeon against our return. What's more, the forces of Shazamir are marshaling. My guess is they plan to send their army north. A mission of vengeance on the surface but underneath a desire to reclaim Sarya's remains in the Great Divide."

  Arcturia's eyes narrowed. "Sarya's remains? The dragon? Her body should be long gone by now."

  "I'm sure it is, but she's not dead," Kar said. Arcturia's eyes widened at his pronouncement. "She's trapped in a statue. It would take months, if not years, of work to free her. Even then she has no body, so her spirit might just be dragged to wherever dragon spirits go when they've been killed. I don't know."

  "You think they seek to reclaim her and set her free?"

  "Perhaps." Kar shrugged. "I can't say. I'm not even sure setting her free would do any good. I know another nation has risen among the mountains. A nation that consists largely of the same foes we fought not so long ago. Ogres, goblins, and other creatures of the hills that have been granted the right to live in a civilized society."

  "What?"

  Kar nodded. "It's true. I've heard tell of it from people I trust."

  "Ogres and goblins?"

  Kar nodded.

  Arcturia chuckled and looked away. "Well, that's one probability I did not foresee."

  "I expect no one did. I hear a queen has risen to bind them together, a mistress of the north. She sues for peace instead of battle and works with the kingdom to strengthen her claims and her lands."

  Arcturia stared at the wizard until it was clear he had no more to say. She nodded and said, "There is a tale yet to be told of this new queen and nation, I think."

  Kar nodded. "Indeed there is, but for now what of my questions? What help can you give to steer Shazamir away from the north?"

  Arcturia frowned and turned away from him. She stared at her assortment of items in the room, both magical and mundane. Her eyes fell on a plank of wood with the painting of a king and queen on it, offering up their newborn to the sun to gain Leander's blessing. "Seek the king of Shazamir," she offered. "You've proved great strength, but you don't have enough for that fight. It's time to try wisdom instead."

  Kar stared into her eyes and nodded. "I'd hoped for something less dangerous, like facing off a half-dozen more dragons on open ground."

  The witch smiled at him. She lifted a hand to one of her breasts and traced her finger around it and then lowered her painted nail across her smooth belly and over the flap of cloth. The way it brushed against something solid caused a tightness in Kar's throat. He cleared away the tightness with a grunt and was about to leave when she said, "Just remember, old friend, that not everything is as it seems."

  Kar nodded and turned away. He needed to get back. Or at least he needed to leave. Arcturia had changed much in the years of his absence. Their one night of folly had happened when she was a different person.

  "Kar?" she inquired sweetly.

  He turned and glanced at her, and then barely managed to catch the steel-shod walking stick that she tossed to him. "What's this?"

  "A replacement for the feeble cane. A wizard as powerful as you should have a proper staff, don't you think?"

  Kar nodded as he studied the quarterstaff in his hands. He could feel a power within it that excited him, but he'd need to spend some time delving its mysteries before he could make it his.

  "Besides, it does an old girl like me proud to know a man such as you has my staff in his hands."

  Kar gasped and saw the twinkling mirth in her eyes. He shook his head and walked away. He had to meet the others so they could plan their next move.

  Chapter 8

  Namitus mumbled an apology as he danced out of the way of a group of armed men who stumbled out of a tavern. They called after him but he slipped into the crowd and escaped them before they could sort themselves out and come after him. He kept his head down to hide the redness in his cheeks.

  As much as he found his current condition shameful, he did have to admit that the outfit Jethallin had given him after the others left was cooler than what he normally wore. He stared at the simple peasant dress he wore and wondered why he let her talk him into it. She'd insisted he looked young enough and had fine features, a legacy of his elven grandmother. She'd used some ash and some old and mostly dried-up paints she had lying around to smear on his face to further disguise him. Unlike the others, Namitus had to deal with many of the same people who he'd dealt with before, or at least run the risk of seeing them again.

  He'd made it to the Merchant's District without incident, a good omen. He hoped stumbling into the drunken soldiers wasn't a sign of his luck turning. He wove in and out of the people conducting business and then let himself into a tailor’s shop. He moved into the store, ignoring the samples of fabrics and clothing on display. A few other customers glanced at him and then looked away with an obvious expression of distaste. Namitus looked dirty and poor on purpose, but that did little to dispel the shame he felt at being treated like a filthy beggar.

  "Ho there, young lady," a shopkeeper said when he saw Namitus emerge from bins of fabric. "Our scraps can be found around back at a discount."

  Namitus bristled and opened his mouth to retort. He hesitated and glanced around, remembering his appearance didn't match who he really was. Steeling himself against the shame, he nodded and tried to soften his voice. "I'm not looking for scraps, master tailor."

  The shopkeeper's brow furrowed. He opened his mouth and started to move his arm when a boy appeared next to him from the spools of fabric and laid hands on the shopkeeper's arm. "I'll tend to her needs, Father."

  Namitus felt his eyes widen at the feminine voice of the tailor's son. He looked as the young man turned and came full into view, showing that she had a dress on. The tailor's daughter smiled at him. Her hair was cut short like a boy's and her shoulders were wide but now that he saw her face, he realized it.

  The tailor frowned and then sighed. "Be quick about it, Amra. We've real customers who need tending to."

  "Thank you, miss," Namitus said as softly as he could while curtseying.

  She smiled, her eyes taking in the dress and lingering on his face. She motioned with her hand. "Please, come with me."

  Namitus let her lead him through the shop to an area where wooden framework was built up and hanging sheets of fabric served as walls for changing. She pushed one aside and stepped inside, and then motioned him in. Once Namitus was inside, she looked at him and frowned. "I'll speak with my father. I'm sure we can find something that will work for you. I can't say it will be the latest styles, but—"

  "Pants," Namitus said, interrupting her. He dropped the bundle of rags he'd carr
ied that held his sword and other belongings tucked inside. "And a shirt, if you please."

  The young woman stiffened and stared at him. "You would dress as a man?"

  Namitus rolled his eyes and kept his voice low but took the softness out of his tone. "I would," he said, earning a gasp from her. "And I'd like to speak to Kristophanes."

  "Who are you?" she hissed, her eyes going to the bundle on the floor before jumping back to his face.

  Namitus smiled. "Fetch me something to wear and I'll tell you."

  She looked him up and down and then turned to grab a coil of string with markings spaced evenly on it. She turned back to him and stared at him expectantly.

  "What?"

  "I can't fit you with that on," she said. "And you'd better be able to pay for this!"

  Namitus smirked and tried to tug the dress over his head. It was stuck on his shoulders. He scowled and reached around to his back but couldn't reach the ties. He stopped and saw Amra laughing into her hand. His eyes narrowed.

  "I believe you," she said. "You have no idea how to wear that. Who dressed you in this?"

  "I thought you were a boy when I first saw you, you know," Namitus snapped at her. He clenched his jaw and realized how petty he was being. With a sigh, he turned his back to her and grumbled, "Just untie it. Please."

  He could hear her stifled giggles as she untied the laces on the back of the bodice of the dress and loosened it. She helped him pick it up and pull it over his head, and then gasped anew when she saw he wore nothing underneath it. "Oh!"

  Namitus turned and grabbed the dress from her. He held it in front of his waist. "It's been an interesting week," he muttered as she stood there with her hand over her mouth.

  She shook her head and he noticed her eyes weren't looking at his waist but rather at his chest and stomach and the many still pink scars that crossed them. "By the saints, what happened?"

  "A very interesting week," Namitus offered. "Clothes first."

  She nodded and stepped up to him with her measuring string. Her eyes kept flickering to his barely healed injuries. She measured his chest, stomach, and arms and then raised an eyebrow while she stood beside him. "Drop the dress so I can measure your legs."