Dragon Lord: An Epic Fantasy Saga (Origins Book 2)

by James Eggebeen

  DRAGON LORD

  ©2021 JAMES EGGEBEEN

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  ALSO IN SERIES

  THE PRIEST

  THE DRAGON LORD

  THE SORCERESS

  THE HEALER

  Contents

  ALSO IN SERIES

  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

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Thank you for reading Dragon Lord

  ALSO IN SERIES

  1

  The city of Frostan sat between two forks of the Eldwise River, which brought rich soil from the deadlands and fertilized the surrounding farms. It was a prosperous land. The folk of Frostan went about their business much like the folk of any other city. Frostan was unremarkable, save for one feature that distinguished it from most other towns and cities. In the center of the town rose a spire that was visible for leagues around. At the top of the spire was a sword, gold and glowing. It thrust itself from the tower into the morning sky to catch the rays of the rising sun. The tower itself was grand, stone masonry at its finest. It scraped the sky, threatening the very clouds. All in all, the temple of Ran was a marvel to behold. Its wealth was rumored to be greater even than the king who claimed the land.

  In the temple, beneath that spire, sat a lone figure. Thin and gaunt with a birdlike nose, he rested his shaved head in his hands as he pondered the events that had befallen him. He’d been so close. After summers of searching, he had found the girl in the fire, the one he’d contacted so long ago. The one that signaled the awakening of his magic. The event that set his life on a path he never imagined it would take.

  He had been called to Amedon to learn magic, and while not fully accepted there, at least he was respected, until a feud with another student had cost him everything. He’d been banished from Amedon. Not just banished, but ostracized and hunted. Hounded as he tried to make a new life for himself. Covert assassins sent against him. Yet how could it have been anything but fate or the workings of Ran that had led him back home? Back to the girl of his dreams? For a time, Sulrad thought that he and Rotiaqua would lead the temple together, but that dream, too, was shattered. The appearance of another wizard drove a wedge between them. It was only when Sulrad attempted to dispatch the pair that he discovered their fates were linked. Their blood was mingled. Their magic was mingled. Their lives were inexorably linked, and that protected all three of them. There was no way Amedon was going to kill Sulrad now. Not when it would mean the demise of the most powerful wizard and sorceress to emerge from the wizards’ city in generations. No, as much as he hated it, he, Rotiaqua, and Zhimosom were fated to live.

  He tried to convince himself that it had put a stop to their meddling. That the attempts to assassinate him would cease, and he could live his life as he pleased, but the thought that he would never be safe, that he could never complete his temple, nagged at him. How could he serve Ran if he was hunted and thwarted at every turn? He may have stopped the threats on his life, but the wizards in Amedon were clever. They could attack everything he held dear, leaving him with nothing. A failure.

  Ran didn’t like failures.

  He shuddered at the thought of what sort of punishment Ran might inflict on him.

  A rap sounded at his door. “Father? It’s time.”

  Sulrad glanced at the acolyte. She was young, barely old enough to have the magic come awake in her, yet the signs were there. She was not powerful. She would never be more than a healer, but that mattered not. She would carry the beneficence of Ran to the people who needed it the most. She would be a healer and a disciple. She would spread the word of Ran and news of his mercy. Ordinary people, working people, would come to the temple because of her and those like her. Bringing the wealthy to Ran was something that took more power. Power that Sulrad alone wielded.

  Not for the last time, he wondered if he would ever find another to share his burden.

  He was tired.

  Weary.

  But carrying Ran’s words to the masses was his task. He would not fail. Best put a smile on his face and get to it.

  “I’ll be right there.” He stood and brushed his robes, letting his fingers smooth out the wrinkle in the black cloth trimmed in gold. His official robes were heavy and rich. They made him uncomfortable, not only because of the cost of the material, but because of what they symbolized. It was a sin to possess more than he needed. The worst sort of sin. Yet here he was. He had grudgingly accepted the robes only because Ignal, his faithful aide and closest confidant, had told him time and time again that it was not he who owned his vestments, but Ran himself. Ran could not sin, so it was no sin to possess them. Yet it made Sulrad uncomfortable. Only his refusal to wear small clothes beneath his vestments made it tolerable. He might wear rich clothes, but no more than was completely necessary.

  Sulr
ad followed the acolyte to the main hall. “How are the crowds?”

  “Very good, Father. The faithful have gathered as you instructed.”

  “Good. You may go.” Sulrad drew a breath and composed himself. No matter how often he spoke before a crowd, it still made him anxious. He could tell himself that they were not here to listen to his words, that they were here for Ran. None of that mattered. It was he, Sulrad, who had to step onto the dais and speak, and that frightened him just a little every time he had to do it.

  He peered out from behind the curtain that separated the corridor from the main hall. The crowd was indeed large. Larger than usual. He made a brief motion with his fingers, creating the spell that would carry his voice to the back of the great hall. It was time. No more waiting. He had a job to do, and he would do it.

  Approaching the dais, he raised his arms. “Ran welcomes all. Ran embraces all. Ran showers his blessings on all.”

  As he lowered his hands and stepped up to the podium, the crowd roared, repeating the litany he had initiated.

  When the voices quieted, he began as he had done so many times before. Today, he had chosen to speak on the mysteries of Ran and how one never knew what Ran had in store. The person who lost a son? It was truly a sad thing, but perhaps Ran was making room in that family for a stranger that needed their help. The man who had lost his fortune? Perhaps Ran had seen the path he was on, and how it led to destruction, and had shown mercy by setting him on a better path. One that would end in an eternal reward far greater than any earthly wealth.

  Sulrad drew from his own life, and as he spoke, the burden of his past seemed to fade. Was his sermon meant for the faithful or for him? He rarely knew precisely what he was going to say when he preached. He preferred to let Ran speak through him. Today, it was as if Ran were speaking not through him but to him. It was just what he needed.

  When he finished, he blessed the faithful, performed a few small healings, and then begged leave of the crowd.

  Returning to his quarters, he found Ignal busying herself, straightening the bedcovers and polishing the few decorations he had permitted her to place there.

  “That was quite a sermon.” The diminutive woman slid out a chair and motioned to it.

  She would never admit it, but craning her neck to look up at him while they spoke made her uncomfortable, and that was the last thing he wanted. He took the seat and loosened the collar on his robe. “Not my words, Ran’s.”

  “Yes, but it was still a great sermon. Just what you needed to hear, wasn’t it?”

  “You know me so well.” Sulrad looked her over. She wore white robes trimmed in silver. Her hair, so beautiful when long, had been shorn and shaved in imitation of his own. She was strikingly beautiful. When they had first met, she had worn heavy face paint. Now she wore only a smudge on her lips. He preferred her that way.

  “Is it true? What you said? Have you come to accept things as they are?”

  “And not what I wished them to be?” Sulrad smiled. That was what she meant. She had so often reminded him that Ran cared for him. Ran had chosen him. Ran had a plan for him, and who was he to argue?

  “It’s a brilliant turn of events, only one as powerful and beneficent as Ran could devise. You three are bound together. You and the temple. Them and Amedon. Neither one can ever hope to win out against the other. A truce stronger than any treaty between two warring empires. You see that, don’t you? This is Ran’s way of telling you that it’s time. Time to get serious about his work. Time to put the past behind you. Time to think of the future, and the future is grand. I see temples of Ran springing up in every city in the land. Even the hamlets will have their own temples. Not grand structures like in the big cities, but grand nonetheless. Ran will become lord of the land. He will bring his word to everyone.”

  She grabbed his hand and enfolded it between hers. Her fingers were short and stubby, but powerful, her grip like a blacksmith’s.

  “I’m not so sure I have the strength to do what he desires of me. Even the simple healings after the sermon took a lot out of me. I’m not entirely healed from the wounds those two inflicted. I fear I have not seen the last of Amedon meddling in my life.”

  “Yet you survived,” she said. “Ran healed you. He has great plans for you.”

  “Indeed, he does. And who am I to argue?”

  “Who, indeed?” She tugged on his arm. “Come. I want you to see something.”

  “What? Can’t you explain it?”

  “No. You need to see it. To experience it firsthand.”

  Sulrad expected her to drag him along the streets to show him some shop or building she had taken a fancy to, but instead, she took him to the spire. To be true, few ever ascended the stairs that lined the inside of the great tower. A thousand cubits tall, the spire dwarfed everything around it. That was the idea. The great spire was an ever-present reminder of Ran. No one could avoid it. No one could escape it. No one could ignore it, yet climbing those heights wasn’t the sort of thing one did every day. The ascent took forever, and Sulrad’s legs were tired when they finally reached the top.

  The tower swayed ever so slightly in the wind as the clouds whipped by overhead. Even the stones were not immune to the forces of nature.

  The workmen had constructed an external viewing platform from which Sulrad could see the entirety of the town below. It made him feel small. Strange how that was. From this vantage point, he expected to feel powerful, but he didn’t. The sheer immensity of the task of bringing Ran’s word to the people was almost too much, and seeing the city all at once just made him feel all the more inadequate to the task.

  Sulrad peered down at the city below. It made him dizzy to think of how high up they were.

  Ignal tugged at his sleeve. “Over there.” She pointed off into the distance, toward the place where the sun set this time of the season.

  Sulrad followed her finger. There was nothing there. Nothing but plains and grass on the horizon. Jagged peaks of distant mountains jutted for the horizon, barely visible through the gathering fog.

  Below, the town stretched out to the sea. Houses of stone and wood huddled around the castle walls as if for warmth. Most of them were dark, but a few sported light where the evening fires had already been set. He picked out a few buildings he knew; the homes of his wealthier patrons were easy to find. They tended to take up more land than those surrounding them.

  “Do you see them?” Ignal interrupted.

  “See who?”

  “Not who. What.”

  “I don’t see anything.”

  “White peaks. Sticking up from the horizon. Just there. Two close together, taller than the rest?”

  Sulrad focused his attention where she described. There were two identical peaks taller than the rest. Was this what she had dragged him up here to see? Some far-off mountains?

  “You see them?” She bounced with excitement.

  “Yes. I believe so.”

  “That’s my home,” she said. “And do you see how the snow line on one peak is higher than the other?”

  “Hmm.” Sulrad studied the two peaks. One did have snow farther down than the other. Some trick of the mountains? The path of the sun? What did it matter? “I think I see it. Why are you so excited about that?”

  “The snow. When it’s high like that. It means they are close to the surface. They are back. They have been deep inside the earth, but now they’re back. They’re home.”

  “Who’s home?”

  “My family.”

  “I don’t understand.” She had told him the tale of how her family had abandoned her. First for bonding with a human, then for spawning a physically deformed son. He thought she had put that behind her. So why was she so excited about their return?

  “It means I can go home.”

  Sulrad heard the trembling in her voice. Ignal was his rock. His steadying hand. She never showed signs of uncertainty, but at this moment, it was clear that she was worried. He might even say she was afrai
d. Of her family? She had told him of their poor relationship, but he hadn’t truly considered what that meant to her.

  Her hands gripped the railing, knuckles white, not from fear of heights, but with the thought that her family had returned.

  He leaned toward her as her words were ripped from her by the gathering winds.

  “I can teach them about Ran,” she said. “I can remove the stain of their sin once and for all.”

  2

  Sulrad stood gazing at the distant mountain peaks. The haze was thickening, and it was nearly impossible to see them any longer. The wind had turned damp and clouds gathered overhead. It made him nervous to be up on the spire in the rain. He’d seen what lightning did. Were it not for the heavy braided copper cable that stretched from the ground to the massive spear mounted atop the spire, the tower would have been destroyed half a dozen times. He had no desire to witness the wrath of Ran this close.

  He tugged on Ignal’s arm to let her know he was ready to descend. She’d told him how her people rejected her for birthing a son with a defect, but Sulrad had cured that. Was that what she meant? Was that why she could go home? But how would they know? The boy’s father had stolen him away when he learned his son was no longer a monster. How could her folk know of that? Sulrad had so many questions, but the trek down the spire was taxing. He wasn’t completely healed and harbored a secret worry that he might never be. Better to keep his peace until the time was right. He knew Ignal well enough to know that badgering her with questions rarely led to anything good.