United Dragons

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United Dragons Page 3

by Calista Lambrechts


  The silence enveloping the room was both sedative and daunting.

  As I sat on the bed, the appearance of an old woman made me realise just how furious I actually was. I scowled at her as she approached, Justin following from behind, slightly limping.

  I sat upright, swinging my legs over the bed.

  My hands clawed at the edge of the bed, forcing to dig right into the very bedding.

  “Ah, Carlaylin, my dearest-” the woman paused for she knew I would know. She grasped her hands together and gave an innocent, almost trustworthy grin.

  “Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Nemtris Darkblood.”

  I rolled my eyes carelessly.

  “Yes, we’ve fought before.” Nemtris gave a few nods.

  “So, how’s it going? Terrowin still dead?” I couldn’t help but snort, really not wanting to go through with this.

  “I am truly sorry to break this to you, but he managed to survive.”

  Fighting back a sarcastic smile was kind of hard, especially if you’re trying your hardest not to lunge at her and bite her head off.

  Nemtris raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips.

  For these that would like to know, this was the same necromancer we came across on my last trip. Terrowin and I had mistaken her for a normal innkeeper until she poisoned him. We even managed to work in a fight as well. I had never been happier in my entire life as when I knocked her out cold. I even had enough time to ‘borrow’ some of her stuff she kept hidden away in her cabinets. I can’t say that they didn’t help.

  Truth be told: Terrowin was pretty much dead, but absentmindedly healing him honestly made me realise what I was truly capable of.

  “What do you want with me?” I asked tiresomely.

  “I thought I could torture this elf for a start and then kill you afterwards to put it all to a good close. Oh, the fun never stops!”

  “Is it because of that bottle of you-know-what I stole?”

  I kept it innocent for the time being. Nemtris tried to keep her ire hidden, biting down on her bottom lip to avoid an anger outburst.

  “No, but I do want my bottle of Frozenfire back when you’re done!”

  I couldn’t help but give an innocent shrug alongside a sinister smirk, saying, “Yeah, perhaps after I’m done blackmailing you with that illegal fluid.” Nemtris narrowed her eyes and stared me dead in the eye, her eyes were hard and cold, swivelling in utter hatred.

  “You’re dead to me.”

  I heaved a loud sigh. My shoulders slumped.

  I think that I may have messed around quite enough now.

  “Look. I know you want me dead and I you, but let us converse.”

  Nemtris crossed her arms and stared at me with distrustful eyes.

  “Okay. Where is this heading? There must be something this adds up to.”

  I took a silent moment to myself to thoroughly think this through. I shot a glance at Justin and noticed him to be leaning on a table to keep his balance, clearly frightened and apprehensive of what this woman might do to him.

  The time I bought was enough to stall her and think of a way to escape, but my mind quickly changed direction. The thought of her skills with the dead gave me a rather suicidal idea, but it didn’t felt as though I had much choice.

  “We need your help.”

  Nemtris frowned and cocked her head, trying to make sense of me actually requiring her help. I explained before she could jump to any conclusions or insults.

  “There is a battle afoot that threatens the kingdom and not to mention Zeldin wanting to destroy all by summoning Thorodan. I figured that you might be able to be of great assistance.”

  There was a moment of silence. Nemtris didn’t seem entirely sure or prepared for what I had to offer.

  “How do you know about Zeldin? As far as I’m concerned, you are not someone to be branded or interested in the category of death.”

  “No, how do you know about Zeldin?”

  Unfortunately, Nemtris bested me by stating, “I asked first!” I bit the anger between my teeth.

  Beaten by a necromancer. What next?

  “Fine,” I submitted, “Murray told me all about him and his devilish tactics.” It seemed as though Nemtris’ mind dwelled off for a second, off the thought of death and hatred and to inquisitiveness.

  “Murray? Do you mean Merlin the Fith?”

  “Yes. Why? Do you know him?”

  For a first I could actually see signs of true emotion glinting in her eyes instead of ominous thoughts. Nemtris gave a loving grin along with a faint sigh. She seemed… longing.

  “Oh, he’s such a sweet man. Some might say that I even have…” she paused for a second to try and find the right words, “…certain feelings for him.”

  Shock hit me in the face like a bucket of ice cold water, bucket included. For a while, time might have actually stopped, slowing down and zooming in on my expression of utter surprise with widened eyes to seal the deal.

  “You dig my grandpa?!”

  “What?”

  “Nothing!” I said with a flinch. I figured that I probably had to stop talking without thinking, especially in the presence of a necromancer. Especially in the presence of her.

  “Ah, I remember it like it was yesterday. That one night when the sky was adorned by a sheet of thousand shining stars, under the maple tree. Merlin and I had just met and were already holding each other’s hands. As we stared deep into each other’s eyes we leaned in for a kiss.” Nemtris paused for a second to imagine and relive the moment. “I will never forget that soft beard of his…”

  That’s most likely the most disturbing story I had ever heard, but somehow I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor woman. I couldn’t dare tell her the truth of Murray’s fate, but I didn’t think it would’ve worked out anyways.

  If I remembered law #257 correctly:

  Magical individuals of different groups are forbidden to love one another by order of His Majesty himself.

  (I might have focused on that specific one for the sake of my new grandfather.)

  “No wonder he’s scarred for life,” I mumbled, my gaze fixated on the ground.

  “Watch it!” Nemtris reprimanded. I could see the determined look in her eyes. Yes, she was determined to make me her next experiment.

  “I should really shut up now.” Nemtris gave a single snort alongside a nod, saying, “Yes, it would be best for your health.”

  My eyes jumped around the room, aimlessly from object to object within the silence. Justin seemed to have calmed down, but it was clear that his foot was really starting to irritate him.

  “So…” I started, “Will you join us or not?” Nemtris took a moment to make sure of her decision before giving it in the form of a little speech, “Very well. I will join your little group of imbeciles, but remember this: I’m not doing it for you.”

  She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, indicating at Justin.

  “And particularly not for that idiot!” I could see Justin felt rather offended.

  “Hey! I’m not an idiot!”

  Without noticing, he accidentally bumped into the table, yelping for fear that it might have been a monster or something. Nemtris knew better than to laugh at Justin’s tomfooleries. Instead, she kept an eye on him with folded arms and a raised eyebrow.

  “You might want to stand corrected. No. I’m only doing this to save my inn and that special someone.”

  For a first, I actually smiled, quite satisfied. Things were finally going my way again.

  “Then it’s settled.” I stuck out my hand and Nemtris shook. I stood.

  “Don’t be alarmed if I tinker with the dead. I tend to do that from time to time. I have to get my daily necromancy in,” warned Nemtris. She focused her gaze on a dead rat chilling motionlessly in a corner. I knew I was going to regret this deal in some way or another, but by the looks of things I didn’t have much choice at the matter than to go along with it unless if I preferred to share the same fate as tha
t rat over there. He already made friends. Dust bunnies. Dust buddies.

  “I thought you could only experiment on corpses of humans.”

  Nemtris raised her eyebrows and looked like she was ready to explain… my worst nightmare!

  “No, mind me – you can most likely do it with any deceased individual that had once belonged to the mortal plain.”

  Even though this subject was unsettling, I nodded in comprehension. Although it might have been necromancy, it was always pleasurable to learn something new.

  “Oh, my dear,” Nemtris continued, “Where do I begin? I have had quite the experience! An undead wolf and a zombie of a deceased child I created with quite the exertion… but she is rather… disturbing.”

  Lost in thought of that horrid child experiment, an abrupt sound suddenly attracted our attention. It sounded like slight buzzing and squeaking and Ramses growling.

  “Oh! Lucky me! There is an example to show!” I have honestly never seen Nemtris so cheerful before, except when talking about my grandfather and or the dead. I still apprehend the day she would find out I had been lying to her about Murray… eish!

  I followed her as she eagerly led me to the window. From there I looked down to where I parked the tiger, though I must admit that it was one of the strangest sights that I had ever seen. There was a swarm of outlandish flying creatures teeming around Ramses. He tried to swipe them away with his big furry paw, but they kept returning to bother him.

  “Ratflies,” Nemtris clarified, “Another brilliant success of mine and quite the useful one might I admit! They can be fairly loyal and obedient if you know what I mean.”

  I remained silent and so did Justin. Nemtris focused her gaze intently on the scene below.

  “Hmm,” she thought with a finger placed on her chin, “I hope that tiger of yours won’t bother my dearest trollplants.”

  I knitted my eyebrows.

  “I’d rather not ask.”

  Nemtris ignored my statement.

  “Necromancy does have its flaws, though. Just look at my snakelet for instance.” I looked at the silver bracelet wounded around her wrist. It was sealed into a perfect bracelet by what looked like a realistic silver snakehead biting its own tale.

  It was like her own version of the ouroboros.

  “Snakelet?”

  “Yes, it was an experiment gone horribly wrong between my old silver bracelet and a dead Viper I found on my porch one morning. It’s more of an accident actually. Whenever I summon him he’ll jump to life, sometimes even uncalled for...”

  A snake… Why did it have to be a snake?

  I hated snakes almost as much as I did spiders!

  A sinister smile suddenly spread across her face. She looked back at Justin.

  “Can’t wait for the next twilight, eh, Justin?”

  Justin’s eyes broadened, horrified as he cautiously backed away.

  His eyes met mine.

  “Are you sure we should take this hag with us?” Before I could respond, Nemtris took it upon herself to answer him instead.

  “Trust me – you’ll need all the help you can get. Thanks for the compliment though! It warms my heart to know that someone still cares.”

  Nemtris was quick to face me.

  “By the way, I still don’t know why we should take this weakling with us. Can’t we just leave him here? I’m sure my child zombie can take care of him.”

  I gave a brief sigh. Also hiding my cringe.

  “No! Besides, as it turns out, Justin is quite good with a bow and arrow. And like you said before: we need all the help we can get.” Nemtris knew better than to argue against her own words.

  Instead, she tried to change the subject.

  “Feel free to spend the night here. I will meet you tomorrow at dawn at that tiger of yours. I must have some sleep and need to go change.”

  Nemtris left without another word. Justin and I were left alone in each other’s company. Without another thought I turned to him, saying, “I think we’d better be the first to be awake and waiting. I don’t trust that woman near Ramses!”

  The last thing I wanted was a zombie, brain-eating tiger with no memory of who I was. He would actually succeed in a two-person dinner.

  CHAPTER 5

  TAKES AN IDIOT TO PUT ME IN A BAD MOOD

  TERROWIN

  THE AIR WAS UNSETTLING and the silence was most unwanted. I gradually opened the door, only to close it behind me.

  I sighed.

  As usual, my room was quite cold and dark with nothing but a desk, a few cabinets and a single double bed to decorate the massive space.

  Only the sunlight falling through the window brought me hope.

  I leisurely strolled across the room, towards the mirror.

  My armour rattled as I walked.

  I was forced to look myself in the mirror, no matter how hesitant I was.

  My skin was relatively pale, much more so than before as an aftermath of the curse – the same curse that signalled the hour of my death.

  I wasn’t destined to be around for much longer.

  My hair had grown darker over time, almost gracing my shoulders.

  I even managed to grow a thin soul patch beard.

  I wore a pair of black tightfitting pants and a casual white shirt followed by a grey cloak and hood, now lowered, that covered the armour I wore. My father’s long sword was adjusted to my back. I wore silver boots, still from my armour set. Not to mention the variety of shoulder blades, gauntlets, belts, daggers and a metal cuirass.

  With caution, I stroked the cut on my cheek, judging the stains of blood on my fingers.

  My shoulders slumped.

  Over the past few months my father had taken it upon himself to train me in the arts of battle – preparing me as a soldier for the war, and as his son.

  I grew used to using a weapon and did not falter anymore. I had learned to keep my mind off that terrible day I accidentally killed my greatest ally, Brendon – the same man who had put this blasted curse on me with his last breath…

  I withdrew my sword and held it across my hands, examining it before tossing it to my gigantic bed. It was a perfect time to get rid of all these other weapons and armour I once needed for training.

  After I had tossed everything aside, I grabbed a bandage and bound it around my wounded arm, slowing down as I came close to the end. I raised my gaze and stared into the mirror once again. It felt as though I haven’t slept in days, but truth be told, I did struggle to fall asleep at night, proven by the bags underneath my eyes. Such depression everyday – the sorrow – so much pain…

  “The joys of being the commander of the militia’s son,” I murmured.

  Without another thought, I opened the window, allowing the fresh air to enter my room. I took a deep breath and tried to forget.

  I looked down at the busy streets below. Even though dusk, people still wandered the markets, hoping for a quick trade or purchase.

  I gathered myself and climbed out, keeping my grasp on the windowsill. I was careful not to look down.

  Finding a good foothold, I pushed myself upwards and grabbed a hold on it. Last time there wasn’t any, but having free access to weapons and more of a freewill to move around, I was able to hollow out my own path, part by part, day by day.

  I searched for another few and continued to venture upwards, climbing platforms, grabbing loose bricks, and pulling myself up – all until I finally reached the roof. I gave one last push and hauled myself onto the roof’s edge, finding a good and stable spot to sit and rest – a good spot to gaze at the sunset and think.

  It was rather silent and too high for the noises of the markets to reach. The temperature was just right and birds swooped pass. The sky was a varicoloured mixture of warm colours, joining the sun as it gently set into the horizon.

  A faint breeze rustled through my hair and allowed me to savour the moment after a hard day.

  It helped steer my mind off everything, guiding me to saver waters.
>
  Perhaps the cause of this sorrow was because I dwelled in my past too much. People I once met, people I had once lost and those I despised. They regularly interrupted my thoughts.

  It often distracted me from my duties and made it all the more difficult for me to focus.

  I raised my arm and pulled the sleeve back, studying the burn mark on my wrist.

  Once when I was younger, Brendon and I were destined to be positioned as Merlin the Fifth’s apprentices. In order to prove ourselves we had to go to war, but it did not end as well as I had hoped.

  Yes, we won, but I lost Brendon. It pained me to think that his last thoughts were of anger and revenge.

  He cursed me with a painful grasp that left this mark. I cannot quite explain this, but we believe it may be a sickness, one unable to be cured, and will lead to my end soon. It made me weaker by the day, both physically and mentally. It left nothing but grief and obliteration in its wake.

  Lost deep in thought, my eyes focused on the horizon, I wasn’t aware of the cold presence sneaking up behind me. Good thing I inherited a keen sense from my father’s side of the family…

  Immediately, I swung around and caught sight of a man swiftly attacking with his sword. I didn’t hesitate to roll out of the way. I recognized this as the same assassin that tried to kill me only a few months ago.

  I recognized him by the black hood covering his identity and the red cloth strapped around his mouth and nose, exposing but only his dark sinister eyes that glinted with a lust for cold blood. He wore tightfitting dark armour alongside a dark cloak and two swords that hung by his side… lucky me.

  I rapidly stood with little time to spare. The assassin gave another strike. I leapt sideward, but wasn’t ready for the next. He pushed me to the right and let me drop from the roof, leaving me dangling from the edge. I held on for dear life, but I think this assassin might’ve found it rather amusing.

  My killer faced the edge of his blade downwards and readied for a quick ending, but as he stuck, I let go. This was the first time I was actually glad that some buildings were built upon one another.

 

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