The Lone Dragon Knight

by D. C. Clemens

  In the third week since leaving Mil’sith, a fierce blizzard forced Clarissa to close the distance between us. It was midday, but the snowstorm had made the day as cold and opaque as any night previous. I was able to find a bit of cover against the ferocious gusts behind a large tree and, after digging out some snow, I used my usual method to create a robust campfire. About half an hour after making the only source of heat for miles around, Clarissa trudged through the storm and collapsed on her knees next to the fire. As the passionate winds would have just carried any words into the ether anyway, neither of us spoke for a couple of hours.

  When the carrier of air lessened its haste, the vampire said, “I’m sorry for intruding, but I couldn’t get my fire to start.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “How did you get your fire to start? I thought I had gotten good at living in the wilderness, but I guess I still have a lot to learn.”

  “I cheated.” I pulled out a dragon stone, dropped it, and ignited it. She saw the stone burn for a few seconds before giving out. “Take it and hold it tight.”

  She gingerly picked it up, but when she felt how warm it was, she snatched it up and clasped it against her. “How do you get rock to burn?”

  “I’m cheating there as well.”

  She rubbed the rock on her face for a few minutes before it lost its effectiveness. “T-thank you, and not just for the warmth, but for everything. It would have been so easy for you to kill me. Gods, how stupid I must seem to you. It was so obvious how he really felt and I never saw it, or didn’t want to.”

  “You shouldn’t be too hard on yourself. Most people I see seem to be too afraid or too weak to be alone. Some are even willing to take quite a bit of abuse for the sake of company.”

  “Then how do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Be alone.”

  “I’m not.”

  “I mean before right now.”

  “So do I. I’ve had a voice in my head for the past few months. If I didn’t happen to find him, I wouldn’t be alive now.”

  She cocked her head. “I can’t tell whether you’re joking or not.”

  “And I don’t care what conclusion you reach.”

  After a minute of studying me, she asked, “And where are you and the voice in your head going?”

  “Voreen.”

  “What’s there?”

  “Information.”

  “On what?”

  “Ever heard of a Riskel Rathmore?” She signaled in the negative. “Well, either he needs to die again, or if he really is dead, then whoever is continuing his work needs to die.”

  “What work?”

  “I’m not entirely sure what’s trying to be accomplished, but it didn’t do me any good. Simple as that.”

  “Let me help you.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t like the idea of baggage.”

  “I’m no child. You don’t have to keep an eye on me or hunt for my food. I have no obligations to anyone else in the world. I have nothing else in the world.”

  “That’s no reason to join a cause that’s not your own. It’s the reason you’re a vampire in the first place.”

  “Yes, I know I was foolish, but I also know what my choices are now. I can find another vampire den somewhere, live alone in the wilderness, or help the only person in the world who doesn’t care that I’m a vampire.”

  “The first two options seem okay by me.”

  “Too bad, I’m choosing the third one.”

  I mulled over her strangely resolute eyes a moment. I sighed. “On one condition.”

  “Anything.”

  “The second you become a burden, you leave.”

  “Fine, but I’ll show you how useful I can be. I’ll stay guard during the night. I-I’ll gather and catch food for you, and I won’t even be within sight most of the time. I’ll also-”

  “Okay, I get it. Just get some sleep if you can. I’d rather you be alert in your night watch.”

  In what was her probably her first in weeks, the edge of her lips cracked a smile and said, “Okay.” She huddled by the fire and was fast asleep within a few moments.

  “She’ll now gladly die for you,” said Aranath. “When the strong acknowledge the weak, the weak feel as though they’ve been given a grand purpose in life, no matter how selfish that purpose actually is.”

  True to her word, Clarissa continued to keep her distance, though a couple of more blizzards had us sharing a fire, and I actually did feel a bit more at ease knowing that someone was watching the area when I slept. She would also give me the animal she had sucked dry of blood, allowing me to eat more than I otherwise would have caught on my own. I thus awakened from deeper slumbers more refreshed and with greater energy to spare in my training regimens.

  Speaking of which, when we were waiting out the second blizzard together in a cave, Clarissa asked me to show her how to be a better fighter. I didn’t feel like teaching her anything, but I didn’t mind directly showing her my abilities in some sparring sessions. Before I knew it, these sparring sessions became part of the routine. Her vampirism alone made her stronger than the average human, and since we didn’t have many weapons or spells to practice with, hand-to-hand combat made up most of our sessions, though we also touched on her water spell and the best way to handle a dagger.

  At one point I told her of my own corruption and the blade that prevented it from taking me over. I was even close to telling her about Aranath, but I ended up refraining from giving that away. I knew I wouldn’t have to tell her that he was a dragon, but it seemed easier not to touch on it at all.

  Both time and our roughly southwestern route loosened winter’s hold, making travel less of a chore. According to a road sign, we eventually entered the country of Caracasa. After a couple of days crossing deeper into the nation, we saw a line of trees that began what my map labeled the Forest of Giants. The “giants” was a reference to the colossal trees that grew four hundred feet on average, with the tallest of them looking to be at least a hundred feet taller still.

  The mighty woodland had once spread hundreds of miles farther south, but since the wood was prized for its resiliency and ability to hold prana well, people had cut down about half the forest over the past two millennia. Clarissa and I crossed an area that was once the center of the forest, which had at one time been populated by an ancient people that used the trees as their homes. These people still existed, but they had been forced farther north hundreds of years ago by better equipped armies.

  Getting out of the forest a week later correlated with temperatures becoming more bearable for travelers. The towns we passed were livelier, as though they were stirring from a hibernation many animals had taken as well. It was still mind-numbingly cold at night, but the sunlight was stronger in the day. One of my quick talks with Clarissa had me learning that she could continue following me as long as I didn’t walk too fast in the middle of the day. I already thought I was moving slow enough, so instead of coming to a crawl, I decided to stop and train a little more in the afternoon while making up traveling time in the early mornings and evenings. I could tell Clarissa was very grateful when I altered my schedule to fit her form of corruption better. She often carried a look in her eyes that told me she wanted nothing more than to heap praise on me, but a stern look from me would stop her before she began the lauding.

  The port city I headed for was a place called Abesh. It was Clarissa that told me the city was among the largest on this side of Orda. Its size and importance to Caracasa’s trade economy ensured that ships were always coming and going from Niatrios. Moreover, I wanted to check with their Warriors Guild for anything regarding my goal.

  Chapter Twenty

  Spring arrived at the same time we reached Abesh one late morning. Unlike Mil’sith, almost no part of the sprawling city was walled in. Instead, I imagined the system of canals that encircled much of the outer and inner sections of the city was used as t
he main defense against land-based attackers. There were two major rings of ocean-connecting canals surrounding the city. Anything beyond the outermost ring was farmland or inns for travelers. The area between the inner and outermost ring appeared mostly residential, and anything deeper in was a business of some sort.

  Before reaching the city itself, I had seen large forts sprinkled near major roadways, which were probably there to give the city time to raise the many bridges over the canals if an enemy army ever came, effectively dividing the city up into two islands. Even with the bridges currently lowered, I saw quite a few people taking advantage of the waterways by traversing them in small boats. Like Mil’sith, the tallest structures were the six towers of the temple near the coast.

  I put up Clarissa in an inn while I headed straight for the guild office located in the expectedly cramped business district. The guild building I found was only a single story, but it was wider than most others. Like most others, the structure was composed of both stone and timber. Entering it revealed a large entrance hall where two girls stood behind a counter taking job requests from several residents. Three of the petitions sounded reasonable enough, but one elderly woman had to be told a few times why she couldn’t hire the guild to find the kids who wrecked her flower bed.

  “What can the guild do for you, sir?” asked the taller of the girls when it was my turn to be helped.

  “What do you know of Riskel Rathmore?”

  Her forehead wrinkled as she rummaged through her experience. “Lot of ghost stories on that one. I don’t know much. I was way too young to have been involved with that mess.”

  “Anyone not so young here?”

  “Uh, hold on.” Turning her head toward a hall that led somewhere to the back of the building, she said, “Hey Ping! Can you come a moment?!”

  I heard the clunks of heavy boots treading on the wooden floor. The forty something year old man that appeared was actually only wearing some armored boots and metal gauntlets. A small axe dangled at his hip, but everything else looked less threatening.

  “What is it?”

  “The gentleman here wants to know about Rathmore.”

  Ping eyed me a second before asking, “Why the interest?”

  “In the Onyx Mountains, near a little mining village called Bronzefrost, I found some corrupted. Not far from them I discovered a collapsed tunnel system. I asked around and someone close to the situation gave me that name.”

  “I bet they would. Someone hears ‘corrupted’ and his name invariably comes up. Wait, when did this occur?”

  “This past fall.”

  “So you came all the way from the Onyx Mountains in the middle of winter?”

  “Yes.”

  “Damn,” said the still listening girl.

  “Indeed,” said Ping. “Listen, as far as I know, Rathmore is dead, but finding corrupted anywhere is a problem, but the Onyx Mountains are a bit out of this guild’s reach.”

  “I don’t need your reach. I just want to know everything I can about Rathmore. Who were associated with him? Are any of them still at large?”

  “Well, if you’re that curious, I suppose you should find Madam Rachel, the last guild master of this chapter. She was already an old woman at the time, but she only retired eight or nine years ago. I heard she was at death’s door a few weeks back. It would be a big deal if she died, so I guess she’s still living up at a little village about eight miles northeast from town. Most of the family works for the brewery her son owns, so just look for the biggest house and you’ll find her.”

  “What’s the village called?”

  “Sunburst. They named the beer after it.”

  After thanking him, I left in a brisk walk in an attempt to reach the home before the old woman either slept for the day or died for life.

  On reaching the village that fit Ping’s description, I learned that the Sunburst brewery and the actual home was located another half mile to the north. There they grew most of the crops and brewed most of the beer. Following a little dirt trail someone pointed out to me led right to the house. From a hundred yards away I caught sight of a hefty three story house of brick and stone. An even larger structure of wood stood well in the distance, which likely held much of the brewing operation.

  There came a point when two men sitting near the front of the house spotted me and both began walking up to the incoming stranger. They were garbed with some yellow shirts, but their bulk informed me of the obvious armor they wore underneath. Combined with their sheathed swords, figuring out their profession was a simple matter.

  In a loud voice that was probably used to compensate for his smaller size, one of the men said, “Can I help you, son?”

  “I need to speak with Madam Rachel.”

  “That so? On what business?”

  “Old guild business.”

  “You a member?”

  “No.”

  He looked up and down my frame. “Open your cloak a little.” I did. “Why are you armed if you aren’t part of the guild?”

  “Dangerous world.”

  “I suppose it is. So who do you represent?”

  “Myself.”

  “Not an old enemy of hers?”

  “From what I hear, any old enemy of hers would only have to wait a week to get their revenge. Just tell her Ping from the guild suggested I see her.”

  “You heard him,” the smaller told the larger. “Go check if she’ll see anyone.”

  Instead of going inside the house like I expected, the hired guard went around it. He came jogging back a minute later. He nodded at the other. They then both escorted me to the back of the house.

  From this new angle I could see people working in the fields, and much closer than them were two youths sparring with wooden weapons on a large patch of bare dirt. One was a short girl with black hair that came down to her shoulders. She was equipped with a long pole representing a spear. The other was a boy wielding a sword-length pole. Sitting on a large cushioned chair up against the back of the house was someone bundled inside many layers of clothing, including a hooded cloak of bright blue that obscured the face from my position.

  “This is him,” said the larger guard.

  In a stronger voice than I anticipated, the nestled old woman, without turning her head away from the sparring youths, said, “What’s your name?”

  “Mercer.”

  “And what does Mercer want with my past?”

  “Rathmore. Tell me everything you know about him and his people.”

  She turned her head. Her left eye was milky white. The other was pea green. I noticed them more than her heavily creased skin and jutting chin. She soon went back to watching the sparring match. I kept them at the edge of my own vision for the minute she stayed silent.

  The guards were ready to make sure she was alive, but she eventually turned back to me and asked, “What can you tell me about the young warriors?”

  I gave them a glimpse before saying, “The girl knows her stances, but is too stiff in her movements, as though she wants to match illustrations more than real life. The boy has the opposite problem. He starts off with the right stances, but is not disciplined enough to hold them.”

  I couldn’t tell if her nods were for me or because she was close to dozing off, but she did say, “I collaborated closely with my veteran colleagues to make certain my chapter was ready for Rathmore in case he made his way to Caracasa. Fortunately, he never made it this far north. Many good people died tracking him down. What is your concern with this horrible man?”

  “His horrible work might still be continuing. If I can learn about his past, who his close associates were, then maybe I can find these people and end it.”

  She wheezed a chuckle. “Such conviction from a youth is rare! However, I only see it when the youth has been greatly wronged in some way. Am I mistaken?”

  “No.”

  “How interesting. I’ve pretty much accepted that my only working eye has seen all it has to see, but perhaps no
t. Do you wish to sit?”

  “I’m fine. Just give me every detail you have.”

  Looking at the youths—with the boy constantly being knocked down—she said, “No one knows exactly who Rathmore was. It can be pretty much assumed that he had been trained by Voreen’s military, but they won’t even admit that much. The secrecy has most suspecting that Rathmore belonged to one of their elite army units. That by itself is nothing unusual, but word was that these units were being prepared for a preemptive strike against Alslana.”

  “Did this word come from Voreen’s Warriors Guild?”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it. We are an organization that pledges to serve and defend all people. With that interest in mind, new guild members are often sent to cities they have no personal or official attachment to.” She stopped to cough up some phlegm. She continued her trip to the past after drinking something steaming in a cup and clearing her throat. “What was I saying? Oh, yes, the guild. Our guild doesn’t interfere with national conflicts, but the guild headquarters in Voreen has always been a bit too close to political matters for my liking. Perhaps they feel they have to be. Voreen has always been a place for conflict to erupt. Whether it’s someone attacking them for their port or their own desire to take Alslana for their own, that country is never in a peaceful place for long. Still, my former colleagues have never found direct evidence to make them believe the guild there has become a Voreen puppet.”

  “I was planning of going to Voreen’s guild to see what they had on Rathmore. That’s beginning to sound-”

  “Stupid? Yes, I agree. There might not be any direct evidence of collusion, but if someone starts asking around about the national disgrace that was Rathmore, they’ll certainly hear about it. The best you can hope for is that they’ll simply keep their mouths shut to you.”

  “When exactly was Rathmore considered a threat?”

  “He was always a threat. People started disappearing around him for years before Voreen itself had to finally do something about his experiments. It basically happened overnight. There was suddenly word that a powerful caster dabbling in corrupted souls was on the loose, not to mention the dozen elite soldiers that joined his cause. He lingered in Niatrios for three years or so before he reached southern Iazali. He then hid for a decade before sprouting up again near Alslana. I really became interested once word had him moving farther north, but thirteen years after he was first pronounced an enemy of the people, an Alslana for-” More coughing. “An Alslana force was able to surround the mountain he fled to and a unit comprising mostly of Voreen guild members killed him and his supporters. That’s the reason many people don’t quite believe he’s dead.”