In the Shadow of the Dragon King

by J. Keller Ford

  The two men shared a long gaze, then, with a single nod and a crack like a whip, Jared vanished.

  David’s heart raced, his blood pumping too fast and too hard. “What did he do to me?”

  Slavandria gathered her lavender hair over one shoulder. “He completed the dorna—a very special blessing only he can give. I’ll explain while we eat. I hope you’re hungry.”

  Trog piled his plate with food. David watched the man eat, his gaze caught on a cluster of seven visible white scars along the knight’s jaw line, each of them about two inches long.

  Trog licked his fingers and dropped a clean bone on his plate. “It’s impolite to gawk. If you have a question, ask. I won’t bite you.”

  David rested his arms on the table’s edge. “I-I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but those scars,” he ran his thumb along his jaw, “what caused them?”

  “I infuriated a dragon.” Another bone clinked onto the plate.

  Charlotte frowned and knotted her hands in her lap. “Did you say dragon?”

  “I did.” Trog wiped his mouth. “A Timberlake Smoothback to be exact. A fire-breather. Black as onyx dipped in liquid amethyst. He was a spawn of the underworld and wielder of the most malicious sort of black magic. He was a big one, too, a hundred or so feet long, half as tall with the eyes and tongue of a snake.”

  A slight cool breeze wafted through the terrace and toyed with the dilapidated gate, tapping it several times against the post. David’s insides jumped. His heart thudded against his ribcage. An image of his parents cowering beneath a dragon appeared in his head. No. It couldn’t be. Could it?

  Trog glanced at Slavandria. “Do you wish to tell them the story or should I?”

  Slavandria sipped her tea and set her cup on the table. Her glance darted from David to Charlotte and her lips turned up in a smile. “If their bewildered expressions are any indication, I’d say you have a captive audience. By all means, continue.”

  Trog pinched off another quail leg and took a bite. “This dragon, his name is Einar, and he’s about as evil as they come. Legend tells us, two centuries ago, a young prince of Berg found a dragon egg in the Elastine Forest while hunting with his father. He took it to the castle, hatched it and watched it grow. When the young man could no longer provide for the dragon’s needs, Einar slaughtered him and the entire royal family.” Trog sucked the juices from his fingers and threw the bone on his plate.

  “After securing the castle and the lands around it, the beast proclaimed himself the Dragon King. For years, he ruled the kingdom of Berg. All those who defied him suffered his wrath. The mages did what they could to dethrone him, but Einar’s magic was far too dark. A war broke out between the two, an ultimate battle of good against evil.”

  David gulped his tea. “The Dragon War,” he said. Charlotte’s arched brow begged for an explanation. “Twiller mentioned it on the way to Chalisdawn.”

  Trog nodded and reached for a pear. “After several years and much bloodshed, the mages defeated Einar and banished him beneath Lake Sturtle. The vile creature remained there until fifty years later when he escaped.”

  A shiver rippled out of Charlotte. She folded her arms tight to her chest as if cold. “How did he escape?”

  Trog shrugged. “No one knows. What is certain, he returned to Berg Castle, killed the young king who once lived in this manor, and reclaimed the kingdom as his own. For fifty years, he reigned. All the lands from Tulipakar to the far reaches of the Northern Forest fell under his control. Greedy, he moved on to the kingdom of Braemar and reduced it to the smoldering ruins that remain today. It was then he made a very stupid mistake.” Trog took a bite of pear and chewed.

  “What mistake?” David asked.

  “He went after Hirth.”

  “Why?” Charlotte asked.

  “The kingdom is rich beyond your wildest imagination. Crops, minerals, precious metals, it’s got them. But it’s not that kind of wealth that has Einar biting at his tail. It’s the abundance of human spirit that’s got him in a tizzy. He can’t stand humans being happy and content especially on a piece of land more valuable than any jewel he owns.” Trog leaned forward, his gestures growing more animated as he spoke. “Einar thought if he claimed or destroyed the surrounding kingdoms, he could glide right into Hirth and take it. But he misjudged its people.” He tossed the pear core on his plate and pushed it away. “They refused to live as slaves, to succumb to the beast’s tyranny. They met him on the field of battle, prepared to die as free men, and you know what?” Trog pointed his finger at David. “They won the day. Einar retreated to Berg with a wound right here,” Trog jabbed his chest with his fist, “no doubt to lick his wounds and plan his revenge. That’s when the mages wove their spell around Berg to keep him isolated, which is where he stayed until a few days ago when he escaped his confines and attacked Hirth and Gyllen Castle.”

  “What set him free this time?” David wiped the sweat from his palms on his pants.

  Slavandria glanced at him over her teacup. “You did.”

  The words hurled into David’s chest like a cannonball. It was impossible. “How? Why?”

  Slavandria hesitated for a moment. “You’re the paladin, David, the chosen guardian and champion of Fallhollow. Einar’s bane. And he wants you dead.”

  A breeze sliced through the terrace carrying with it an ominous chill; its edge cut through to David’s bones.

  “There must be some mistake.” He thought of the role-playing games he played online with Charlotte. He glanced at Trog. “Paladins are big and bulky. Strong, like him. I’m nothing like him, and I’m not hero material.”

  “You are more remarkable than you realize,” Slavandria said. “Lily has told me of your accomplishments on the archery range, as well as your speed and agility training. I also understand you to have a keen understanding of military prowess and weaponry. Where do you think these abilities come from?”

  David shrugged. “I don’t know. My dad, I guess.”

  He lowered his gaze to his father’s ring. My dad. The word stung his core. He thought back to Lily, the letter, the tattoo, which continued to prickle, as if asleep. The discovery of the truth seemed so long ago, like a dream from another lifetime, but he had it only been a day? Two? Three? He couldn’t remember. All he knew was Lily had provided few answers. He needed them all. David looked into Slavandria’s penetrating eyes, words forming on his tongue. She spoke before he could utter one of them.

  “Yes, your father is well-versed in tactical matters. His prowess and tenacity are legendary. You mother is agile, sharp-minded, and to answer your next question, yes, they are both alive, though where they are, I do not know. I haven’t heard from or spoken to them in some time.”

  David gulped. The words seemed surreal. He stilled the tremble in his voice. “Why did they leave me?”

  “To protect you. Your mother hoped if you were tucked away, hidden, no one would ever find you and you could live a life of luxury and peace. You would grow up without a care, fall in love and have a wonderful family. Do something altruistic. My sister, Auruvalla — Lily as you call her — agreed to care for you. Protect you. She and I worked together your entire life to make sure you never wanted for anything. We both did what we could to keep this from happening, but we can’t keep you from your destiny.” Slavandria reached for David’s hands, worry deep in her eyes. “The Dragon King must never find you, David. If he does, he will kill you.”

  “Why? What did I do to him?”

  “It’s not what you’ve done, David. It’s what you can do. You’re the paladin.”

  “So you’ve said, but I have no idea what that means.”

  “You’re a guardian, David. You are also an executioner.”

  David choked on his spit. “Executioner? You’re joking, right? Do you not know anything about me? I can’t kill anything. Period.”

  Slavandria stood. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to, David. It’s in your blo
od.”

  “No it isn’t. You can’t force me to kill something I don’t want to kill, especially a dragon the size of a freaking house. Now work your magic fingers, open a portal and send Charlotte and me home.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” David hardened his jaw, ground his teeth.

  “Because you’re in danger if you go home.”

  “I’m in danger if I stay here.”

  “True, but you have more protection here. Lily is only a force of one, David. She cannot provide the protection you have here, especially since she and I believe someone working with Einar discovered your presence in Havendale. We believe the same individual is responsible for the attacks in Fallhollow, but we have no proof.

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “Even if your parents are at risk?”

  The question grabbed his gut and twisted his heart. “What are you talking about?”

  “Your parents left you in Havendale to protect you. Now that you are here, what are you going to do to protect them? What are you going to do to protect Charlotte?”

  David chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, no. I see what you’re doing. You’re trying to put some kind of guilt trip on me. Well, it’s not going to work.”

  “David, listen to me. Even if I had the power to send you back, I wouldn’t be able to until you do what is expected of you.”

  “Which involves killing a dragon.”

  “No. Your role is to guard and protect the realm, and there are only two beings with the power to kill the dragon.”

  “And who would they be?”

  “The youngest heir to the throne of Hirth, or a direct descendent of Einar’s, of which there is only one.”

  “Wait. You want me to find and make friends with a killer dragon’s offspring?” David shook his head. “Are you insane?”

  “David, it is imperative you find Einar’s descendant and make him your ally. With him on your side, you can rid the path of enemy forces, including the man in your dreams, and provide your ally the perfect opportunity to kill Einar.”

  “And what’s going to stop this dragon offspring from killing me?”

  “He won’t.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Let’s just say it’s a hunch I have.”

  David laughed. “A hunch? You want me to risk my life and Charlotte’s on a hunch?” He flicked a quick glance at the girl he loved. “Pfft. You are crazy.”

  “David, you need to do this.”

  David scowled. “I don’t need to do anything.”

  “Yes, you do, if you have any hope of returning home.”

  “Are you kidding me?” David’s temper gathered. “And can I ask how you expect me to do this? With my good looks? Oh, wait. I forgot. I have a box of lightning bolts in my pocket and flamethrowers embedded in my palms.”

  “This is no time for sarcasm, David,” Slavandria said.

  “The hell it’s not! You’re telling me I have to fight a war that isn’t mine, kill enemies like they’re nothing more than characters in a video game, and take Charlotte with me so she can watch! How am I supposed to react?”

  A very large shadow fell over David. “Young man.” Trog glared down at him, his brow drawn low. “Stop your barking and apologize for your temper.”

  David angled his body away. “What? No! She—”

  “You will stop your yelling and apologize for your temper.”

  “No, I —”

  The knight gripped David’s shoulder and squeezed. Pain spiraled through his flesh down to the muscle. The terrace surroundings blurred. He hunched over. “Ow! Ow! Ow!”

  “Apologize.”

  “Agghh!” Sharper, tighter pain flooded his senses. White lights danced in his vision, obscuring most of it. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry! Let go. Please.”

  “Do not apologize to me.” Trog exerted additional pressure on David’s shoulder, twisting him around until he faced Slavandria. “Apologize to her.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said through waterlogged eyes. I didn’t mean to yell.”

  Trog backed away.

  David rubbed his shoulder and sat down. Charlotte reached for him, but he waved her away. “Don’t.”

  She recoiled.

  He gritted his teeth. How dare they manipulate him! He glanced at Slavandria as she sat opposite him. Twice in one day he’d been attacked, bruised, beaten, and he was certain it would happen again if he didn’t do as she asked. He let out a defeated sigh and rubbed his shoulder. “What do you want me to do?”

  “David, no!” Charlotte said. “You can’t give in!”

  “Do you have a better idea?” David cocked his head in Charlotte’s direction. “I don’t see you getting the crap beat out of you or being told you have to sacrifice your life for a battle that’s not even yours!”

  Charlotte rose to her feet, her hands clenched at her sides. “Don’t you dare yell at me, David! I’m the only one who has been by your side since this whole mess started, so don’t start throwing your poor pitiful David attitude at me. I’ll whack you so hard it’ll make what Sir Gorilla did to you feel like a smack on the hand with a wet noodle.”

  Trog chuckled.

  David glowered at the knight, a snide comment burning in his throat. The dull throb in his shoulder made him extinguish it. He didn’t need another lesson on when not to voice an opinion. He propped his elbows on the table and buried his face in his palms. His anger slipped away, but guilt wiggled into its place. He’d just yelled at his best friend, the girl he loved. The girl he’d go to the end of the universe to shelter and defend. What had this world done to him?

  He turned and reached for Charlotte, his eyes pleading with hers. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

  She took his hand and sat down beside him. “It’s all right. I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you, either.” Her gaze darted between Slavandria and Trog before settling back on him. “I suppose this is the only chance we have to get home, huh?” She squeezed his hand.

  David nodded. “Yeah, I think it is.” He turned to Slavandria. “What do I have to do?”

  The drawn lines in Slavandria’s face softened. “Outside of finding Einar’s offspring, you must locate a talisman lost during the first Dragon War. Once found, you must deliver it to Sir Farnsworth at Gyllen Castle where it will remain in the royal vaults until I can retrieve it.”

  David sighed. “And what does this talisman look like?”

  “It’s a circular piece, as large as your palm. Gold filigree threads swirl along the outer edges, forming a wreath. In the center is a vibrant red stone, a dragon eye. A sliver of gold forms the slit pupil. We call it the Eye of Kedge, and its last known location was the Domengart Mountains.” Slavandria steepled her fingers and pressed them to her lips. “It is very important this item is found, David. Without it, Fallhollow stands little chance against the Dragon King. Without it, you can never go home.”

  “Why me? Why can’t one of your magic friends find it?”

  “It needs your essence to work. It is difficult to explain. It’s something you have to experience to understand.”

  “Well, now, isn’t that just peachy,” David said, exasperation swelling. “And how exactly am I supposed to find a relic in a mountain range? That’s like trying to find a grain of sugar in snow.”

  Slavandria paced and nodded. “There is one who may be able to help you. He is the caretaker and overseer of the Doomideen Pass. He is the last known guardian of the Eye, but you must tread carefully for he doesn’t take kindly to visitors.”

  “Am I supposed to kill him, too?” David folded his arms on the table and plopped his head down on top of them.

  “No. Him you must not kill.”

  Charlotte rubbed David’s back. “This is insanity. How can you do this to him? He has no weapons. He’s not a fighter. You’re going to send him into a battle with nothing to protect himself.”


  “Who said he will be unprotected?”

  David lifted his head. “You’re giving me weapons?”

  A triumphant smile creased Slavandria’s face. “No. I have something better. Come here. I have something for you.”

  Slavandria balled her fingers into a fist, blew on it, and then opened her hand. Piled inside was a ribbon of dark blue fabric. She unfurled it, shaking it out to its full-length. Gold threads shimmered along the outer edges of the wide band of silk. Golden tassels hung at each end.

  David laughed. “You’re giving me a scarf?”

  “It’s a sash,” Slavandria said, tying it to David’s waist. “It is made of asthirium, a plant found in my homeland of Felindil. Soft as silk, yet stronger than dragon hide. I have woven many counter-spells within the fibers to keep you from dying should Einar attack. This is not to say he cannot injure you, but as long as you wear this sash, you will not die, allowing you time to seek the help you need.”

  The thought of dying crippled his entire being. He’d never thought about it until now. Not really. He always thought he was too young to die. Death was something that happened to other people. Old people. Diseased people. Dragonslayers. Paladins. He adjusted the fabric on his hips. No matter what, he was never taking the thing off. Ever.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  And for a moment, he felt invincible.

  Slavandria smiled. “You’re welcome. Now if you don’t mind, I need you both to join me, please.”

  David and Charlotte exchanged a baffled look as they followed her across the open terrace.

  “Charlotte, let me start with you. May I have your hands, please?”

  Charlotte glanced at David, a questioning glint in her eyes. Despite his apprehension, he nodded, since there was nothing either one of them could do to stop the older woman.

  Charlotte wiped the sweat from her palms and placed her hands in Slavandria’s. Threads of blue light danced over their joined fingers. Charlotte giggled as the lustrous glow clouded their bodies. Electricity arced within the veil. Slavandria tilted her head back, her eyes closed, and chanted some foreign words that sounded like pig Latin. Seconds passed, and then the cloud dissipated.