Rage of the Dragon King

by J. Keller Ford

  “The oven is right there on the wall, two of them stacked one on top of the other.”

  Eric pulled on the metal handle of the top box and peered inside at the smooth, shiny blue interior and metal racks. “This is strange. Where do you put your wood? Does that go in the one below?” He pulled open the oven door below only to become more confused.

  “It’s electric,” David said, “like the lights, the alarm. Not many people have wood stoves anymore.” He thrust a plate toward Eric. “Have a sandwich.”

  Eric hesitated, staring at the thin-sliced, uniform bread stacked three high with unrecognizable stuff in between, before taking it. “What do you call this concoction?” Eric held the sandwich to his nose and sniffed. Interesting. It was nutty. Delectable, even.

  “A triple decker pb and j,” David said, “and you’re eating that one since you stuck your nose in it. I have extra strawberry, grape, or apricot preserves if you want some.”

  “Do you have hurtleberries?”

  “Umm, that would be a big nugatory since I don’t even know what a hurtleberry is.”

  “Then how do you know if you don’t have one?”

  “They’re blueberries,” Lily said, returning from the library with an over-sized black, leather-bound book in her arms, “and we don’t have any, but I’ll pick some up for you tomorrow.” She made her way to the green couch and set the book down on the coffee table, shaking out her arms from the weight. “I’ve placed wards around the house to keep prying eyes or ears from seeing or hearing any of you, but keep up your guard. Vigilance is a must. Always.” She sat in a plush chair beside the couch, and thumbed through the pages.

  “What is that you’re reading?” Eric asked, leaving David to construct his iffy edible masterpieces. The book looked familiar. Too familiar. He sat on the other side of Lily, his food on the table before him.

  “It is called the Book of Telling, and it was given to me by my father many, many years ago for safekeeping.”

  Eric clipped his breathing. He swallowed to get his heart out of his throat. “You have the sacred mage book? I thought it was at Gyllen.”

  Lily shook her head. “There is a forgery at Gyllen. Close enough to appear to be the real thing, but upon careful examination one would see it is a humorous substitution.” Lily smiled and leaned toward Eric. “My father can be quite the jokester.”

  “Your father is an evil warlord who enjoys inflicting pain on helpless, innocent souls.” David set down two plates on what he called a coffee table. He returned to the kitchen and came back with three glasses filled with a dark, fizzing liquid and ice cubes he snagged from a large silver box standing upright against a wall. The refrigerator. “He grabbed me at the base of my neck and I thought I was going to die.”

  “And yet you’re still here.” Eric smiled. He couldn’t help himself.

  “Yeah, because he knew you wouldn’t survive without my awesome archery skills and superior intellect,” David retorted. A smile twitched at his lips.

  Eric laughed, and it felt good. “I shall remember that, Sir Bow Man.”

  “You better,” David said, taking a bite of his sandwich, “or I might have to kick your ass.” He swigged back half his drink and belched.

  Eric laughed again. “I’d like to see you try.”

  “David,” Lily warned. “Watch your language.”

  “He started it,” David said. “And ten-year-olds say worse stuff than that.”

  She gave him the look without lifting her face from the book. “I don’t think I opened the topic for debate, did I?”

  Eric smiled, the type of conversation all too familiar. Do this. Don’t do that. Watch your posture. Be polite. It was exasperating. He brought the glass of the fizzy liquid to his lips. Intrigued by the tiny bubbles popping against his nose, he took a sip.

  He spewed the drink halfway across the room. “Dragon’s breath, that is retched!” He set the glass on the table, the liquid sloshing over the edge. He wiped the sticky fluid from his hand onto his pants. “You cannot seriously expect me to drink this!”

  Charlotte held out a few paper towels. “No, but you can clean up your disgusting mess while I get you some water.” She picked up his glass and took it to the kitchen.

  Eric dabbed at the puddle on the table. “I am sorry, my lady. I assure you my manners are far more impeccable than this.”

  “No harm done,” Lily said, “and please, call me Lily.”

  Her smile was like sunlight peeking through dark, uncompromising rain clouds. He allowed the warmth to flow over him, through him, thankful for the slight reprieve from the storm swirling within him. She returned to flipping through the massive book, each page of parchment crinkling as they turned.

  He glanced over his shoulder at Charlotte. “Do you have a cloth of some sort? These paper things you gave me are flimsy and fail at their task.” He placed them on the edge of his plate.

  A small towel sailed across the room, thumping him in the face. Charlotte laughed. “Sorry.”

  Eric returned her smile. “I’ll remember that one.” He glanced at Lily while he wiped the table. “You seem intense. What are you looking for?”

  Charlotte set down his glass with ice water beside his untouched sandwich and returned to her place beside Lily.

  “I am almost certain there is a section in here related to finding and retrieving the crystals should they ever become lost or stolen. I know synching the key to the rutseer is the first step, but there are many more undertakings which involve spells and enchantments. I need to find them.”

  “And when you’re done, let me read it so I can understand all this crap that has happened to me,” David said. “It’s all in there, right? Why I was chosen? Why I have this tattoo, which, by the way, has been super quiet.”

  “Be thankful for that,” Lily said. “When it starts aching again, you’ll know Einar is on the move.”

  “So, this thing on my chest is nothing but an early warning system?”

  “That, and a summoner.”

  David choked and coughed. “A summoner?” David asked, spittle dripping from the corner of his bottom lip. “Of what?”

  “Spells. Magic,” Lily said. “Together the ring and the mark wield great power, but only when the time is right. It is nothing you can control, so do not go seeking it.”

  Eric nudged David. “Well, aren’t you the lucky one.”

  Charlotte rolled her eyes and tucked her legs beneath her. “Lily, why do you think Seyekrad was oblivious to us in his house?”

  “I was wondering that myself,” David said. “He’s never had difficulty sniffing me out before.”

  “It is odd,” Lily said. “Odder still is that I didn’t detect any of you, either. I thought perhaps Seyekrad had put an anti-detection charm over the area, but he wouldn’t have included the three of you in the protection. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Charlotte laid back, her hair draped over the back of the couch, her eyes closed. “Nothing makes sense, including why Seyekrad would want to steal the crystals.”

  “That’s easy,” Eric said. “If he has them, he controls the war. He can use them as leverage. The mages will not want him to use them. Einar will, but not under Seyekrad’s terms.”

  “He’ll also use them to bring David into the open,” Lily said. “You’ve got to remember, he’s playing both sides against the middle, appeasing both Einar and Bainesworth to get what he wants.”

  “Like a typical mage,” Eric said, bitterness curling his tongue. “Always interfering where he shouldn’t.”

  “Not all mages interfere,” Lily said.

  Eric cast a sideways glance at her. “Really? Because my experience says otherwise, as does David’s.”

  “What my sister and I have done is not the same thing as what Seyekrad or the High Council is doing.” Her voice carried a sharp edge. “Are there any other assumptions you’d like to make?”

  Her tone, the dipped eyebrow
s, the piercing eyes, they all boiled his blood. He wanted to tell her she wasn’t supposed to interfere with the affairs of men, ever, whether asked to or not, and yet she and Slavandria did, on a regular basis, just like the other mages. Just because they did good deeds didn’t change the fact they weren’t supposed to intercede at all. Not that he minded the help. In fact, he welcomed it, but to lie about it and then pretend they weren’t breaking their own rules was a gross hypocrisy. Still, he kept his mouth shut. After all, turning his only ally in this world against him would be harebrained at best. This fight he would be happy to concede.

  “No, ma’am,” he said with a sincerity that surprised even him. “I apologize for overstepping.”

  David shook his head and snorted.

  Lily placed a hand on Eric’s leg. “I know what you’re thinking and I understand. But sometimes we all must step outside the lines to do what is right. To state you have not done the same as Trog’s squire would be duplicitous, wouldn’t you agree?” She withdrew her hand and didn’t wait for an answer. “As I was saying, we now know that Seyekrad has a motive. He wants Hirth for himself. To do that, he needs to eliminate the one person who can stop him, and that’s you, David.”

  “Thanks,” David said. He ran his palms over his face and yawned. “You’re such a joy to talk to lately.” He stretched his arms above his head.

  “I only speak the truth. You are the paladin, and that means a great deal to Einar and Seyekrad. If they eliminate you, then they are one step closer to absolute power.”

  “You know, I keep hearing that, but I’m not the one who can kill Einar. Only the heir to the throne of Hirth or Einar’s offspring can do that, and I’m pretty sure Mirith is probably dead because of some stupid gargoyle.”

  “Don’t underestimate him,” Charlotte said. “That little dragon is tough. Maggot is probably wishing he’d never tangled with him.” She glanced at Lily. “But David is right. You’d think Seyekrad would be chasing this heir person, too, and not just David.”

  “That’s because Seyekrad doesn’t know who he is … yet,” Eric said, “and I mean to keep that way.”

  Charlotte sat forward. “You know who the heir is? Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Because, it didn’t seem important until now.”

  David eyed him speculatively. Moments ticked by. “Well, who is it? Is it someone we know?”

  “Be careful, Eric,” Lily warned. “The fewer that know, the better for all involved.”

  “No,” David said. “He brought it up. He needs to finish it.” David sat forward his hands clasped between his knees. “We’re waiting. Who’s the heir?”

  Eric held Lily’s gaze, hoping she would see the plea in his eyes and come to his aid, but she sat back, her lips closed, her fingertips tapping on the chair arms.

  What a conundrum he was in. If he told them his secret, he would betray Trog’s trust, not to mention, he’d put all of them in danger. But withholding the secret was tearing him apart. Trog had once said secrets were grave burdens to bear, and he wasn’t lying. Maybe Trog could hold secrets for years, but he needed to share it with someone. He needed to unload the heavy burden. If Sestian were around, he’d confide in him. But Sestian was gone. He had new friends now. Friends he needed to trust. Friends who he hoped would understand, and never betray him. He had to take the chance. He had to risk it all. So far, his instincts had been right. He had to trust himself. He had to follow his gut. He picked up the sandwich, and said in the most nonchalant tone he could muster, “I am,” then took a bite.

  Silence drowned in his revelation.

  Then came the disbelieving nervous laughter.

  “You? The heir?” David said.

  “It’s true,” Lily said, fixing him with steely eyes.

  “But how is that possible?”

  “Long story,” Eric said.

  “We’re listening.” David shifted in his seat.

  Eric took another bite of his sandwich, and another, taking his time to decide how much to reveal. After all, they didn’t need to know everything. He still didn’t know everything. But talking about it was helping to sort it out. Maybe if he didn’t act as if it were a giant thing, they’d be willing to take what he wanted to share, and leave the rest alone until he was ready to tell them more. “It’s not a big thing, really.” He sucked the remnants from his fingers. “My father is the king’s brother. I’m the next in line.” Clean. Simple. To the point.

  “Funny,” Charlotte said, sitting forward, “I was in that castle for two weeks and never did I hear one word about the king having a brother.”

  “Yeah,” David said. “And if you’re a prince, the hallowed heir to the throne, why are you Trog’s squire? That’s like one of the most dangerous positions there is. I mean, you go to war. That’s what you do. It’s not like you can throw your hands up and go, ‘Nope, I’ve decided to sit this war out because I’m a prince. Have fun on the battlefield. Ta Ta. I’ll be in my room reading.’”

  Eric’s jaw flexed. “That goes to show how much you know. Because of who I am, I was never allowed to do anything that would put me in harm’s way. I have been sheltered and treated like a child my entire life, only allowed to do certain things, and all under the watchful eye of four knights and my king. I have jousted. I have been in tournaments. I sharpen and shine blades and armor, but that’s about as close as I’ve been to anything remotely life-threatening. Well, except for almost being killed by the mages in Avaleen, or being plucked from my horse by Einar, or the day we escaped from Berg, but trust me, if any of my overseers had their way, I wouldn’t have been there that day. Their constant attention has been stifling, annoying, and belittling, and I hated every second of it.”

  “That must have been horrible for you,” Charlotte said, “being trained for a role you couldn’t play.”

  He looked into her eyes and the wall he’d constructed around himself rattled at its foundation.

  Eric tried to swallow, but his swelling emotions made it difficult. Did she really understand? “It was. That’s why I came looking for you.” He shifted his eyes to David. “You see, my friend Sestian and I thought if we could team up with the almighty paladin, we could get our masters to notice us for something more than lackeys. Imagine my surprise to find out the paladin was nothing more than a magician’s apprentice, and my life was nothing more than a lie.” He dropped his gaze to the floor.

  “I know what you mean,” David said. “It sucks being lied to. Manipulated. At least you know who your parents are.”

  Eric frowned and nodded. “Trust me. That bit of knowledge brings its own plethora of problems.”

  “You can say that again,” Charlotte said, unfurling her legs and sitting forward. “Parents are strange creatures, puppies one minute, and piranhas the next. That’s why it’s nice to have friends you can confide in.” She reached for her glass and sparks crackled from her fingertips. She yanked back her hand and shook it. “Ouch! Gosh darnit that hurts. I hate it when it happens.”

  “How long has that been going on?” Lily asked.

  “I don’t know. A few weeks I guess, but I don’t want to talk about it right now.” She turned back to Eric. “So, how about it? Spill it. Who’s your daddy?”

  A wave of unease washed over Eric. His mouth dried into a desert. He stood with casual ease, thankful no one could see his insides trembling like a string of bones rattling in a gale force wind. There were too many eyes on him. So much silence.

  Such absolute silence.

  Except for the ticking of the clock on the wall and the rapid ba boom, ba boom of his heart.

  He had to tell them. It was the right thing to do. David and Charlotte deserved to know. But the truth was a dangerous thing, to him and to everyone who knew it. It was also difficult to utter aloud, as if doing so would bring death to all of them.

  “We’re waiting,” Charlotte said, getting up and going into the kitchen. She put more ice cubes in her glass and
added water from the big silver box.

  “I’m trying, but it’s not easy,” Eric said.

  “We’re your friends,” Charlotte said. “There’s nothing you can’t tell us.”

  “You don’t understand. This is … complicated.” Panic skittered through his bones. He wasn’t prepared for this. Not now. Not ever. Why did he have to open his mouth? Why did he have to say anything?

  “You’re stalling.” She raised her glass to her lips.

  “It’s all right,” Lily said, taking his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. He hadn’t even noticed she’d stood or moved beside him. “You’ve come this far. You acted on your initial instinct. Now you must see it through.” She let him go and entered the kitchen where she stood, her arms wrapped tight to her.

  Eric blinked, considering, debating with himself. “Fine. Fine,” he finally said. “You want to know who my father is?” Go ahead. Say it. Release the beast. He licked his lips. “It’s Sir Trogsdill Domnall, Master and General of the King’s army extraordinaire.” The man you love and hate. The man who kept this secret, made me love him, and then hate him for his lies. The man who tortured me for years, making my life a living hell, but protected me with his life. “Are you happy now?”

  There he was, open and exposed. Naked. Vulnerable. He wished he could wake up and find the whole conversation to be a bad dream.

  David’s jaw fell open.

  Charlotte dropped her glass.

  It shattered across the universe.

  ***

  Eric retreated to David’s bedroom and collapsed on the bed, unable to stop the flow of tears. He’d held them in for far too long. Sestian’s death. His life. War. It was all too much. He’d tried to remain strong. Resilient. He was, after all, a squire. Squires didn’t cry. Squires didn’t show weakness or emotion. They were responsible for absorbing everyone else’s pain and grief, to provide solutions, not exasperate a problem. They weren’t allowed to break, and yet, as he lay there staring at the ceiling, he’d never felt more damaged, fragmented, as parts of him he used to know vanished into oblivion. His innocence, his playfulness. Gone. Destroyed by a beast who felt he could take whatever he wanted, when he wanted, with no regard to life.