Dragonsphere (The Fallen King Chronicles Book 1)

by Richard Fierce

  It was an odd sight to the three of them, and Julian riding the creature made it look even more ridiculous. “Where are we headed?” Donovan asked, eyeing Julian dubiously. “South,” Julian answered, “to Dillenger.”

  “Dillenger? Why Dillenger? I hear it’s full of nothing but cut-throats and thieves.” Julian nodded. “That it is. It’s also a place full of adventure. We will certainly find them there.”

  “How do you know we will find who we are looking for there?” Velkyn chimed in. “How do we know you didn’t take our things and you are leading us off to be killed?” Julian looked shocked that someone would accuse him of such things. He forced his animal to stop and looked at Velkyn. “Because I can do magic,” he said with a wink.

  • • •

  Dillenger was a dilapidated town. The entire place was once protected by an enormous stone wall that rose at least twelve feet high. Here and there, entire sections of the wall lay crumbled upon itself or entirely missing. The three monks and Julian entered the town through a large archway that used to be a guard house. The massive iron gate was useless now and lay rusted on the ground.

  Calderon looked warily at the various buildings that were abandoned, or at least appeared to be. Where many of the doors and windows should have been, boards and soiled sheets covered the openings. He half expected an army of thieves to jump out from the shadows of each alleyway. He looked to Velkyn, whose face was as stoic as if it were made of the same stone as the walls around the city. Donovan was keeping his gaze straight ahead, and Julian was babbling on about the history of the place. None of them were listening to him though. They didn’t see anyonenot even in the shadowsas they made their way deeper into the city.

  As they headed toward the center of the city, the buildings became more maintained, some of them even painted and operational by their outside appearance. As they rounded a corner they could hear the faint sound of music. It got louder as they approached a two-story brick building. A sign hung over the front entrance that was weather worn and unreadable. “Maybe we can find some answers in there?” Velkyn said, pointing. They all exchanged glances and decided it was a good place to start. A long wooden rail ran the length of the front of the building and they used it to tie their horses up.

  Julian pushed the doors open and noted the well-oiled hinges that allowed it to open silently. That was evidence that the place was used often and seeing it as a good tiding, he led the monks inside the building. The walls were adorned with all sorts of paintings and the floors were polished to a clear shine. The elegance of the interior belied the room full of customers, all of whom appeared to be criminals. There were several people working behind the bar.

  All but one of the tables were taken, and as Julian looked about at all the patrons, he recognized three men, the same three men from the previous night. “There,” he muttered to Donovan, nodding his head in their general direction. “I am about sure they are the men you are looking for.”

  Donovan led them to the empty table and they all took a seat. Donovan leaned into the middle of the table, motioning for the two younger monks to do the same. “This is a dangerous place. I suspect if we accuse those men of taking our things, the whole inn might attack us. We need to figure out if these men really do have our things before we accuse them. Any ideas?”

  “We could find out where they are staying and search their room,” Calderon suggested. Velkyn smiled and looked at Julian. “We could send him over there. Let them take him in on their ‘adventuring’ and find out for us.” Donovan considered both options and honestly didn’t have any ideas himself. The quicker they retrieved their stuff, the quicker they could get back on the road to Oakvalor. Donovan glanced at Julian, and though he still didn’t trust the man, he knew their options were limited and they were short on time. “Go work your ‘magic’,” he said sardonically.

  Julian pushed his chair out and stood up, pausing a moment to smooth out his clothes, and then walked over to the table where the three men were sitting. “’Ello,” he greeted them. “I am Julian Brathenworth, magician for hire.”

  • • •

  “Stay close and keep quiet,” Donovan bade the younger monks. After a considerable amount of time, and ale, Julian had convinced the three men (again) that he was a magician who could help them. The men had left the inn with Julian in tow, and the three monks followed them from a safe distance.

  They made their way down several streets, seeming to travel deeper into the city. The buildings all looked similar in design to those near the nameless inn they had just left. “I still don’t trust this Julian,” muttered Velkyn, casting wary glances every few steps. “That makes two of us,” Donovan replied. “But he is the only lead we have.” They watched as Julian and the other men stopped at one of the buildings. One of the men produced a key and unlocked the door. They entered the building and the sound of the door closing echoed off the neighboring buildings throughout the street.

  “Let’s get a closer look,” Donovan suggested. They moved quickly but quietly down the cobblestone street and bent low under the windowsill. Donovan pressed his ear against the wood. He could hear voices, but nothing distinguishable. He was startled suddenly when a loud thump sounded, followed by what sounded like laughter.

  “What do you hear?” Velkyn asked, continually scrutinizing their surroundings. “Not much,” Donovan admitted. “Let us go in and demand our belongings,” Velkyn said, pointing at the door. “Our time grows shorter the longer we spend here.”

  Donovan considered the young man’s words. It was true that time was slipping away, but he didn’t feel comfortable barging into the Divines knew what-and possibly getting them all killed. Their mission was bigger than some highway thieves. “You are the only one skilled in the art of fighting,” Donovan finally said, looking to Velkyn and Calderon. “Then I’ll lead the way,” Velkyn answered simply. Donovan sat silent for long moments, unsure what to do. Finally, he shrugged and pressed his ear back to the wall. He didn’t hear anything now. “I leave the decision to you two,” Donovan said.

  Velkyn and Calderon looked to each other and nodded in silent agreement. “We can’t leave him here,” Calderon finally spoke. “Not in good conscience.” Velkyn took that as his sign and nimbly leapt over to the door. He centered his concentration and focus. In a blur of movement, he spun in a complete circle, lifting his leg as he came full turn and slammed his foot into the door. Whether it was locked or not, Velkyn couldn’t tell. It probably wouldn’t have mattered either way, as the old wood splintered under the force of his kick. The door flung open and he charged in immediately, Calderon and Donovan running in behind him. Pain flooded the left side of Velkyn’s head and he crumbled to the ground. He could hear shouting and assumed it was his companions, but didn’t have time to sort out the sounds as darkness overtook him.

  Calderon saw the man hit Velkyn with a wooden pole and watched as his friend hit the floor. It happened too fast for him to yell a warning or intervene, but he quickly ducked as he ran through the doorway, narrowly missing a similar strike from his right. He dropped down beside Velkyn and could see a large welt across his face. He looked behind him as he heard a grunt and saw two men wrestling with Donovan. Julian lay crumpled in a heap in the corner of the room. He saw the third man, possibly the same man who knocked Velkyn out, calmly walking toward the struggling men. He lifted the wooden pole up as if to strike the old monk, and Calderon jumped up and threw himself bodily at the man.

  The unexpected force dropped the man to the ground and Calderon desperately tried to wrest the makeshift weapon from him. The man was much stronger than Calderon expected and he was quickly overwhelmed. The man punched Calderon in the mouth several times, causing the monk to lose his grip on the pole. The man untangled himself and kicked Calderon hard in the ribs. Calderon gasped audibly as the air in his lungs rushed out painfully and watched helplessly as the man dropped Donovan with a bash to the head.

  It was all he could do to try and force a
ir into his body. The three men drug Velkyn and Donovan beside Calderon and tied them all together with their backs facing each other. Apparently thinking them immobile, they went into another room. Calderon was able to find his breath after much effort and heard a groan. He looked over in Julian’s direction and saw him stirring. “Julian!” he whispered as loud as he dared. “Julian! Are you all right?” Another groan was all he received.

  Velkyn and Donovan began moving and he struggled to face them. The ropes didn’t have much slack and so he wasn’t able to see their faces. “What happened?” he heard Velkyn’s familiar voice say. “Shh,” Calderon replied. “Keep your voice down. We were ambushed. They must have seen us following them.”

  “What’ev we got ‘ere?” a voice interrupted. Calderon didn’t even notice the three men had reentered the room. One of them, the one who had spoke, reminded Calderon of a weasel. The one holding the wooden pole, judging from his demeanor, seemed to be the leader. He was tall and broad shouldered with a bald head and a black beard that was thick and bushy. The third man was taller than the weaselish man, but shorter than the leader. His face was pale and he sported a lengthy mustache that used to be popular among the men of Talvaard.

  Julian groaned again and the pale faced man walked over and helped him to his feet. “Seems we have some thieves looking to steal from us,” the big man with the beard said. His voice was deep and gravelly. “What should we do with them, Theo?” the big man asked, looking to the man who had helped Julian. The pale faced man, Theo, stroked his mustache as if in thought. “I never seen a man killed by magic,” he said with a smirk.

  The leader looked at Julian. “Well magician, it seems your services are needed. Give us a show.” Julian’s face paled and he looked feebly to the three monks. Theo pushed Julian forward. “We are not thieves,” Donovan said.

  “No?” the big man questioned. “Then why were you sneaking around outside my house?” Donovan was moving his hands behind him, trying to loosen the rope that bound Velkyn’s hands. “Someone stole from us. Took everything we owned. We came here hoping to find our stuff.” The leader frowned. “Are you calling us thieves?” The man that resembled a weasel snickered.

  “I don’t believe I made that accusation,” Donovan replied. “We are just looking for information.” He was having a hard time loosening the rope. The big man didn’t seemed convinced. “Continue,” he bade Julian.

  “Wait,” Donovan pleaded. He could feel the binding giving way and worked his hands furiously. “Let me fully explain.” Julian began weaving his hands in the air, forming odd looking shapes and whispering something unintelligible. Donovan slid the rope off Velkyn’s wrist and shouted “Now!”

  Velkyn quickly sprang into action. He pushed himself onto his feet and turned to his assailants. He somersaulted over his companions and landed in front of the leader, knifing his hands into the throats of weasel and Theo. Without pausing, he slammed his head into the big man’s face and was rewarded with the crunch of cartilage. Julian quickly fled into the other room. Donovan and Calderon helped each other to their feet and worked together to untie the rest of the rope. Theo and weasel were making choking noises and grasping at their throats. The big man’s nose was bleeding, but he wouldn’t be as easy to take out. He grabbed Velkyn by his robes and pulled him in close and returned the monk’s head butt.

  Velkyn’s head snapped backward and he felt his own nose running with blood. He brought his arms up, palms together, between the big man’s arms and pushed them outward, breaking the leader’s hold on his robes. He struck out with his fist, attempting to punch the man in the throat. The big man merely slapped his hand away and tried to grab the monk again. Velkyn ducked under his reach and snapped his foot up and forward, connecting with the man’s kneecap.

  The big man fell back with a pained roar and crashed to the floor. Julian came running back into the room with three bags that Donovan recognized. “I told you they had your stuff!” Julian shouted as he continued across the room and out the door. Donovan and Calderon followed quickly behind him, and Velkyn brought up the rear ensuring they wouldn’t be followed. The day was nearing an end and the three monks were lost. Julian was waiting for them at the end of the street waving his arms excitedly. “Come gentlemen! Hurry!”

  They reached him and each grabbed their own bags. “Thank you,” Calderon said sincerely. “You didn’t have to help us.” Julian waved his hand. “I doubted you,” Donovan chimed in, “and I apologize for judging you unjustly. We are indebted to you.” Velkyn kept his eyes on the house they escaped for any sign the men would come running after them. “You hired me, remember?” Julian winked at them. “And maybe you can pay that debt … some other time. I’m afraid I must take my leave of you gentlemen now. Safety and such,” he smiled. “Follow this street and turn left, go to the end of that street, and turn left again. That will put you on the street with the inn. Can you find your way out of the city from there?”

  Donovan nodded. “I’m certain we can. Thank you again, Julian.” Velkyn clasped Julian’s hand. “Until next time,” he said. Julian smiled and off he went, disappearing down another street and out of their view. “Make haste,” Donovan said as he glanced down the way they had come. “I want to be long gone from here.”

  The two young monks nodded their ascent and followed Donovan’s quick pace. They were leaving the city’s crumbled walls almost an hour later, headed back toward the mountains.

  “The responsibilities and privileges that come with the role of being the Lord Aio are many and great. The greatest of both is to serve others. I live selflessly and serve others, and in that I find my privilege, and my responsibility. To those ends do I dedicate my life.”

  - Lord Imen,

  called Aio

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The sun peered over the southern hills of the Red Island with a seeming reluctance, hesitating slightly before continuing its journey upward into the sky, greeting that portion of Oakvalor in its full brightness. The moon had already deserted the expanse, leaving it full of the trailing stars until the time when the sun should blot out their trek over the horizon with its glorious presence.

  Not a cloud, gray, black or otherwise was to be seen on that day. On all areas of the Island not shaded by some larger body, such as the mountains or trees, the morning dew glittered with the beauty of diamonds, countless as the grains of earth of which Oakvalor was composed.

  The side of the mountain facing the valley was by no means covered in shadow, allowing the three watchers at the peak to see what transpired below them with perfect clarity. For any ceremony, this was a more than perfect morning. One almost would have felt that such a ceremony could not be done with a greeting less worthy than the one given it by the sun. “Fortunate, for the moment, is this young Council,” thought Father Ean. “Even the appearance of the Great Lord Aio was not hailed with such splendor.”

  Father Ean had been watching as the pupils from the other four Islands began their trek up the mountain’s trail the evening before, and he had run into the Tunnel to wake up the two sleeping Serpentauri. After having passed by the Tunnel’s guard unnoticed, they found a perch at the top of the mountain, just close enough to see, yet just far enough not to be seen.

  They had spent the remainder of the night on the top of the mountain, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Except for a few words about the absence of any morning meal from Kelron, the hours of waiting were spent in complete silence. For the first in almost two weeks, the Serpentauri were able to hear the sounds of life outside the Tunnel. Even to Kelron, whose mind was preoccupied with food, it felt like a dream to be able to see the stars, hear the chirping of the crickets, and to experience being under the sky again.

  Father Ean motioned the two Serpentauri to watch closely as the Lady Moren and the pupil Erasen quickly walked down the trail in the brisk dawn air, readying the Ceremony of the Clearing of the Five Stones for the ceremony. Cloaks of all colors were spread out at the foot of each stone, a
sword thrust into the ground next to each cloak. A ring was placed upon each stone.

  Once this task had been completed, the Lady Moren and Erasen walked to the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley below, preparing to call all Priests on the mountain to arise and to take their part in the ceremony that was about to be started.

  Erasen pulled a small, hallowed out wooden rod from the folds of his pupil’s cloak, examining closely the holes that had been put into it. “What is the reason for hesitation?” asked Moren, impatient for the ceremony to begin.

  Erasen looked up from the instrument. “I am sorry, Lady Moren,” he said. “I just hope that Lord Imen will not mind us using his flute for waking everyone up.” Moren slowly shook her head. “Have you not been studying the histories, specifically where they speak of such events?”

  “From my recollection, there is really only one example to look upon. When the Great Lord …”

  “I know, I know,” said Moren impatiently. “It cannot be helped. You now hold the only musical instrument on the mountain at this time, and are the only person on this mountain other than Lord Imen who can intelligently breathe through that thing and make sounds to become music. The ceremony requires music for the waking of the new Council or Council members, and would it be proper for Lord Imen to wake himself up with the music when he is to be given the Red Sword?”

  “I would suppose not,” said the young pupil. “Very well, Lady Moren. The sun has risen, and so must the rest of the mountain.” He lifted the flute to his lips, playing the same melody that had been played the night the Lord Aio was murdered. At firstto the disapproval and impatience of the Lady Morenthe sound was weak, his breath barely making any music come out at all. Gradually, however, Erasen gained more confidence in his playing, the sound becoming stronger, sweeter. Life seemed to surge anew through everything that could be seen at the music played by the pupil. The sun, its lower part finally escaping the bonds of the horizon, seemed to shout for joy in all its splendor in thankfulness for its very existence.