Dragon Magus 1: A Progression Fantasy Saga

by DB King

  “I don’t think he’ll remember them, though,” Eliza replied. “I wanted to humanize us. To make him less likely to kill us if we had names he could attach to our faces. It was a long shot, but it may well have worked. Or maybe it won’t matter. He did say he didn’t care about our names, so he might not have caught them in the first place. Or he’s already forgotten them.”

  Raphael didn’t think that the Grand Prince was someone who would forget anything or let even the most inconsequential detail escape his notice. Huo Xian had indeed heard their names, and he would definitely remember them.

  “Hopefully the shock of his robe being torn by Sylvia would be enough to jar our faces from his memory. Or sear them permanently into his mind,” Fenix said grimly.

  “Hey, I was just giving his bits some sunlight, what little there is in this place,” the elf protested. “And you all saw how pale and tiny they were. Shriveled, even. He needs to slap on some tanning lotion and—”

  “Sylvia,” Raphael said firmly. “It looks like you managed to freeze the river. Is the town safe?”

  “Yes!” Sylvia stuck her thumb up. “Tiresias only managed to poison a portion of the water. It’s a huge portion, but the river in its entirety is completely salvageable. I dumped two Spell Dust vials worth of Ice Magic into the poisoned water, which means it’s going to stay frozen for a week or two, at least. You can break it, chip it off, but it’ll stay ice, no matter what, until my spells wear off.”

  “This should allow the townsfolk to figure out a way to get their river back,” Eliza mused. “Perhaps they could break the poisoned ice apart with axes and chisels before carting the pieces away somewhere safe? Or maybe they can bring in mages who specialize in Healing or Nature Magic to neutralize the poison.”

  “Well, whatever they decide to do, it’s none of our business!” Sylvia gave Raphael a hearty slap on the shoulder. “I saw the tail end of your fight against the little prince on my way back, Raphael. Looks like you made some progress with your Dragon Knight powers too. Well done!”

  The elf nodded at the mark on his back. “Also, that’s a fancy tattoo. I’ve always wanted to get one done, but I could never make up my mind on what exactly I’d like. Do you think a colorful butterfly at the base of my spine would be too garish?”

  Raphael thought that such a tattoo would, indeed, be too garish, but he knew that if he spoke his mind, nothing would deter Sylvia from getting it at the earliest opportunity, so he smiled and shook his head instead.

  “The mark on Raphael’s back isn’t a tattoo, Sylvia,” Eliza pointed out. “I think it’s got something to do with his dragon powers. Even the Grand Prince didn’t recognize it. And now it’s clear you don’t know anything about it, either.”

  “Koshi does,” Raphael said quietly. “He told me that it was the mark of someone who would be called to greatness, whatever that meant. I think the Sisters of the Crescent Moon do as well. Maybe that’s why they don’t like me. Perhaps it means something bad.”

  “I have to disagree with you there, Raphael,” Fenix chimed in. “Koshi the Dragon Knight was a beloved hero of myth and legend, renowned for his gallantry and sense of justice as much as his prowess. If the mark on your back was something evil, surely he wouldn’t describe it as a sign of greatness?”

  “Also, be it fair or unfair, dragons do have a very vile reputation throughout the world,” the battlemage went on. “After all, they did try to kill every other living thing. Any sane person would be wary of dragons, and that mark on your back does resemble the head of a dragon, complete with horns, a snout, and other… well, draconic parts. Perhaps the Sisters, being a rather superstitious lot, associated it with dragons, and that’s why they were unkind to you? Though I must say that it’s difficult to imagine a Sister of the Crescent Moon being unkind to anybody.”

  “No, the Sisters were never unkind to me,” Raphael clarified quickly. “They were just a bit colder when they spoke to me, and sometimes, they looked at me as if they were waiting for me to do something bad. Only Sister Amalia wasn’t like this.”

  “We can ask Koshi more about your mark when we get back to Lucia City, Raphael,” Eliza said, linking her arm around his. “He’ll be so happy to see you. Think about all the stories you have to tell him about this adventure!”

  She’s trying to cheer me up, and she’s succeeding. Raphael gave Eliza an appreciative smile. “Yes, let’s do that. Let’s go home.”

  Chapter 22

  The sun was setting by the time the war party emerged from the woods and passed through the town gates. They made their way to the mayor’s modest, single-storied house of stone and thatch, where Sylvia kicked down his door and dragged the portly man out into the early evening. He thanked them profusely after Eliza explained the entire situation with Tiresias, the geomantic loci, and the river. But things remained dire, since sanguine treants still infested the woods, and there was a massive block of poisoned water to deal with.

  “Our pigeon coop received a message from Master Victis himself just before you returned,” the mayor said. “He’s sending a cadre of his senior students down to lend what aid they can, and they should arrive in a day or so, since the Academy is only a short distance away by boat.”

  “Good.” Fenix nodded. “I sent him word as soon as we disembarked this morning. As always, Master Victis is quick to respond, especially when there’s an opportunity for him to hone his students in battle. A cadre of battlemages will be more than capable of putting the last of the sanguine treants to rest. And with the Death Druid gone, the incomplete geomantic loci will dissipate within a day.”

  “As for the poisoned water, we’ll figure something out,” Mr. Bernardi said. “One way or the other, we’ll keep Vitoria safe.”

  “Glad to hear that, short man.” Sylvia rummaged through Eliza’s belt pouch, ignoring the younger woman’s irritated protests, and retrieved the guild receipt. “Here. You know what you’ve got to do.”

  “Ah, yes. Of course.” The mayor took the receipt in his hands, cleared his throat, and said, “Wealth and glory are yours, Hell Drakes. My utmost thanks and gratitude.”

  Raphael peeked over Mr. Bernardi’s shoulder. The red rune beside the Guild Master’s signature flashed briefly, then turned blue. The mayor handed the receipt back to Eliza, who returned it to her belt pouch.

  “Fantastic! When’s the next ship bound for Lucia City stopping by?” Sylvia asked.

  “I believe we’ve got one stopping by the day after tomorrow,” Mr. Bernardi said. “The Blue Gull, I think. As far as I know, her captain would be more than happy to take on passengers. Or you could wait until the end of the week. The Sparrow’s Light is due to stop by here once more on her return trip to Lucia City.”

  Sylvia groaned. “Ugh. So we’ve got to spend at least an entire day in this backwater doing nothing?”

  “We could hunt down the remaining sanguine treants, even if only for a day,” Raphael pointed out. “That would help keep the townsfolk safe.”

  “Not a bad idea, actually,” Fenix said. “I collected quite a haul of Spell Cores back there. If we get more, the Guild Master will increase our reward.”

  “Reward?” Raphael asked. “Don’t we already get paid weekly?”

  “We earn bonuses for completing assignments on top of our weekly stipends,” Eliza explained. “You and I get ten gold coins apiece for this one.”

  “I get five hundred,” Sylvia said smugly.

  “Nobody asked,” Fenix snapped at her.

  “How much do you get, Fenix?” Raphael asked.

  “Eighty,” the battlemage mumbled uneasily. Raphael clapped him on the shoulder, genuinely happy that Fenix was valued so highly by the Guild.

  “Ha! I make more than all of you!” Sylvia crowed, but everyone pointedly ignored her and turned to the mayor as he spoke up again.

  Mr. Bernadi offered them a smile. “You can find lodgings at our local inn, the Burnished Mug, just down the street and a bit west of the town square. It’s
a really nice place, and I’ve already told Mrs. Marino, the innkeeper, to put your room and board for the next week on my tab.”

  “Thank you so much, sir,” Eliza told him. “We really appreciate your hospitality.”

  “You saved our lives, Hell Drakes,” the mayor replied. “We will never forget this.”

  Bidding Mr. Bernardi a good night, the war party made their way to the Burnished Mug. It was a spacious, double-storied establishment, with stone walls and a thatched roof just like most of the other buildings in Vitoria.

  Mrs. Marino, a stout woman with a head full of graying hair, led them to a sturdy wooden table, and they sat down, amidst a small crowd of townsfolk who’d decided to have their evening meal in the common room. First one, then another townsperson began clapping his hands, and soon, the war party was showered in cheers and applause. Apparently, news spread very rapidly in Vitoria.

  It was another hour before the last grateful townsperson would leave them in peace to eat. By then, Sylvia had mocked and made fun of at least a dozen hapless people and threatened to drag both the town’s blacksmith and barrel-maker into her room. Muttering their final words of gratitude, the burly men backed away and left the inn, their faces pale after hearing the elf’s lurid yet physically impossible descriptions of what she would do to them.

  “Ah, don’t worry about it. The evening rush is over anyway, and they’ll be back tomorrow, foul-mouthed elf or no,” Mrs. Marino said, waving away Eliza’s apologies on Sylvia’s behalf. “Besides, many of our folk need to learn how to be more polite and less overly familiar with strangers.”

  Raphael sighed and patted Rayne, who was dozing in his pocket. He’d changed into one of his spare tunics as soon as the war party had returned to town gates, where they’d stashed their clothing knapsacks. There was nothing to be gained in parading the dragon mark on his back around and inviting unwanted questions and suspicions from the townsfolk.

  “And so, Raphael and Fenix, you don’t ask any questions when a lady tells you to smear your entire fist in strawberry jam and…” As Sylvia went on and on, Raphael looked into the inn’s hearth, where a hearty fire crackled. So much had happened in one day. They’d fought their way through a horde of undead monsters, thwarted a madman’s scheme to massacre an entire town, and survived a battle against an overwhelmingly powerful opponent. He’d learned a great deal on this assignment, and he’d even ignited another Draconic Brazier.

  But it had simply not been enough against Huo Xian. If the Grand Prince hadn’t been so vain and easily cajoled, he would have slaughtered Raphael, Fenix, and Eliza before Sylvia could save them. The elf was an extremely powerful mage, but the war party couldn’t rely on her to rescue them from danger every time. They had to become stronger.

  He had to become stronger.

  “Copper coin for your thoughts,” Eliza said, nudging him with her elbow.

  “It’s been a long day,” he replied, doing his best to ignore Sylvia pumping her fist as Fenix looked on, a disgusted grimace on the battlemage’s face. “And a hard one, but I’m glad we took this assignment on, and I’m happy we managed to help the people of Vitoria.”

  “You were amazing today, Raphael.” Eliza leaned back in her chair. “You cut through all those monsters and you fought that Chimeric Grand Prince. I feel like we’ve already lived through a lifetime’s worth of adventures.”

  “No, Eliza.” Raphael met her gaze. “You’re the most amazing among us all. You saved my life just now, running into Huo Xian’s spell and pulling me clear from it even though you didn’t have any draconic armor or a Spirit Shield. I wish I had even half of your courage.”

  Eliza’s face turned bright red, but before she could reply, Sylvia stuck her head between them.

  “What was that about something long and hard?” the elf demanded.

  Everyone groaned, even the innkeeper, who had just arrived at the table with their meal.

  Night had truly fallen by the time they finished polishing off platters of steamed fish and grilled potatoes. Sylvia burped contentedly before leaning back in her chair and patting her belly.

  She nodded to Raphael. “By the way, Raphael, did you manage to learn anything from Tiresias before he got roasted? Why he was so hell bent on killing a whole bunch of people and awakening a geomantic loci, of all things?”

  In response, Raphael dug into one of his pockets and pulled out the melted and twisted remains of the ring that had been on Tiresias’s finger. He’d managed to take it from the Death Druid just before Huo Xian’s attack. He set it on the table for everyone to see. “I think this allowed him to cast spells without using any Spell Dust. He said that it would show us the truth about mana. And that once we learned that truth, we would become just like him.”

  “Maniacally murderous? Insanely unhygienic? Utterly lacking in fashionable clothing choices?” Sylvia quipped, but despite her words, her features had taken on a grim, uncertain cast. She tapped the ring with her finger. “I can’t sense any trace of magic left in this thing, but it was definitely an enchanted artifact crafted for a specific purpose.”

  “Can you tell what that purpose was?” Fenix asked.

  Sylvia shook her head. “That’s not my forte. We’ll have to ask a highly skilled enchanter for help. Fortunately, the Guild knows many. Come to think of it, the Guild Master himself used to study enchantments back in the day, and he was pretty good at it, too. One of the best, actually. But these days, he’s just a boring, lecherous bag of bones.”

  “That means we can ask him for help when we get back,” Eliza said. “Or if he’s too busy, surely someone at the Guild will point out a skilled enchanter to us.”

  “Oh, he’s going to help us.” Sylvia cracked her knuckles. “I’ll make sure of it.”

  Raphael, Eliza, and Fenix nodded quietly. No one, it seemed, had any doubt in the elf’s ability to bully the Guild Master into submission.

  “I need to get stronger,” Raphael blurted out. He met Sylvia’s gaze. “Sylvia, please teach me more spells.”

  Fenix clenched his fists and bowed his head. “So do I. I was utterly at Huo Xian’s mercy today. If it hadn’t been for Raphael repeatedly saving my life, I would have been dead many times over.”

  A broad smile spread over Sylvia’s face. “That’s the spirit, boys. I see that your tussle with the little prince has left quite the impression, and I understand how you feel. But first things first. Let’s begin by taking the easiest, most concrete steps we can.”

  “Tiresias had an enchanted dagger, didn’t he?” the elf continued. “Raphael, I believe you were holding onto it. Give it to Eliza.”

  Raphael nodded and retrieved the weapon from his knapsack. As the dagger’s scabbard had been incinerated alongside Tiresias’s body, he’d wrapped the blade in a bundle of rags, hoping to keep anyone from being accidentally cut by its corrosive edge. He passed it to Eliza. “Be careful. I don’t have a sheath for this.”

  “We can buy one in town tomorrow, along with another weapon belt if necessary,” Sylvia said. “And now, our brave swordswoman has a sting even the most horrific monsters will fear. This makes our war party considerably stronger.”

  Raphael agreed. Eliza’s swordplay was superb, but a rapier was ill-suited for battling monsters like sanguine treants. If she could use Tiresias’s enchanted dagger with similar skill, she would be far more deadly in battle.

  “I can pair it with my rapier and use it like a parrying dagger, a main gauche.” Eliza unwrapped the dagger and ran her fingers down its hilt.

  “No, do the reverse. Defend with your longer blade and strike with your shorter one,” Sylvia instructed. “I’m sure you can figure something out.”

  Eliza nodded. She rewrapped the weapon and put it in her knapsack.

  Sylvia turned to Raphael. “I taught you Lesser Heal. I want you to think about how useful you found it today.”

  Raphael ran over the day’s events in his head. The healing spell had proven itself to be crucial. Without it, Eli
za would have succumbed to the agony of her burns, and Raphael doubted he would have found the strength to ignite the Fourth Brazier.

  “I found Lesser Heal very useful. Without it, Huo Xian would have killed us before you made it back,” he told Sylvia.

  “Armsmen are often the most durable ones in their war party. This could be due to the heavy enchanted armor they like to wear, their proficiency in Martial Magic, or, in most cases within the ranks of the Hell Drakes, a combination of both,” the elf explained. “In your case, you have your draconic armor and your strength and speed. In the face of an enemy’s attack, you are the one most likely to remain standing.”

  “Which is why it is my job to protect the others and heal them if they are hurt,” Raphael concluded.

  “Exactly. That’s what an armsman does. So along the same lines, here’s another spell for you to learn.” Sylvia gestured in the air and chanted a brief incantation. Green light pulsed briefly from her fingers to wash over Raphael’s face.

  “I don’t feel anything,” he said, after a few moments. “What did that spell do?”

  “Right now, nothing,” Sylvia explained. “It’s called Minor Delay, a Time Magic spell of the Lowest Order. You use it to slow down the effects of any poison or toxins that fall upon you or your comrades-in-arms and keep everyone alive until someone with powerful Healing Magic can get to you. The good thing about this spell is that it doesn’t slow your actual thoughts or movements, only your bodily functions. Now you try it.”

  Raphael obeyed, copying Sylvia’s gestures and arcane syllables perfectly. He cast Minor Delay on the crumbs left on his plate. Nothing happened, as he’d expected, but he knew he’d mastered the spell and could wield it in battle from now on.

  “Now, let’s talk a bit about the tactics you two employed,” the elf said to Raphael and Fenix. “Earlier on, I saw how Raphael made the treants cluster around himself before Fenix destroyed them with his spells. That was quite well done. I want you both to work on bringing Eliza into the fold. Think about how you would add a skilled swordswoman with an enchanted blade to that dynamic.”