“Enough, Diamedes,” Olivia said, looking at the man intently. “You have me concerned enough without keeping me in suspense. What is it you want to show me?”
“Not show you,” Diamedes said, pulling out two vials from his pack. “I want to give you something.” He handed the vials to Olivia gingerly.
“What are these?” she asked.
“Protection, Hand Olivia. The drake that you seek is not like the ones that you’ve heard about in your fairy tales, nor are they the tales that one would hear in a tavern or bar late in the night. You know the ones that I speak of?” he asked.
She could barely see him in the darkness of the room, and she regretted coming there, thinking it would have been better to discuss this in a more public location. “Yes, the ones where the great worms breathe fire and belch smoke, and take the princesses to either eat or hold as hostages.”
“Yes, go on,” Diamedes said.
“Then the hero, usually a knight in shining armor, comes to her rescue and slays the beast or thwarts its plans.”
“Most correct, but those tales are somewhat inaccurate,” he said.
“No kidding, Master Diamedes. I already know this, so why are we discussing old wives’ tales?”
“Because my research shows that there is more than one kind of dragon,” he said expectantly.
“Kind of dragon?” she asked, confused. “How can there be more than one kind?”
“As in a species. Let me explain, child.” At this Olivia looked sideways at the old man, but allowed him the indulgence since it appeared he was trying to help her. “You see many birds in the sky, do you not?”
“Of course,” she answered, thinking this line of questioning was too simplistic for her.
“Well, some birds are like ravens, some like crows, and others like doves. If you venture to the ocean—have you ever been to the ocean, child?”
“Well, just one time during my father’s travels we journeyed south to Tyniria.”
“Yes, a fine city, but, if you recall, they have seagulls there. Do you remember the great white and grey birds with large beaks and a distinct call?”
“Yes, vague memories, but I think I recall hearing them. They were at the harbor and near where the fish market was.”
“Right—well, the great drakes of Agon are much like the birds in the sky. They vary not only by species but also in size and abilities. Of course, they all share many of the same traits that we have come to learn about—scales on their body, their propensity to hibernate, and the fact that they have bad breath.” Diamedes chuckled at his own joke, and Olivia found herself smiling as well. “So do you know what I think we are dealing with here near Tannis?” he suddenly asked, his tone changing back to serious.
“No, not anything other than a drake of the North,” she responded.
“Oh, no, but this drake is not one of the North.” Diamedes’ head shook from side to side, though she could barely see him. “This beast has lived here for a very long time.”
“How is that possible? We would have seen or heard something in all the many years that we have lived here in peace, would we have not?”
“Not if the drake came out only during the great transit of Dor Akun,” he said, allowing this fact to sink in for effect. “Then, during the chaos of the event, the dragon could feed and kill and future generations would think the death and destruction that were placed upon the world were done by Dor Akun, old Father Death himself, and not by our close neighbors with whom we have shared this world for time immortal.”
“Is that even possible?” she asked.
“More than possible, child—I believe it to be true,” he countered.
“So this dragon here in Kero has been here for centuries?” she asked.
“More than that—many tens of centuries, if I have half my facts correct, and there is something else about this beast. I’ll ask you again, my question that you did not answer. Do you know what kind of dragon you are dealing with near Tannis?”
Olivia shook her head. “No.”
“This beast will be black, as black as the hot burning rock, as black as the night sky without the twin sisters. This beast breathes a foul breath, but it’s not fire, as we have always thought. Oh, no, child, this great drake of Kero will spit a vile acid upon you, killing you in a much worse way than mere fire, and that is why I offer you this protection, to save your life,” he said, pointing to the vials that she now held in her hand.
“What is this?” she asked.
“This cost me a glinty gold to be sure, but the vials contain a special potion that will make you immune to the beast’s breath weapon.”
“Immunity from acid?” she asked as she felt, more than saw, the vials in her hands.
“Yes, child, but you must take this potion no more than one day before you encounter the beast, and the timing will be tricky, as I am not sure how long after consuming the potion it will take effect, though I’m told it needs only a few minutes. At any rate, it won’t be immediate, so you’ll have to choose wisely when to utilize it. Also the potion offers no resistance against either tooth or claw. The beast could devour you whole, despite the magical protection.”
Olivia thought for a moment and then placed the vials in her inner belt pocket, securing them with the hidden lace. “Thank you, sir, and I will be most grateful if I didn’t need to use it, but why me? Should you not have given this to Sir Perceval, or even Commander Fulbert? They could use it better than I.”
“No. I know what you did, and the person with the best chance to get anywhere within range of the black drake will be you, the Hand of Astor. Only you will be able to kill the beast, but first you must be able to get near it, and it will most assuredly try to kill you first. This at least should take care of half the problem.”
“And the other half?” she asked.
“Well, try not to let it bite you or claw you,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I see. You’ve been most helpful, Master Diamedes. I promise you I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will, child. If you don’t, we’ll see the beast in Utandra before the week is out.”
With that, the two returned in silence to their lodgings for the remainder of the night, not realizing they were being watched by a silent figure, cloaked in black, standing in the shadows.
The day dawned bright and early, and the newly formed group headed off from Tannis towards Kero Swamp by traveling first south along the road, and then veering west across terrain, following the sun as it also traveled in the same direction.
Commander Fulbert was convinced by Perceval to stay behind and oversee the defenses of Tannis. The man had protested loudly at first, but Perceval managed to persuade him that, in the worst-case scenario, they needed someone who had fought the undead before, and someone who was familiar with the town’s current fortifications and provisions. Being one of the personal knights of the duke himself, Perceval outranked the commander, and so reluctantly he had stayed behind, sending only a half-dozen soldiers to accompany them.
Olivia herself had convinced him not to send more, as she pointed out they would seek to be stealthier this time around and that their future safety relied more on speed than on strength, especially after they saw the numbers of the minions of evil that they would have to deal with.
They did, however, have a town scout, Pascal, who had worked with Felix before, and Jezebel managed to acquire the services of a black-cloaked bodyguard, as well as a porter to carry her belongings for her. Her belongings were more than substantial for an expedition such as the one they were undertaking, and neither of her newest companions talked much or engaged with others in the party.
Perceval led the men-at-arms, two in front with him and four acting as rear guard. Basil had stayed behind as well. Not being one for the wilds, he indicated that his duty was to execute the king’s justice should the group bring any alleged perpetrator back in custody. Jezebel just snorted at this, but seemed content without the justiciar jo
ining them on their quest.
Cornelia, Fist of Astor, remained mostly silent for the majority of the journey, only occasionally inquiring as to the surroundings, and usually asking only the scout, Pascal, though Olivia caught Cornelia more than once staring in her direction.
Once the sun had gone down and the ground started to get moister, Perceval called for a halt. Pascal had found them a decent place to make camp, and they set up their own tents and took off packs, cloaks, and other belongings. Pascal left to scout the area, and Perceval set a watch to ensure they were not surprised. He also ordered no fire and asked for silence as much as possible.
Olivia noted that Jezebel did almost no work, having her porter set up tents for her and her bodyguard and stow their belongings safely away in them. She seemed intent on discussing something with her hired mercenary in a hushed whisper away from the others.
Cornelia sat alone, watching everyone, and Olivia felt more than a little isolated as Perceval discussed the layout with the corporal of arms. Olivia got up from her grassy seat and moved to sit next to Cornelia on a large log of a tree that had fallen many years before. Without a fire the light was dim, and only the stars illuminated their camp. It would be lighter soon, when the twin sisters rose in another hour or so.
“May I?” Olivia asked, gesturing to the log next to Cornelia.
Cornelia all but stood up, leaning forward, and then, sighing, she sat back down. “Please do make yourself comfortable. It will be a poor camp without a fire, though the wind is warm and there is no chance of a wind or fog tonight.”
Olivia sat and looked around before saying in a low voice, “Do I surprise you?”
“I beg your pardon?” Cornelia responded.
“You seem surprised by my initiation or mere presence in the order. I thought we would be . . . closer, considering our respective ranks within it.”
This seemed to cause the fist some consternation. “Well, no . . . I mean, yes, we did not know that Master Markus had initiated an acolyte as young as yourself as a hand. Our Supreme Patriarch informed me of the appointment . . .” She let the words trail off, as if she didn’t want to say more.
“So Supreme Patriarch Torwell approves of my initiation?”
“I did not say that!” Cornelia hissed, and then more softly said, “He knows of your inclusion into the order as hand, but your master did not inform him.”
Olivia was confused but curious at the course of their conversation. “So he was not informed by Master Markus, yet he learned of it another way?”
“The Lady Gemma informed him at a high council meeting,” Cornelia disclosed. “The purpose of which was to settle this matter once and for all.”
“And which matter would that be?”
Cornelia looked at her in the dim light, and Olivia could almost imagine her piercing gaze under her dark helm, which she had not taken off yet. “The matter of the reason for your advancement at such a young age. He wants to know why . . . but I want to know something else.”
“Pray tell,” Olivia said, eagerly anticipating her question.
“Your loyalty, Hand Olivia—whom do you serve, Crown or Mother?”
Things were starting to become clearer for Olivia. Despite her distaste for politics, she had spent too much time around her father, sitting together on their veranda after a day of administrating and listening to him discuss his issues for the day. She missed him dearly.
“I thought that would be clear from my initiation and oath,” she said with a sigh.
“Your father was prefect of Tannis and subservient to the Crown. It is not normal for a child of a noble to seek initiation into the order. You should know this. Some thought simply allowing you to train as an acolyte was breaking protocol, but Master Markus can be most . . . persuasive when he wishes.”
Olivia pondered the fist’s words before carefully responding, “I love my family, and, as does the order, I serve to protect the people of the crown, but I assure you my loyalty has been, and always will be, to our Mother.”
There was a pause, and then Cornelia looked away. “Good. There should be no doubts at all about where the duty of a hand belongs. Mother it is and will always be.”
That seemed to settle that question, Olivia thought to herself, but she was curious as she had heard about Cornelia but never had met her in person. This was a chance she didn’t want to squander. “Fist Cornelia, if you don’t mind, I’d like to ask how you feel about your position within the order. What is it like being a Fist of Astor?”
Cornelia looked back at Olivia in the dark, and Olivia sensed she was letting her guarded façade down, if only just a bit. “It can be most challenging at times. As the daughter of a prefect I am sure you understand sometimes just how much our gender is discounted in the realms of men. Only in the Order of the Mother do I find equality and purpose, but here in this world, I find a Fist of Astor must always prove herself. There are always doubters and non-believers.”
Olivia chuckled ever so slightly.
“What’s so funny?” Cornelia asked.
“I’m sorry, Fist Cornelia—”
“Just call me Cornelia, please, when we’re alone. I tire of the formality sometimes,” Cornelia said.
“It’s just that I find it hard for any man to doubt you. In that plate armor, and with that two-handed sword of yours, I would not want to be a blasphemer on the other side of your honor.”
Cornelia chuckled back for a moment, a rare display of humanity for the fist. “My brothers always said I was just ‘big-boned’ when we sparred in the pasture. Funny thing is they always laughed at me or were good-natured with me till I started to beat them. Then they shunned me.” She trailed off as if remembering intense but bitter childhood memories.
“I’m sorry to hear that, but if it’s any consolation my brother used to best me with the sword every time. So my father took pity on me, and after I twisted his ear for months on end, he finally allowed the town’s chief sword master to train me. Alas, it did more harm than good, as my brother, Osric, gave me a broken arm and so many bruises they were beyond counting.”
“He did that to you?” Cornelia asked, surprised.
“Well, I got good enough to whack him upside his big head more than a few times, and he was not known for controlling his temper very well. My father actually left him in the servant stockade for a full night after my worst beating.”
“That does not surprise me for a noble.”
“Well, we are much closer now. Those were in our troubling adolescent years. I do say Osric would rather die now than cause me any harm.”
“I hope so. It would be good for the man to have learned his lesson, and striking a Hand of Astor now would be sacrilegious. It would not go well with him if the order were involved.”
Olivia noted Perceval approaching. “Well, thanks for your time, Fist—I mean, Cornelia. It is nice to have a Sister of the Order with us tonight.” Cornelia just nodded, and Perceval stood in front of them.
“The guard is set, and if Pascal is any good, he tells me that just another day’s journey from here is where we can find the last known camp of our original questing party. I suggest you both get some rest, as we will be leaving tomorrow before dawn.”
Cornelia seemed to take the man quite literally, as she moved to her tent and started to ready herself for sleep. Olivia wondered if the fist would take her armor off to sleep. It couldn’t be very comfortable with it on, but she knew she would not take her lighter chain mail off for any reason in or near this swamp.
Jezebel and her group seemed to break up for the night as well when Perceval told them the same thing. He just glanced at Olivia and then headed to his own tent, leaving her alone in the middle of their camp, with two guards at either end acting as sentries.
Olivia didn’t know why she waited, but she felt sleep would be too elusive for her. She missed her family, and she had sent written word, via the runners to Utandra, that her brother, Osric, must be notified of their father’s death
. She felt terrible informing him this way and wanted to journey north to tell him in person, but she knew her duty for now remained here near Tannis. She had something else on her mind, and when Pascal finally returned, she intercepted him before he could report to Perceval.
“One moment, Pascal,” she said, motioning for him as she stood from the log and watched the first of the twin sisters rise. Tira glowed bright blue, spotted with white streaks from the horizon, illuminating the area.
“Yes, Hand Olivia,” he said.
“I’m sorry to ask this of you, but would you have any news of Felix?”
Pascal smiled broadly in the moonlight. “I wasn’t supposed to tell, but he’s been following us since town. Did you spot him?”
“No! I had no idea. Is he close by?” she asked, looking around excitedly.
“He was, but now he is guarding the camp from the west, far from here. You may remember that where we were attacked before, the trail was very narrow and treacherous in places.”
“Yes, I remember,” Olivia said.
“Well, he is there ensuring there will be no surprises from the dead tonight.”
“But where will he sleep?”
“A ranger of the Arnen will not sleep while defending. He will watch all night.”
Olivia felt elated but also worried for the ranger. “Well, I am most sorry to keep you, Pascal. Please feel free to report to Sir Perceval, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Well, before morning, Hand Olivia, I will see to it that you are awakened properly so you can wake the fist.”
“Wake the fist?”
“No one wants to risk waking her, so the guards all asked Sir Perceval to have you wake her.”
Olivia laughed quietly but hardily. “Okay, Pascal, come get me and I’ll see to the rousing of our good Fist Cornelia.”
Pascal smiled again and then headed over to make his final report for the night. Olivia went to her tent and set her belongings down next to her bedroll, but kept herself fully clothed, armored, and booted. She was sure she would have trouble sleeping tonight as well.
The Black Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 1) Page 19