Dragonsphere (The Fallen King Chronicles Book 1)

by Richard Fierce

Lightning arced from the walls of the city, destroying the remaining war machines and blasting groups of soldiers aside. Blackened scorch marks littered the valley. Jovanna was trying to keep out of Ranaan’s reach and get to the sphere to correct the magic.

  Too late, she realized, as the sphere went dim. She rushed toward it only to be blown backward as the sphere erupted in a massive explosion. The blast leveled everything within a few hundred feet, blowing soldiers apart and scattering body parts. Ranaan barely seemed affected. Jovanna crashed to the ground and didn’t move. All of time seemed to stand still as everyone slowly realized what happened. Cygnus was shouting orders, the generals of the army were dashing about madly, trying to organize the chaos that was their forces.

  Cahenrair appeared on the battlefield not far from Jovanna’s lifeless body. “Get back to the hellspawn you came here from,” he said to Ranaan. The prince’s face turned into a scowl and he glared at the elf. “Come, let me feast on your body,” Ranaan said.

  The elf pulled his sleeves up and began running his finger along the tattoos that covered his skin. Ranaan threw himself bodily into Cahenrair and the two crashed to the ground, punching each other and thrashing about. Cahenrair got to his feet, his robe twisted and caught from the struggle. He shrugged the robe off, revealing his tall slender body covered in nothing but a loincloth and many, many tattoos. The elf quickly traced his finger over several of the tattoos, enacting the magic.

  A concussive blast of invisible force struck Ranaan as he was trying to get up. It knocked him backwards. As he closed the distance, the elf summoned more of his spells, one after another. Wicked looking green flames singed Ranaan’s hair and face. Ranaan clawed at his skin, struggling to control the body of his host and keep the man’s spirit at bay. “I can’t do anything in this body!” he shouted.

  Cahenrair quickly touched a couple of his tattoos, causing them all to come alive with a pale light. His body became wrapped in the same light and he wrapped his arms around Ranaan. “Let us see how you fare through this!”

  His body exploded.

  • • •

  Jerik knelt beside Jovanna’s body and felt for a pulse. Nothing. Everyone was distracted with the battle between Cahenrair and Ranaan. He placed his hand on her forehead and whispered a few words. He would take her body back with him. They both disappeared, just in time to miss the elf destroy himself and Ranaan. The explosion sent blood and bone flying in all directions. The beast that had possessed Ranaan could feel his spirit fading. No, fading wasn’t right. His soul was … breaking. He silently cursed the elf and his magic until his last moment of his conscious existence. The creature’s soul dissipated into the wind.

  “Courage is not about knowing what your purpose is, but pursuing it.”

  - Calderon

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Calderon sat on the edge of the bed, feeling a slight tremor here and there as the rocks from the war machines slammed into the walls. He felt out of place. He was not a wizard, and certainly no soldier, yet here he was, in the middle of an important battle. And somehow, he had managed to lose the sphere.

  “At least things can’t get much worse,” he muttered to himself. He stood to stretch his legs and walked over to the window. He couldn’t see the battle from his view, but he could hear it. He had never seen battle, but he had read books written by people who had. He could imagine the screams, visualize the bloody and wounded. It was enough to make him gag. He could never bring himself to kill another man. He heard something then, a slight rustling perhaps, that drew him from his contemplation. He turned to find a man in his room.

  The man was of average height, pretty close to Calderon’s. He wore robes like a monk, but they were black instead of brown. A hood was drawn over his face and he stood silently. “Yes?” Calderon asked. There came no reply. “Can I help you?”

  The man reached up with thin, pale hands and pulled his hood back. Calderon almost gasped aloud. The man was bald, with a thin line of gray hair along his chin. His eyes were green and seemed slightly clouded. Calderon almost thought the man might be blind. Or at least not far from it. The thing that made him almost gasp was the jagged scar that covered the man’s neck.

  “Can you speak?” Calderon asked, his hands instinctively covering his own neck. The man nodded. “I can speak,” he said, his voice a whisper. “Though not very well. I have come to bring you information that you may find valuable.” Calderon was confused. Information? For what? “Would you like to sit down? The room is more for sleeping though.” The man shook his head. “I do not have time,” he replied. “You have heard of Orlek?”

  Calderon nodded. “I have heard the name, and a little about him. To be honest, I don’t know that I believe the stories. They seem like folklore to me.” The man stared at him, his gaze like burning coals. Calderon shifted uncomfortably. “Stories? They are not mere stories,” the man replied, stepping closer toward the monk. “They are realities. There is nothing that has been uttered about Orlek that is not true. And he lives still, even now, and plots the end of mankind.”

  Calderon backed up a step at the man drew near. “Who are you?” Calderon asked. Fear was beginning to make it hard to talk. The man waved a hand dismissively. “My name means nothing to you. Let me tell you my story, and then you can decide what you believe. This,” he pointed at the scar on his neck, “is from a crossbow accident when I was a child. A hunter in our village accidentally shot me. I lived, but I had lost my voice. I studied magic in hopes of finding a way to heal myself. Unfortunately, magic does not heal as I found out later. Only Aio can heal, and I did not turn to him. I suppose I was talented, as the mysterious Guardians approached me with an offer to join them.”

  “The Guardians? Who are they?” Calderon asked. The man grunted. “Have you lived in a monastery your whole life? Everyone knows about the Guardians.”

  “I have lived in a monastery most of my life.”

  The man laughed then. It sounded more like wheezing to Calderon. “The Guardians are men, and some who are not men, who work to keep the balance of the world in order. They are few, but they are powerful, chosen by the leader of the Guardians for their talents, whether magical or otherwise. They cease to exist to the world, but are always behind the scenes, ensuring the balance. I was chosen to replace one who had died. I thought that if anyone could heal me, it would surely be the Guardians. Yet not even they could fix my voice,” he seemed saddened suddenly, as if remembering it clearly. “I was upset and began to despair that I would never speak again.”

  “You speak now,” Calderon said, pointing out the obvious. The man nodded. “One day, when I was in the mountains, I was approached by Orlek. I knew who he was and knew that he would bring nothing but trouble. I almost summoned the other Guardians so that we could defeat him, but he made me an offer that has become my biggest regret. He offered to give me my voice back.”

  “I thought magic cannot heal?”

  “It can’t. What Orlek did was beyond magic. It was …” his voice trailed off and his eyes shifted back and forth, as if seeing something. “It was something entirely different. I had only to gather some bones for him and he would give me my voice. It seemed simple enough, but I did not realize whose bones I was gathering.”

  “Bones?”

  “Dragon bones,” the man said. Realization struck Calderon suddenly. “You gathered the bones of the dragon for this Orlek?” The man nodded. “I did not know then what I was doing. I simply wanted to speak again. Once I saw what the bones were for, and saw the terrible destruction the creature caused, I regretted my actions every day. Orlek did give me my voice back, but it was not what I expected. I am here in front of you, and you can barely hear me.”

  It was true. Calderon found himself leaning toward the man to hear what he said. “Why are you telling me this?” The man suddenly seemed very old. “I seek to make amends for what I helped unleash. I have lived longer than any man, but my time grows near. I want to give you the knowledge that I h
ave, that Orlek might be stopped. Forever this time.”

  “Why tell me? What can I do? I am no wizard.” Calderon didn’t like where this was going. “That is exactly why I have come to you. You do not crave power as wizards do. And when you traveled through the mountains, Orlek did not sense you.”

  “How did you know” Calderon paused. He remembered the trip down the mountain, when he thought he saw someone from the corner of his eye only to find no one there. “You were there, on the mountain?” Calderon asked.

  The man nodded. “I was there. I could feel the power of the old man that traveled with you, as well as the spirit of the other monk. But I could not sense you, and neither could Orlek. I bring you this because I believe you can reach Orlek without him knowing you are there. And you can do what no one else has been able to do.”

  “What is that?”

  “You will kill Orlek.”

  That put Calderon on his heels. “I have not killed anyone. I cannot kill anyone. I do not believe in murder.”

  The man laughed again. “Do you believe in justice? Do you believe in doing what is right? Orlek seeks the destruction of mankind. Ever since his first defeat he has sought to annihilate man. If the death of one could save many, why would you not kill the one?”

  Calderon couldn’t argue with the man’s logic. He did believe in justice. But he did not believe he was strong enough to carry it out. He could not be trusted with such an important task, especially not with his sleeping disorder. And then it dawned on him. His disorder had not reared its head since his watch at the Sly Mare. Was it possible that his disorder was gone? He was at a loss. He had struggled his entire life with falling asleep at the most inappropriate times, yet he hadn’t had any issues since the inn.

  “I am not a soldier,” Calderon said. “I have no skills, no talents. This is not something you should entrust to me.” The man nodded. “That is why I know you will succeed. Orlek will never see you coming.”

  Calderon sat in silence. He had no more argument in him. He could not deny that if Orlek could not sense him, he might really be able to get close enough to strike him down. But what if Orlek did sense him? What if Orlek killed him? Velkyn’s words echoed in his mind: Are you ready to make that sacrifice, if it comes? To give your life for others?

  He sighed resignedly. “What must I do?”

  “The most stupid things are always the result of the most noble motives.”

  - Cygnus

  CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

  The force of the blast that destroyed the body of the prince shook the earth. Most of the men of the Talvaard army were flung to the ground. Donovan and the men on the wall grabbed onto whatever they could to keep from falling.

  “What just happened?” Donovan yelled, his ears ringing from the blast. Cygnus didn’t answer. The half-blood wasn’t sure himself. The army would have gone into complete chaos if not for the generals. Cygnus motioned Donovan to come near. “We must parlay,” he said. “With the prince gone, the army is in the hands of the generals. We must convince them we are no threat.”

  Donovan agreed. “Take my bodyguards,” Cygnus said, pointing at the two tattooed elves that stood close to him. I’ll raise the flag.” Donovan took the stairs down to the courtyard and waited at the gates. Cygnus had the flag raised and waited for the sign to be returned. It was.

  The gates opened and Donovan headed out, escorted by the elves. By the time he reached the tent that had the flag flying, several of the generals had already gathered. He bowed when he reached them, giving the proper respect as protocol demanded. The generals bowed back. “It is our desire to see you leave in peace,” Donovan said. “Palindrom is a city of peace, not of war. We take no issue with you, and ask that you hold the same toward us.”

  One of the generals, an old veteran, took the lead. “We didn’t want to march in the first place,” he said. Donovan sighed in relief. “Our men just want to go home. We agree that there is no qualms between yours and ours. We honestly don’t know what happened to the king. It seems he lost his mind in the end.” The general seemed bitter. A horn sounded out from the army, startling everyone in the tent. A messenger came stumbling in, sweaty and breathing hard.

  “Calm yourself,” the general said. “Get him some water.” Someone handed the messenger a water skin. He drank deeply and paused to catch his breath. “We have enemies approaching,” he gasped. “Orcs! Thousands of them! They cut off our supply lines in the mountains and are marching this way now!” His legs gave out and he collapsed. Several men lifted him up and carried him out of the tent. The general looked to Donovan, troubled.

  “Orcs?” he asked aloud, looking to his fellows, then back to Donovan. “I haven’t heard of Orcs in the mountains.” Donovan shook his head. “I have heard a lot of things lately. It wouldn’t hurt to be prepared. I’ll report to Cygnus and get word back to you. We can use our magic to confirm the report.” The general seemed pleased with that and dismissed the monk.

  He ran back to the gate, the elves following him without question. Donovan could hear the generals roaring out orders behind him. It seemed one battle had ended, only for another to begin. Cygnus was waiting for him in the courtyard. “They are leaving?” he asked Donovan.

  “Not quite. We need someone to use the crystals. A man reported an army of Orcs marching from the mountains.” Elves rarely ever showed emotion, and Cygnus, though he was a half blood, was no exception. So it surprised Donovan to see the color drain from his face. “Orlek makes his move,” Cygnus said ominously. “So it is here, before the walls of Palindrom, that the fate of our world will be decided. Come, we must prepare.” Cygnus turned and left. Donovan looked to some of the guards standing nearby. “Get someone to use the crystals, will you?” One of them nodded and left.

  Donovan followed Cygnus back onto the walls. “The Talvaard army is between us and whatever is coming. What is there to prepare for?” Donovan asked, looking to Cygnus. The half-blood stared out at the valley. “They cannot stop what is coming. The Orcs will overrun them and hit our walls with ease. Orlek is leading them, and he cannot be stopped. We can fight and hope to dwindle their numbers, or we can run. But I see no victory in either option.”

  Donovan started to respond but stopped short when he noticed Calderon making his way through the courtyard. The young monk made his way up the stairs to stand beside Donovan. “It isn’t safe out here. You should go back inside.”

  Calderon shook his head. “There is something I must do. But I will need help.”

  • • •

  Calderon stood at the entrance to the cave. They had flown him on the winds of magic to the mountains. It was the only way to get there quickly and safely. He only hoped the magic didn’t give him away. The man had told him there were symbols etched into the walls that would help him find his way into the main chamber of the cave. He stared into the darkness. Taking a deep breath, he plunged into the darkness. The air was cooler inside the cave, an immediate difference from the outside. The robed man had warned him not to light a torch.

  That was severely going to hinder him, but there was no way around it. Calderon put his hands on the walls and felt along the cool stone for the symbols. After traveling a few feet, he found the first symbol. The first step toward the chamber, the last step to his destiny.

  • • •

  Cygnus and Donovan watched the battle unfold in the valley below. The Orcs had come storming into the valley, hacking and slashing at the Talvaard army. The soldiers were holding their own, but they were steadily being pressed back. “Their line isn’t going to hold,” Cygnus remarked. “We may have to open the gates and let them into the city. What do you think?” he turned to Donovan.

  “Do we have enough room? There are many men.”

  Cygnus nodded. “There are many, but a lot have fallen, and countless more will fall before it is over, I fear. We can only hope Calderon knows what he is doing.” The Talvaard line of defense began to crumble. Chaos erupted and a retreat had been sign
aled. “Open the gates!” Cygnus yelled.

  The guards obeyed and opened the massive gates. The soldiers began to run into the city. “What do we do now?” Donovan asked.

  “We wait.”

  “I am left with the feeling that war solves nothing, that to win a war is as disastrous and costly as losing one.”

  - Donovan

  CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

  The air smelled of mold. A few times, his hand had touched something wet and he would quickly jerk his hand away. Calderon was beginning to think he was lost within the tunnels of the cave. He didn’t know which way went where, and he hadn’t felt a symbol in any of the walls recently. He was about to turn around when he turned a corner and felt a horrible sensation in his stomach that made the hairs on his arm raise.

  He could see nothing. He didn’t hear anything either. Yet the feeling was there, as if something lurked around him, waiting to devour him. He breathed as quietly as he could and listened. Still nothing.

  He slowly took a step. And another. His hand felt the wall curve away from him, out of his reach. He hoped he wasn’t about to step off into a deep hole. He took a few more steps. And then he heard it. At first, he thought it was the echo from his breathing. But Calderon wasn’t rasping. The sound could be coming from anywhere in the chamber, he realized. And he was blind in the darkness. How would he see what it was, and if it was Orlek, how would he see him to attack him?

  A voice froze him in his tracks. “I hear you scurrying, rat. Come to me and let me feast on your flesh.” The voice was weak. Calderon thought the voice was speaking to him, but discovered that thankfully it was not. The voice was talking to what it thought was a rat moving about the cave.