Flight of the Dragon Knight

by D. C. Clemens

  Once again I used the lull periods to train at the stern every evening, using Ghevont’s and Clarissa’s ice bowls to prevent the leaky ship from suffering a fate opposite from drowning. This was when I noticed a slight change in Clarissa’s behavior. It wasn’t by much, but her normally composed mettle seemed out of sorts. Her head sometimes bobbed like a bird’s, reacting with an underlying tenseness to people coming near, and her fingers fidgeted when they weren’t doing anything.

  When I concluded it wasn’t the return to sea that bothered her, I asked, “You all right?”

  “What? Me? Sure, why? You hear something?”

  “Aye, a nervous voice.”

  “Oh, that. I’m not nervous.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Well, I guess I’m just more sensitive to my surroundings, especially smells.”

  “Of people?”

  “Yes. Don’t worry, though. I’m a long ways away from attacking anyone outside of the Advent, but drinking so much of your blood awoke a little more of my vampire self. Like I said, nothing to worry about. If you resisted your corruption, then I can resist a craving every now and again.”

  “I trust you can. I was only wondering whether you were aware.”

  “Is it that obvious? I don’t like the idea of attracting more attention.”

  “You should be fine. I only picked up on it since we sort of know each other.”

  “That’s true. But hey, for someone who knows me so well, you haven’t yet thanked me for saving your butt.”

  “By almost getting yourself killed. Sorry, but you dying so that I could live is not my idea of an outcome to be thankful for. It has only given me more justification to keep you away from me.”

  “Only me? What about Ghevont? Isn’t he your friend, too?”

  “He hasn’t been throwing himself in harm’s way.”

  “Someone has to. You’re too important to just let an errant strike kill you.”

  “That kind of talk isn’t helping.”

  “Gods, I hate that about you. Without your help no one would know what we’d be up against. The Advent will still have their volcano and awaken who knows how many more giants.”

  “I don’t think so grand, Clarissa. At first I cared about releasing myself from the mind rune. Then I cared about getting out from under the first fucking mountain I fell into. Then I wanted to find out who I was, and right now I care more about your life than any goal the Advent want to achieve.”

  “That’d almost be sweet if the Advent wanting to rule the world wasn’t actually important to more than one person.”

  “I’m not saying I don’t care about giant schemes invading Orda’s history and future. I’m only pointing out that it’s always been more immediate concerns that compel me to act, just like you reacted to keep me from being stabbed. You weren’t thinking about the Advent’s interests when you body slammed my brother, right?”

  “No, not exactly, but no matter what I was thinking you should still say ‘Thank you, oh great Clarissa, for saving my dumb little life.’ Is that so hard?”

  “Thank you, oh great Clarissa, for saving my dumb little life… Hmm, even harder than I thought it’d be. Now then, hurry up and make another ice bowl.”

  Our voyage intercepted a little trepidation when a lack of wind allowed an unidentified ship to get quite close to our port side one night. Ten feet closer and I could assume those on board would have started tossing fireballs at our sails. Fortunately, the large sails of the clipper made good use of the returning wind.

  The goddess of wind continued growing in strength over the next several hours to the point she was pushing the ship to its fastest possible speed for two entire days. Being on the bowsprit during this time wasn’t so different from riding a horse at a steady trot. Winter by this point had left even the night breezes.

  Fifteen and a half days after setting forth, the Dracera shoreline came in view to the spotter in the crow’s perch. The green coast soon became visible to people nearer the water. Not all the green belonged to trees. Reflecting some of the spring light back to us was the top third of a pyramid’s jade facade, its color coming from polished gemstones encasing the structure’s peak. Despite the abundance of timber, the majority of notable buildings appeared to be made from limestone while more basic structures were constructed out of rougher rock and clay bricks. Many of them followed a stepped arrangement, giving the humblest buildings the capacity to house a large amount of people.

  It was evening when the first passengers met the pier. Except for purposeful squares of gardens and the immediate area around larger trees, the ground was paved with bricks, smoothed sandstone, or gravel. To find the information we needed, we followed the procession of merry making people that could only be heading for a tavern. Our cloaks stood out among the colorful, airy, loose-fitting clothing most Dracerans wore, though our light skin might have had something to do with the stares as well.

  “I really don’t blend in well here,” said Clarissa, tucking her head deeper into her hood.

  “I think Ghevont’s red hair sticks out more,” I said.

  “You might be correct in your assessment,” said Ghevont, noticing a few laughing children looking down at him from a two story roof.

  Bolder children scurried right up to us. I tossed a couple of bronze standards their way to distract them. They took the bait.

  We ended up entering a large tavern shaped like a smooth-faced pyramid. Besides the shape, what made the building distinctive here was its wooden construction. The inside was largely hollow, filled with many long tables surrounding a gently burning fire pit. At the back was a large counter already full of patrons. My group settled at the end of a table and ordered that night’s dish, which turned out to be a spicy soup made from carrots, white beans, ginger, a red pepper, and half a dozen other vegetables I had no knowledge of. It was a small bowl, bit quite hearty. Both Ghevont and I ordered seconds.

  A curious group of drinkers scooted closer to us. The man closest to my left, who only had a thin strip of black hair going down the center of his otherwise hairless head, asked, “You’ve been to Dracera before, stranger?”

  “First day, stranger. I have yet to see a morning here.”

  “Really? So this is the first time you eat this dish? Surprising. Most foreigners can’t stomach our spices after one bowl.”

  “I’ve had the displeasure of having hotter things inside me.”

  “That so? Well, Dracera is no place for displeasures. We like to keep to ourselves, but that does not mean we don’t know how to treat guests. Let Cevon buy a round for you and your friends!”

  There was some small talk between us and our latest acquaintances, with Clarissa explaining her shyness and pallor by saying she did not feel well.

  “What brings you to our land, anyway?” asked a middle-aged woman, who up until that point had mostly eyed us with unobtrusive suspicion.

  “Tales of dragons and giants, madam.”

  “What does that mean, traveler?”

  “My companions and I understand that your culture has preserved the memory of Veknu Milaris and dragon knights better than anyone.”

  “Aye, that’s right,” said Cevon. “Many foreign nations destroyed relics and scrolls relating to dragons after the War of Dragon Fire, but Dracera knew it would come to regret such a simpleminded reaction. We now get many travelers wishing to visit our museums.”

  “We need to do more than visit a museum. Let’s say, theoretically, you needed to find a way to contact the dragon realm, where would you go? Who would you go to?”

  “Contact the dragon realm?” asked the woman.

  “Theoretically.”

  “Riiight. I suppose most would visit Er Ratur’s dragon pyramid. There are scribes there charged with keeping Dracera’s most precious documents and artifacts.”

  “That’s not where I’d go,” said Cevon. “If I had to actually contact dragons, then I would head for the dragon spires in the Imperial Forest
. At their highest points are temples where dragon sages reside. They still follow old dragon knight traditions.”

  “But you can’t get to them without summoning a thelki. No one else is allowed up there.”

  “Well, this is all theoretical, right?”

  “I don’t think it is.” To me, she asked, “As unlikely as it’ll be, why do you want to contact dragons? Who are you three?”

  “I am a bodyguard for my academic minded friend here. The girl is a mutual friend. The scholar is interested in relearning what many have lost.”

  “For who? Who hired your services?”

  Wanting to play his part, Ghevont answered, “I work alone, madam. Always have. Ever heard of Gremly? It’s a forest in Oclor I made my home. It did quite well in obscuring me from outsider interference. When it was time to move beyond conjectural concepts, I found Mercer here to guide me into the wider world.”

  Proving his academic intentions further, Ghevont continued talking about subjects beyond dragons. This tempered the woman’s wariness.

  Shortly after handily beating Cevon in an arm-wrestling contest, my group went to find an inn the Tarveteen residents recommended.

  The Molehill Inn housed communal sanitation facilities outside the main building, where one could bathe under warmed water pumped by unseen workers and take a shit in a private latrine. We also took advantage of a nearby washhouse. Most public places in the world smelled worse than our clothes, but Dracera’s people had less tolerance for the grubby masses. It helped that the ample Premur River, its offspring, and tropical environment provided all the water Dracera’s people could ask for.

  The three of us settled into our two bed room cleansed and sleepy. Ghevont and Clarissa slept straight away, so I only had Aranath to go over what to do next.

  “What do you know about the dragon spires?”

  “A training ground for many of the first Veknu Milaris. Navigating between pillars shrouded in mist without crashing into anything is something only experienced Veknu Milaris can accomplish.”

  “And what are thelki?”

  “Ignorant souls would call them feathered dragons, but they are as much dragons as you are a lemur.”

  “What’s a lemur?”

  “A kind of tree rat, I think. It seems my elders have allowed the thelki to keep their relationship with your kind.”

  “Why them?”

  “Unlike every other species in my realm, they are only attracted by the gentlest of lures cast by the most benevolent of beings. Their snarl wouldn’t be able to separate two scuffling squirrels much less give a warrior an advantage in war.”

  “Then it doesn’t sound as though I can summon one. I suppose we can find a thelki rider and get them to deliver a message to the sages. They must have a way to contact a dragon or two of import.”

  “I suspect so as well. Perhaps they may even support your training. I’d be interested in seeing how well they have preserved the old ways.”

  “I’m wond-”

  “Mercer?” said a yawning Clarissa. “Do you mind… talking to yourself somewhere else? It’s hard to… sleep… with all the…”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The next day we learned that we could travel a fair way to the dragon spires using a stagecoach system that traversed much of Dracera. It was expensive, but we had the coin and motivation to cut as much time as possible. So for the next nine days we traveled inside a stagecoach, oftentimes paying extra to trade for fresh horses so we could continue moving through the night. Most of the roads were paved, and the carriages themselves were well-built and comfortable, but it was still a little maddening to sit stuck inside one for hours at a time.

  At any event, it did me good knowing we were covering sixty miles a day and then another fifty at night. Tired horses and passengers stopped at designated points on a map, and except for a bad wheel falling off after hitting a mud hole, interruptions didn’t last long. Dracera’s soldiers, who could be easily spotted in red dominant armor, patrolled the main roads with enough frequency to keep grass from growing anywhere on the path. Sometimes the roads had to meander around the thicker knots of dense forest and farmland, adding dozens of miles to the journey, but the inconvenience didn’t register in the grand scheme of things.

  The stagecoach took us in a west-southwest direction, with us reaching higher elevations more than halfway into the trip. Two days before the ride ended, misty mountains peeked above the horizon. Even as we got closer it was difficult to get a clean look at them due to the near constant fog hanging around them. They grew in height, but they were not as imposing as the Vyalts. Instead of sheer height, the mountains at the boundary of the main range preferred showing off their unique obelisk-like shape and emerald beauty. Finally getting outside the carriage had them truly exude the inspiration they gifted artists, poets, kings, and dragons alike.

  We had to walk the last day and a half on foot, meaning no stagecoach roof protected us from the rain. The heavier the shower the better, since as soon as the drops stopped falling, clouds of insects flew out from their shelters and tried invading our bodies through undefended orifices. Never had I met such persistent foes. Dragon smoke helped keep them at bay for a few minutes, but they were too stupid to remember what repelled them the last time and came back with the cavalry. Even the amusing image of mosquitoes riding bigger mosquitoes did not endear them to me.

  Clarissa had an easier time being shunned by insects, but a few bugs eventually realized she had as much potential to be food or a comfy nest as a human. Her water bubble became our best protection against the biting, stinging swarms. When she wanted a rest, then Ghevont would take over water bubble duty. Sometimes less magically inclined travelers asked to enter the protective pocket, and since I left that up to Clarissa, we took them all in for a mile or five.

  Shelter from rain and pests ultimately came when we reached the village of Sokomasi late at night. It was at the inn where we learned that three miles farther south lied the temple where potential thelki summoners gathered to be taught the lure spell. Those that succeeded in summoning a thelki then practiced riding them, at least if the thelki they attracted was old enough to have the strength to carry an adult. They otherwise had to wait until the creature added the minimum bulk to lift their rider’s weight a mile into the sky.

  We set out early in the morning to the thelki temple. A light rain accompanied us, which looked as though it would last the entire day. The smattering of trees cleared up the closer we came to the temple. A long marbled temple with a flat roof appeared to us. It was an open-air structure with lit torches both on the inside and outside of the columns. A heavy tangle of vines and purple flowers dandled off the roof. Ten people sleeping under mosquito nets occupied half of the available beds at one end of the temple and three people were up and talking around a large burning stove at the other end. One of them noticed us and waved us over.

  We stepped up to the temple floor and waited for the woman who had waved us over to meet us. The orange robe she wore did not hide her easy poise, and with her hood down, one saw that every strand of her long black hair was braided. Her kind, pretty face still projected a girlish bearing, though she must have already been in her early thirties. She bowed and Clarissa and I did the same. Ghevont completely missed the formality in his gawking observation of the woman.

  “Do one of you wish to become a sage? We welcome all who desire such a position. Or are you merely here to observe?”

  “Neither,” I said. “We wish to speak with a dragon sage. Do you happen to be one?”

  “Not quite. I am still a scribe. My job here is to guide those who wish to summon a thelki, whether that be for companionship or to join the ranks of sages.”

  “Then as a teacher can you summon your thelki and reach the sages?”

  “Aye, if I need to, but why do you?”

  “We seek information only they can connect with.”

  “I’m afraid they are very protective of the knowledge they keep. Even i
f I were to deliver a message for you, they will reject such a request.”

  Aranath said, “Show her a dragon stone. A dragon scribe will recognize the rune.”

  I pulled out a stone and handed it to the scribe. “I think the sages will make an exception.”

  She studied it, turning it over a few times. “This is a rune representing dragon flame… You don’t mean to say that you can summon such a power?”

  “Lay it on the floor.”

  She did. She flinched and stepped backward when I ignited the stone. The rock melted before her eyes, then watched it vaporize as I gave the flame more prana. I raised the flame using what little rock remained. The brightness of the fire roused a few of those sleeping at the other end of the temple. The two fully awake companions were drawn to the light and one of them asked whether everything was okay. This was my cue to extinguish the flare.

  With a whisper, the scribe asked, “D-dragon flame? How can I be certain this is no trick?”

  “Give the sages a chance to determine whether I’m tricking you or not.” I gave her another dragon stone. “Show them the rune. Tell them what you saw happened to the last stone.”

  “Very well, I’ll give them your message. What does it concern?”

  “Let them know that I need to learn more about nismerdons.”

  “Nismerdons? As in the giants that warred with ancient dragons?”

  “Yes. I don’t know how much the sages have heard about the Advent, but at least one nismerdon could be connected with the cult.”