Dragon Magus 1: A Progression Fantasy Saga

by DB King

  Magus, Rayne chimed in, mentally linking its gaze to his and directing his attention to a jeweled ring on the Death Druid’s left hand. A link to the mana of the world.

  What? But before Raphael could say anything to the elf, one of Sylvia’s shadowy blades pierced the Druid’s magical barrier and sliced through his right arm, severing it just above the elbow. The Death Druid shrieked in agony and clutched at his wound, trying futilely to stem the blood that poured from the stump.

  Sylvia hopped off her flying sword and landed gracefully before the enemy elf. Raphael thrust the shaft of his glaive between his teeth, caught both Fenix and Eliza by their shoulders, and leaped high. The strength of the Second Brazier carried them over the lip of the dam and set them down several paces from the Death Druid.

  “So, Tiresias,” Sylvia said, “are you ready to talk now, or do I need to remove a few more body parts first?”

  They know each other, Raphael realized. Releasing Fenix and Eliza, Raphael let his glaive fall from his mouth back into his grasp. “Sylvia! He’s using True Magic! I think it’s got something to do with the ring on his left hand!”

  “I know,” she replied. “Everyone, meet Tiresias, someone I knew from my childhood. That’s not his full name, of course, but we don’t have the time for that. Tiresias is an idiot. Tiresias, meet everyone here.”

  The Death Druid backed away from Sylvia and the rest of the war party, edging closer to the other side of the dam, which was brimming with blackened, foul-smelling water. He bled all the while, leaving a crimson trail on the rotting wood beneath his feet.

  “Stop,” Raphael told him, glancing downward at the horde of treants that still remained. The monsters were milling in confusion. Several of them cast hesitant glares at the war party atop the dam, but none approached. “It’s over. We don’t want to hurt you any further.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Sylvia snarled as she cracked her knuckles. “I’m going to stick my boot right up his—”

  “No!” Tiresias raved. “No! I will be free! Mana will be free, even if I have to drown all life in death and decay!”

  “Without a sacrifice of catastrophic proportions, your ritual to awaken a geomantic loci will dissipate and fail over time,” Fenix said. “Persist, and answer for your actions to us. Yield, and plead your case to the King’s courts.”

  Releasing the stump of his severed limb, the Death Druid drew a dagger from his belt. Wisps of green smoke trailed from its curved blade. He bared his teeth, twisting his pale, manic features into a terrible leer.

  “That’s a corrosion enchantment,” Eliza whispered to Raphael. He gave her an appreciative nod.

  Sylvia drifted her sword to her side and stared pointedly at Tiresias’s weapon. “Yeah? Mine’s bigger than yours. What’re you even going to do with that?”

  “Drown,” he replied. “Drown it all. Let mana flow once more.”

  Before anyone could react, Tiresias rammed his dagger into his chest and twisted the blade. He shrieked in agony. The blood pouring from his severed arm turned green. It sizzled and bubbled as it hit the top of the dam and flowed into the splintered crevasses across its surface.

  A wet wooden crack filled the air. The dam trembled beneath their feet.

  “Is that…?” Fenix began. Another crack rang in their ears. A chunk of rotting wood broke off and fell amidst the treants below them, crushing several and sending many more scattering. The monsters began a scrambling retreat, climbing over each other in their bid to vacate the river bed and open up as much distance as they could from the dam.

  “Yes!” Eliza seized Fenix by the collar and began dragging him toward the eastern river bank. She looked over her shoulder at Raphael. “Run! This structure is going to fall apart!”

  “Great,” Sylvia grumbled as she hopped onto her sword. “Looks like I’ll have to break out the Ice Magic after all.”

  Raphael strode over to Tiresias, who was now on his knees, wheezing his final breaths out. The Death Druid raised his dagger, but Raphael easily snatched the weapon out of his grasp, picked him up, and slung him over a shoulder. As Raphael ran after Fenix and Eliza, droplets of the elf’s corrupted blood splattered against his draconic armor and sizzled harmlessly out of existence.

  “Keep him alive if you can,” Sylvia called after him. “I want some answers.”

  But Raphael had no time to answer her. His footing became more and more treacherous with every step. Chunks of rotting wood fell away beneath his tread. Looking ahead, he saw Eliza hopping down onto the river bank. Fenix followed her a heartbeat later.

  And then Raphael was clear of the dam, the might of the First and Second Braziers speeding his steps and strengthening his strides. He crashed down beside Eliza and Fenix, Tiresias bouncing on his shoulder.

  A final massive crack of breaking wood signaled the utter collapse of the dam. Wide-eyed, Raphael watched as a colossal torrent of black, bubbling liquid surged downstream. Driven by the malice of the partially awakened geomantic loci, the river’s banks rose to accommodate the tide of corruption that roared through them, preventing it from overflowing into the rest of the woods and wasting its capacity for destruction.

  Sylvia pulled a glass vial from her pouch and crushed it in her fist. For a moment, the elf was enveloped by a cloud of Spell Dust. And then it was gone, reduced to tiny spirals above her Vectors. Chanting and gesturing, Sylvia sped downstream on her sword, racing the warped water to its destination.

  There’s nothing we can do to help her. We’ll have to leave this one to Sylvia, Raphael thought. He set Tiresias down on the moss and placed a hand on his chest. Raphael chanted the spell he’d learned from Sylvia. Lesser Heal might not save him, but it’ll keep him alive a bit longer. Maybe he’ll have something to say.

  White light fell over Tiresias, and he opened his eyes. Acidic blood poured from his mouth, burning his tongue and jaw away. The elf coughed and went into spasms. Raphael called on his Healing Magic once more. He shone the Dragon Meridian’s light on his soul as he did so, wanting to see how much mana he had left.

  I can cast this spell another eight or nine times, maybe ten, at most, he thought grimly.

  “There’s no helping him,” Fenix said. “Not even Healing Magic of the Highest Order can save someone who has stabbed himself in the heart with a weapon bearing such a potent corrosion enchantment.”

  “We need answers from him,” Raphael replied. “He was using True Magic. It might have to do with that ring he’s wearing.”

  “This one?” a foreign, alien voice rang in his mind. Raphael recognized it immediately as the Death Druid’s. Tiresias raised his remaining hand, holding his ring aloft for all to see. A mocking light filled his pain-wracked eyes. “Go on. Take it. Discover the truth about mana. If you know what I know, learn what I’ve learned, then you will do exactly what I’ve done. Rage and kill. Defile and devour. Drown the world in death to set it free.”

  Raphael shook his head. “No. I’m not like you. I would never hurt innocents, no matter what.”

  “Won’t you?” Tiresias said telepathically. He wheezed and eyes grew brighter. “If you’re so sure, then take my ring. Find out for yourself.”

  “His voice is in my head!” Eliza cried, clutching her temples.

  “Mine too,” Fenix said, his voice grim. “He’s using a Mind Magic cantrip. It’s just about the only spell he can cast now, with only one hand and his innards in ruins.”

  “Take my ring, young humans.” Tiresias turned his thoughts into a piercing mind shriek. “TAKE IT TAKE IT TAKE IT TAKE IT.”

  Fenix and Eliza reeled from the Death Druid’s mental onslaught, their faces twisted in agony. Raphael flinched, but the light of the Dragon Meridian steeled his mind against Tiresias’s telepathic screams. Burning with curiosity, he reached for the elf’s ring. Maybe Sylvia can make some sense of this, he thought.

  “Yes. Take the ring. Then you will hate everything.” A horrific gurgling sound emerged from Tiresias. It took Raphael a moment t
o recognize it as laughter.

  Everything turned red just as Raphael’s fingers brushed the elf’s. He heard Fenix shout something, but the roaring shriek that filled his ears drowned the battlemage’s voice out.

  “Magus! Gird your armor!” Rayne sent frantically. Raphael complied without thinking. Burning the Third Brazier at its hottest, he thickened his draconic armor as much as he could.

  Searing agony raced up the arm he’d reached out to Tiresias. It spread up his shoulder and down the side of his body.

  Eliza’s pained scream rang in his ears.

  The sound made Raphael blink away the redness filling his vision. He cast a glance backward. Eliza had her hands hooked into the collar of his leather armor, and she was pulling him away. The leather bracers across her forearms were gone, leaving the numerous sear marks and weeping burns over her exposed skin fully visible.

  “Eliza!” he cried. “You’re hurt!”

  “So are you, Raphael,” she sobbed, releasing him and falling to her knees. Raphael looked down. His leather armor was in tatters, and the golden scales of his draconic armor were in broken disarray, many of them shattered and pulsing in and out of existence. The flesh of his right arm was badly burned, seared nearly to the bone. The right side of his torso was similarly charred.

  Gritting his teeth against the pain, Raphael chanted the words to Lesser Heal and forced his fingers through the spell’s arcane gestures. White light washed over Eliza. The burns across her forearms faded slightly.

  “No, Raphael!” she protested. “Heal yourself first!”

  Raphael expended one more healing spell on Eliza before beginning another for himself. As he chanted the arcane syllables, he tried to make sense of what had just happened.

  Where Tiresias had been was now a roaring fire. Fenix had his back turned to them. His fists filled with Explosive Orbs and Chain Lightning, the battlemage was facing what appeared to be a slender young man clad in flowing robes of what could only be golden silk, finer than anything Raphael had ever seen in the marketplace.

  “Who are you?” Fenix demanded. “Why did you attack us?”

  “I didn’t attack you,” the young man said. He gestured to the blazing pyre that had once been Tiresias. “I was burning a pest out of existence. You vermin just happened to be in the way.”

  His voice was high, languid, and lilting, and the cadences of his speech bore many similarities to the Guild Master’s. His skin was the color of bronze, not too unlike Koshi’s, and he’d adorned the corners of his almond shaped eyes with metallic green and purple cosmetics. Dazzling jeweled rings and bangles graced his fingers and forearms.

  “He appeared out of nowhere and cast Infernal Column on the Death Druid,” Eliza whispered. “It’s a Fire Magic spell of the Highest Order. He didn’t care that you were nearby. I had to pull you clear.”

  “Thanks, Eliza,” Raphael said, forcing a smile on his face for her sake. The agony of his burns lessened somewhat as the effects of his spell took place. He immediately began casting once more. Popping out from Raphael’s pocket, Rayne alighted on his shoulder and began running its tongue over his wounds. It helped, somewhat.

  “Lucky for Rayne, Magus, to be on your other side,” Rayne thought to him.

  “Yes, very lucky,” Raphael agreed empathically.

  Something massive moved in the sky above them, beyond the canopy of the trees. It cast nightmarish, impossible shadows amidst the woods’ confusing lightscape.

  No. He didn’t appear out of nowhere, he thought. He flew here, riding something.

  “You nearly killed an armsman of the Hell Drakes!” Fenix roared. “Name yourself, that you might answer to our wrath!”

  “The Hell Drakes?” The young man tittered. “What do I, Huo Xian, the Thirteenth Grand Prince of the Chimeric Empire, care about some ragtag band of sellswords?”

  Chapter 21

  Grand Prince? Why would someone like that be here? Raphael wondered. Maybe Sylvia might be able to shed some light on this when she’s done freezing the river.

  As he cast another healing spell on himself, Raphael recalled what he’d learned about the Chimeric Empire in school. According to his teachers, the Chimeric Emperor was a mage of unparalleled power who founded the nation many hundreds of years ago. He was still alive, thanks to his peerless magic, but he no longer ruled his realm directly. Every ten years, the thirteen Chimeric Grand Principalities, each one an ageless and powerful mage, decided among themselves who would assume the role of Imperial Regent and take charge of the nation’s affairs.

  Obviously, the Thirteenth isn’t the current Imperial Regent, or he’d be too busy to come nearly halfway across the world to this part of Lucario.

  The worst of Raphael’s burns faded away as his healing spell took effect, leaving the right side of his body covered in painful blisters. Wincing, he rolled his shoulders and got to his feet, helping Eliza up after him. She thanked him with a nervous smile before returning her attention to the Grand Prince.

  Huo Xian’s Infernal Column played itself out, its fiery spirals hissing out of existence and leaving the charred, smoking remains of Tiresias behind.

  “To think that I had to take this task on myself.” The Grand Prince clicked his tongue irritably and sighed. “Well, it’s not like I can turn down a request from Father. Still, I was hoping that killing Tiresias would be an entertaining experience, at least. What a disappointment.”

  The Chimeric Emperor himself sent one of the Grand Princes to kill Tiresias? Raphael’s eyes widened in surprise. Glancing at Eliza and Fenix, he saw that the revelation had a similar effect on them as well. Was Tiresias that important?

  Another thought struck him then, one that sent a chill running down the length of his spine. Why is he saying all this in front of us?

  “Fenix! Blink over to us now!” Raphael cried.

  The battlemage cast his spell immediately, his lack of hesitation showing just how much he trusted Raphael. Blue light pulsed briefly in his hands, and then he was standing beside Raphael and Eliza.

  Another column of flame burst from the ground where Fenix had been standing a heartbeat ago. Even from more than ten paces away, Raphael felt the inferno’s blistering heat wash over his skin, rattling the scales of his draconic armor. Fenix and Eliza cried out and recoiled from the swirling flames, raising their hands to shield their faces.

  Eliza ran into that to rescue me? Without draconic armor or a Spirit Shield cast on her? Raphael felt gratitude and admiration for her well up within him.

  Huo Xian clicked his tongue again. “Fairly quick on the uptake, I see. Of course I was going to kill all of you as well. I don’t know what you’ve already learned from Tiresias, that traitorous thief, but I’m just going to assume that it’s too much for me to risk leaving you alive.”

  “Risk?” Fenix demanded. “What’re you talking about? We were here to stop him from killing everyone in Vitoria. We don’t know about anything else.”

  “And so you never will,” Huo Xian said, flicking a stray lock of his oiled hair from his face. He pointed his index finger at the war party.

  “Rayne! Help us!” Raphael called telepathically as he reached out and grabbed Eliza and Fenix by their shoulders.

  The faerie dragon responded immediately, phasing all of them out of corporeality a moment before a fiery beam burst from the Grand Prince’s pointing finger. Huo Xian’s spell branched out into three lesser streams that blazed harmlessly through the war party’s ghostly bodies and carved triple paths of annihilation into the woods.

  “How curious. What was that?” Huo Xian asked as Rayne dropped Raphael, Eliza, and Fenix back into the material realm. “None of you used any magic. Did that strange beast thrall on your shoulder do that?”

  Raphael wanted to retort that Rayne was hardly his thrall, but he held his tongue, realizing that arguing with Huo Xian over the faerie dragon wouldn’t help them in any way.

  “Did… did you see how he cast his spells?” Fenix asked in a lo
w, shaky tone. The battlemage’s face was pale, and sweat ran down his cheeks. “I don’t think even Sylvia can do something like that.”

  Raphael nodded. Thanks to the light of the Dragon Meridian and his recent experience of actual spellcasting, he’d been aware of Huo Xian’s magical mastery since Fenix’s escape from the second fiery column. The battlemage specialized in shortening the casting process of several specific spells, allowing him to wield his magic very quickly and efficiently.

  In contrast, Huo Xian cast his spells in full, uttering each incantation and performing every arcane gesture to completion, but the Grand Prince had done so with superlative speed and subtlety, melding his spellcasting seamlessly into what appeared to be his customary speech patterns and bodily mannerisms.

  Fenix must be truly talented in magic to have picked up on that without the light of the Dragon Meridian, Raphael thought. Maybe he’ll be able to cast spells like Huo Xian some day, but we’ll have to survive this first.

  “We must attack. If we just keep avoiding him, we’ll run out of options soon,” Eliza said.

  Fenix grunted in assent. “Raphael, take point. Create an opening for me.”

  Raphael nodded. “Got it. I’m counting on you, Fenix.”

  He opened his mind to Rayne. “Rayne, stay back. It’s not safe for you to be so close to me.”

  “Good fortune in battle, Magus,” the faerie dragon wished him, hopping off his shoulder and swooping away to the branches of a tree a fair distance away.

  Raising his glaive, Raphael charged at the Grand Prince, burning every Brazier at its hottest. He didn’t get further than a few strides before five fiery comets, each blazing from a finger of Huo Xian’s right hand, slammed into him. They struck him in the chest, breaking through his draconic armor and scattering its golden scales into oblivion, before setting his torso ablaze.

  A scream of pain forced its way through Raphael’s lips as the flames engulfing his body began consuming his flesh, but he focused on the light of the Dragon Meridian, pushed through the agony, and brought forth a fresh suit of draconic armor into existence. Golden scales flared anew over his skin, pushing the flames from his flesh and forcing them to the tip of his glaive. Raphael turned his agonized shriek into a resolute roar as he slammed his weapon down into the damp mossy soil at his feet and released its shaft. The ground cracked and bubbled, failing to smother the flames gathered at the glaive’s tip and contain the heat rolling off the metal.