The Dragon Knight and the Light

by D. C. Clemens

  “She won’t attack me if she senses my corruption, will she?”

  “Oh, uh, I haven’t thought about that. I don’t think so. She should only react to something attacking me. Still, it’s probably better than you don’t get too close when I first summon her.”

  I nodded and cast my black flame, ready to attack her.

  Several days later and I thought it time to meet with the flying warriors Chun gathered. I instructed him to send them one at a time to a largish town an hour’s flight east from Tawahori. The idea was to give them a kind of interview using the information Chun handed me as a guide. As far as they knew, Chun had sent them on a simple mission to deliver a message to Ujin. Ujin was to then wait for a response from his make-believe master. During that interlude, Ujin would get them to talk and see if their answers matched up with Chun’s information.

  Now, I realized this roundabout method most likely wouldn’t expose a secret Advent convert. However, in my eyes, it was merely a necessary formality. Nothing was going to convince me they were trustworthy. My plan was to keep them at arm’s length no matter what we learned, unless I learned that their overall personalities clashed too much with my group to keep them around at all.

  Clarissa and Ghevont wanted for the warriors to go through a stricter test of character, but it was also the scholar who mentioned that even elaborate investigations into one’s history and personality did not promise to reveal deep-rooted motivations. Catching them in a lie or contradiction did not inevitably mean that person was in league with anyone other than themselves. To be sure, lying to Ujin could simply mean they were the ones who did not trust the stranger. In the end, there were too many variables and unknown incentives to weed out Advent sympathizers with any confidence.

  The interviews were to take place in a former tailor shop we rented for the three days we needed it. Ujin, Shifa, and the warrior would wait in the now largely empty shop while the rest of us eavesdropped from the little office in the back. It was stupidly cramped in the office, but none of us could exactly hide in plain sight.

  Spying through a hole in the door, I saw that our first oblivious candidate was a short, stocky man of thirty-two years named Fang Shaon Tai. He appeared to be proudest of his white hair, for he let it grow long behind his head and bushy in front of his face. Layers of cloth and leather armor protected his muscular frame. A simple steel axe dangled by his hip. He proved to be a talkative, jolly fellow who only expanded upon Chun’s notes, not contradict them.

  More from wanting fresh air than anything having to do with the interview, I came out of the office to end the dialogue. If I was the type susceptible to fits of laughter, I’m sure Fang’s fits of surprised glee would have infected me. As it was, I mutely waited until the others came out of the office for him to stop chuckling at the unexpected sight.

  After proper introductions were made, we walked well outside of town so that we could present our flying beasts to one another. Looking something like an auburn centipede with six moth-like wings of blue and yellow, Fang’s blazeeba inhabited the same realm as the bazeeba that attacked Ecrin. Not many would find the oversized alien-insect to be an endearing creature, but Fang treated the ugly thing no differently than a young heiress petting her favorite pony. While its six wings gave it pretty good maneuverability, its ungraceful shape and frail wings made putting more than one person on its back an unwise prospect.

  With our reception done with, I told Fang to wait in town while we finished meeting with his compatriots, the next of which was due to arrive in the late afternoon. That cloaked man turned out to be De-Bai Hong, a twenty-nine-year-old who stood about the same height as Fang, but without the girth and facial hair. He honestly looked to be in his later teens and too fragile to be a warrior. Perhaps being used to being underestimated, De-Bai responded with Ujin’s jabs at his physical appearance with self-deprecating humor. Clarissa liked him, but Odet believed he should have stood up to himself. I leaned closer to the vampire on this one.

  However deceptively nonthreatening his physique, there was no denying his ability to claim the air as his own. He flew on an emerald and citrine jengsing hawk that performed aerial feats the larger Aranath would have a hard time matching, though we definitely endeavored to. We spun, flipped, ascended, and dived until the night concealed our stunts.

  Dampening the high-flying mood was the serious temperament of our next candidate, who arrived the following morning. Guomin Qin stood a little taller than her male counterparts and was a decade older than De-Bai. Her hard disposition partly came from her noble upbringing and partly from the nature of her unforgiving vocation. This time it was Odet who liked her and Clarissa who did not. I leaned closer to Odet, though I wasn’t one to be deterred by no-nonsense people.

  Her flying beast was a mix of fur and feathers with four legs, a long tail, a long neck, and a wolfish face called an eknuil. Quite opposite his master, the blue-shaded eknuil acted very much like an excitable dog-parrot thing. Like a dog, it chased everything that moved and yapped constantly while doing so. He and Shifa got along fabulously.

  The next warrior did not respond well to the hypothetical situation of working with a vampire. The others before him had not exactly jumped at the chance to work with the theoretical vampire, but unlike our unaware candidate, they were not so stalwartly closed-minded about it. I was therefore quick to dismiss his presence by handing Ujin the return message so the guildsman could be on his way back to Tawahori.

  The last warrior hailed from a small northwestern kingdom called Ostein Apra. The big, hairy fellow dressed in a fashionable looking black coat and dark blue shoulder cape. Bodgan Vocilic exuded a roguish charm that would have most drinking with him all night long, so he’d get along wonderfully with my father and his crew. He also struck me as the kind of man who would eat the entirety of a fruit, peel and all, no matter its ripeness. As for his mount, the forty-four-year-old flew here on a kingclaw, one that must have been the runt of its nest. Still, he flew well enough.

  My new squad agreed to stay in town and wait for me to call upon them to train with my companions when I saw fit. This was especially useful when someone in my group needed a fresh body to go up against. The best man for this was Bodgan. He didn’t seem to use his griffin for anything other than travel and companionship, so he compensated for his lack of airborne expertise with better footwork and all-purpose fighting skill while on the ground. His prowess mostly came in the form of bareknuckle combat. I didn’t think he was punch-happy, but seeing as his strongest strikes broke off pieces of Odet’s ward, I knew he had lots of practice.

  Speaking of Odet’s shield, the passing days saw her achieving sharper, cleaner wards. However, the actual summoning was not resulting in any otherworldly rulers. On one drizzly afternoon, everyone in my group, including Shifa, joined me in attacking Odet from all sides. It was a nonstop barrage of fire, fists, earth, swords, lightning, water, and ice. A few minutes before Odet would need a break, Gerard stopped his assault.

  Taking notice, Odet signaled for everyone to stop. Between recovering breaths, she asked, “Is… something… wrong, Gerard?”

  “You should be able to summon her by now, shouldn’t you?”

  “What are you saying?” asked Clarissa. “She’s obviously doing her best.”

  “And that’s exactly why I’m confused. There must be something missing. It’s not possible that she hasn’t refined her prana as much as her mother’s. Odet, I’m thinking you need a different kind of push to get you over the brink.”

  “And you know what that could be?”

  “Maybe. It’s at least a different approach you can try. Defending yourself from corrupted dragon fire has done you well, so what if you feel corruption more directly?”

  “A fascinating idea, master knight!” said Ghevont. “I too have been pondering a similar tactic. Thanks to Lady Du’s recommendations, I believe I can summon another corrupted creature and paralyze it for the princess.”

  I shook my hea
d. “Ghevont, he’s talking about me.”

  Ujin laughed. “Damn, you’re eager to study the dark stuff, aren’t you, scholar?”

  To me, Gerard said, “I don’t mean she actually has to purify you, but she can still try to get the process started. If her prana really is close to being holy enough, then subduing corruption head-on could be the catalyst she needs.”

  “It sounds like an idea we should try,” I said. I faced Odet. “Still, if you can’t end up controlling how much of me you purify, then I’d prefer you attempt the feat when you’re low on prana.”

  “I’m fairly low now. Care to take a stab at it?”

  “I bet Mercer is sensitive about the word ‘stab’ now,” said Ujin. “Right, Ghevont?”

  “Aye, he might be.”

  “I’m fine with any word,” I said. “All right, Odet, we can start now. What is it I need to do?”

  “You need to sit still and let your corruption flow. I suppose you can burn a black flame if that helps you keep it steady.”

  I pulled out a dragon stone and sat cross-legged on an untrampled patch of grass. Odet dropped to her knees right in front of me as I roiled my corruption back to the surface.

  “I didn’t notice before, but did you know the whites of your eyes get a little gray when you use your corruption?”

  “He smells nastier, too,” added Clarissa.

  “Don’t forget his darkening veins becoming more pronounced,” said Ghevont.

  “Thank you all for your keen observations,” I said, sparking my apple-sized flame to a darker life. “What’s next?”

  “Um, I’ll try feeling for your prana now.”

  Odet reached out with her right hand and put her thumb on my forehead while the rest of it rested on my damp hair. Perhaps due to the influence of the corruption, I was damn close to asking her to run her fingers through every strand. I resisted the urge and focused on what I wanted to do in the first place—help a dear friend reach her greatest potential.

  She closed her eyes and focused on my churning prana. Sensing the princess’ aura, my corruption dashed into my brain and attempted to leap out of my skull to engulf her. The vertigo that came from it almost made me lose my hold over my flame, but I repossessed it in time. From there I shut my eyes and tried to disperse my corruption throughout my body and make it harder for it to “jump” to Odet’s soul. I doubt she would make the mistake of taking in my corruption, but one could never be too careful.

  For a long while we stayed in our respective positions. Perpetually managing the hot-blooded corruption helped pass the time. When it started to rain harder, Gerard fashioned for us a miniature earthen pavilion. That bought us another undisturbed hour of the exercise. Sometimes the activity level of my corruption spiked, though it was hard to tell whether that had anything to do with Odet. One of the bigger spikes occurred right before she turned away to sneeze, so that partially proved the fluctuations were caused by an outside influence.

  Odet ultimately pulled away her hand with a resigned sigh. Nevertheless, she believed she sensed something different happening within her and thought it worthwhile to add the exercise to our daily regimen.

  The second day proved to be much the same as the first, as did the third. Each day I found that I was getting better at perceiving her prana. At least I assumed it to be her life-force. It was definitely an outward energy beyond my control. Strangely, for prana considered to be near holy, I primarily detected an agitated spirit. I concluded that the distress came from the clash of blasphemous and sacred powers.

  On the fourth day, I suffered another head rush caused by an exceptionally strong spike. Before I could regain control over it, the corruption eased up on its own. Indeed, it became almost as calm as my natural prana.

  I opened an eye to see Odet furrowing her brow in serious concentration. A few beads of sweat rolled down her forehead and cheeks. The black part of my flame was nearly gone. I was thinking about how to react to my corruption being subdued so effectively when the savageness returned with a fury. The darkness overtook my flame again, crackling it as though it was burning a whole tree trunk. Some embers popped in a little explosion that alarmed both me and Odet. She pulled back. I tossed the fireball up in the air before quenching it.

  “Damn it!” said Odet, scrambling out from under the embers I could not immediately extinguish. “Sorry! I thought I had something going there.”

  Standing up and working to keep the embers from starting a fire, I said, “I think you did have something going there. My corruption felt weirdly calm for a couple of seconds.”

  “Really?”

  I took her offered hand to pull her off the ground. “Yeah, really. I’d be one happy fiend if I can ever get my corruption that calm on my own.”

  “Ugh, please never refer yourself that way again.”

  “What happened?” asked Clarissa.

  “She’s getting close,” I answered.

  “And making your flame super dark and explode-y was proof of that?”

  “It was calm right before that.”

  “Oh. That’s good, then!”

  “Fine analysis, Clarissa, as always.”

  “Ass! How’s that for analysis?”

  On that overcast, chilly night, we all stayed up to watch Odet’s attempt to summon Mytariss from a wide hilltop. Excluding Gerard, the rest of us had to wait near the base of the low hill. Non-royals were not supposed to know Mytariss’ rune key, which meant even her knight needed to stay behind a wall he raised from the ground.

  Observation naturally paired itself with contemplation. I thought about our recent session and how restless her prana was. It nagged at me. Reviewing the event in my mind told me that my corruption settled down because Odet’s prana seemed to do the same. So what if the reason for its previous distress did not come from anything my corruption did? What if not every droplet of sweat was actually sweat?

  Beginning the shallow ascent, I told the others, “I’ll be right back.”

  Odet looked back at me when Gerard informed her I was coming up. Not wanting for me to see too much of the rune, she stood up and came down to meet me halfway.

  “I hope I didn’t interrupt a summons.”

  “Not quite. What is it, Mercer?”

  “Do you remember what you did to lull my corruption?”

  “Vaguely. A lot of it is not based on logical leaps of thought.”

  “But emotion?”

  “Something like that. Why do you ask?”

  “Were you crying?”

  She fit in a minute’s worth of blinks in a few seconds. “There were lots of emotions going through me at the time. Sadness was certainly one.”

  “What were you sad about? Your mother?”

  “I’m always sad when I think of her. Or perhaps ‘bittersweet’ is a better term.”

  “Have you seen your sisters cry over what happened to her?”

  “Of course.”

  “Have they ever seen you cry?”

  “…I-I’m, I’m sure they have. What are you getting at?”

  “That you hold back a lot. Your prana generally felt unsettled during our sessions, like it was busy doing something else. Like repressing something. That something couldn’t have been my corruption. It wasn’t until your prana calmed itself did it respond in kind, and your prana calmed down when I saw you at the brink of expressing some kind of potent emotion… You’re a strong soul, Odet, and letting someone see your grief or pain isn’t going to make anyone think any less of you. Maybe Mytariss needs you to, I don’t know, unburden yourself. I don’t even know what that means for you, it’s just an observation I had.”

  She cracked a smile. “Well, in truth, today’s session had me thinking along a similar line.”

  “I figured. Still, I know you’re not going to be as… as selfish as you need to be.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah. I bet you’re thinking about protecting others, staying strong for them, but Mytariss isn’t really in char
ge of protecting other people, is she? She wants to protect you most of all, and not only physically. If you hold back from even her, why would she feel the need to protect someone whose mentality is to hide her problems from everyone?”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  “Yes, but corruption takes a different approach to problems.”

  “I’d say… But yes, there’s a chance I do need to be a little more open with Mytariss. More selfish. Thank you for your insights.”

  “Any way I can help.”

  “You know, part of the reason I was sad was because of you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. Even without being in direct contact with it, I could feel how rabid and coarse your corruption is. It must feel like sandpaper in your blood. I know you like it for some reason, but I can’t help feeling sorry for you.”

  “You’re right, despite having a pain tolerance higher than most, I’m not going to lie and say corruption is a pleasant power to wield. Still, there’s something liberating about giving in to its… temptation. Besides, there’s always a blissful relief that comes after I stop using it.”

  “That’s like saying I should keep pinching myself just so I could feel good after I let go.”

  “If pinching yourself helped summon Mytariss, I guarantee you’d do it.”

  “Well, if no other method works, I’ll try pinching myself. Is there anything else?”

  “Yeah, it’s time to prove that I didn’t make a mistake by bringing you instead of your father.”

  I tried sounding more teasing than serious, but I’m not sure I pulled it off. A solemn Odet nodded and hiked back up the hill.

  The night crept on without a sign of Ylsuna’s servant. However, a determined Odet persisted in her effort. Dark clouds drew out the night’s hold. A hard, fast rain fell. Gerard erected a roof for Odet while Clarissa’s raised arm diverted most of the raindrops away from the group. Several rumbles of thunder peppered the sky, though nothing momentous. At least not until a white flash had everyone flinching and Clarissa shrieking. I expected to hear the deafening crack of a nearby thunderbolt, but none came.