Dragon Magus 1: A Progression Fantasy Saga

by DB King

  “Ah, draconic armor. I haven’t seen that in so long. You must be Raphael,” the skeleton said, in a surprisingly clear, articulate, and gentle voice. It reached a hand out in greeting. “Pleased to meet you. I’m the Guild Master of the Hell Drakes.”

  Dumbfounded, Raphael shook the Guild Master’s offered hand.

  “There you are! We were going to drop in on you later,” Sylvia said.

  “I heard you call me an old bag of bones,” the Guild Master grumbled.

  “Aw, I meant that in an affectionate way. Come here!” The elf reached out for a hug, but the Guild Master sidestepped, letting her stagger out into empty space.

  “I’ve told her again and again I don’t like hugs,” the Guild Master said to Raphael, somehow managing to look as if he were speaking with his lips pursed toward one side of his mouth, even though he didn’t have a face, “but I don’t think she ever listens to things she doesn’t like to hear.”

  “I… I think I know what you mean,” Raphael replied, utterly unnerved at the sight of a walking, talking skeleton.

  “I’m called Yun Shen. It’s a name common among the people living in the heartlands of the Chimeric Empire, where I once dwelled many lifetimes ago,” the Guild Master went on, “and I’m pleased to welcome you among the ranks of the Hell Drakes.”

  It only seemed polite to Raphael to lead the Guild Master into Sylvia’s room, so that was what he did, while the elf picked herself up from her face-first fall onto the floor of the dimly lit stone corridor outside. The skeleton muttered a few polite pleasantries as he walked past Raphael.

  Fenix and Eliza stood as they caught sight of Yun Shen. Rayne shrunk into the size of mouse and zipped down the top of Eliza’s dress.

  “Hail, Master.” Fenix bowed, his right fist clenched against his heart. Eliza hesitated, then did the same.

  Yun Shen waved dismissively. “This isn’t Archmage Victis’s Academy. The two of you might have come from there, but you needn’t practice its formalities here. Good evening to you both, Fenix and Eliza.”

  Sylvia huffed in from behind as Fenix and Eliza returned Yun Shen’s greeting. “How did you know Raphael was here? Have you been spying on me, a beautiful, irresistible elf maiden, you lecherous carcass?”

  “Ah, yes. I, a lich, completely devoid of flesh and its accompanying appetites, have surely been spying on you, my dear Sylvia.” Yun Shen actually lifted the skirt of his robe, revealing nothing but bare, empty bone beneath. It was a gruesome and unnerving sight. “You only have your radiant, magnetic beauty to blame, for I cannot help but lust after you even though it is anatomically impossible. But seriously, no. Mr. Esposito informed me of your visitor, and I knew you’d come crashing into my study soon enough, asking me to expedite Raphael’s membership and somehow breaking something in there, no matter how locked up or sealed behind warding spells it is. So here I am.”

  “Well, we were actually headed to the armory first. We’d make our way to your study eventually,” Sylvia said.

  “The armory?” Yun Shen raised his hand. Purple light emanated from his skeletal fingers. “Let’s go, then.”

  A sudden rush of air hit Raphael’s face once more. He was standing in another room now, much larger than Sylvia’s quarters. Racks of weapons lined walls of gray stone: blades, staves, axes, and hammers of bewildering variety. Display cases with glass covers held rows of unstrung bows. Crossbows of every size and style hung from wall spikes. Dozens of mannequins modeled suits of leather and chain armor.

  “The armaments here are mostly used as spare equipment for our non-magical armsmen, who usually have their own customized weapons and armor,” Yun Shen explained, an apologetic note in his voice. “That’s why they’re all rather generic and unremarkable.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Bony! Raphael doesn’t even know what weapon he’s keen on, yet, and he hasn’t even been fitted for armor, so these will be fine for now,” Sylvia said. Raphael turned to the elf, who was standing beside him. She’d been transported to the armory, too, along with Eliza and Fenix. The battlemage’s eyes were wide with awe.

  “So that’s what Spatial Magic of the Highest Order is like,” Fenix breathed. He glared at Sylvia. “Did you just call the Guild Master “Bony”?”

  As Sylvia and Fenix began bickering, Yun Shen somehow managed to affect a sigh, even though he didn’t have any lungs. “Sometimes, I wish she would behave more like the other High Captains, but I suppose that’s part of her charm.”

  Eliza stepped forward, too. Her eyes were bright with resolve. “Guild Master. I will need weapons and armor as well, since I cannot cast spells.”

  Yun Shen looked at her, tilting his skull in a wry fashion. “Cannot, or will not? No matter. I leave each Captain, High or lesser, to manage his or her war party. That is a matter between you and Sylvia. Take what you need, Miss Wildwynd. You are a member of the Guild, after all.”

  The Guild Master waved Raphael and Eliza toward the weapon racks and turned his attention to Sylvia and Fenix. The elf had the battlemage in another chokehold.

  The closest rack contained a collection of swords. Eliza picked out one and drew it. The sword had a slender blade and a basket hand-guard.

  “The rapier,” she said wistfully. “My father taught me how to use this before he passed away. That was a long time ago.”

  “You must have enjoyed studying the sword under him,” Raphael commented, thinking back on his own time training and sparring with Koshi.

  Eliza smiled, but in a sad, heavy, and brittle way. She sheathed the blade, picked up a sword belt from a nearby bin, and buckled it on. “Yes, those were some of the happiest days of my life. I think I’ll take the rapier up once more, in honor of his memory.”

  The next rack held warhammers, and the one after that sported a variety of maces, but Raphael already knew what he was looking for. Sylvia had been wrong when she’d said he didn’t know what weapon he favored.

  A few steps took him to the rack that held polearms. He unlimbered a glaive, feeling its considerable weight settling in his arms. This one had a blade of beaten steel two feet long atop a five-foot pole of rough-cut wood reinforced by iron rings. It was a plainer weapon than the one he’d seen in Aoife’s shop, but it wouldn’t cost him fifty gold coins, either.

  “You look great with that, kid!” Sylvia called. She tossed a suit of leather armor into his chest, then did the same to Eliza, nearly bowling her over since, unlike Raphael, she wasn’t bolstered by the strength of the First Brazier. “Try those on. It’s not arcane plate, but it’ll still keep a scrape or two away.”

  Eliza blushed as she carried the armor behind a weapon rack to change. Raphael averted his gaze, put the glaive down, and simply started strapping the cuirass, bracers, and shin-protectors on over his threadbare clothes. They fit well enough, he supposed.

  Grinning, Sylvia held up another part to his face. “Don’t forget the codpiece. Wouldn’t want certain body parts getting crushed, smashed, or cut off, would we?”

  Raphael snatched it from her and began putting it on. He stopped after a moment and glared at Sylvia. “You’re not going to stop staring even if I ask you to, right?”

  The elf shook her head. “Nope.”

  “I thought so.” Gritting his teeth, Raphael buckled on that last piece of armor and adjusted the straps. All in all, the armor was much lighter than he’d thought it’d be. With his strength heightened by the First Brazier, he would hardly notice its weight.

  The cuirass sported the Hell Drakes’ insignia on its left shoulder guard. Raphael nodded. From this day forth, he’d be fighting as part of the Guild. It was only fair for him to wear its symbol. Satisfied with the fit, he unbuckled the armor and laid it in a tidy pile at his feet, alongside the glaive.

  Eliza emerged from behind the rack, seemingly satisfied with the fit of her armor as well. She nodded approvingly to Raphael.

  Yun Shen glided up, holding a piece of paper in one fleshless hand and a small writing quill in the other
. “I’ve signed the admission form, Raphael. All that’s left for you to do is to sign it as well, and you’ll be a Hell Drake. Since you can’t cast spells, you’ll be joining us as an armsman of the lowest rank, which means you’ll be paid the same as Miss Wildwynd. However, room and board are always free for you at any of our Guild Houses throughout the world, and you enjoy discounts at any shops affiliated with us. How does that sound to you?”

  “I accept those terms,” Raphael replied, clenching his fists and firming his resolve.

  “Very well, then.” Yun Shen handed the form and quill to Raphael. He signed his name where the Guild Master pointed. The piece of paper flared with red light, and Raphael felt like he’d just made a very important promise.

  “You are now a Hell Drake, Raphael,” Yun Shen said, somehow making the grin on his fleshless face look wider and more ominous. “May you bring fortune and glory to all of us, and have plenty left behind for yourself, too.”

  “Kill for wealth! Slay for glory!” Sylvia cried, pumping her fist into the air. “You’re one of us now, Raphael! Congratulations!”

  Yun Shen plucked a single gold coin from his robes and flipped it into Raphael’s hands. “Kill for wealth. Slay for glory. That is the way of the Hell Drake. That is who we are. Remember this, Raphael, and you’ll do very well for yourself.”

  “Thanks, Guild Master,” Raphael said, looking at the gold coin in awe. It was more money than he had ever held at once in his lifetime. He had to get this to Sister Amalia. It would pay for Koshi’s bed and medicine for many days.

  “The hour is late, and I’m going back to my study. You leave on assignment tomorrow, Sylvia. What time does your ship raise anchor?” Yun Shen asked.

  “Early in the morning, an hour after dawn,” Fenix replied, after several moments of the elf’s hemming and hawing. “Wharf Sixteen. We take the Sparrow’s Light. We will not fail you, Master.”

  Yun Shen nodded to Raphael. “You know where and when you have to be tomorrow, then?”

  Raphael nodded. The Guild Master seemed to smile. “Good. I know you will do well. My most gifted High Captain, the prodigy battlemage from Master Victis’s Academy, and a young woman as brave as she is wise.”

  Yun Shen brought his red, glowing eyes to bear on Raphael. They burned into the depths of his soul. “And last but not least, a Dragon Magus.”

  Raphael gasped. Koshi had used that term before, and Rayne kept calling him a Magus. Perhaps the Guild Master knew what he was. He stepped forward, ready to ask—

  “So where’s Raphael going to sleep tonight? A guest chamber? Share Fenix’s room?” Sylvia grinned. “Perhaps a bed with me or Eliza? Or maybe split his time between the both of us?”

  “Sylvia!” Eliza snapped. “You—”

  Yun Shen raised his hand. Purple light flared. Wind rushed against Raphael’s face.

  And before he knew it, he was standing outside the Guild House, with Rayne perched on his shoulder.

  Chapter 12

  Raphael went home that night. Without Koshi, it was cold and dark, even though it was still filled with all the familiar smells and everything was in the same place. In fact, the house was quite a bit tidier, thanks to Eliza.

  As he lit the brass lamp and cleaned up, Raphael thought about all the things that happened over the last few days: meeting Eliza, fighting Fenix, and Koshi collapsing. He wanted Koshi here, at home, putting away his tools, shucking off his shoes, and mumbling a ‘goodnight’ at the end of the day. Yet he was also excited to head out into the world and seize all that it had to offer.

  Later, after dousing the lamp and getting into bed, Raphael held the gold coin, stared at it, and envisioned all that it promised: adventure, power, and wealth. Rayne snored softly beside him, stretched out over Raphael’s pillow. As his eyelids grew heavy and he fell off into slumber, the coin’s silhouette and golden hue filled his dreams.

  He arrived at the hospice just before dawn. Sister Amalia was there, reading off a list to a small group of her fellow nuns and several gray-robed physicians. She nodded in response to a question from a nun, signed a form a physician produced, then dismissed the meeting.

  “Good morning, Sister Amalia,” Raphael said, approaching her.

  “Good morning, Raphael. You’re up early,” she replied, smiling. In the pre-dawn dimness, the nun looked tired but resolute.

  “I have this for you,” Raphael held up the gold coin. Sister Amalia’s eyes widened in obvious surprise. “It’s an advance on my wages. Please use it to take care of Koshi.”

  “Wages? Where are you employed, Raphael?” she asked, her voice filled with concern.

  “The Hell Drakes. I’m one of their armsmen now, and I ship out on assignment today.”

  Sister Amalia did not like that answer. She pushed the coin back toward Raphael. “No. Return that coin, Raphael. You must not serve with the Hell Drakes! It’s too dangerous! Think. Would Koshi want that for you?”

  Raphael thought for a moment, then smiled. “Actually, yes. Koshi would want that for me.”

  Sister Amalia paused, and sighed. “You know, I think you’re right. Koshi was a brave soldier in his youth, and I heard that he’d also done quite well as an adventurer before entering the King’s service. Of course he’d take pride in you following his footsteps, no matter how dangerous it is.”

  She doesn’t know who Koshi really is, but that’s fine. Raphael held out the coin once more, and this time, the nun took it from him.

  “Thank you, Raphael. This will go a long way toward food and medicine for this place,” she said. “I don’t think Koshi’s awake yet. Are you going to see him?”

  “Just to say goodbye for now.”

  “Peace guide your steps, Raphael.” Sister Amalia hugged him briefly. “Be careful out there, and come back safely to your father.”

  “And yours, Sister Amalia.” Raphael waved farewell to the nun as she left, her brisk stride taking her to yet another task.

  Koshi was still asleep, as Sister Amalia guessed. Rayne zipped out of Raphael’s pocket and pounced on him, squealing with delight. Sputtering in surprise, Koshi woke to a faerie dragon’s tongue and leathery paws against his face.

  “Good morning, Koshi! How’re you feeling?” Raphael sat down in the chair beside Koshi’s bed.

  “Silly creature!” Koshi finally managed to fend Rayne off and collect it into a contented puddle on his lap. He turned to Raphael and nodded. “I’m doing a lot better, actually. Maybe I just needed to catch my breath. Another few hours, and I should be ready to go home. We’ve got more training to—”

  His words trailed off, and a smile came over his face, filled with pride. “But you’re not headed home, aren’t you, Raphael? You’ve got a full knapsack on your back and your junkyard boots on your feet.”

  “I’ve joined the Hell Drakes, but I don’t have to use Spell Dust or Spell Cores. Sylvia promised me that,” Raphael replied. “I’m part of her war party, and we’re shipping out soon.”

  Koshi chuckled. “The elf is quite the character, but she is powerful, and I’m sure you will learn a lot from her.”

  “You called her a Lady of the Misty Green. What does that mean?”

  “Just an old term of respect for her people, not that she behaves like any of them in the slightest,” Koshi scoffed. “What time does your ship leave?”

  “In an hour or so,” Raphael replied.

  “Then you’d better get going. With how chaotic and messy the docks always are, a little more time to find your way wouldn’t hurt.” Koshi picked Rayne up and deposited the faerie dragon in Raphael’s arms.

  “Will you be fine?”

  Koshi smiled. “Like I said, I just needed to catch my breath. I’ll see you at home when you get back.”

  Raphael returned his smile, feeling his heart was a hundred times lighter. He got up. “Alright, Koshi. I’ll see you at home. Goodbye!”

  “Goodbye, Raphael. And oh! Don’t forget to keep up with your cultivation! Let’s try to light
your Fourth Brazier by the end of the year!” Koshi called after him. Raphael waved over his shoulder and headed out into the brisk morning.

  The streets were already beginning to fill up, even as the first of the sun’s rays reached across the sky. Raphael pounded down the streets, heading for the docks. As he passed them, he shouted greetings to Mr. Moreno, Mrs. Gianna, and Mr. Amadeo, who were setting up their stalls in the marketplace. They waved back, bemused looks on their faces. He tried and failed to duck Maestro Colombo, who was on his way to the schoolhouse. The Maestro chased him for a bit, yelling about his truancy, before Raphael managed to outpace him.

  “Sorry, Maestro! Have a good day!” Raphael called over his shoulder at the panting, red-faced schoolmaster.

  “I’m giving you extra homework! And ten, no, twenty years of detention!” the Maestro yelled, shaking his fist. “Be careful, Raphael, wherever you’re going, so you can come back for your punishment!”

  He arrived at Wharf Sixteen with time to spare. It was well within the part of the docks owned by the Guild. Sailors and laborers were already hard at work, loading and unloading cargo for the many dozens of ships moored at the docks. Looking out over the water, Raphael saw many more ships at anchor, waiting for an available wharf.

  The air was salty and undercut with the rancid greasiness of harbor refuse. He took a deep breath, reveling in it, and walked up to Eliza, who was engrossed in the contents of a small scroll. Several packages lay at her feet, as did the glaive Raphael had picked out last night. He recognized one of the packages as his armor, tied up neatly into a bundle. Eliza must have brought all his equipment here, after Yun Shen had warped him out of the Guild House.

  “Thanks, Eliza!” Raphael said, gesturing to the glaive and armor. “That’s really helpful of you!”

  “Good morning, Raphael,” she replied, blushing faintly at his praise. “Did you sleep well?”

  “He would have slept better in my bed!” Sylvia declared, dropping out of nowhere and putting Raphael into a headlock.