Order Of The Dragon (Omnibus 1-4)

by Jason Halstead

  The glass bottle tumbled end over end as it fell. "What—" Carson started to ask when it struck the floor and shattered the glass. Flames burst out of the bottle, knocking Alto back into the ranger and sprawling them both onto the stairs as the flames swept over them. Karthor cried out but was far enough away to shield his face as the dying fires met and passed him.

  Carson pulled his legs out from under Alto and rolled over. His face tingled and the skin felt tight. He reached up and hissed when his fingers touched the skin. He turned, distracted by the grunt from the priest behind him. Karthor swatted out some fires on his sleeves and his hair looked curlier and shorter. The ranger realized he could smell burnt hair and he reached up to feel for his own hair. He gasped, surprised at the feel of it. It seemed wiry and as though he had tiny pebbles mixed through it.

  "Alto!" Karthor hissed as he rushed down the stairs to the still supine warrior.

  Carson turned and saw that Alto's left cheek was blackened and cracked open and his shirt was burnt so badly, entire patches of it were missing. Alto's sword had slid down the stairs and rested near his feet. Thoughts of complaining about his own burns disappeared when he saw the disabled warrior.

  "He needs his sword," Karthor said. "Put it in his hand while I heal him."

  "Can you heal that?" Carson rasped. He coughed. The flames had dried his throat out too.

  "If Leander wills it," the priest mumbled before he began to chant and channel his magic.

  Carson reached down to grab Alto's sword when he looked up and saw a guard step around the open doorway and then jump back in surprise. He scowled and raised his sword. Carson straightened and drew his swords, spinning as he did so on the stairs to dodge the overhand chop the southern guard levied against him.

  He smacked the guard's sword aside with one of his blades and then thrust his other sword into the man's side, just under his arm. The guard fell back, gasping and stumbling as blood ran down his side.

  "Alto's sword!" Karthor hissed.

  Carson saw the fight had gone out of the guard. His face was white and he'd dropped his curved sword. Carson shifted both swords to his left hand and knelt down to pick up Alto's. The hilt felt hot in his hand. Hot enough he nearly dropped it. He picked it up anyhow, bearing the discomfort.

  "Here," Carson said after he turned and pressed the sword into the warrior's hand. Alto's fingers closed about it almost instantly. Carson looked up at him and saw his eyelids flutter open. The blackened skin on his cheek was already flaking away, fresh pink skin showing beneath it.

  "You're lucky, my friend," Karthor told him. "Leander likes you. I have no idea why."

  Carson smirked at the priest's attempt at levity. Alto ignored him and rose up slowly to his feet. The warrior looked at the dark stain on the floor where the ground had been burned by the flames. He looked up to where the guard lay on the ground, clutching his wound and gasping for breath. Carson stepped aside as Alto moved past him through the doorway.

  "Thanks," Alto told the priest. He swung his sword in a circle, rotating his wrist, before he stepped through the archway and into the small lobby. Carson hurried to follow behind him and nearly ran into the warrior when he paused to put the wounded guard out of his misery.

  A large archway opened into a room decorated with gold and silver filigree along the walls and ceiling. Tapestries depicting dragons either in battle or resting among scenes of victory and treasure decorated the walls. Divans lined the walls and a small pool rested in a dais in the middle of the room.

  "You are persistent," Jakar said from where he stood between two armored knights. Other guards wearing red pants and sashes across their bare chests stood on either side of the archway. "Normally an admirable trait, but in you it's proving most troublesome."

  Alto glared at him. "I'm going to kill you," the warrior promised.

  Jakar chuckled. "Persistent and single-minded."

  "No," Alto corrected him. "I'll hear what you have to say first."

  "What I have to say? You foolish boy, there's nothing more to say. You've been ridiculously lucky but that luck ends now," he promised. He turned to the others and said, "Kill them."

  "I meant what you have to say while you're begging for the pain to end," Alto said, nonplussed by the approach of the armed guards. "After I butcher your men and the cowards beside you who dare to call themselves knights."

  Carson swung his swords back and forth to loosen his arms. He heard Karthor whisper behind them and end it with, "Leander be with us!" A sense of calm filled him, and then doubled when he saw the guards of the Order of the Dragon glance at one another uneasily.

  Alto's sword flashed across as the first man charged from his left. Carson turned to the right even as he was distracted by a flash in the corner of his eye as Alto's blade cleaved across the man from shoulder to hip, cutting him apart. Carson barely recovered in time to raise his swords in an X to block the scimitar that swung at his head. He shook the force of the strike off and tried not to wonder if Alto's sword was glowing.

  Carson kicked the man he fought in the gut, knocking him back and freeing his swords in time to launch a pair of horizontal cuts that drove another guard in red pants back. The first attacker returned but Carson followed his sword and spun out of range from the cut. He completed his spin and lunged back in, thrusting one blade through the man's sash and into his chest while the blade in his right hand deflected the second guard's scimitar.

  He spun and thrust, staggering the second guard by piercing his thigh. His other blade knocked the scimitar down so that the blade in his right hand returned from the side and chopped into the guard's neck far enough to end the fight.

  A third guard hesitated when he saw Carson's aggressive fighting style. He stood his ground until Carson lunged towards him. The scimitar hit the ground and the guard turned and ran for a side passage. Jakar sneered at the man and called after him.

  Carson turned back and saw that Alto had killed all three of the guards he fought as well. He stood there, his chest on display as it rose and fell with each breath. The last shreds of his burnt shirt had fallen away.

  The two knights approached, one towards Alto and the other at Carson. Carson frowned as the fully armored figure approached him. The knight had a sword and shield, as well as plate mail covering him from head to toe. He was still frowning and wondering how to hurt the man when the knight swung his sword at him.

  Carson knocked the blade aside with one blade and struck out instinctively with his other. It clanged off the knight's cuirass. His other sword was bounced off the knight's pauldron and then Carson stumbled backwards as the knight pushed his shield into Carson's chest.

  The ranger collected himself and parried the follow-up strike from the knight. His blades struck against armor but were denied. He stepped back, gaining himself some time, and then found he had to circle around the knight to his right as his opponent advanced on him. He heard a muffled chuckle from inside the helmet.

  "Go ahead and laugh," Carson said, drawing the knight after him. "You're heavy and slow. I can run circles around you all day."

  The knight lunged forward, forcing Carson to leap away and parry the strike at the same time. The knight came after him, only to stagger and fall to one armored knee when Karthor's mace crashed into his helm from behind.

  The knight shook his head and swung his shield, forcing the priest to back up. Carson leapt in and hammered his blades at the knight, trying to poke through soft points in the armor. The knight rose and turned so that both men were in front of him. Carson kept striking out, forcing the knight back step after step until he judged he'd gone far enough.

  The ranger shifted to his right, pulling the knight's attention and creating an opening for Karthor to step into a swing that crashed into the knight's shoulder and spun their armored foe back to his right. Carson dropped both his blades in a desperate gamble and jumped into the knight, grabbing his left shoulder and twisting it even as he brought his body to bear against his off-bala
nce foe. The knight teetered and took a step, only to have his leg stopped by the rock that served as a wall for the pond in the room.

  The knight crashed into the small pond with Carson on his back. He thrashed in the water, spraying it across the room, but Carson stayed on the back of the heavily armored warrior. In moments, the knight stopped struggling and a few final bubbles burst free from the surface of the water.

  Carson rose up, soaked through, and shook his hands to air-dry them as much as he could. He looked over and saw Alto yanking his sword out of the side of the knight he faced. Alto's heavier sword fared much better against the knight's armor, it seemed. Carson grabbed up his blades but watched as the knight fell back to a knee but raised both sword and shield up. Alto kicked him in the chest beneath his raised defenses and knocked him onto his back.

  Carson turned and saw Jakar edging towards the hallway the guard had escaped down earlier. The ranger shook his head and took off at a run towards him, his wet boots finding poor purchase at first. Jakar yelped and turned to run, only to have Carson crash into him and sending them both tumbling to the floor.

  Carson lost his swords in the crash, fearful he might kill Jakar and lose Alto's only lead. They rolled apart and Carson scrambled to right himself. He rose up on his knees but Jakar kicked him in the side, forcing him back to the ground. Carson ignored the ache in his side and the sudden emptiness in his lungs and tried to rise again.

  He spun around and saw Jakar standing over him with a dagger in his hand that he saw was the same as the ones the Stalkers had tried to use in the inn. He threw his hands up to block or at least soften the blow but it never fell. He heard a crunch and then a howl, prompting him to lower his hands. Jakar stood holding a broken arm and staring at the mace-wielding priest who towered over him.

  Carson turned and saw Alto yanking his sword free from where it had split the breastplate and gorget of the knight. Alto strode over to them, his red face set in an expression that promised pain and misery. He raised his sword and pointed it at Jakar, and then shifted it to the right and stabbed it forward into the man's uninjured left shoulder until the wide tip of his steel grated against bone.

  Jakar cried out and fell back, stumbling and falling to his knees. Blood soaked his arm. He looked up, fear in his eyes. "You'll all die, no matter what you do to me!" he spat at them.

  Alto nodded and raised his sword. "That may be, but you'll die first."

  Chapter 11

  "He lives here?" Garrick asked as they stood outside a plain-looking small house with a tile roof.

  "Not all wizards live in elaborate towers," Kar grumbled.

  "All this stone, it looks hot," the barbarian muttered. He turned to Mordrim and asked, "Or does it make it cold, like your caves?"

  "They're not caves," the dwarf snapped. "Mines, carved from the heart of the earth to yield up her beauty."

  Garrick snorted.

  "Besides, these aren't stone. It's sand, mud, and clay baked by the sun. Doesn't hold out the heat as well but still better than wood or the hides of dead animals."

  "Stop behaving like children," Kar snapped. He shook his head and sighed. "Come on and keep your mouths shut, no matter what surprises you may see."

  Garrick made a rude noise. Mordrim nodded his head in agreement with the tall man's sentiments, but both warriors followed the wizard as he walked to the door and rapped his knuckles against it.

  A voice came from nowhere, shocking the two warriors as it demanded, "Who intrudes upon the witch Arcturia?"

  Kar rolled his eyes. "It's Kar. Now stop puffing up your chest—"

  The door opened to reveal a woman with dark hair streaked with gray. She wore a vest laden with pockets and a loincloth that rode low on her slender hips. The fabric that hung from it fell between her legs in the front and back but never touched, nor did it reach past her knees.

  "Kar!" The woman stepped forward and embraced the wizard. She backed away after a moment and let her eyes take him in from head to toe. "You're looking well, old man!"

  Kar glanced at his two companions and hesitated when he saw Garrick. "Pick your mouth up," Kar snapped. "Arcturia, these are some companions of mine, I suppose. Garrick, self-proclaimed hero of the Snowbear tribe to the north—"

  "Clan!" Garrick growled.

  Kar waved his correction away. "Whatever. And this is Mordrim, the dwarf charged with reclaiming his people's long-lost mines in the Great Divide."

  "You travel in strange company," Arcturia said with a wry smile. "But friends of yours are friends of mine. Come in, all of you, please."

  She stepped back and gestured with her long and slender arm for the others to enter. Bracelets and rings decorated her arms. Garrick frowned and leaned back to look at the house. "Is it big enough?"

  "I told you to hold your tongue," Kar hissed at him.

  Arcturia laughed. Her eyes traveled down the warrior's body. "I certainly hope so," she said.

  Garrick turned to the dwarf with a grin on his face as soon as Arcturia turned away from them. Kar followed her inside, gesturing for the two warriors to follow him. As soon as they passed the threshold, the air chilled and the room darkened. The entryway they were in seemed larger than the entire house, let alone the rooms farther into the house they could see.

  "What sorcery is this?" Garrick hissed and reached for his sword.

  "What part of hold your tongue haven't you understood?" Kar snapped at him. "You've entered the home of a witch. Been invited, I might add. Show some respect at her hospitality."

  Arcturia stepped around Kar, her leg presented with a slight bend to it that showed off how long and lean it was. "I've found that whenever I invite a strong young man into my chambers, they are often unprepared for the delights that await them."

  Mordrim coughed and turned away. Garrick grinned.

  "Arcturia," Kar said, "this isn't a social call."

  She pouted. "It seldom is with you, Kar. It's been what, thirty, forty years since you last came to me without needing something?" Her pout turned to a grin and a wink as she added, "Then again, I suppose you needed something then too, didn't you?"

  Kar cleared his throat and ignored the redness spreading across his cheeks. "I'm after something else this time. Knowledge."

  Arcturia sighed. "If I'd have known how lonely and demanding it is rising to my rank, I might not have worked as hard as I have."

  Kar laughed. "Yes you would. You're just as power hungry as the rest of us."

  She frowned and then smiled, the wrinkles smoothing out on her face. "You're right, but our peers are all so full of themselves and too busy to have fun anymore."

  "And you're less busy?"

  "I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

  Both warriors chuckled when Kar failed to come up with a response. "Yes, well, you are. And I need to know something about alchemy."

  "You never were much for potions," she observed.

  "I can brew a potion just fine," Kar snapped. "Just because I don't find it to be the path to understanding and employing the great arts doesn't mean I'm not much for the discipline."

  "Listen to him go on," she said while looking at Garrick and Mordrim. "He once burned all the hair off his head trying to mix a simple potion of favor."

  "Potion of favor?" Garrick asked.

  "I couldn't read the chicken scratches you call handwriting!" Kar protested.

  The witch ignored him and answered Garrick. "A potion of favor helps with the little things you never notice in life. Speeding your pace so you avoid the carriage that would have run you over. Urging you to play the right card or put a twist into your wrist when you throw some bones."

  "We're not here to re-live old times’ sake," Kar snapped. "I'm here to find out about some poisons."

  Arcturia stiffened. "Poisons? You should ask Benjalli," she said with a shake of her head. "I don't brew poisons."

  Kar let out a sharp bark of laughter. "Benjalli has no principles; he will see anyone to finance his research. I came to
you because I'm hoping I can trust your discretion."

  "My discretion? Oh my, you don't want to poison somebody, do you? Who? Certainly not someone down here—you live in the north. Is it a royal? A little regicide, perhaps? Oh, I do love upheavals. It gets me excited and, well, you remember what happens then, right?"

  Kar shook his head and took out the ring that Mordrim had obtained. "I'm not poisoning anyone! This is a Stalker ring, is it not?"

  Arcturia leaned back. "How'd you come by such a thing?"

  "Rather obvious, I thought," Kar said.

  She nodded and licked her lips. "Yes, I suppose it is. Benjalli is not the man to speak to."

  "He supplies them?"

  She glanced around and nodded. "They use many poisons, though., I take it you know someone that was killed by this ring?"

  "Killed, no. At least not yet," Kar amended. "He's sick with it but holding on. A stubborn lad. I'm also here to find a cure for a sleeping poison the Stalkers use. It was used on a princess of the kelgryn."

  "The kelgryn? Is that why you're here, northerner?" Arcturia turned to look at Garrick.

  "I'm not kelgryn," he said. "My homeland is north of there. Beyond the Northern Divide."

  "I've heard there are giants in that realm. Tell me, are you a giant?"

  "Arcturia!" Kar snapped. "My friends need help urgently. Your pursuits must wait."

  "Must they, Kar?" Arcturia asked. "What if I choose not to help you? What will you do then?"

  "Go to someone else."

  The witch laughed. "Who will you go to? Benjalli won't help you and nobody else in this city knows what I do. The only man more versed in lore and poison is a wizard I haven't seen in ages."

  "Who is he?" Kar asked.

  "A wizard named Therion, but it will do you little good since he lives far from here. Last I heard, he had gone north in search of some nymph. I expect he's long dead now, taken into her embrace and robbed of his vitality."

  "I've heard of him," Kar said. "His tastes ranged far from alchemy. He did a number on the creatures of a forest on the border of the kingdom. From what I heard, somebody did a number on him, too. Acquaintances of mine found him dead in his bed."