Dragon Master (Dragon Collector Book 2)

by Simon Archer

  “Exactly,” I confirmed, “but she is guarding the king. It would take too much time to find her.”

  “Well, what do we have here?” Alona said. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and studied the table. “What was on the menu?”

  “I don’t know,” Martin said as he held out his still glowing hands at the table. “I don’t recognize half of this fancy stuff.”

  “We can ask the chef,” Alona reasoned. “If word has not gotten to the kitchens, we can head down there and see what he prepared.”

  “I do not know if I can abandon my post and leave the situation up here,” I admitted. I looked around at the ballroom which was mostly cleared out by now, considering that the majority of nobles were struck down by the corruption.

  “You don’t have to come,” Martin said with a nod. “Your duty is to help these people.

  His words seemed to assure me. Yes, I wanted to help him more than anything, but I had a job to do. It was my duty to the kingdom that made me hesitate. And he seemed to understand that. Maybe, just maybe, he was on the path to forgiving me.

  “Come on, Alona,” Martin said after I’d nodded back. “Lead me to the kitchen.”

  The two of them took off, heading through one of the servants’ doors and disappearing downstairs.

  “Everyone has been escorted to the infirmary,” a guard said next to me.

  I turned to face him and saw that it was Travis. “Well done,” I complimented.

  Distracted, I looked back to where Alona and Martin left. An invisible string pulled at me, willing me to go after them. If things were under control here, why could I not go after him?

  “Ma’am?” Travis asked, bringing me back to the present.

  I made a split-second decision and snapped to face my comrade. “I need you and the remaining guards to interrogate the healthy nobles.”

  “About what, ma’am?” Travis asked appropriately.

  “We are in search of a traitor,” I admitted, laying out the mission clearly. “Do not share that information with anyone. Simply tell the guards that we are seeking any information about anyone who had access to the food and drinks tonight. We want to know their whereabouts leading up to the preparation of the ball. Document everything, and no one is to leave the ballroom until Captain Rebekah or I get back, understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Travis barked at me with the assurance that he understood.

  “Good man,” I said and then jerked my chin in the direction of the nobles hoarded by the south wall. “Go.”

  Travis snapped his legs together before taking off. I booked it right behind him before breaking off to head through the same servants’ door that Alona and Martin walked through.

  I reached the kitchen only minutes after them. When I entered, Alona and Martin had the cook back against a wall while the rest of the kitchens was devoid of people. Martin sat up on the counter next to the cook, his glowing hands in full view of the servant. Alona stood across from the man as he read off a list. The pair of them surrounding him made the chef nervous enough for the paper to rattle in his hand.

  “Deviled eggs. Salmon rillettes. Baked brie with cranberry sauce. Curry-roasted pistachios. Crunchy chili-lime quicos. Cheddar olives,” the chef recited. He pushed the paper closer to his nose, making the print bigger. “Sausage stuffed mushrooms.”

  “There is no way that everyone that struck ill ate the same thing,” Alona said, shaking her head.

  “What about the drinks?” Martin said, prompting the chef to jump ahead.

  The plump man leaned forward and swapped out one paper for another one on the counter next to Martin. Once again, he shoved the parchment close to his face in order to read it. His meek voice trembled as he read through the drink list.

  “Ice water. Lemon fresh water. Pale ale. Red ale. Sunflower ale. Peach wine. Honeysuckle wine. Citrus poppy water. Coffee.”

  As the chef spoke, my mind reeled. I thought through each of his words until one hooked in my brain and would not let go. My memories raced as connections came together. I thought back to the forest, running through with Sloan after Maji’s party. The shriveled, blackened plant. I thought about the young Dyers boy, Miji, falling ill when he ate a…

  “It’s the wine,” I announced from my spot at the bottom of the stair.

  Martin and Alona looked at me. The chef even lowered his paper slightly to peer out over it.

  “Which one?” Martin asked, his voice raising an octave.

  “The honeysuckle wine,” I said confidently. I took a step further into the room.

  “How do you know?” Martin asked curiously.

  “Because Miji ate a honeysuckle at Maji’s birthday,” I explained. “And the plant that Sloan and I found destroyed was a honeysuckle.”

  Understand dawned on Martin’s face. He hopped off the counter and squared himself in front of the chef. “Where did you get the honeysuckle plant for the wine?”

  “From the greenhouses,” the chef answered. “They always provide it for our larger batches.”

  Martin closed his eyes and slammed his fist into the counter. The chef and Alona jumped, but I stayed still in my spot across the kitchen. I waited for him to compose himself before asking a question I was pretty sure I already had the answer to.

  “What is it, Martin?”

  Martin shook his head, rubbed his nose, and opened his eyes. He blinked a couple of times, confidence rising in his eyes. Then he licked his lips and answered me.

  “I know who the traitor is.”

  42

  She was upstairs with the rest of the unaffected nobles, being interrogated by the guards. Diana approached her, solemn and stoic. I stood in the background, swallowing continuously as if that would hold back the tears of frustration and pain at the betrayal. Her blond curls bobbed when she turned to Diana, as innocent-looking as a child.

  “Diana,” Maria said, with a half-smile. “What is going on? They will not tell us anything, but they keep asking us about our day. Where we were and what we were doing.”

  “Maria Poulis, daughter of Raina and Helena Poulis, you are under arrest,” Diana said with no remorse. Her voice frightened even me as I heard her utter the young noblewoman’s fate.

  “What?” Maria’s eyes darted about, and she exhaled with what sounded like a cross between a huff and a chuckle. “You must be joking.”

  “You are under arrest for treason against the true king, King Atlus, conspiracy to destroy the kingdom of Insomier, and attempted genocide,” the soldier continued.

  “Genocide?” Maria balked. “Diana, what are you doing? Unhand me!”

  Two other guards grabbed Maria’s wrists and yanked them behind her back. They shoved her to her feet and pushed her along. All the while, Maria protested loudly, and her cries echoed in the hall.

  “This is absurd! I have not done anything! Let me go! Diana! Alona! Martin! Let me go!”

  The doors silenced her with a final slam. The ballroom stood in a shaken silence at the spectacle that everyone had witnessed. Diana cleared his throat and spoke to the room at large.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the court, you are free to return to your rooms for the evening.”

  “What about the others?” Mister Ella asked from beneath the arms of his wife.

  “What about them?” Diana answered unsympathetically.

  “Will they be alright? Can we see them?” the nobleman begged.

  “Unfortunately, we cannot be certain at this time,” Diana reported. “We need to contain the corruption as best we can until all of the citizens can be healed.”

  “So it is true,” Madame Ella spoke sharply. “The corruption has reached the court of Insomier.”

  Even though it wasn’t a question, Diana answered definitively. “Yes, I am afraid it has.”

  At that proclamation, women buried their heads in their hands. Men clenched their fists at their sides. Some gasped, others cried. All but one person, Mister Ella, who I had first met all those wee
ks ago at my first horrific dinner with the king. He and his wife were the epitome of the nobles and all of their elitist ideals. But here he was, a father, looking at me with sorrow and a plea.

  “Can you heal them?”

  I wanted to throw up at the hope he had in me. The question plucked at all my insecurities and prior nerves that continued to grow throughout the evening. I was at a loss for words. What could I possibly say to him without promising anything? Because, if I was honest with myself, I didn’t know if I could heal them. I didn’t know what kind of toll this mass healing would take on my body. How many people would we lose while I recovered?

  So I told him the truth.

  “I will try,” I said.

  Mister Ella nodded and then curled back into the safety of his wife’s arms. The Minister of Finance didn’t look at me, either out of hate, spite, or shame, I didn’t know. But I figured it was for the best. I should leave them to their grief and get to reducing it as much as I could.

  I walked away from the ballroom, Alona at my heels. Diana remained, still commanding her guards, like the soldier she was. I exited the room, and once the door safely blocked me from the gazing eyes of the nobles, separating me from their worry, I leaned against the wall and rubbed my eyes.

  “Hey,” Alona’s calm voice said from beside me.

  I uncovered my eyes and waited until the blurry version of her cleared. “Hey.”

  “You should get some rest,” Alona suggested.

  “What? No!” I replied, shocked. “I have to go start healing people. I have about a hundred games of chess I have to play.”

  “Martin.” Alona took me by the shoulders and removed me from the wall so I could face her head-on. “You do not have to do this right now. You have had a long day, and you need your strength. You can start tomorrow.”

  “What if someone dies tonight?” I argued. “While I’m sleeping? No, I can’t live with that.”

  “This whole thing is not your responsibility,” Alona tried to assure me, but I wasn’t buying it.

  “No, you’re wrong,” I said as I stepped back and out of his grip. “This is my whole purpose, or destiny, or whatever. I’m supposed to heal these people, and I need to get to it. Now.”

  Alona sighed and relented. I appreciated that about Alona. She let me do what I needed and didn’t resist me too much. Ultimately, she knew that my decisions were my own.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” she offered with a low voice.

  I thought about it for a moment, before I completely wrote her off. I thought about Maria, and then my thoughts led me to Bailey-Sue.

  “You need to find Bailey-Sue,” I said. “She doesn’t know about Maria yet, and she’s going to be upset at the news of her friend.”

  “Yes,” Alona agreed with a nod. “Anything else?”

  “We need to burn the honeysuckle plants in the greenhouse,” I said, speaking aloud as the thoughts came to me.

  “I think Diana and some of the guards can do that,” Alona said with a gesture back to the ballroom doors.

  “And I will go find King Atlus,” I finished. “He should be the first one I heal if I can.”

  “You can,” Alona said with a sharp tone. “You have. I have seen it. Do not let this false king take that from you.”

  “I’m not scared, Alona,” I spoke with confidence.

  Alona’s eyes were bright behind her glasses as she appraised me.

  Then she gave me a quick kiss on the lips. It was so fast that I didn’t have a chance to even close my eyes. She pulled back with a smile.

  “Now, just what were you thinking, giving me such a lousy kiss?” I joked, smirking at the woman.

  She laughed lightly and allowed me to guide her face towards mine, where I surged forward with a heated, desperate kiss.

  Her lips were silky, and she bore the taste of green tea on her tongue as mine wound in her mouth. We pulled away slowly this time, and we just stared at each other, soaking in this closeness, this desire and love we shared in the middle of this sudden panic and turmoil.

  She was the first to break the silence, “I will check in on you in the morning,” she promised.

  With that pronouncement, we walked in our different directions: her to console our friend and me to heal the king. I rushed to the king’s chambers as fast as I could until I approached the guarded doors.

  “Is he in there?” I pointed to the door.

  “Yes, but they are not letting anyone in at this time,” the guard replied.

  “I’m here to heal him,” I said indignantly. I held up my hands and called to the light, so they would glow as proof.

  “I am sorry, my lord, but orders are orders,” the guard said with a small shake of his head.

  “I could blast this door open, you know,” I threatened with a closed fist aimed for the door handle.

  Immediately, the guards whipped out their swords and hovered them above my wrist. “We would be forced to take drastic action if you were to do so, my lord.”

  He used my title as a warning, and I sighed. Luckily, a familiar voice came to my rescue.

  “What is going on here?” Korey called up the hallway.

  The hard-faced guard broke into a jog to reach us quicker. She clutched the hilt of her sword at her side and slowed as she approached. The guard looked in turn at each of her colleagues and sniffed in disgust.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Korey demanded of her fellow guards. “Do you know who he is?”

  “He claimed he was here to heal the king,” the other guard answered.

  “But we were not permitted to let anyone in,” the first guard jumped in, rushing to ensure he was doing the right thing.

  Korey sighed, annoyance dripping from every sound. “While I appreciate your diligence at following orders, Lord Martin Anthony is permitted in the king’s chambers.”

  “They did not say as such, Korey,” the first guard said as he widened his stance.

  “I outrank you, soldier, and you will do as I say,” Korey said, stepping within the guard’s personal bubble. “Let Lord Anthony in now.”

  “Rebekah said not a soul, and the captain outranks you, I am afraid,” the guard said with a defiant smirk.

  Korey snarled and made to turn away from the guard. She opened her mouth, most likely to apologize. I held up a hand and stopped her. Looking at me with a hint of confusion, Korey gasped when I threw out my arm and knocked the guard to the ground. He fell like a doll, and before he hit the ground, I kicked up my leg and did the same to the second guard. His chin whipped around, looking as though he dislocated it from his face.

  One, two thuds bounced off the corridor walls, and Korey stared at the unconscious guards with awe.

  “What the--?” Korey wanted to ask, but I interrupted her.

  “Can you take care of this?” I motioned to the unconscious guards.

  Bubbly laughter erupted from the friendly soldier as she gestured towards the chamber doors. “Go,” she urged. “I have this. Heal the king.”

  I didn’t need to be told twice. I slammed myself into the door and pushed it open.

  In the center of the room, on an ornate rug, lay King Atlus with Rebekah hovering over him. The captain tried to feed the king some water, but the liquid dripped down the sides of Atlus’s face. The king looked like a corpse, splayed out with limp limbs and pale skin. I wonder briefly if I was too late.

  “Rebekah?” I said, unintentionally lowering my voice to a whisper.

  The captain looked up, and her face widened at the sight of me. “Martin, thank God you are here. He is worsening, and I do not know what to do. I have not seen the corruption strike this fast.”

  I approached and called to the light. It responded quickly, springing to my fingers in the space of a snap. Rebekah, unlike the other nobles, didn’t recoil. She simply stared.

  “It is always so marvelous,” Rebekah admired. “I know you can help him, Martin.”

  Instead of coming up with a
nything clever or reassuring to say to the captain of the guard, I put my hands on the king’s chest and spread out my fingers. The light compiled easily. It followed the paths of my fingers and extended beyond them into the king’s body. When the light reached his naval, it was met with that familiar, inky darkness.

  My face squeezed tight at the sight of it. It spread like a spider’s web strung from each of Atlus’s organs. It wrapped around them like a black coating of paint and hardened, stopping the flow of fluids and blood. The corruption plagued his entire digestive tract and spread out to his bloodstream.

  “What?” Rebekah asked, reacting to my pained expression. “What is wrong?”

  “It is the corruption,” I confirmed, “and it’s bad. Really bad.”

  “Martin,” Rebekah said, her voice low and serious. “You have to heal him. Atlus has no heirs, and if he dies, then King Garham’s line would be destroyed. Insomier would have no leader. I know he is not perfect, but he is our king. My king.”

  I listened to Rebekah’s plea, sounding almost identical in tone to the one I’d heard minutes ago from Mister Ella. It pricked at my skin, knowing that I was literally the only hope for this kingdom. I tried my best to slow my breath, not ready to dive into the white space and meet Hennar.

  Nevertheless, I surged the light forward. In time with my exhale, I poked the blackness.

  The effects happened instantaneously, as if Hennar couldn’t wait to see me. I felt slightly dizzy at the sudden change in my surroundings. I was, once again, in the white space in my purple ensemble, kneeling before the table and chairs.

  Shamelessly, I used the edge of the table to get back to my feet since I’d been kneeling over the king. The pieces rattled about, some of them falling over the side. I didn’t care. I could pick them up later. Or hell, I’d make Hennar do it since it was his precious game.

  Speaking of Hennar, the bastard dared to come to my aid and took my hand. He lifted me to my feet and gripped tightly when I tried to jerk away. His touch was cold and clammy, like a seventh-grade boy holding hands for the first time.