The Lone Dragon Knight

by D. C. Clemens

  I gazed at my last handler straight in the eyes. He must have realized who I was, but no sign of surprise appeared as he focused on casting a spell. A bluish light glowed around his right forearm for an instant before it was released in a lightning spell. I had Aranath in front of me, but he could not completely diffuse the electrifying effects. Every one of my nerves were firing all at once, but the spell was not debilitating enough to force my muscles to quit. Having forced myself through greater pain over longer periods, it was little matter of grabbing Garf’s right arm and thrusting the edge of Aranath to his throat. He ceased his spell when the lightning began coursing his own body. His woman screamed as I put myself behind him so that he was between me and the door.

  Garf’s other bodyguard came in, mace at the ready, but he stopped when he saw the situation and heard me say, “Get any closer and I’ll kill him. Go ahead, Garf, tell him to get more help while you and I talk. That’s all I fucking want. Talk and you’ll live.”

  “Boss?” asked the underling.

  “Take Elena with you,” said Garf calmly.

  The subordinate nodded and reached for the woman, who hysterically babbled at me to let him go.

  As they left, I asked, “Who did you buy me from?”

  “You think they would tell me who they are?”

  “I think you know anyway,” I said, pressing the edge a little harder.

  “I have a theory as to who it might be. That’s not the same as knowing.”

  “It’s all I need.”

  He sighed. “Riskel Rathmore. He was declared dead about twenty years ago by Voreen’s Warriors Guild, but rumors have always persisted about his continued existence.”

  “And you believe in mere rumor?”

  “I know the rune you’ve somehow removed was placed by a powerful caster, and anyone my age knows of the stories concerning the experiments that man did on corrupted prana. If it’s not him, then it’s someone taking inspiration from his work.”

  “Where can I find him?”

  “I received a note eight months ago from your seller. It described how I would no longer be able to avail myself of their services. It strongly hinted of their relocation, so even if Rathmore was personally involved in these mountains, I suspect he and his team are now long gone. This is all I know about your origin.”

  The smell of smoke was getting thicker. I wondered whether the stone building would burn down after all. “Will you sacrifice more people on me?”

  “It wouldn’t reflect well on me if I simply let you go, even if that does seem like the smarter move at the moment.”

  “Maybe something happens that delays the pursuit.”

  “It’s often difficult to tell which way someone went in the dark. I might accidentally send my men in the wrong direction.”

  “Sure. There’s no way I’ll head west or north, for example, so east and south are your best bet.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Lay on the floor and count to twenty.”

  As soon as his stomach met the warming timber, I went to the window, opened it, checked to see if the coast was clear, and dropped down to the alleyway. The slick cobblestones hampered a clean landing. My right foot slipped and twisted somewhat, but I didn’t take notice of my swelled ankle until my body had calmed down later. I perceived some commotion coming from inside the inn, in what was probably a few casters trying to douse the vibrant flames with water spells. The commotion extended to the outside as well, where dozens of folk were gathering to watch the sizzling structure.

  I glided through the shadows unnoticed, however, and was out of anyone’s line of sight seconds later. Minutes after that and I was on my way out of Rise entirely.

  Chapter Fifteen

  It was probably destroyed, or at least cleared out of anything that could be useful to me, but I had to try and find the first place I remembered. I was originally going to avoid searching for this place until I trained enough to be confident in my ability to handle anything, but with Garf believing my sellers to be long gone, I figured there was no harm trying to uncover the subterranean system I had been transformed in. The problem was finding it. All I knew to start with was to head for the village where Heaton had picked me up.

  Rise was miles behind me by the time the sun made its appearance. I was glad to once again find myself in wilder territory. I still had to keep closer to the road than I would have liked, but there were very few travelers going anywhere. The nights were now getting dangerously cold for most to make needless trips to other settlements if they were longer than a daylight’s journey.

  I did stop by Wintervale for a couple of hours to buy some food, though my main goal was to buy a map of the region. The best I could afford was one presenting the basic features of the hourglass shaped Iazali continent. I asked the shop owner about the area, learning that the next town to the west was a little place called Bronzefrost. It was also the last town in the west before the highlands became too high for human habitation. I didn’t tempt fate too long in Garf’s city and left within a couple of hours.

  A half day later had me arriving in the very quiet village of Bronzefrost. It had a single inn and most of the people here seemed to belong to one of about two dozen families, all of whom seemed to make their living as miners. Some snowflakes had fallen overnight and the morning sun was not strong enough to remove it. My first aim was to see if the hovel I was bought to was still there.

  Sure enough, I found the lonely stone hut in the last spot I saw it. I walked up to it and pulled the tattered curtain flapping gently in the breeze to reveal its vacant space. There was only a small table with a couple of chairs, one of which was knocked over on its side.

  Some snow crunched behind me. I turned to see a middle-aged man with a full head of gray hair coming over to me. He held a walking stick, but he didn’t look like he needed it.

  “Now, there’s a perfectly cheap inn to use,” he said. “I won’t have squatters on my property.”

  “You live here?”

  “Of course not. Terrible place to raise a family. It’s just a venture of mine I never got around to completing. It’s still a good place for summer gatherings, though. Besides, even if I was in a sharing mood, I wouldn’t recommend sleeping outdoors.”

  “I know how to make a good fire.”

  “Oh, I’m not talking about the cold. This must be your first day here if you haven’t heard all the stories yet.”

  “What stories?”

  “About the screams people have been hearing the past few weeks. Most of the time they’re far off sounding, but sometimes they’re much closer than that. Everyone’s heard at least one by now. I heard one just a few days ago.”

  “Where do they come from?”

  “No one knows. Most think it’s a fiend, but they sound a lot like a screaming woman to me. Very unsettling. A few hunters say they’ve even seen signs that it could be a human.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, bare footprints, pieces of torn clothing, things like that. My nephew was one of the hunters who swear they saw somebody madly running around their campsite the whole night. They tried tracking it down in the morning, but they couldn’t find it again. Some are even thinking of hiring a mercenary, but no one has actually been harmed by anything. Might be some very vocal birds for all I know.” He looked up and down my frame. Then, looking around, he asked, “Are you here alone?”

  “No.”

  “Good. You shouldn’t travel alone if you can help it. I don’t mean to scare you away from our little village, it really is quite pleasant, but I don’t want to feel guilt-ridden for not cautioning you if something does befall.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  He nodded. “May I ask what you’re doing way out here? Most travelers visit during the summer.”

  “I’m looking for something.”

  “Oh? What for?”

  “Something hidden.”

  “Ah, the cryptic type. Very well, don’t mind me.” H
e turned toward the village. “Just stay clear of my property and any mad screaming and you’ll get along fine.”

  I followed him back to the village and sought out the inn, where I bought two more hardy biscuits.

  When I headed back for the western woods, Aranath said, “I take the screams are coming from some loose corrupted.”

  “It seems strange that they would set them free before they left. People might start investigating.”

  “Corrupted are difficult to keep wrangled. Perhaps a few simply got loose on their own after being abandoned. In any case, they might make searching for the secret hollow a little easier if they haven’t scattered too much from their origin.”

  No strange screams came during the first few hours of roaming, but there was a growing sense I wasn’t alone. Everything was too still, as though I was in a painting. The breeze had died down and few animals made themselves known. Then, just as the sun hovered over the horizon, an animalistic shriek echoed across the highlands. It might have been miles away, but the reticence of everything else made it seem like it could pop out from behind the nearest tree. Disregarding this audibly unnerving hint, I knew I couldn’t have been too far from the hidden hollow. I recognized that the journey from the hollow to Bronzefrost had taken about half a day going at the footspeed of a horse, so my own footspeed would be comparable. It was simply a matter of uncovering the entrance.

  The wind began carrying the air again, which I found annoying, as its howling gusts sometimes mimicked the scream from earlier. I stopped to make camp and built a fire big enough to roast a whole boar. Some would see this caution as coming from fear, and maybe there was something akin to dread deep within the primeval part of my being, but most of the reason came from making sure I could actually see beyond ten feet. The clouds were getting heavier, blocking out any moonlight that might have aided my eyes. Snowflakes started to fall, giving the ground a new luster of purity.

  Another shriek, closer this time. It was different from before, as though it came from something smaller… Another scream, more womanly and distinct. The smaller one replied with high-pitched wails, each pained cry closing in. I drew my blade. My sight caught a dark blur at the edge of the fire’s light. Then I saw its eyes, which reflected the red glow of the fire. It was half as low to the ground as I was—a cursed child.

  I heard stamping feet behind me. I spun around to see a skeletal woman dashing at me with outstretched arms. With only on eye shimmering back the light, I could tell that an eyeball was missing, along with half her hair and flesh. She screamed as she pounced. I pierced Aranath through her torso, but she took no notice and moved deeper into the sword’s steel. She was stronger than she looked and her bony hands reached my face, her nail-less fingers grazing my neck. She was the coldest thing that had ever touched me.

  The smaller shade screamed wildly as it exited the darkness. Keeping the blade in her, I swung it to move the corrupted entity between me and the smaller form. At the same time, I slid out the weapon. That accomplished, I plunged my free sword into the corrupted’s skull. The second she crumpled to the ground, the smaller one leapt over her corpse. The boy, or so I believed it to be, would have landed on my face if my reflexes were ordinary, but as they weren’t, I evaded him. He instead landed on the campfire and his raggedy clothes burst into flames. He scrambled back up, only to meet my swinging blade, which had no trouble removing his head. The body fell back into the fire.

  Seeing as this was better than leaving them out in the open or digging a hole, I kicked the woman’s body into the fire as well. I wanted to help along the burning process, so I tossed in a dragon stone on the remains. I would have thrown in a couple more if Aranath didn’t grumble something.

  “What?”

  “Dragon flame is a sacred power meant for the honored dead, not corrupted corpses you never knew.”

  “I know I could have been one of them.”

  He grumbled again before saying, “Just make certain this doesn’t become a frequent occurrence.”

  A tainted soul howled in the distant darkness.

  Wiping the sword with a piece of cloth, I said, “Define ‘frequent.’”

  Sleep was impossible to catch. Two, possibly three, distinctive screams erupted every few minutes. There were times when a bony profile would be outlined against the night before disappearing in the next blink. I overheard their hard breathing as they tramped on leaves, snow, and kicked pebbles as they ran indiscriminately. I just wanted them to attack me already, so that I could do the only merciful thing I knew to do, but most of their presence came only from the horrible noises they produced. This presence diminished as dawn approached. With plenty of light to feel reasonably safe, I headed for the last shriek I heard.

  Half a mile later and several uproars began to infiltrate the woods. The first unique sound I picked up was a shrill squealing. It wasn’t a corrupted, but I heard one of those wailing as well. Getting nearer brought me in range of some loud grunting, which Aranath believed was coming from a bear. His prediction turned out to be correct.

  As a yearling bear cub squealed from a tree’s higher branches, I saw its brown mother attacking a corrupted fifteen yards away. She kept having to knock it down with her huge paws, not understanding that a corrupted soul was difficult to kill, though I did see a lifeless one nearby. As I backed away from the scene, the mother was finally able to put an end to the corrupted being by pouncing on its head, crushing its skull. She quickly spotted me when she sought out her child. She charged.

  My sword was at the ready, but I didn’t plan on using it. I instead summoned a few explosive stones and backed away. I set them off when she came within five feet of them. She roared and stood on her hind legs, showing me her eight foot tall frame. I chucked a couple of dragon stones and activated those too. The smell of dragon fire made her hesitate further. She roared again, but with less vivacity. I continued retreating. She started a mock charge and I threw another stone. The farther away I got, the less inclined she was to pursue me. We stayed watching each other until the trees and distance obscured us entirely.

  “She would have provided plenty of good meat,” said Aranath.

  Knowing he would figure out why I didn’t kill the mother bear, I didn’t say anything. The woods became much less noisy after the bear event. I even dared take a nap on top of a steep rocky hill for a few minutes around noon.

  The rest of the day and night passed without any result. It was on the middle of the next day that a comet of déjà vu burst in my brain. I couldn’t say how trees that all looked the same could suddenly feel so familiar, but they did. The awareness I was indeed close to what I wanted was amplified by a short cliff wall I discovered. To try and hear any hollow space behind the rock, I tapped Aranath against it as I slowly traced it from one end to the other.

  After striking a spot that didn’t sound special, Aranath said, “Wait. Tap the rock again.” I did. “There’s prana here. It’s nearly dissipated, but it’s undeniable.”

  A tougher scrutiny did reveal that this section of the cliff wall was perhaps too smooth to be natural.

  “Is it possible to activate the rune?”

  “There’s not enough prana to suggest a hidden rune is here. They likely removed it when they left. You’ll have to us force.”

  Having no other option, I dug a hole in the rigid soil next to the cliff and placed a few explosive stones in it. The result of their burst was a slightly larger hole and a couple of hairline fractures in the rock. With sufficient evidence to push the technique further, I began a strategy of progressively depositing a larger amount of explosives after every eruption. There eventually came a point when I summoned almost every explosive stone I had left. If anyone had been within three miles of me, they would have easily heard the explosion that shook the cliff face. I had applied much of my prana in the exertion, but it produced a conclusion.

  The four inch thick bluff had cracked open a fissure wide enough for me to fling in a dragon stone. It didn
’t go very deep and its active light showed me a collapsed tunnel.

  “What now?” Aranath asked.

  “We go to Voreen’s Warriors Guild and find out all we can about Riskel Rathmore. If he is alive, then someone might know something about his current whereabouts.”

  “Then may the hunt commence.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Voreen was not in my Iazali map, so I went back to Bronzefrost and asked the innkeeper about the best way to get to it. He told me that it would take a ship to cross the Lucent Sea, a five to seven hundred mile wide strip of water to the west of Iazali that separated it from the landmass of Niatrios. More specifically, Voreen was a small but influential nation positioned in the central eastern portion of this neighboring continent. With this information on hand, I started my southward trek.

  Since I didn’t trust that a sea captain would give me a free ride on their ship without joining their crew, one of my goals had to be earning the coin needed for a safe, question free voyage by doing some odd jobs. I also wasn’t adverse to the idea of stealing some coin or a sellable item if it seemed like no affluent noble was using it. I would then head for a western port once I had saved enough. It might take months for me to gather the necessary fare this way, but I was in no great rush. Furthermore, I was confident that heading into a more populous region would grant me greater opportunities beyond log splitting.

  It was slow going getting out of the highlands, and my walk was not faster than winter’s coming. There came a point when the white powder became a permanent fixture in my travels. It was either already resting on the ground or in the process of adding another layer. I didn’t mind the cold itself, it was the screeching winds that often accompanied it that forced me to seek shelter, which was not always easy to come by.

  Thanks to Aranath, I learned of a trick to at least keep my blood warm. I would trigger a dragon stone and wait for the flame to perish. With the rock having been cooked to its core, I could then take hold of the still smoldering stone and grip it tightly in my hand. While a regular flame barely blackened a pebble, dragon fire was able to keep the half-melted stone steaming for several minutes in the numbingly cold air. Holding a burnt stone in each hand helped get me through the rougher stretchers in the weather.