by Sam Ferguson
“That was a good story too,” Njar said. “Not as good as this book that we just finished today, but good nonetheless. I think the story of the Moon-Dragon has a lot of parallels with you and your dragon. I don’t want to jinx anything, but I do believe we have a real chance of getting him out of here before the curse can take him. You are a good friend to him.” Kyra saw just the hint of a tear before the satyr turned away and opened his own portal. “I will see you tomorrow,” he said, calling out over his shoulder as he walked away. Kyra nodded and walked through her own portal back to her room.
Kyra wasted no time gathering the last of the things that she figured she needed in order to hunt the shade. She slipped into leather trousers, somewhat similar to what the Apprentices of the Sword wore during their training. They were padded along the front with little studs of metal that both held the padding in place and provided a little extra protection from attacks as they had larger, flat pieces of iron just under the fabric to help absorb the shock of battle. Now that she knew Leatherback was capable of flying, she had to find some measure of rope so she could fashion a bridal, or at least something that she could use as reins to hold on in the night. She grabbed a large backpack and took it to the center of the room.
She wove a spell that her mother had taught her as a little girl, shrinking the outside of the bag so that it was no larger than the size of a coin purse, while still magically holding the same amount of volume within the bag. This way she could hang it from her waist while still in Kuldiga Academy, and no one would be the wiser. Moving toward her wardrobe, she grabbed a long set of blue robes and slipped into them, concealing her armored pants. As a final touch, she took her belt with the concealed pocket for her lockpick set out of one of her trunks and secured it around her waist. She paused in front of her mirror, running her hand across the leather for a moment as she remembered that last evening with her mother when they had argued about whether she would be allowed to bring this belt at all. She smiled painfully for a moment as she remembered how her mother had finally relented at the last moment before the trunks had been taken away, advising her to only ever break into the kitchen, as it would be the easiest misdeed to explain away since she was such a slightly built girl to begin with.
With all of her gear prepared, the young apprentice stole into the hallway, checking for any sign of activity. When she was certain the coast was clear, she made her way down the long, straight hall and turned left at the first intersection. She passed two stairways and then went up the third, heading toward the training room where the Apprentices of the Sword often sparred. She went to the door and gave a gentle twist on the knob. It was locked.
Kyra bent down and removed her lock pick set from the small pouch in the back of her waist band. She glanced up and down the hall, straining her eyes and ears to ensure no one was nearby. Then she went to work. She slid the pins in, studying the bumps and ridges as she inserted her tools. She moved them effortlessly, as she had done countless times before while breaking into her father’s study.
Unlike many other things Kyra was able to do, lockpicking was not a skill that her mother had taught her. This was one she had learned all on her own, and she was good at it. The tumblers inside the lock clicked into place in less than a minute, allowing the door to open and giving her access to the equipment inside. She moved quickly, knowing that it would be easier to change in her room than risk being caught in the training chamber. She hustled and grabbed what she needed, stuffing it into her bag.
She grabbed a long shirt made of feather mail, a hybrid metal of extremely light weight that was often used during training practices for Apprentices of the Sword. It was nowhere near as strong as mithril, but it was the strongest armor she could find in Kuldiga Academy. More than that, it was by far the lightest. Next she moved and grabbed a padded tunic that looked much like the padded leather pants she was wearing. She stuffed it into her bag and then looked around for rope. She was unable to find any rope, so she left the room in a hurry, careful to lock the door behind her so that no one would suspect anything was missing.
The young apprentice knew where she might find some rope, though she had hoped not to have to go there as it might delay her for quite some time, for Janik was likely still awake. He often worked late into the night before retiring to his own bedchamber, and his office is where the rope was kept.
Kyra wandered through the halls, ducking behind a set of armor on display when she saw two masters walking together across the hall at an intersection in front of her. She held her breath and ducked low behind the metal, watching around from the back to see whether the masters spotted her. Luckily they were too busy talking to even glance in her direction. After they passed, she waited for a few additional moments to ensure that they were far enough away before she left her hiding spot and continued down the hall. As she moved into a hallway on her left she saw a row of several paintings lining the hall.
She paused when she saw a great depiction of a sorcerer battling winged demons on a mountain. The colors were striking overall and the painting was masterfully done. In the painting there was a second man who held an axe and shield and was covered in blood. At the warrior’s feet lay four slain demons. She knew this scene very well without even looking down to the brass placard with the title upon it. The man with the battle axe was Janik, and the sorcerer was Cyrus.
This painting, though slightly different from the one hanging in her father’s study, was a representation of the time Cyrus and Janik had saved her mother. Kyra’s eyes flicked down to the brass plate on the bottom of the frame and read the words etched there in a voice barely above a whisper.
“The rescue of Lady Caspen, wife of Lord Mirnon Caspen.” Kyra felt her stomach churn reading the words aloud. Never before had she been so bothered by the fact that her father had not gone to save her mother than she was at this time reading the placard on the painting. The one man who had pledged his life to her mother had left her there to suffer at the hands of a vampire. If her father had been imbued with a single speck of honor, it would be him in the painting. Even if he had to hire help to get the job done, he should have been there leading the charge.
Kyra glanced up and down the hall, making sure no one was around. She was not going to let this disgrace to her mother stand. Her mother was going to be remembered for who she was, and not by her cowardly husband’s name.
The young sorceress placed her hand over the brass placard and concentrated. She felt the flush of warmth burn from her shoulder down through her elbow into her hand until finally her fingertips tingled and the faint sound of scraping metal could be heard. The heat in her palm grew intensely, almost to the same degree as when she held fireballs during battle. There was no pain, but she knew her spell was working.
When she pulled her hand away from the painting, she smiled wide and nodded with satisfaction.
“The rescue of lady Zana, daughter of Count Reginald Dimwater,” Kyra read aloud from the newly changed brass plate. “That is much better,” she whispered to herself. Kyra had never met her grandfather Reginald, but she knew his character from the stories that her mother had told her growing up and knew that he was a man of honor and a man that loved his family. Had he been alive when Kyra’s mother was imprisoned by the vampire, he certainly would have led the charge to rescue her. This was a much more fitting way to remember her mother. Her cowardly father had been dropped from the historical record as far as she was concerned.
In that moment she almost felt sorry for Lord Caspen. She didn’t hate the man, but neither did she feel love for him. Kyra realized then that over the last several weeks she had been blaming him for her mother’s death as well, even if she had not consciously been aware of that fact. She allowed her mind to fully examine her feelings, and she admitted to herself that Lord Caspen should have been the one to die if the home were invaded. It should have been him to rush and fend off the intruder and protect the home, not her mother.
Kyra sighed heavily and began
to cry. She knew that she didn’t have time to waste, but her emotions wouldn’t wait. With each tear that fell down her cheek she purged a portion of the sorrow and guilt she felt for not being there with her mother when the intruder came. Whatever it was this shade wanted, it seemed it was Kyra that he was after. She remembered Cyrus’ words about the dagger, but those rang hollow for her and held little meaning. This did not feel like a robbery gone astray. Instead, it felt greatly personal. The more she thought of this, the anger returned and the tears subsided. She turned away from the painting and moved down the hall toward Janik’s office.
When she eventually turned down the hall on the second floor where Janik’s office was, she paused and peered around the corner. Janik was just leaving for the night, fumbling with his keys in his right hand, jiggling them into the lock and cranking them into place.
“Please don’t come this way, please don’t come this way,” Kyra whispered.
Janik turned and started limping down the hall in her direction.
“Curses!” Kyra ducked back around the corner and glanced about for a place to hide. There was a window facing the courtyard from here, but if she were to open it and go out on the ledge, Janik would likely find her when he went to close and lock said window. Her other option was to dart to a room across the hall and go inside but she had no idea what was in that room. It could be an office or perhaps a dorm filled with apprentices. She glanced back down the hall toward the nearest exit. The hall was far too long for her to sprint down and escape from Janik’s gaze before he would be able to round the corner and spot her. The door across from her was her best bet.
She darted across the hall, slipping her lock pick set out. She reached for the doorknob and gave it a small twist. To her great relief it was not locked. She opened the door just a crack. The hinges creaked and squeaked a bit, but not terribly loudly. She peered her head in, preparing a lie in her mind if she were to find anyone inside the room. No one was inside and the room was dark. She slipped in and gently closed the door behind her, making sure to lock it.
There were no windows in the room. The only light came from the space underneath the door. She summoned a small orb of light no bigger than her thumb and sent it a few feet in front of her face so she could find her way through the room.
She saw bookcases and chairs and finally a desk. The desk was large and bulky, the kind where the back of the desk was ornately made and extended all the way down to the floor to cover the feet and legs of whomever sat at it. She hurried around and ducked into the area where the chair tucked under the desk and extinguished her light. By this point she could hear a scraping limp as Janik turned the corner and began to walk down the hall connected to this room.
Pat scrape, Pat scrape, Pat scrape. The noise stopped. Kyra held her breath. The doorknob shook and rattled. Kyra’s heart skipped a beat and she curled into the darkness under the desk as far as she could with her back and neck squished right up against the inside of the desk.
Boom boom boom.
“Feberik, are you in there?” Janik called from the other side of the room. Next Kyra heard keys jangling and she closed her eyes, wishing the man would just leave. Of all the rooms to choose, what cruel trick of fate was it that she would choose Feberik’s office to hide in? Whatever Janik was looking for, the lock on the door was not going to stop him. Kyra heard the key scrape into the slot. It twisted the tumblers and snapped them back into their open position. The door opened and the hinges squeaked again. A flood of light washed into the room from the hall and Kyra remained absolutely still.
Pat scrape, Pat scrape, Pat scrape. Janik was moving into the room. Pat scrape, Pat scrape, Pat Scrrraape, thump! Janik’s foot bumped into the base of the desk and Kyra had to bite her tongue to keep from crying out when she felt the vibration. She wedged her eyes ever so tightly shut and prayed that Janik would turn and leave.
Schlump! Something heavy dropped on the desk above her. Kyra placed her curled index finger in her mouth and bit it.
“I’ll see you again tomorrow, little book,” Janik said.
Kyra didn’t breathe until she heard the final scraping drag of Janik’s lame left leg on the floor, followed by the loud clicking of the door latch and the snap of the lock reengaging. She let out a sigh of relief when she heard Janik continue on down the hall. Still, for good measure she waited under the desk for a long time before she dared to move again. It was only when she was absolutely certain that Janik would be not only down the hall, but far, far away on a different floor, that she pushed the chair out from under the desk and crawled to the open space. She placed a hand over Feberik’s desk and pulled herself up to her feet while summoning back a small flame of light to illuminate her way.
It was by chance that she saw the book in front of her. She had had no intention of grabbing it, but when she saw it was a simple black book with no title on the spine or the front cover, she was intrigued by it. What could possibly be so important that Janik would return it after Feberik was gone, and promised himself that he would come back for it the next day?
Kyra stretched her hand down and opened the front cover to discover that the book was Feberik’s journal. She thumbed through a couple of pages, glancing only at the odd word here and there. She saw enough to understand that Feberik was an avid writer, with an entry written nearly every day. As one might expect upon reading a couple of the entries, she found the musings of Feberik’s mind and a recounting of his emotions as he processed thoughts and events of each previous day. He wrote in such a way that it was obvious to her that Feberik used his journal each morning to reflect on the day before.
Though it intrigued her, she had something much more important on her mind tonight. She moved to set the book down and silently decided that she would come back sometime soon to see what kind of man she had been pledged to for marriage. She went to close the book, but several pages slipped out from her grasp, opening it to a different entry before she could close the cover. She saw her name written there on the page and paused. The date was shortly before her fifth birthday, a short while before Janik and Feberik had first come to Kyra’s home to discuss the marriage. Kyra brought the book back up to her face and scanned through the entry.
Janik has again brought up the subject of marriage. I have told him before that I have no interest in it. I am only at the beginning of my career, and I have every intention of becoming a dragon slayer. He tells me that there is a young girl born of parents that owe our family a favor. He said her name is Kyra Caspen. I told him that if marriage was on his mind, then perhaps he should settle down and marry the girl himself. After all, his career has ended. There is no fighting left for a man who has a crippled leg and hand. Of course, I could not convince Janik of this. He became enraged at my expression of opinion, and ranted at me for several minutes before finally calming down and apologizing.
He has a good heart, but the man can be insufferable sometimes. I understand it, for I suppose I would act much the same way if my body became mangled in battle and I was no longer the man I had once been. Still, I sometimes catch myself longing for the brother I used to have before he rescued Lady Caspen. Everything changed then.
However, Janik is my brother. In an effort to make things right between us, he offered to discuss the matter one more time over drinks. I accepted, for I do not want him to be angry with me. So tonight, after I have finished my work for the day he and I will retire to the study room for drinks. I know he is hoping to ply me with alcohol, and get me to agree to something that he believes is in our family’s best interest. I would be a liar if I did not confess that I was hoping to use the alcohol myself in an effort to help him see things my way. He’s never been able to hold his liquor as well as I can, so I do believe the odds to be tipped in my favor.
There’s nothing left to do now but wait. Tomorrow, I will make sure that the morning’s entry describes the conversation we will have tonight over drinks.
Kyra scrunched her eyebrows together and looked
at the words on the page for several moments. The man she saw in the entry did not reflect the man she knew. That was most curious to her, so she decided to read one more entry before going to find the rope. She had to know what Janik had said to convince Feberik. The man had always seemed so comforting to Kyra, she had a hard time imagining that he was actually the catalyst behind her arranged marriage. If that were true, then Kyra had to wonder whether she could trust Janik anymore.
Kyra gripped the page between her forefinger and thumb, turning it slowly, almost afraid to see what was written on the next page.
Janik and I spoke over drinks last night. I now see that he was right all along. The union is good for our family, and he so eloquently pointed out other aspects that I had not even considered. Of course I am younger than he is, and therefore I am a closer match to the young lady. Also, as my body is whole and his is lame. I concede his point that I will be a more able father. Of the two of us, I will likely have a better earning potential and a much better ability to provide for and protect the family.
Therefore, seeing the wisdom in my brother’s designs, I have agreed to marry the young lady. Furthermore, I have made it known that instead of working part-time as an instructor at Kuldiga Academy, I will now switch to become a full professor. Janik said he can easily make that happen since he has been working there as a janitor for many years and is close to the right people. I see no issue with this, for I have taught there part-time for several years and have received nothing but the highest reviews during the annual evaluations. This will mean less adventure in the field for me, but as Janik pointed out, it falls to me to provide for the entire family now.
Janik said he will soon arrange a meeting with the young lady’s father. I hope with all of my being that this arrangement works out as well as Janik says it will.
Kyra was stunned. The man who wrote this entry was so different from the man who wrote the previous day’s entry. Even as a young girl she could see that there had been a marked shift in the man’s thinking. On the first day Feberik had referred to her as a “girl” but then during the course of the second entry he referred her as a “young lady,” showing a much greater degree of respect. Additionally, there was the complete and entire reversal of Feberik’s feelings about marriage in general, and a dismissal of his previous career plans. What could Janik have said that would cause such a great change in only one night? The young apprentice questioned whether perhaps the alcohol they had consumed was of such a great quantity that Feberik had been inebriated well into the morning when he wrote the next entry as well.
