Quest Of The Dragon Tamer (Book 1)

by Cole Pain

  “You’re so unlike me, so gentle and kind. You don’t even see how beautiful you are. I know I’ll never be able to be with you, but I’ll protect you for the rest of my days. Please know I would never intentionally hurt you. Hold me in your heart as you see me now. Know that this is who I truly am.”

  Korin released her hand, spun his horse, and galloped back to the main group. Marianne watched his departure in a stupor. The warmth of his hand lingered like a fleeting wish. Had she heard him right? A rising sense of elation filled her. Closing her eyes she tilted her head back and let the sun shine down on her face.

  He loved her?

  Then she remembered his words. Why did he think she would hold him in ill regard? Her elation turned to worry. What was wrong with him? He had been acting strange since leaving Stardom. She had even overheard a few of the men talking about his pensiveness, like he had been sentenced to death.

  She scanned the group, unable to find him. Alise would know what to say to him. Alise always knew what to say. Marianne found her sister easily, flirting with a few of the guards. She loved her sister with all her heart, but she had always lived in Alise’s shadow. Although she was the eldest, Alise’s personality was a bonfire. Hers was only a small spark.

  Alise was everything: attractive, outgoing, and intelligent. Marianne was none of the above. Her hopes dwindled.

  Korin wouldn’t continue to feel as he did. He couldn’t love her. How could he?

  - - -

  “Are you sure she believes you?” Brice asked, raising a dubious eyebrow like he always did when it was up to Korin to complete an assigned task. Brice’s pitted face had haunted Korin’s nightmares since he arrived in Fest. Korin had never seen another who looked the part of evil as much as Brice. It was the reason, Korin was sure, why Brice had never risen above a lowly stable hand. Many of the men still steered clear of Brice, with good reason. Brice was Ista’s eyes in Fest. He saw everything. Although the men didn’t know Brice’s true profession they felt uncomfortable under Brice’s watchful stare, hooded under a veil of dark brows.

  “I’m sure.”

  Korin took the saddle off his white steed, Salve. He loved his horse. Salve was the first thing of value he had ever owned. Lorlier had given Salve to him after he had earned a position in the king’s guard. Korin found it ironic the horse didn’t have an ounce of color on him since its rider had enough stains to taint all the water in the Lands. When people questioned the stallion’s name Korin would say the horse calmed him, but Salve’s name had nothing to do with tranquility. Salve was short for salvation. One day he planned to ride free on Salve, free from the pain, the suspicion, and the guilt.

  Brice watched Korin rub Salve’s flank. Korin felt like a mouse under a hawk’s glare, but he had learned to live with it long ago. Brice wasn’t as nefarious as some, and Korin forced himself to be pacified that Brice, instead of one of the others, had been assigned to Fest. After a long silence, Brice grinned and nodded.

  “We’re in a good position.”

  Korin leaned against Salve and glared at the man. “It won’t matter, Brice. My confession will only gain us a little information, nothing more. Lorlier would never marry one of his daughters to a commoner.”

  “But the king likes you, Korin. You’ve been promoted from a serving boy to a castle guard, to a swordsman in the king’s guard, all within two years. It isn’t unheard of for a king to give one of his valuable subjects some land, and if you have land – ”

  “Dragon’s dung, Brice!” It was a phrase Korin had picked up from Lorlier. “Even if Lorlier granted me land that alone wouldn’t be enough to bargain for marriage. I still wouldn’t be in line for the throne. Davis will take control once Lorlier’s gone.”

  Brice, whittling on a stick, continued to stare at Korin with devious eyes. “But Davis won’t be here.”

  Korin tried to hide his shocked expression. He should have guessed killing Davis was Ista’s plan. Taking a life was nothing to her. Korin forced up the emotionless mask he always wore around the Collective. “I see,” he said, but not too quickly, too quickly would mean suspicion of his loyalty. “But I won’t harbor any vain hopes I’ll be allowed her hand.”

  “That’s wise,” Brice said, turning his attention back to the piece of wood he was carving into the shape of a voluptuous woman.

  Korin whispered words to Salve, suppressing the urge to retreat from Brice. If he left immediately Brice would question him. So Korin waited a degree of the sun, the shadow of Ista’s hold hovering over him like a promise of death, before ambling toward a nearby stream. Dipping his water sack in the chill water, he released a loud breath. He sat for a time, watching the water trickle over the rocks and wind its way back into the forest. From an overhanging branch a raven shrieked its displeasure at his presence. Korin’s lips twisted into a grimace.

  “I know I don’t belong, my friend. I know that all too well.”

  Korin sat back on the grass as he felt Ista’s invisible noose around his neck tighten with each breath. All he wanted was escape. When he left Ista’s camp over two years prior he had hoped he could find a way to rid himself of the pain. Now he knew escape was impossible. He would never be free of the needles.

  Korin choked back his terror as he thought of digging up Bor’s grave. When the dragon had ripped open Bor’s chest at the dragon match, Korin hoped if he just saw Bor’s body he would discover the answer he was looking for: how Ista controlled the Collective. He had discovered the truth. Needles were in his mind. Death was his only escape.

  When he had been at the camp there had been no talk of the Maker, only of the Watcher, and pain and hurt and anguish. His life seemed to be something out of a nightmare, a nightmare from which no one ever woke, only fought to survive. But during those years he had trusted something else existed, something opposite of pain.

  Then he had witnessed what he knew in his heart was real: goodness, love, and laughter. He had found it when Ista finally allowed him to leave the camp: in Lorlier, in Marianne, in the men who called him friend. Where before he wanted escape, now he wanted salvation: salvation so one day he would be able to look those he loved in the eye and feel no remorse; salvation so he could have a chance to atone for his crimes; salvation so he could finally touch a woman in love, have a friend without secrets, and exist without fear of discovery.

  But how could he ever have that? Even if he gained his freedom he had committed so many acts that would damn his soul he didn’t know if salvation was possible for him.

  He had played a part, looked out of his own eyes, but repressed his soul, trusting he would one day be able to freely choose what he did and did not do. He had worn a mask of survival that had fooled them all. He had told himself he was only the instrument, not the offender.

  But was he? How did fighting for survival, for life, make it right to do what he had done? He could argue he hadn’t known better, but he knew if he was sent back in time he would do those unspeakable horrors again if one day he thought he could be free.

  No, there was no salvation for him. He was a fool to believe it. “Forgive me, Marianne.” It was over. Ista had won. Only she knew the secret behind the needles, and that knowledge would never be revealed.

  He had witnessed how life could be with Lorlier and his family. The king thought him a friend; Marianne looked at him as a man. Now, because he knew the meaning of love, it was harder to release the hope of salvation he had clung to for so long.

  Lorlier’s family had given him love, honor, duty, and friendship. They had given him the strength he needed to face death. He couldn’t let Ista destroy their family. Lorlier would be devastated if Davis was killed, and Marianne …

  Praise the Fates he loved her! She was everything he was not. Her heart was pure. She had never harmed another, even by words, and would die before she did so.

  He wet his hand and rubbed his face until it stung, wishing it were as easy to cleanse himself on the inside. It was time for him to decide his fate.
/>
  As he saw it he had three options: to give in to the pain and follow Ista, to reveal all he knew and be killed by the people he loved, or to kill himself.

  Giving in to the pain was something he couldn’t conceive. He had never done so, and now that he knew how to feel other emotions he would never consider converting to Ista’s side. He knew the righteous thing would be to reveal all he knew to Lorlier, but how could he reveal his knowledge when he would be looked upon with disgust and vanquished or killed by the only person who had ever put any faith in him? No matter how much pain he had felt in his life he couldn’t handle the pain of Lorlier’s shame.

  Korin released a breath, expelling his last hope. He knew what he had to do. He had to end the threat to Lorlier and his family. He had to kill Brice, and then kill himself. It was the only way to die with some honor. Ista wouldn’t claim him, and the people he loved would never know him to be the vile person he was.

  His life would end without one truth. He would die before he was allowed to prove he was capable of love. He thought of the Stardom guard he had seen the night he had dug up Bor’s grave. The man had looked just like him. Korin didn’t know how, but maybe in some way, the guard knew the truth.

  “Korin, I need to talk to you.”

  Korin bolted up in alarm and spun to see Lorlier’s shocked expression at his fright.

  “Did you use magic just then, Korin?” Lorlier grinned. “I don’t think anyone could move that fast on his own accord.” Lorlier hazel’s eyes danced with mirth. Korin’s chest tightened. The king only revealed his winsome humor to a chosen few.

  “No, my lord,” Korin replied, bending to pick up the water bag that was now leaking on his boots. He didn’t want to think about magic. Magic was something he had wished for his entire life if only to learn how to escape the presence and the pain. Now he knew escape was impossible.

  Lorlier lost his smile, causing the shadow cast by his vast height to shiver on the forest floor. Many of Lorlier’s soldiers feared their king, but Korin had grown to understand Lorlier’s actions stemmed from love: the love of his family, the love of the land. If you spoke the truth and had good intentions you had nothing to fear from Lorlier.

  “I heard you felt the pain when the Quy was reborn.”

  Korin’s heart quickened. “Yes, my lord.” Although Korin knew Lorlier wouldn’t hold him in ill regard because of magic, he was unsure how the man would react to it. The king relied on physical strength and cunning. Korin suspected magic’s rebirth wouldn’t settle well with Lorlier.

  “What do you think?”

  “My lord?”

  “I know it’s an odd question, Korin, but I’m just a little, shall I say … unnerved by the entire affair. I don’t like battling unforeseeable enemies. Magic’s rebirth will cause far more than battles. It will bring war. War is something I know about but war and magic together? I don’t like it. And I don’t know what to think.”

  “I don’t know if anyone knows what to think, my lord.”

  Lorlier sat on a large rock and looked at Korin with a touch of unease. “The people at Stardom seem to.”

  Korin almost smiled. The king looked foreign in the serene setting. Korin was used to seeing Lorlier in the castle surrounded by fine things, or on the back of a horse with weapons in hand. The calm trickling of the water and the gentle sway of the trees was lost on Lorlier. Lorlier didn’t heed the peaceful things of nature. Lorlier was a man of action.

  “They knew, and I don’t like it. It’s almost as if they knew too much.”

  Korin ground his teeth, desperately wanting to reveal the truth but fearing it more than death itself. “What does your instinct tell you, my king?”

  Lorlier heaved a tremendous sigh. “My instinct goes back and forth. First it says Valor was full of dragon’s piss to pronounce Ren a traitor but when I look at the evidence, well, let’s just say I don’t know how long a man can deny his own eyes.”

  Korin hid his disappointment. He wanted to tell Lorlier Ren wasn’t the one to fear, but if Brice suspected his deceit he would be the first to die. Then he would be unable to save Lorlier the heartache of losing his only son. Korin risked a glance in Brice’s direction. The man was watching, and the presence inside Korin’s mind tightened as if aware of his thoughts. Korin’s insides twisted into knots. He had an obligation to steer Lorlier in the right direction. Although he needed to be cautious, he could still offer Lorlier some semblance of the truth and hope the king would take it to heart.

  “My lord, I wasn’t there when the power was reborn but I’ve overheard talk. Ren has never been portrayed as someone who hungered for power. On the contrary, he was the antithesis of Wyrick. Still, most of the men in your guard believe the woman. I don’t know if their belief is due to their hunger for the Quy or if they truly believe the accusations, but I can tell you this … ”

  Lorlier leaned forward, intent on what Korin was about to reveal. Korin felt his gut wrench. He didn’t deserve the trust in Lorlier’s eyes.

  “I’m questioning the validity of her claim. If she’s a four hundred year old sorceress she could have staged everything. She could have charmed the guards who confirmed Ren’s presence in Wyrick’s chamber, she could have charmed Ren himself, and you mustn’t forget she’s ruling by Valor’s side. Peaceful? I have my doubts.”

  Lorlier studied him in silence. A band of sweat broke out on Korin’s forehead. He felt as if he were being stripped of all knowledge, searched for verity. After a few dragon’s breaths, Lorlier chuckled and Korin relaxed.

  The king slapped his thigh. “How is it the most obvious thing was never challenged? Maker curse it! Ista can’t be trusted.”

  Dread inched up Korin’s spine. He wanted Lorlier to disbelieve Ista, but not adamantly. Lorlier was the type to give credit where credit was due.

  “You’ll be honored for this, Korin.”

  “No!”

  Lorlier took a step back, surprised. Korin flushed and cleared his throat. “My apologies, my lord. I just feel caution would be wise. Openly denying Ista will cause her to rise against you. If you announce your belief in the crown prince your kingdom will be her next target.”

  The king creased his brow. “I don’t like being neutral, but you’re right again.” Korin expelled a relieved breath. Lorlier didn’t seem to notice Korin’s worry. Instead, he smiled like a proud father. “Do you think you could learn the Quy without training under anyone else?”

  Korin tried to decipher Lorlier’s words. What was the king asking? How could he reply? He already knew how to use it. Although he had never put it into practice, he knew. “I suppose I could try, but I don’t know how successful I’d be.”

  “I have books on how to use the Quy.”

  Korin blinked in surprise. To his knowledge no training book remained except for the few Ista had taken before the Alcazar burned. “I thought only some minor histories remained.”

  “That’s what people think. During the Wizard War Barracus destroyed all the training books he could find, those at the Alcazar burned in the fire, but the wizard in Fest hid some books before Barracus captured the castle. They weren’t enough to cause Barracus suspicion, but enough, I’m sure, to begin powerful training.”

  Korin couldn’t speak as his hopes of escape resurfaced. Those books might be able to tell him how to counter the needles. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to do what he had previously planned.

  “Korin, if it’s as you suspect, and my soldiers are hungry to learn, they’ll soon grow restless if I don’t give them leave to train in Zier. I need to teach them here. The sooner the better.”

  Korin could barely focus on Lorlier’s words as his mind spun with possibilities, but in the next breath his hopes sank to the pit of his stomach. Ista would never allow him to teach others if she knew about the books.

  “I want you to learn the power and teach my people, especially Alise. I know she’ll begin on her own, and it worries me. She’s headstrong and may go too far too fast
. I don’t want her to injure herself. When we reach Fest, please begin research. The Maker knows I never knew I would need the books, never even wanted to think about them, but it looks like the time is upon us.”

  Korin nodded, mind reeling. “Yes, my lord, it would be my honor.”

  Lorlier smiled. “I knew I could count on you, Korin.”

  When the king turned away Korin became desperate. He needed those books, but if Ista discovered them he wouldn’t be long for this world.

  Before he lost his nerve, Korin cleared his throat. “My lord, I do have a request.”

  Lorlier turned to face him. “Ask.”

  “I don’t think anyone else should know about the books, not even the soldiers I teach. They could be dangerous in the wrong hands.”

  Lorlier nodded. “I agree. The knowledge of them ends here.”

  Korin almost cried out in relief. He had a chance. At last, no matter how small, he had a chance.

  After Lorlier had taken a few steps toward camp he paused and turned back, worry spreading over his strong features. “Korin, I’m concerned about Marianne.”

  Korin felt the heat rise to his face. The king would never approve of a man such as himself yearning for one of his daughters. “My lord, she doesn’t have the power. Why are you worried about her?”

  Lorlier heaved a weary sigh. “I fear she may one day take her life. Depression runs in her mother’s line. It has claimed many of them.”

  Korin’s eyes widened. Ista had told him to befriend one of Lorlier’s daughters, and he had chosen Marianne because she intrigued him. She was shy and distant, but also caring and gentle. She was terrified of strangers, but when someone needed help or was fraught with anguish Marianne would reach past her fear and touch them in some way. When he had first arrived in Fest one of the guard had lost his wife and child to a sickness. Marianne had gone to his home, heedless of the contamination, and sat with him while he mourned. Her compassion had touched something in Korin he couldn’t begin to explain, but he had never been held when he cried or comforted when he feared. To him, Marianne was an angel, a beautiful, gentle angel.