The Chronicles of Amberdrake

by Loren K. Jones

  “Never!” Duke Bartram shouted, running forward with a sword in his hand.

  Amberdrake snapped a foot over, crushing the duke into the soil of the plateau. He said, “I warned him that I didn’t like his family,” as he scrubbed blood off his foot against the dirt and rocks of the plateau.

  The death of Duke Bartram signaled the death of the army. Men who had supported the duke against the Highsteraders gathered their troops and returned home. Only a fool would continue against the dragons.

  The duke’s own men collected what they could of his remains and returned to the capital to inform the new duke of his father’s death.

  Nicholas and Illana sent for more of the family to run the Dragon’s Rest, and freed the servants as they had been commanded. And as for the servants?

  Sadie Alicock stayed with the inn. She had found a secure place as a paid servant with the clan of Amberdrake’s Children, and in time her own children became part of the clan.

  Robyn Harkness also stayed, married to young Andrew Eakins. The two of them lived out their lives in comfort and security in an inn where no one dared to make trouble.

  Waite Seaton took his freedom, and his wages, and sought out a land in the south where a free man could live his life in peace.

  Melinda and Janna Eagle found husbands they could live with. Twin boys with a farm of their own, the sisters lived out their lives together.

  Jael Banker disappeared from the inn, only to reappear in court in Kelsey. Her former master had lost everything due to Drake’s curse, and she had exacted her revenge upon him, for her sake and the sake of the other young girls he had defiled. She was hung as a murderess, a smile brightening her face for the first time in the memory of any of those who had known her.

  Veda Cress ran off to one of the northern duchies and joined a mercenary company. Sebastian Appelgate went with her, and saw that she was trained well enough to earn a good place.

  Kelson Fuller returned home, with his wages and a good word from the clan, and was accepted as an apprentice by a master wool trader.

  And as for Allison Gifford? When the dragons had flown away, Duke Rachaun and Duchess Rycca went to the inn to wait until morning before returning home. Allison presented her work to the young duchess soon after the evening meal, kneeling and bowing her head so that her hair hid her face. Duchess Rycca looked at the girl and the cloth, and held her hand to her mouth.

  “You made this?” the duchess asked in a breathy whisper.

  “I did, Lady Duchess. I sought the reward you had offered for cloth for your wedding dress. It may be late, but here is the cloth,” Allison said, still keeping her face toward the floor.

  “That reward is no longer offered, girl. What do you expect to receive for this?” Duke Rachaun asked.

  “Nothing, Lord Duke. I simply cannot see another wear it,” she replied.

  Duchess Rycca knelt beside the girl and clasped her face with both hand so she could look into her eyes, drawing gasps of outrage from the gathered lords. “Will you weave for me, girl? Will you be Weaver to the Duchess of Highsterad?”

  The look of joy in Allison’s face was answer enough.

  * * *

  “Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Rochelle said as he held her hands like she was patting down the air. “Lady Sahren? The ancient Goddess, Lady Sahren the Nurturer, is your dragon-girlfriend Sahrendrake?”

  Drake grinned. “Yes. She and Lebawandrake, or Lord Lebawan the Cutter, are both offspring of Dandarshandrake, though by different dragonesses hundreds of years apart. “

  “How can that be? They were Gods. “

  Drake shrugged. “A lot of the younger Gods were really young dragons.” He looked sideways at Mellody. “I have even mated with a pretty young female named Vernisdrake.”

  “No,” Mellody said in a disbelieving tone.

  “Really?” Rochelle asked.

  Mellody was looking at her best friend with an amazed expression on her face. “The crown. His head looks like the Vernardian Crown.”

  “Is that why—?”

  Drake nodded. “Vernisdrake is a little different. She has five spires on her head. Most of us have six or seven. Corandrake says it is passed down from mother to daughter. It’s a family trait like blonde hair or blue eyes.”

  Mellody and Rochelle locked eyes. Rochelle said, “The crown has five spires.”

  “And that, my young queen,” Drake said in a serious tone, “marks you as a child of Vern.”

  Adventure 12

  The Rest of the Story

  CHANBERN OLSTENSON SAT IN THE SUN, rocking slowly as the world passed him by. There was little to catch his interest these days. His grandson was running the Silver Unicorn now, and the boy was showing a real talent for the innkeeper’s trade. Time was passing Chanbern by, but he didn’t mind. He’d had his life.

  A stranger walked up to the front of the inn and sat in the chair next to him. “Hello, Chan,” the stranger said softly.

  Chanbern looked at the young man and nodded, though he couldn’t place the face. “Hello yourself, stranger. Don’t know you, but you have a familiar cast to your features.”

  The young man smiled. “Oh, you know me. It’s just been a lot of years since the last time I was here.”

  Chanbern shrugged. There had been thousands of faces passing through the Unicorn in his lifetime. “As you say. Care for a beer?”

  The stranger smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”

  Chanbern thumped the porch with his cane, and a serving girl quickly appeared. “Sir?”

  “Two beers, Mallin.” The girl nodded and disappeared, reappearing quickly with two full mugs. Chanbern raised his in salute to his guest. “To your health,” he said, using a neutral toast.

  “And to yours, Chan,” the stranger said, raising his mug in return.

  “You still haven’t told me your name.” Chanbern fixed the young man with a piercing stare, but he did not squirm.

  “Standral Emverson. Or Drake Standralson, whichever you prefer,” the stranger replied, smiling at the fierce scowl that Chanbern was giving him.

  “He’s dead and gone, nearly thirty years. What makes you think I would believe you’re him?” Chanbern’s scowl had turned even nastier. Here this young pup was claiming to be his long dead partner. Then an amusing though came to his mind, and he grinned. “Or are you come to take me with you, old friend?”

  Now the stranger laughed. “No, Chan, I don’t think it’s your time yet. I just came back to tell you how the story ends.”

  “I know how the story of Standral Emverson ended.” Chanbern’s scowl had once again become fierce.

  “No, I am afraid you don’t.” The young man smiled and winked, using mannerisms that he had used a lifetime before.

  “Then tell me,” Chanbern demanded, and the young man smiled.

  “My death was arranged, but not by Lady Danlin. I did that myself. Danny’s part in it was my revenge. She tried to have me killed once before, but failed.”

  Chanbern eyed the young man next to him carefully. “But Standral was near my own age. How could you...”

  “Because I was never the man you thought you knew, Chan. There were always secrets between us. I have come back now to tell you the answers to your questions.” The young man smiled and leaned back, looking up at the sign. It was new, but the carving of Amberdrake was still conspicuous.

  “There were things Standral said no living human could know about him,” Chanbern mused softly.

  “All too true, I’m afraid,” the young man agreed.

  “So, now that I am a dying old man, I can know the truth? Hah! Why should I believe anything you say?”

  “Because I am not Standral Emverson. He was my father. I’m not Drake Standralson anymore either, though that was the name my father gave me. Three hundred and fifty years ago, I was given another name by the God of Chaos. I became Amberdrake.”

  Chanbern had been looking at the young man next to him as he spoke, and the simple way that he sai
d the words almost convinced him. But not quite. “Amberdrake, is it? And why would you be trotting about on two legs if you’re a dragon?”

  The young man smiled and took a long drink of the fine beer in his mug. “Can’t get beer as a dragon.”

  That drew yet another loud laugh from Chanbern. “So you can’t.” Quieting himself, he looked at the young man. “Is it really you, Standral? Were you really Amberdrake all along?”

  “Yes. Or the other way around. I didn’t become Standral until I arrived at the gates of Westport. I flew to within just a few miles of the city before I changed into human form.”

  “Why?” Chanbern whispered. “Why did you come here?”

  “Originally I was seeking an adventure. I was on my way home, back to Chanders, but I wanted to arrive as a well-established trader. I had hoped to find some remnant of my family and make a place for myself. That plan fell apart on my first journey there. All of my kin were gone, victims of a plague a hundred and fifty years before. After that I stayed because of the family that I found here.

  “When I left the goods and money with Amber back in Free Harbor, I knew I was leaving a fortune in her hands. It was still a shock to find out that Amberdrake’s Children had flourished through the centuries, building on that money to become such a successful clan. And all the while treating me as their patron. When you told me that, I nearly fainted. Remember?

  “I stayed and learned from you, and in you and the clan I found something that I had always searched for. A family. I can’t father children, well, not human children, so you and the others became my children. I have watched over you all through the years, seeking each of you out and spending a little time in your company until it was time for me to go.”

  “So you came here today to tell me this?”

  “I did.”

  Chanbern grinned. “Well, you tell a good tale, that’s certain. Do you have any others?”

  “Don’t believe a word of it, eh old friend? Can’t blame you. But it is the truth.”

  “Prove it.” Chanbern’s face was like stone as he faced the young man at his side.

  “Very well. Is there someplace out of town we can go where we won’t be bothered?”

  Chanbern nodded, though this youngster had aroused his suspicions. “The farm. Farly will take us there.”

  They waited in silence as a young man brought a wagon to the front of the inn and helped Chanbern up to the seat. The young man jumped lightly into the back, drawing a snort of contempt from Chanbern. “Showoff.” He had said the same thing, in the same tone, to Standral Emverson thirty years before.

  Farly drove the wagon out of the city and up a long country road. It took nearly half of the day to reach the farm, and the young man was impressed. Estate was the word that he would have used to describe the place.

  Chanbern saw the look in his face and laughed. “Used Standral’s banked gold to buy this place. We grow our own grains now.”

  The young man hopped down, then he and Farly helped Chanbern. “So what is it that you are going to show me?” Chanbern demanded.

  The young man smiled and walked away, passing back out through the gates. Chanbern was almost convinced that he was going away when he stopped. Turning, he raised his arms and began to glow. In the space between one blink and the next, a large golden dragon stood in the road.

  Chanbern sat heavily on the ground as the dragon walked forward. The horse, having better sense, bolted, dragging the wagon and Farly behind her.

  “It’s really you, Amberdrake.”

  “It is, Chan. And it’s really Standral and Drake as well,” the dragon answered.

  “Why are you here?”

  “To tell you why I stayed, and why I went away.” The dragon flared and the young man was back. “I came back to see how you and Brandis fared after I left. To tell you how proud you have made me. How proud I am that you and the family have taken my name as your own. And to say thank you, for taking me in and teaching me how to run an inn.”

  “It was my honor, Amberdrake. And my pleasure. To think that you chose me...”

  Amberdrake helped Chanbern up from the ground and dusted him off. “Let’s go inside, Chan. You need to sit down, and I need something to eat. Transforming like that takes a lot out of me.”

  The two entered the manor house and made their way to the kitchen. Sounds came from a door off to the side, and Chanbern opened it to find his staff cowering in the pantry. “Oh, come out of there. That was Amberdrake, our patron. He won’t hurt anyone. Come out. Out I say.”

  “But it was a dragon!” a plump old woman said. “A real dragon!”

  “Of course,” Chanbern answered cheerfully. “What else would you expect Amberdrake to be? This young fellow?” He waved a hand at his guest and the staff started relaxing. “Now be a good girl and get some beer for us. There you go.” He shoved her toward a cupboard and made shooing motions with both hands.

  Another woman made her way out of the pantry, and Chanbern told her to bring along a tray of sausage and cheese to the library, then he led Amberdrake through the house. “This place used to be owned by the family of Lady Danlin. Her indiscretions left them in bad odor with Prince Tambert, and he all but forced them out of the empire. They still haven’t recovered. Serves them right.”

  Amberdrake nodded his agreement. In the library Chanbern showed him to a chair, then sat in a large chair close by the fire. The maid soon brought a large tray for Amberdrake, and beer for them both. Chanbern was amused when his guest devoured the entire platter of food before sitting back to sip his beer. “Feeling better?”

  Amberdrake laughed. “Much, thank you. Now, the end of the story. Chan, when I left I flew east again. Back to where all of this started. Back to Highsterad, where I rescued Amber and Lissette. I found the branch of the family that lives in the area and founded a new inn. It is called the Dragon’s Rest. I had intended to stay there until I could conveniently arrange my death again, but local politics interfered. I left the inn to the cousins there, and traveled about for a few years before coming here.”

  “How long will you stay this time?” Chanbern asked, looking into his patron’s eyes.

  “Just today. Just long enough to tell you this story. Then I have to go.”

  * * *

  The two talked late into the night, drinking and laughing as they spoke of the years they had spent together. Chanbern drifted off to sleep as the sun rose, and Amberdrake ordered him carried to his room.

  Taking the butler aside, he nodded. “When he awakens, tell him that I had to go. He will understand.” The butler nodded as Amberdrake walked away. He was far away when the butler went to awaken Chanbern, only to find that the old man had died in his sleep. The beautiful smile of a happy child lit his face, and there was a small carving of Amberdrake clutched in his hand.

  * * *

  “I’m glad you went back and told Chanbern your story Drake,” Mellody said softly. “Now tell us what happened to Brandis.”

  Drake smiled. “She married Ansenel Coopran and had seven kids. My interest in the wool trade made her a member of their council, and she eventually equaled her father. The stories say he was quite put out about it.”

  Rochelle just giggled while Saunder shook his head. “Yes, I can imagine having your bastard daughter as an equal would be annoying.”

  Drake looked puzzled. “What?”

  Mellody squeezed his arm. “I’ll tell you later, Drake. It’s common knowledge, but seldom spoken of.”

  Drake looked intrigued and said, “This should be good.”

  Adventure 13

  The Gods of Men

  ON THE EDGE OF THE KINGDOM of Deverand stood an inn, the last habitation before the great forest and the wilderness began. Squatting beside the trade road north, it had once been a popular stopover, with a constant stream of traders and travelers passing through its doors. But that was long ago, before the war had made trade impossible.

  It’s not an impressive affair by any sta
ndard. Shabby and weather worn, it looked to be a hundred or more years old. The sign over the door was an old barrel, and someone had crushed in one side. The intention had been to call the place the Broken Barrel, but people simply called it Drake’s Place, after the ancient owner. Few travelers passed this way anymore, and it was rumored that Drake was keeping his business afloat by smuggling weapons.

  Old Drake, the owner and innkeeper, had other means of support, however. Fit and lean, he looked more like a man in his twenties than the octogenarian everyone knew him to be. He had come with a pouch of gold and bought the place from the original owner decades ago, and had turned it into a popular and successful business. Fine wines vied with the best ale in the kingdom on the tables, and even old King Gailin had stayed the night once. Bragging rights indeed for such a small place.

  In the twenty-sixth year of the reign of King Branley, the distant war came to Deverand. Or at least to its borders. Drake walked out of his door to find hundreds of men setting up camp in his fields, trampling his crops. Frowning, he walked out and addressed an elderly man in an ornate uniform.

  “Now see here, whoever you are, you have no call to be stomping my crops like that.”

  The man turned and regarded Drake with one eye. The other was missing, and a scar ran through it from his forehead to his chin. “Silence, dog, or I will have you silenced permanently,” the man sneered.

  A man that Drake had not seen moved quickly up behind him and drove him to his knees with a well-placed blow to the kidneys. Grabbing a handful of hair, he pulled Drake’s head back and snarled, “You are addressing General Lord Fender Glowingbright, Supreme Commander of the Armies of Revven, Priest of Revven, Light of the Night, God of the Eternal Flame. He is the leader of this expedition, and the punishment for disrespect is plucking your eyes out and making you swallow them, condemning you to eternal night.” That was a bit excessive, as far as Drake was concerned, but there were worse punishments. Not many, but there were a few.

  “Forgive me, General, I meant no disrespect,” Drake pleaded. “It’s just that there are good places to set up camp over in the trees. Three wells are even now awaiting your men. These fields are my livelihood and only source of food,” Drake said from his knees, clasping his hands in front of himself in supplication.