Dagger Lord: A LitRPG Series

by Elliot Burns

  With his story finished, Crowley put his mask back on and fixed his goggles over it. Despite reliving what must have been a hellish experience, the alchemist didn’t betray any sign of discomfort. Jack, on the on the hand, couldn’t get the image out of his head of the poison coating Crowley’s face, and of the alchemist writhing and screaming as it devoured his skin.

  “I hope this demonstrates how serious I am on the matters I put my mind to,” said Crowley. “I was just a boy then, while I have decades of magery and alchemy behind me now. Yes, my price is grand, but the things I can offer are equal.”

  “I get your point.”

  “If we are to go ahead, I would request that we each take an oath,” said Crowley.

  “What kind?”

  “A blood oath. Unbreakable, unshakable. One that will kill the man who breaches it.”

  “Before I agree to anything,” said Jack, “you must help me with something first. Call it an act of faith.”

  Crowley leaned forward. “Go on…”

  “When I was in Tacher Halls, the high tacher poisoned me. He said it was a modified version of the Hour Glass Kiss. Do you know of it?”

  “Know of it? That’s a basic toxin, young lord. You may as well as a warrior if he has ever heard of a sword. But you said it was modified; tell me everything. Every last detail. Do not miss a single thing out.”

  Jack told Crowley as much as he could remember about what had happened after the tacher’s portal had smothered him, and everything leading up to his meeting with Feyen.

  Crowley stroked his chin. “Hourglass, but with the stench of oil. And it was freezing cold, you said?”

  Jack nodded. “My face was numb, but I felt it in my throat. It was like ice.”

  “Clever. Very clever. But not ingenious. I will cure you, Lord Halberd. You must swear the blood oath to me, as I will to you.”

  “An oath?” said Jack. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “You don’t like things you do not control, do you, lord?”

  “I’m not a fan of nasty surprises, no.”

  “Chaos can be beautiful if you give it a chance,” said Crowley. “The less you struggle against it, the better you feel. Besides, a man drowning in quicksand would be a fool to refuse the hand that offered to pull him out. You have raiders terrorizing your land, a powerful lord vying to attack, and the tachers calling in their debts. Sometimes you had to grab hold of a helping hand and take the chance that it was well meant.”

  He guessed that Crowley had a point. He needed the man’s help, there was no other way about it. Besides, what did a blood oath mean to him, really? Even if he died because he broke it, he’d just respawn. Looking at it like that, he realized that the oath actually protected him from any dishonesty on Crowley’s part.

  “How do I say the oath?” asked Jack.

  “Repeat after me,” began Crowley. “I, Lord Halberd…”

  “I, Lord Halberd,” repeated Jack.

  “Solemnly swear to this….”

  “Solemnly swear to this.”

  “That Crowley Drach…”

  “That Crowley Drach...”

  “Is the greatest mage who ever lived.”

  “Is the…wait, what?”

  Crowley’s mask didn’t allow for facial expressions, nor would his scarred skin underneath have allowed him to make one either, but Jack got the sense that the man was grinning inwardly.

  “People always assume that a blood oath involves masses of dreary texts,” said Crowley. “In fact, the matter is simple. Take my hand.”

  He took hold of the alchemist’s outstretched hand. His skin was burned, cracked, calloused.

  “Look me in the eyes. Or in my goggles,” said Crowley.

  The faint flicker of the torch was reflected in the alchemist’s metal goggles.

  “Do you swear that this oath you will hold true, under pain of death if it is broken?”

  Faced with making the oath, Jack faltered. Was this the right thing to do? He imagined himself buried up to his chest in quicksand and seizing a way out. There was no choice.

  “I swear,” he said.

  “As do I,” answered Crowley. “And with that, the oath is made. Now, my lord, we must get down to business.”

  “It’s simple, really,” said Jack. Mav and I will capture a raider. When we’ve got him, I’ll send a message for you to come to the castle. That’s where you are your talents come in.”

  Crowley waved his hand dismissively. “A simple matter.”

  “Then the next part is up to me. We’ll call on you when it’s done. But there’s just one last thing, Crowley.”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you know anything about Tantalus’s Bane?”

  “What about it, specifically?” asked the alchemist.

  “Mav’s got it, and he needs a cure. Do you know anyone who ever came close to curing it?”

  “Only one man,” answered Crowley. “A great mage named Dremlure. But he and his research were destroyed in the Nightegane blaze decades ago.”

  “What about you? Have you ever thought about trying to treat it?”

  “Some mysterious are best left to the Arcus,” said Crowley.

  “Do you think you could try and produce a cure?”

  “I know a man who may have a way. But for this, my price must increase. Leave it with me.”

  Jack stood up. “I think we’re done for now, then.”

  The alchemist stood up, but he made no move to leave. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Lord? You promised me a portion of my payment before the deed.”

  “You’ve got a great memory. What do you need me to do?”

  “Take off your coat and roll up your sleeve. The right arm is best. The spirit arm, ancient healers called it.”

  He took off his coat and put it on the stone mound. The chill of the dungeon latched onto him like a leech sensing warm blood.

  Crowley pulled a square wooden box from his pocket. Even in the dim dungeon, Jack could see that it was exquisitely made and must have cost hundreds of flek. The alchemist opened it to reveal a set of tools not unlike the ones Elena had kept bundled in rags in her chamber.

  “This will not hurt you, but you may feel faint,” said Crowley.

  And then he advanced on him with a needle.

  After Crowley had drained a vial of blood from his arm, Jack found that he wasn’t woozy at all. He wondered if he had made a mistake giving his blood to the alchemist, but he needed his help, and that was his price.

  Before agreeing to the deal Jack had spent time reading up on Blood Alchemy. He needed to be sure that Crowley wouldn’t use his blood in some sort of potion that could be wielded against him. After hours of study, he learned that a person’s own blood could never harm them. It could be used to harm others, but not themselves.

  The next question that nagged at him was the reason why Crowley wanted Jack’s blood so badly. The books in the building room could not answer this, but he had a guess of his own. He was unique in Royaume; an outsider from a foreign world, and one who could not die. This would be a fascinating subject of study for any mage or alchemist. Satisfied that he wasn’t in danger, he had decided to employ Crowley’s services.

  “What will you use it for?” he asked him.

  The alchemist held the vial of blood up to the torchlight and shook it. “I will think of something,” he said.

  “You better deliver on the rest of our deal.”

  “Oh, I will. If you supply the flesh, I will work the magic. There is one last matter.”

  “What is it? You already have my blood, I’m not sure I have much more to give.”

  “To cure your poison, I must know the name of the binding agent used. Without it, I can do nothing.”

  Jack knew that Feyen wouldn’t just tell him the composition of his poison freely, but he already had a plan to deal with the tacher about his debt. If all went well, getting information about the poison wouldn’t be difficult. Again, there so many vari
ables here, that he couldn’t believe this would work.

  Surrender to the chaos, he told himself, remembering what Crowley had told him. He tried to shake off his worries. When he did, he felt a little better. He felt lighter. All he could do was try, he realized. He couldn’t control the chaos.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll get the name,” he said.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The triplet moons cast a luminous glow across Holuum on the evening of his twenty-third day. Their light was so bright that the crop fields and dirt paths of his land shined silver. Even the twinkling of the nocturnal chirrup insects struggled to compete. To the east, some of the arcus priests shot their fireballs into the heavens but struggled to make their mark against the three silver behemoths that sat in the star-crossed sky.

  Sarna knocked on his chamber door and entered. Jack was sat on the edge of his bed with a book next to him. It was opened but unread, since he hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything but the plan. This was sure to be dangerous. If just one little thing went wrong…Chaos is beautiful, he told himself. Don’t worry.

  “Feyen’s here,” she said. “Seems like the bastard brought an entourage. Listen carefully and you’ll hear their loops ringing.”

  Jack nodded. He’d watched Feyen and his entourage arrive. A portal had opened outside near the drawbridge, and then Feyen and five other tachers waked out. Feyen wore robes that glittered with gems and jewels, as though he was a king who was paying Jack, a mere lord, a visit. He waltzed onto the drawbridge, and then Jack lost sight of him.

  “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” asked Jack.

  Sarna nodded. “You’re doing the only thing.”

  “Thanks. Has Feyen had a drink?”

  Sarna grinned. “Yep. He drank it all back and didn’t seem suspicious.”

  Great, thought Jack. Crowley had given him a dissolvable powder that was mixed specially to lower someone’s mental defenses. He hoped that this way, not only could he give Feyen a taste of his own poisoning medicine, but he could lower the tacher’s mind shield.

  He left his room and went to meet the new arrivals. After he and Feyen had made polite, but unpleasant, greetings near the castle door, Jack led him to the staircase that spiraled down to the castle dungeons.

  “I’d like my entourage to come with me,” said Feyen.

  “No way. The kingdom stone is down here,” Jack lied, “And I don’t want anyone except you to see it.”

  Feyen had dressed for the meeting in a luxurious purple satin robe and hood that would have been the envy of many lords. Wherever he walked, a trail of perfume followed. His loops jangled with each step. Every inch of his clothing seemed covered in them, right down to his knee-high leather boots.

  “Mind your head,” said Jack. “The staircase narrows at the end, and you do have an extraordinarily big skull.”

  It was the second time in two days that Jack had walked this darkened staircase, but it was no more comforting on his return visit. Feyen, on the other hand, didn’t show a scrap of fear about the darkness. He was excited, and he couldn’t help but grin as they walked down. Jack knew why, but he also knew that the tacher’s smile wouldn’t last.

  “I have your assurance that the debt will be wiped if we do this?” he said.

  “A tacher’s deal is a tacher’s promise. Show me the kingdom stone, and you will hold no obligation to us. I am glad you have seen sense.”

  Jack ignored the condensation in his tone, secure in the knowledge that he would practice condensation of his own soon. He followed the curved staircase until he reached the bottom. Feyen joined him in the depths of the castle.

  “This looks remarkably like a dungeon,” said Feyen.

  “Your observational powers must be the envy of Royaume,” said Jack.

  There were four cells in the dank dungeon, two on the left, two on the right. The one nearest to him was where he’d met with Crowley the day before. It was in that meeting that he’d had the final inspiration of how to deal with the high tacher. He just hoped it worked.

  “I find this distasteful, Halberd. Could we not have met somewhere away from the mice and the roaches?”

  “Did you imagine we’d keep the stone out on show?” said Jack. “This is the safest place for it. The staircase is hidden to those who have never seen it, and there’s no other way down here. The stone must be kept secure, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

  He wondered if Feyen would buy it. He’d never been a great liar.

  “Still,” said Feyen, and took a few paces into the darkness. “I imagined that the kingdom stone would have grander fittings.”

  Phew. He’d bought it.

  “It doesn’t need fancy decoration. It’s a treasure in itself. This way, Feyen,” Jack said.

  He walked toward the cell on his right. His pulse hammered in his ears, and the dungeon was so silent that he was sure Feyen would hear it. He took a breath and calmed himself down. This was a risky ploy, he knew. One that could lead to terrible things if it didn’t work. Jack stood at the door of the cell. “It’s through here,” he said.

  Feyen followed him, but he walked slower. Did he suspect something? “I do not see a stone,” he said.

  “Nor will you, until I command it to appear. After you, Feyen.”

  Jack breathed a sigh of relief as the tacher stepped into the cell. It seemed that his overwhelming desire to see the stone had overridden his natural caution. He crossed the threshold until he was stood in the middle, and then he rubbed his hands together like a starving man anticipating a feast. “Now, Halberd. It’s is time for you to show me…”

  Jack interrupted him. “I’ll think about it. For now, I have other plans.”

  With that, Jack gripped the thick bars of the cell door and slammed them shut. A lock clicked into place. Jack quickly tested the door and was satisfied that it held firm.

  Feyen spun round. His expression changed, as though realization were dawning on him.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he said, looking ready to fly into a rage. He shook the cell door, and the clanging sound filled the dungeon. A blue light washed over the bars, and the smell of spent mana drifted into the dungeon. Feyen pulled his hands back and cried out in pain. “A mana cage? What the hell are you doing? You little bastard, have you gone mad?”

  “I’m not mad, Feyen. But I realized that there’s only one way to negotiate with you. How do the bars feel? Firm? Good luck trying to get out. Nobody has ever escaped the Halberd dungeons, I’m told. Elena looked it up for me.”

  “That dirt-blooded wench. I’ll kill-”

  Jack held his hand up. “You’ll do nothing. Use your mighty tacher brain and understand your predicament. Did you really think I’d let you anywhere near the kingdom stone? Even without the fact that you poisoned me, I’d be a fool to let you close to it.”

  “Oh, you are a fool, boy. Trust me.”

  “Maybe. But I’m not the bastard stuck in a cell. You’ve got all those fancy loops, yet you let your greed lead you into a trap.”

  “I’ll see you gutted for this. Every lord the land will know of it.”

  “That would be a fine threat if you were in a position to make it. But you will see there is no Emperium chair in here. There’s no way for you to cast your thoughts out to anyone. You could try shouting, but I doubt they’ll hear you.”

  “I didn’t come alone,” said Feyen. “My tachers are-”

  “Your tachers were thirsty, and they gladly partook in some of the refreshments I had Elena give them. Right about now, they’ll probably feel pretty woozy. I doubt they’ll be in any position to assist you for a while.”

  “The seniors of the Halls will be suspicious if I am gone long. They will come looking. And you cannot drug the tachers upstairs forever.”

  “I can’t,” said Jack. “But there’s room down here for all of you. If anyone from the Tacher Halls asks me, you left Castle Halberd through a portal, and that’s all I know. All the while, you’ll be
stuck down here with your loops rusting.”

  Feyen was silent then. He took a few seconds to process his situation, before stepping away from the cell door. “What do you want?” he said.