The Black Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 1)

by Salvador Mercer

  “So what would this have to do with our current situation?” Olivia asked.

  “What if the many disappearances in this region that have been documented came not from a beast or natural catastrophe but from a great drake? If this is possible, then it is possible that the Dragon-Wizard War, which I suspect was initiated by the Kesh themselves, could have some sort of influence on all drake kind. And whatever lay sleeping in Kero may have awakened, or will soon awake, placing the entire region in danger.”

  Olivia thought long and hard about the old man’s words. What he was saying went contrary to popular belief and even recent facts, and while he was known for his work as a historian, his information could be outdated. “If you’re right, then we need to warn the town.”

  “They’ve been warned. Your father was told, as was the spiritual leader. Both the duke and our king prefer to take care of the matter quietly, if indeed I am correct, rather than sowing rumors and innuendos throughout the entire southern part of the realm. You can imagine, and even appreciate, what kind of panic this could cause throughout the area if it were made public.”

  “Yes, I can see that. Is that why the duke’s cousin—what was her name again—Gendra?”

  “Gemma, Lady Gemma of House Vandersot.”

  “Yes. So is she here to see that this remains . . . quiet?”

  “Partially so, but also to act on her cousin’s behalf regarding the Kesh wizard, who was with the original party—Ketas was his name. Since suspicion has now fallen on Kesh as a whole, they are now entirely suspect, judged as a group and not individually, fair or not. That is also why Justiciar Basil is here to investigate, judge, and execute any illicit activity in the duke’s lands by any party.”

  “So am I a pawn in this game of theirs?”

  “Not really. There is a true shortage of skilled soldiers, healers, wizards, and others who could contribute to the effort. You, however, do represent a way to leverage some cooperation from your father in this matter. He was appointed to the office of prefect by the duke’s father, rest his soul in Agon, so Duke Uthor can scarcely revoke his stewardship of this region without good cause. It would create a bit of a scandal and actually bring more scrutiny to what the nobles fear most.”

  “The truth!”

  “Perhaps—you see, it isn’t that simple. The suspected truth would be more appropriate to say, and the quest party that was here a couple of weeks ago was to either confirm the suspicion and dispose of the evidence, so to speak, or debunk the ‘myth’ once and for all.”

  Olivia took another sip of her drink and realized she had consumed the entire glass. “I’m sorry . . .”

  Diamedes motioned for a nearby servant to bring a new pitcher of wine. The pair sat in silence while their cups were filled, and the servant left after Diamedes asked for the wine to be left on the table.

  “No worries. Now, where were we?” Diamedes asked.

  “Myth debunking,” Olivia said.

  “Yes, right you are.” The older man smiled at her and took a long sip of his wine, now that it was properly refilled. “The quest group was more than competent; however, they were not the best champions that the duke commands, as nearly all of his most skilled warriors are in the North. The duke dismissed my concerns for their safety, and they cobbled together the best group that they had at the moment rather than waiting for, say, a few more experienced warriors to return from the North. They were supposed to investigate the swamp and report the results immediately. When they went overdue, word was sent, the duke ordered us to investigate, and now we are here.”

  “That was rather quick, considering the terrain in Kero, was it not?”

  “Quick for us Ulathans, yes. The Kesh use a critir to communicate instantaneously with one another, and they suspected something the very night that Ketas, the Kesh representative, failed to communicate in his daily report. His leader, Arch Mage Rualf, reported this immediately to the duke, who sent word for us to depart as soon as we could.”

  “But I saw no Kesh in your party. What if this . . . Ketas, is it?” Diamedes nodded. “What if he simply failed to check in?”

  Diamedes shook his head. “The Kesh was under strict orders to communicate nightly for this exact reason. Besides, had this been only an error in communication, then we would have known about it when we arrived here in Tannis, and we simply would have returned immediately. Unfortunately, we arrived without further word from Ketas.”

  “And with some troubles as well!” Olivia said.

  “Yes, the woods near the road are dangerous, now that they are patrolled less often, and we came under attack by some bandits, who were repulsed easily enough, though they injured several members of our caravan.”

  “I heard it was an attack by wild wolves.”

  “There you go. Stories change over time, and some stories can change wildly. We were attacked by a pack of wolves the very night before, but they only killed and dragged off a goat belonging to one of the merchants we were travelling with, and they didn’t hurt anyone. But I can see how things can get confused so easily.”

  Olivia shrugged, feeling a bit silly at having her facts wrong and not having bothered to ask anyone who was actually in the caravan what had happened. She had heard from Lily the very day they arrived, and she assumed that anything Lily told her would be true. She was quickly learning that things are not always as they seem. “Well, this has been an interesting conversation tonight, and I am most happy to have had it. Lily will be overwhelmed that I’ve talked to you and she hasn’t. Have you met her yet?”

  “No, I’m trying to avoid her, I’m sorry to say. Besides, she’s dismissed me to the kitchen, so I think I’ll continue to proceed to my guest quarters through the servants’ housing for the time being.”

  “No! Please don’t take offense. She is mostly kind and gentle, though she can talk your ear off if given a chance.”

  “Of course, I take no offense. I’m sure she’s a fine librarian and custodian of the records at the temple, but my time is short and I have several tasks to take care of, so any ‘Lily’ time will have to come when I visit again,” Diamedes said with a smile across his lips and a twinkle in his eye.

  “So will you come with us?” Olivia asked.

  “Unfortunately, I return to Utandra with the others first thing tomorrow after your initiation.” Diamedes winked at her when he said “initiation.” “I’ll return once I’ve made my own report to the king’s representative, as I serve the king directly and not the duke. There is, however, that piece of advice I wanted to share with you.”

  “Yes, do go on,” Olivia prodded.

  “If there is a member of the draconus family living in that swamp, run! Do not fight. You can’t win. Not without either help or a powerful weapon, and right now I don’t see either in sight. Finally, beware the Lady Gemma. It was her idea, and in fact her plan, to enlist your help with this investigative quest. Pay heed to your training. It may be needed, and it will come in handy if so.”

  “Well, in my book the esteemed Lady Gemma has done me a favor and managed to accomplish in only one day what I could not do all year long, which was to convince my father to allow me to be initiated into the order. I should be grateful for her intervention.”

  Diamedes’ smile vanished, and he stood up and looked at Olivia with a sad expression on his face. “You may not be so grateful in a few days.”

  With that Olivia turned to watch the old man as he left and disappeared from view amongst the small crowd of people on the bricked veranda.

  Chapter 6

  Preparations

  The next day was uneventful for Olivia. Her actual initiation into the Order had taken place the night before, when she had sworn her vows to serve the Order and maintain its secrets. This morning she had simply spent time meditating in the inner sanctum chamber while her father and some close friends waited for her in the lobby.

  The sanctum had marbled walls with many tall white columns that supported a domed roof overhead.
Frescos were painted on the dome’s ceiling, illustrating the story of Astor, who was said to be the handmaiden of Agon herself. Between every other column along the walls there were the finest silk drapes flowing from the base of the cupola to the floor below, reminding Olivia of a silk waterfall.

  The entire room appeared to have been designed to convey tranquility and beauty, two of the physical traits that it was said that Astor possessed. Olivia had left her sandals outside and had entered barefoot, as was the custom amongst the Order, and the marbled bench that she sat upon in the middle of the room felt mildly cool despite the high summer weather outside. All in all she felt at peace and that this was a special place to meditate and contemplate one’s divine vows.

  She heard footsteps as she waited for Markus to allow her to come out. She looked up from her seat in the middle of the room and she saw a figure walk from around one of the columns. It was a lady dressed in a simple white silk dress, wearing gold jewelry and adorned with a flower perched upon her right ear. She had deep and dark brown eyes and walked quietly barefoot. In fact, with the exception of the golden accessories and flower, she would have appeared to be dressed much like Olivia.

  “Good morning,” Olivia said, smiling. “May I help you?”

  “Good morning to you as well, Hand of Astor. Your service to the High Lady will be more than enough,” the lady said, walking towards Olivia.

  “Would you like to sit?” Olivia asked, motioning to her bench and moving over to one side to make room.

  The lady shook her head. “No, thank you. I prefer to stand and feel the floor under my feet.”

  Olivia moved her own feet, feeling the cool tiled floor. “I don’t know you, and I thought I knew every acolyte in the temple. Are you an acolyte or a hand?”

  “Quite right—I am not from this town, nor even this region, but I arrived just the other day. My name is Arabella and I belong to the Order, but in another land,” the lady said.

  “I see. Well, welcome to Tannis and our humble temple here. It is good to have visitors from Utandra,” Olivia said.

  The lady called Arabella laughed melodiously. “You are so kind and special, child.”

  Olivia smiled back with just a tinge of blush rising to her cheeks. This Arabella looked to be young, as young as Olivia herself was, but there was something old and wise about her eyes. Her demeanor and gaze said otherwise, and Olivia found herself feeling a bit awkward.

  “Will you be staying long?” Olivia finally asked.

  Arabella looked around the room. “Not long. I’ll return very soon, but I wanted to congratulate you and give you a small gift, a token from our Order but from a different temple. You won’t mind, will you?”

  “No, not at all, but a gift is not necessary, my lady.”

  “Well, just the same, let’s keep it our secret, shall we?” The lady unclasped a necklace with a small white diamond hung from it in a setting of gold and then moved to put it on Olivia.

  “No, I can’t!” Olivia practically stammered as she saw the valuable necklace and protested by raising her hands.

  “You can and you must. You would not refuse a matriarch, now, would you?”

  “Well, no, of course not,” Olivia said as she stood and lowered her head and hands, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the gift. “I didn’t know you were a matriarch of Astor. My apologies, please, Mother.”

  “No apology necessary, child,” Arabella said, clasping the necklace around Olivia’s neck, laying the diamond pendant on her silk blouse, and standing back to admire it. “Now you have truly been initiated,” she said, and then she gave Olivia a pleasant smile.

  “I thought I did that last night with Master Markus?” Olivia asked.

  “Well, yes, of course, the ceremonial initiation done by a man, but a true initiation, as a Hand of Astor, handmaiden to our Mother Agon . . . now that requires a female touch, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I wouldn’t assume to know, but if you say it is so, then, as matriarch, it is so.”

  “A true believer, I see.” The lady smiled at Olivia. “It will be time for me to go soon, but always remember. You are a true Hand of Astor. Do not fear death, nor fear itself, for fear abhors the Mother, and the Mother is fearless. As a Hand of Astor you will be fearless. You will be strong. You will command in the name of the Mother. Do you understand me?” the lady asked seriously, her smile vanishing in an instant.

  “Yes, Mother.” Olivia used the formal title for a Matriarch of Astor a second time, bowed her head, and held it there for several seconds. When she raised her head she could not see the lady anywhere, but heard her voice and could just make out soft footsteps as the lady walked away.

  “Never forget, Olivia, Hand of Astor, never fear.”

  Later she emerged when Markus told her to, and she changed into the uniformed robe of a Hand of Astor, with a red gauntleted hand, palm open, facing outward, with two swords crossed beneath it. It felt different, and she was relieved that no one asked for details about her ceremony. Of course, there had been a pre-ceremony before she went into the sanctum, where her father and family could listen to Master Markus recite a vigorous discourse on the duties and responsibilities of the hands of their Order. Her mother had long since passed away, and her brother, Osric, was far away to the north, so her father’s brother and his wife attended, along with their children, Sars and July, her cousins. Lily was there, of course, and even Regina and Tybert were there to congratulate her.

  A large group of Ulathans from Utandra left that day, including the famed historian, Diamedes. Lily was heartbroken to find out he had stayed in the temple guest quarters all along, but she couldn’t, for the life of her, remember which ‘servant’ he was.

  The rest of the day Olivia spent preparing for her expedition with Commander Fulbert and packing a few items to take with her. She also took one last lesson from her father’s master of arms, Sergeant Meiler, which was much more vigorous than she was accustomed to.

  “You shall extract the last of my strength before I even depart, Sergeant,” Olivia said, parrying another blow aimed at her head by Meiler with his wooden sword. Olivia wasn’t sure if he would pull back, especially on this day.

  “No foul beast will be so considerate of your needs, Hand Olivia,” he said, using her formal title, which Olivia was rather proud of.

  “Agreed,” her father shouted over the loud whacks of the wooden swords as they moved in a circle, looking for holes in the other’s defenses.

  Olivia thought she saw the sergeant’s sword bob a tad lower after parrying three quick strikes, and she swung her wooden sword backwards underneath and brought it overhead to strike at the man’s exposed shoulder.

  Quick as lightning the man twirled to his sword side, allowing her stroke to come down on empty space, and he squatted lower while swinging his own wooden blade horizontally just below knee level.

  The impact on her calves hurt, but not as much as the wind being knocked from her lungs, as she fell backwards and landed rather hard on the ground in the training arena near their garden pond. She managed to maintain her grip on her own weapon, but her shield fell and clattered on the ground as she had let it go to try to stop her fall by using her hand.

  She tried inhaling twice before finally getting some air into her lungs. “You did that on purpose!” she exclaimed as loudly as she could, while she struggled to regain her footing. She was now somewhat annoyed that no one came to offer her a hand as had been done in the past.

  “I did,” Meiler said as he watched her struggle with a pained look on his face. “Things are not always what they seem, a rather painful lesson for you today. Expect the unexpected.”

  “Bravo,” her father said, clapping his hands together.

  Olivia finally regained her footing but was damned if she was going to bend over and pick up the useless shield. She looked intently at Meiler, who glanced at her father and then back to her. She followed his gaze to her father before speaking. “You put him up to this, didn’t y
ou, Father?”

  Julian raised his hands in protest. “Now, Olivia, don’t go and get yourself all upset again over another of life’s little lessons.”

  Olivia stopped for a moment and then smiled. She had an idea. Her father was a tad too close to the pond. They kept only a few goldfish there, rather large ones, and a fountain was placed in the middle of the pond to keep the water fresh. She suddenly swung her wooden sword around in a figure eight before charging her father.

  “Olivia, stop! What are you doing—” But he couldn’t finish his sentence. Meiler tried to intervene, but he was actually opposite of her father. With a quick swing she smacked his right foot, but not too hard, and when he lifted it up to protect it, hopping back on his good leg, she pressed her body close to his and pushed.

  Julian flew into the pond, back first, and came up sputtering water. “Why did you do that!” her father asked.

  Olivia swung her sword in a flashy figure eight again before stepping calf deep into the pond and offering her free hand. “A little life lesson, Father.” Then she looked over to Meiler. “Expect the unexpected,” she said, a smile crossing her face.

  Julian was bathed, dried, and dressed. It was a rather juvenile trick that his daughter had pulled on him, but he was proud of her abilities with the sword nonetheless. After a quiet dinner between just the two of them, Julian looked upon his daughter. “I have a small gift for you.”

  “Unnecessary, Father. Your love is enough for a daughter,” Olivia replied.