Dragon Seed: A LitRPG Dragonrider Adventure (The Archemi Online Chronicles Book 1)

by James Osiris Baldwin

  “Not like this, Sir.” I studied the way he moved up along the great beast’s body. He walked up Talenth’s wing until he reached the saddle – a scalloped seat of leather nine feet long, strapped around his chest like a backpack and cinched low around his belly through a scarred hole in his wing membrane.

  “Don’t worry, boy. We won’t be doing anything too spectacular on this journey.” Arnaud threw me a harness from Talenth’s back. It tumbled down, bounced off the dragon’s shoulder, and landed in my hands with enough speed I nearly fumbled it. It looked like a rock climber’s harness. It belted around the waist, pelvis and thighs, like a rock climber’s harness. “Make sure this is snug, but not too snug. You don’t want it too tight. Once it’s done, pull up on the front ring and down on the back to see if it slips at all. Then see if you can get up here.”

  “Yes sir.” I was actually shaking as I put it on. Not only because of the anticipation of flying, but because of the intermittent Mana Poisoning alert that flashed in the corner of my eye. Now and then, my HP started to drain… and I couldn’t help but notice that it was timed with the dragon’s breath, each time it frosted the air and blew back toward me.

  Not quite believing what I was about to do, I put a hand on the dragon’s arm and started my way up, following the same path that the commander had. Talenth wasn’t cold and pebbly, like a reptile: his scaled skin was as smooth as polished metal, and intensely hot, like someone with a raging fever. When I reached the saddle, the Commander offered a hand and pulled me up with inhuman strength. There, I saw his eyes up close for the first time – and realized what made them so strange. His irises were huge, barely leaving any room for the whites, and so were his pupils. The usual rim of pink that surrounded a normal person’s eye was dark gray. The dragonrider had literal eagle eyes.

  “Just noticed, did you?” He said.

  I cleared my throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

  “Most sane people do stare, and fear. The Skyrdon are a breed apart from normal men,” Commander Arnaud said with a downward twist of his mouth. “Now, help me with Lady Rutha.”

  Two of the other knights had to help the exhausted, injured sorceress onto Talenth’s back. The huge beast crooned encouragement every time Rutha winced and cried out, but after some careful adjustment, we got her onto the saddle. I watched as Arnaud helped Rutha into a harness, then guided her into a side-saddle position. He used straps on the saddle to belt the harness down in place, keeping her rooted to the saddle surface. I moved to the opposite side and matched the straps. “Can Talenth understand us? Hear us?”

  “Of course. But he only speaks to me.” Arnaud replied. “Mind to mind. While I assist the lady, go buckle yourself down. You’ll either figure out the straps or you won’t.”

  I had the distinct impression he would be just fine if I blew off the back of his dragon into the sea. Still, I’d dealt with enough pompous officers to know when to put on the poker face and salute, so I did exactly that and went to sort myself out.

  The saddle had plenty of room for passengers, and as I unwound the tangle of straps, it began to make more sense. You had to half-sit, half-kneel to the side of the dragon’s neck, with the harness belted to rings on three points. You hooked one foot under a loop of leather, and held on to another pair of stiff loops with your hands, one to each side. I found my place, and while I waited, I experimentally tried to think out toward the dragon. “Any advice for me? Anything that would help you feel comfortable?”

  I wasn’t expecting a reply, and didn’t get one. Still, I smiled, and hunched into my jacket while others buckled in.

  When we were ready, Arnaud went to the front, between Talenth’s shoulders, and dropped to one knee as the dragon reared his head and stretched his wings, using them and his forearms to push himself up to his hind feet, and I found myself grinning as he turned and faced the ocean. The saddle was warm from the heat of his back. I could feel the incredible power in him as he turned and stretched.

  “Ready?” The Skyr called back.

  “Yes.” Rutha was lying down on her stomach, her leg and arm splinted and braced in the kneeling grooves. She was bound flat to the saddle – there was no way she could have held on.

  Talenth rumbled, lowered his head, and began to run. I slid back along the saddle, my limbs catching and holding in the grooves molded into the leather as he gained momentum. The wind whistled past us, and I watched over his shoulder with huge eyes as the cliff’s edge and the waves grew closer. My heart was pounding, swelling as I felt the air catch over his wings and the tension grow in the huge body underneath us.

  The dragon leaned his body forward, picking up speed, then leaped out into the choppy wind. Rutha cried out with alarm as the creature seemed to drop out from underneath us, lifting clothes and hair. He rose again on the first downbeat as we slammed back against the saddle. It was like a hand had pushed me flat: my head snapped down, and I instinctively tucked in and hunched as Talenth scooped the rough air and gained height. I looked up to see the ground rushing away from us, and I felt that same sense of wonder I’d felt all those years ago on my first motorcycle, but more intense, more... complete. This was it. I could never get sick of this feeling: the rush of takeoff, the awe found in watching the ocean thunder beneath us, the moment of dizzy, delicious excitement as the dragon dipped a wingtip and lifted the other to circle up on the wind generated by the sea.

  The Arabella came into view, and I was able to see the full extent of the wreckage. We’d hit the ground upside down and bounced, by the look of it. I was staring at it in amazement when I felt a ripple of hot energy wash over us, like steam, and then the air flared blue and everything vanished.

  For the first time since seeing the dragons, I was afraid. I couldn’t feel my hands clutching the saddle, or Talenth beneath me. The only sense I had was hearing, and I could hear what sounded like twin hearts laboring, pounding in the minute or so of nothingness that seemed to stretch into eternity until we teleported back into existence. I cried out in alarm, this time, as we erupted into warmer, sweeter air and fell, only to swoop back into controlled flight toward a gleaming white city below.

  My eyes widened. As we glided in over the city walls, I tried my hardest to see everything. The outer walls encircled a large portion of the buildings all the way to the cliff-side, where airships - made tiny by height and distance - hung at sky docks. The walls sheltered a huge sprawl of manors and granaries, docks and warehouses, narrow stone houses and soaring towers. From above, we could see how broad roads branched off into jagged alleys and elegant courtyards and parks. There were many bridges. They crossed twin rivers that wound through the city. To the north, the rivers wound away into the smoky horizon. To the south, they turned into massive waterfalls that spilled over the towering cliffs facing the ocean.

  Nearly all of the buildings were made of white stone that gleamed under the sun. At one end of the city, forming a bulwark against the cliffside waves, a magnificent amber-spired cathedral soared into the air. There was a wide, straight road that ran from it, all the way to the center of town. There, where the rivers surrounded a tall island, was a grand ivory palace with the fine architecture of a gothic French cathedral. The palace had its own protective walls, which contained both the palace and other, smaller manors and towers. Like everything else, it looked small from a distance, but the closer we got, the bigger it became... until I realized that the island was more like a small mountain than a hill, and that Talenth was like the size of a cat compared to a house as he swooped down toward it. This was a castle that had been made for a world with large creatures like dragons - and maybe giants, as well.

  We landed on the castle roof, an airfield for flying creatures. We were the largest to arrive, but the airfield clamored with different kind of flying critters and their rides. There were huge gulls with forty-foot wingspans bickering as their riders saddled them up, and feathered dinosaur-like animals that walked on their wing ‘hands’ and long, scaly back leg
s. They all scattered out of the way as Talenth glided in, and carefully back winged to come to a precise halt in the center of the largest circle.

  “Get a Sister!” The knight-commander called to the three young squires who rushed up to greet us. “Get a Sister and a litter, with strong bearers! We have an injured lady!”

  I unbuckled myself from the saddle and moved over to help. Rutha was wincing as she tried to sit up. The commander and I helped her to rise while the squires ran off, shouting for aid.

  The sorceress's ankle and knee were now both very swollen, dark with bruising. She clutched at my sleeve to sit up once we freed her from the saddle straps. Fortunately, we didn’t have to slide her down the dragon’s arm. When the squires came back, they brought a mounting platform and two strong men, as well as the litter and a woman in long, gray robes that I assumed was the Sister. We helped Rutha to the ladder, and between the four of us, we were able to help her down without bumping her injured leg.

  “What happened to her?” The Sister demanded. “The Warden has been mad with worry ever since you left Liren, my lady. He was sure that rebels –”

  “It’s a long story, but the short version is that I was captured by slavers and nearly crushed to death by a ship,” Rutha said through gritted teeth. “It had nothing to do with the rebellion and everything to do with raiders. Come: take me to the hospice and let’s get this over with. I’m sure there’s bones that I need reset and I’d rather get it over and done with before they heal too much more.”

  We helped her to lie down, and then she was carried off before we could even really say goodbye. She was in too much pain now to do anything other than cover her eyes with her arm and let her servants bear her off.

  "So," the knight-commander sighed, "I suppose you'll be off to tour the city. Have you ever seen a place this grand before?"

  "Not quite like this," I replied. "But that's not what I want. I want to join your order."

  "Come again?" His face stiffened.

  "I want to learn how to fly." I held his gaze. I want to learn to be a Dragon Knight."

  I'd expected some resistance, but what I didn't expect was the way that Arnaud's face morphed into a mask of disdain.

  "There are no barbarians in the ranks of St. Grigori's Skyrdon," he said coldly.

  Anger rose inside me with every word. "Then I'll be the first. That’s what Starborn do, right? Go on adventures, brave danger, break new ground."

  He continued to look down his nose at me. "You really have no idea how common you are, do you?"

  "You've been making it clear that you think I'm lower than whaleshit, sir," I replied agreeably.

  He snorted, his lips twisting into a wry smile. "No, boy. I don't mean your social standing. In all honesty, your being a barbarian is nothing more than a variation of the same old story. No… You're common because you are nothing but a creature of lust. You lust for my dragon. For power. For freedom. Your heart is beating faster just looking at Talenth, isn't it?"

  He was right, but I decided to try what had gotten me through the Army: salute and play dumb. "I failed Philosophy in school, sir."

  "Really, now. Why do you want to come with me?"

  I pressed my lips together while I gathered the right words. "I want to make something of myself, sir."

  "And what does that mean?"

  I did my best to look through him, standing to attention. "It means I never had a real chance at a life. I can't read, and I have trouble concentrating on anything if I'm not moving around. My family wasn't rich, but they were proud. And I..."

  The Commander arched an eyebrow.

  I'm tired of being different, being told that I'm wrong because of who I am. I'm tired of being alone. I'm exhausted by how powerless I feel, and by my inability to change things. Dad. Steve. Mom. HEX. Watching my buddies die. I want to fly away from it all, become someone new. I don't want to be alone any more. The bitter truths marched through my mind, but damn if I was going to admit any of that to this smarmy bastard.

  "I didn't get to choose whether or not I became a soldier, but I was good at it,” I said firmly. “And I might be dumber than a stack of bricks, but I know that when you’re good at something, you keep doing it. So I'll be a soldier, if that's what it takes. But this time, I’m going to choose what I do and where I go."

  The knight-commander considered me for close to half a minute. Long enough that I’d started to get my hopes up.

  "We are more than soldiers. We are a holy order in service to the realm. The realm, boy. We are patriots. Men of honor. But most of all, we are Ilian. You are not committed to the realm, and you cannot possibly understand what you would be risking, even if you were a viable candidate. There is no room within our order for mercenaries. I suggest that you spend some time here learning our ways and the basics of courtesy, and at least learn to read before you aspire to a greater station, ‘Starborn’."

  Was this guy for real? "I'm already courteous enough not to call people I don't know 'barbarians'. Sir."

  "It is not intended as an insult," the commander told me. "It is a matter of fact that you are a common peasant warrior from a different land – and, in fact, an entirely different breed from us. Lady Rutha may have some sympathy for you because you come from the same continent her people do, but I have men in Lys, and they tell me that in contrast to the elves, the Tuun are little more than leather-clad savages. If I were you, I would go to the port and catch a ship home. After a bath."

  "Yeah, now you mention it, I do need a bath after this salt," I said, miming brushing stuff off my sleeves and chest.

  “You did the realm a service by helping Lady Rutha, I’ll acknowledge that." Arnaud's eyes narrowed, and he pulled his gauntlets up along his wrists. "Fair day to you, barbarian. I sincerely hope you find something worthwhile to do that is within your means."

  I sincerely hoped that he would fall off his dragon after this, but I was too polite to say so. I grinned, baring teeth, and watched as he walked back to his dragon like a smug asshole.

  Talenth was watching us both as his rider returned, staring at me with one brilliant white blue eye. Momentarily, I felt something like sorrow. This seemed… Unfair. Not just to me, but to the dragon as well. The knight-commander banged on Talenth’s leg with a fist to get them to drop down so that he could mount him. The dragon assumed the same forward bow posture that he had in Zaunt, but this time, I noticed that there was a reluctance in the way he moved. I didn't like watching a creature like this be treated like a glorified, hundred-foot-long horse. It didn't feel right.

  I bowed from the neck to him, and tried thinking my speech in Talenth's direction. “You and your squad saved our lives. I know flying is what you do… but thanks. For the effort, and for letting me fly on you. It was an honor.”

  The white dragon rumbled, a sound that vibrated through his deep chest. To my surprise, I felt a kind of mental push just before a deep baritone voice reverberated through my mind. “In truth, it is this one’s privilege to witness the arrival of the Herald of the Hidden Seed.”

  “Umm.” I blinked a couple of times. I had NOT been expecting a reply. “Sorry, what?”

  The Dragon straightened his head as his rider reached his shoulder and began to attach himself back into the saddle. “My blood hears the words of power written into yours, Herald. Your arrival is foretold by a story whispered by my Mother to me when I was but an egg, and from her Mother to my Mother, all the way back in time to the creation of the Seals.”

  "The Seals?" I fought the urge to step forward again and go to him. "What Seals?"

  "I cannot speak of them." Talenth replied. "But this is a truth. Besides the dragons, there are those at Fort Palewing who will recognize the mark you bear, and know its significance.”

  “You mean the Mark of Matir?”

  “Of course. The Black God has not chosen a champion in nearly five thousand years,” the dragon replied. “But I know the smell of it as surely as I would know my own issue. Do not give up
. But this one advises you to trust carefully, and keep the Mark of the Hidden Seed… well hidden."

  My skin came up in goosebumps. I stepped back, swallowing, and bobbed my head in a sort of awkward bow as the dragon bunched, then threw himself into the air. The downwind was almost enough to push me to one knee, but I held my feet, shading my eyes and watching as Talenth rose into the air, wheeled into a glide, and then disappeared in a blue flash.

  “Welp. The commander’s a cunt.” I muttered, dusting myself off. Now that I was on the ground, I realized just how bad I smelled. If nothing else, I smelled like a barbarian. Maybe he’d like me more if I was cleaned up.

  At least Rutha didn’t hate me. If I was nice, I probably get at least some starting equipment, a map and food… Hopefully enough to start me North on the road to Fort Palewing. Because if the knight-commander wouldn’t take me there, I’d find my way to the dragons myself.

  Chapter 15

  With the help of the people attending the airfield, I was able to find an escort into the sprawling palace and locate the hospice where the Sister and the litter-bearers had taken Rutha. It was just as well I had a guide. The place was enormous, an ornate maze of marble, eerie pale blue wood, inlaid pearl and warm birch.

  The hospice was a miniature complex unto itself. The main hospital was a large, rectangular room with a high frescoed ceiling. Sisters in gray robes moved between several sick people, treating their wounds with bandages and poultices and helping the ill to drink potions. Beyond the hospital were individual suites. Rutha was in one of these, her leg propped up on a stack of soft pillows. The silver-haired elf lay on a large, soft bed, shadowed by the fine silk curtains hanging in the open balcony doors. I walked in to see them dancing in the warm breeze as she downed a bright green potion, her throat working with long swallows.

  “Healing magic?” I hung back near the door, watching her.

  Rutha held up a finger, eyes closed. When she was done drinking, she made a face and set the empty flask on a table beside her. “There’s no such thing as healing magic. This is plain old medicine.”