Spirit Blade: Book III of the Dragon Mage Trilogy

by Carey Scheppner

  The white dragon was all the rage for a while, and Fillith sat in her corner quietly, clearly not impressed by the attention Myst was receiving. Belham consoled her by talking to her and getting to know her better. They had only been together for half a day, yet he could feel a kinship with the great beast. With evening wearing on, she hinted that she was getting hungry again. Belham himself was getting hungry and knew what the dragon felt like, so he gave her permission to fly north to feed on some wild animals. Before he let her go, he had a fluorescent red ribbon prepared and gently affixed around her neck. He instructed the night watch commander to look out for this ribbon and allow the dragon to land back in the courtyard when she returned from her foraging. A similar ribbon was prepared for Myst in case she decided to fly off in search of food. Being a white dragon, Myst hardly required a ribbon, but as Violet had pointed out, there were other white dragons out there too.

  And so the dragon riders became an integral part of the world’s history henceforth.

  Chapter 15

  The fragile figure awkwardly lurched forward, its single arm flailing for balance. One leg was longer than the other, causing it to walk in a wide arc. Soon it came to a smooth boulder that was too high for it to climb. It stopped and wobbled uncertainly for a moment before negotiating reverse motion with its legs.

  “What have you got there?” asked a voice softly.

  Amelia paused from her experiment to look at the young face of the speaker. She smiled up at him. “I’m glad you kept your ring on, Kazin.”

  Kazin smiled back. “I’ve noticed it makes me feel younger. This ring does more than just alter my appearance. I’ve rarely encountered an artifact that has multiple magical functions. The spell caster who made this was very talented.”

  “Spell casters in the past often wielded stronger magic than those in the future,” said Amelia. “That’s why magical artifacts are more common in this era.”

  “Do you know why this is the case?” asked Kazin.

  “No. Do you?”

  Kazin sighed. “No. That’s one mystery I haven’t figured out yet.” He pointed to the log Amelia was sitting on. “May I join you?”

  Amelia smiled in spite of herself. “Of course! Make yourself comfortable.”

  Kazin sat down and stretched out his legs. As usual, he was wearing his sandals, which was common footwear for mages. He pointed to Amelia’s stick man. “I see you’re experimenting with animation magic.”

  “Is that what it’s called?” asked Amelia. Her stick man had regained its composure and was slowly walking back toward them. “I learned it from the magic book we found.”

  “Remarkable!” said Kazin. “It’s a good thing you have some familiarity with the old dialect.”

  Amelia stole a sideways glance at the blonde mage beside her. “Thanks to you.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Kazin, returning her gaze.

  “The tips you’ve given me over the past few days were a great help,” explained Amelia. “Especially the information about concentration, mental discipline, and the art of letting the words and meaning of the spell sink in. I used to be in too much of a hurry to say and cast the spell, but your approach works better. Now I take the time to study and understand the spell and you know what? I can cast the spell much more effectively. The spell is less likely to go wrong too.”

  “That’s great!” beamed Kazin. “You’re a fast learner.”

  “It’s the teacher,” said Amelia, blushing.

  Kazin nodded toward the stick man. “Your friend is about to get into trouble.” As he spoke, the stick man moved within a step of Kazin’s foot. Then, with an exaggerated swing of its leg, it stepped on one of Kazin’s toes.

  “Hey!” cried Kazin.

  Amelia broke into a fit of laughter.

  The stick man put its weight on its front leg and was about to lift its other leg when the front leg slipped off Kazin’s toe and embedded itself in between two toes. It wobbled uncontrollably and flailed its arm wildly. This comical reaction caused Kazin to break into laughter along with Amelia and they soon had tears streaming from their eyes.

  At last Amelia reached for her stick man and released it from its predicament. She examined it briefly before tossing it aside. “That’s enough, little man,” she giggled.

  Sherman called from behind them to let them know the horses had been watered.

  Kazin wiped his eyes. “It’s time to move on. The horses are ready.”

  Amelia nodded. “Let’s go.”

  They rejoined the others and everyone mounted their horses.

  The jagged peaks were now behind them as they made their way westward. They were just south of the Velden Iron Mine on their way to Trent. The sun was shining overhead and there was a gentle breeze out of the north.

  Within an hour, they came to a narrow gully bordered by a gently sloping hill on either side. The road went right through this gully. It was an excellent place for an ambush, so Harran rode ahead to scout out any potential danger. He was stopped in the middle of the gully when they caught up to him.

  “Any sign of danger?” asked Sherman.

  Harran shook his head. “All clear.” He pointed to a spot off to the side where a makeshift cross protruded from a pyramid of stones. “It looks like someone was recently ambushed here, though. We’d better be alert just the same.”

  “Let’s go then,” growled Zylor. He scanned the surroundings intently. He was hoping for some action. It had been too quiet for too long as far as he was concerned.

  “Wait,” said Amelia. “My orb is vibrating.”

  They turned to her as she withdrew her orb. It was pulsing with a very light pink colour. It brightened when she held it toward the pile of stones.

  “I’m not digging through that pile of stones!” growled Zylor. “That place belongs to the dead who lie there!”

  “He’s right,” agreed Harran. “We shouldn’t disturb it.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” said Amelia curtly. “But something is out of place here. Whatever happened here was not supposed to take place. History has been altered, but it’s not bad enough to affect the long term future.”

  Kazin scratched his head. “So something happened here that wasn’t supposed to happen,” he mused. “If that’s the case, whoever or whatever caused this event is still out there. This could be important, or it could merely be an anomaly. We’ll have to watch for clues as we go forward.” He turned to Amelia. “Keep an eye on your orb, Amelia. Watch for any other signs that things aren’t the way they should be.”

  Amelia nodded. “Right.”

  “Too bad that thing doesn’t track what’s causing the changes to history,” said Olag. “That would be more useful.”

  “That’s a good suggestion, Olag,” said Kazin. He turned to Amelia. “See if you can figure out a way to use the orb to track the thing causing the anomaly.”

  “I’m not sure -,” began Amelia.

  “Remember the training I gave you,” admonished Kazin. “If you keep applying a different technique to an artifact, it may respond differently. I’d guess that orb is fairly old, and you said yourself that spell casters in the past wielded stronger magic. That orb may have qualities that you don’t even know about. Just take the time to study it. It’ll come to you.”

  Amelia nodded uncertainly.

  The companions moved swiftly through the gully with Harran and Zylor scouting ahead. There was only room for two abreast, so Kazin led the rest of them with Sherman at his side, while Amelia conversed with the skink warrior at the back.

  “So Kazin,” said Sherman in as quiet a voice as he could muster, “do you think it’s wise to trust Amelia’s orb? I still don’t know if the orb is telling us what she claims. Could she be making the orb change colour so she can manipulate what we do?”

  Kazin stared at his friend in shock. “
Why do you say that, Sherman? Don’t you trust her?”

  Sherman reddened. “Well, it’s just that I’m not sure if your judgment may be affected. You guys are hitting it off really well, and maybe you just aren’t looking for those kinds of possibilities.”

  Understanding dawned on Kazin’s face as Sherman spoke. He laughed in a friendly way and slapped Sherman’s muscular arm. “Sherman, you are a valuable and loyal friend. Most people wouldn’t see things like you do, and if they did, they would be afraid to say anything. You have the courage to bring things into discussion even if there’s a chance of retribution. Yes, Sherman, there is a spark of interest between us, and I haven’t felt this energetic in a very long time, but I haven’t lost my judgment. This quest is too important for distractions. Nevertheless, I’m only human, so if you sense that my judgment is wavering, I’m relying on you to bring me to my senses. Don’t be afraid to speak out. It’s vital to our mission.”

  Sherman nodded solemnly.

  “As far as the orb,” continued Kazin, “yes, someone could potentially manipulate what it does, but I can tell when that’s happening without question. Granted, Amelia practices some arcane magic that I don’t fully understand. It kind of reminds me of druid magic. Either way, I can sense when magic is being used versus an artifact that is reacting on its own. It’s actually a little easier for me than an ordinary mage because I’m part dragon as well. Dragons are drawn to magic. I should know.” He smiled at the big warrior. “But thanks for questioning things. It’s important to distinguish what we know from what we assume.”

  They heard laughter behind them as Amelia and Olag shared a joke. Kazin was happy they got along. At first he wasn’t sure they would because Amelia was part mermaid. Perhaps it was easier for Olag to overlook because she looked more like her human father. At any rate, the team needed to learn to trust one another.

  They suddenly caught up to Zylor and Harran. They had cleared the gully and were looking down into a valley where a village was visible to the left and a road branched off to the right. The minotaur was obviously disappointed about not finding any foes to battle.

  At this point, Kazin had to make Zylor appear like a human amid the usual grumbles of protest, while Olag donned the ring of invisibility. His reins were given to Amelia so she could appear to be leading a pack horse.

  The companions rode down to the intersection where a sign indicated the road going north led to Velden Iron Mine, and the south led to the village of Shara, en route to the city of Velden itself.

  “We go south,” said Kazin. “I’m sure once we reach Velden, there will be a road leading west.” Without another word he spurred his horse forward. The rest of the group followed.

  Within the hour they reached Shara. Since the sun was now getting low on the horizon, they decided to obtain some rooms at an inn where Amelia claimed the orb reacted ever so slightly but didn’t even turn pink. They had some time, so they decided to check out the local tavern for some food and drinks and to find out any news. They tied their horses to a hitching post in front of the inn and opted to go to the tavern on foot because it wasn’t very far from one end of town to the other.

  The tavern was large. It was meant to accommodate the burly miners who lived in the area. Tonight the tavern was busy, but the atmosphere was rather gloomy. A number of villagers eyed them suspiciously as they entered.

  “I wonder if it was such a good idea to come in here,” murmured Sherman as Harran led them to a vacant table.

  “If anyone asks, we’re just travelers passing through town,” said Kazin.

  “I’d wager they don’t get too many travelers this far north,” put in Harran.

  “You’re probably right,” agreed Kazin. “If they press us for more information, we’ll have to tell them we just finished escorting a shipment of supplies to the guard posts and the convoy chief had no more need of our services since he was heading back to Malley empty handed. We took a different route because we heard there was work in Velden.”

  “That sounds plausible,” nodded Harran.

  The companions settled back and ordered some food and ale. Amelia promised Olag she would stash some of the food in her cloak for him to eat later.

  “Ok,” whispered the invisible skink warrior.

  After they had eaten, they went to mingle.

  Sherman sat at the bar beside two men who had somber expressions. They were having ales and spoke in hushed tones so Sherman could hardly hear.

  “I still think the ones who killed Ned and Oscar were the ones who murdered the strangers in town,” said the first fellow. He had big ears and bushy grey eyebrows.

  “But you saw it yourself,” argued the second man. “He left town with Oscar. You know as well as I do that Oscar was a crook. He only ever looked after himself.” The second man was younger by a few years and had a wiry build. His black hair was thinning and his face was creased with many lines. Both men had big, callused hands, indicative of mine workers. They obviously worked in the Velden Mine.

  The first man sighed. “I know, but I can’t see Ned as the killing kind. I’ve known him for a good ten years, ever since he came to work at the mine.”

  “People change,” said the younger man.

  “Maybe Ned got involved with Oscar’s crew because they were blackmailing him about something,” suggested the first man.

  The younger man nodded thoughtfully. “I can go along with that. Good men can easily get into trouble that way. Maybe Ned had no choice but to go along with them.”

  “It would be just his luck that he would ride out with them when they ran into a fatal end,” said the first man. He wrinkled his bushy eyebrows. “But I still don’t understand some of the details the undertaker mentioned when the bodies were brought back to town. For instance, if Oscar’s crew attacked a caravan, why weren’t the bodies dragged aside and buried? Why were they just left where they were?”

  “They may have run into another group of bandits,” suggested the second man. “Thieves have no respect for the dead.”

  “If so,” argued the first man, “why were there no other casualties? The only bodies that came back were the ones that I recall seeing with Oscar. Only one or two of Oscar’s men were not among them. I distinctly remember a fellow with a thick black mustache. He definitely wasn’t among them.”

  “Maybe he escaped,” suggested the second man.

  “Or he was working with the ones who killed Ned and Oscar.” The first man scratched his head. “Maybe Ned and Oscar were betrayed. That man with the black mustache definitely wasn’t from these parts.”

  “Could be,” responded the second man.

  “And what about the cause of death?” asked the first man. “They were all strangled. How is that consistent with armed bandits?”

  The second man frowned. “That I can’t figure out. The only thing I can think of is that the undertaker was mistaken. The ravens did a fair bit of damage before a caravan stumbled upon them. Some of those bodies were pretty ravaged.”

  “That could be.” The first man sighed sadly. “Ned’s wife is taking it pretty hard. She said some bitter things about him the morning he rode out. But it’s obvious she still loved him dearly.”

  The second man patted him gently on the back. “I’m sorry about your friend. If it helps, I’ll join you at tomorrow’s funeral.”

  The first man nodded. “I’d appreciate it.” He downed his glass of ale and rose. “I’d better get to bed early tonight. The funeral takes place first thing in the morning. The mine foreman wants everyone to be at the mine ready to work by noon.”

  The second man nodded and finished his ale. “Good point. I’m going to hit the hay too.” He rose and followed his friend from the tavern.

  Sherman downed his glass and ordered another. From what he could gather, there was a string of murders that had taken place in this village. He would have to k
eep an eye out for a man with a black mustache. He got up and made his way back to his table where Harran was talking about the murders that had taken place in the village. They were talking freely since most of the villagers were retiring early for the night, no doubt to get ready for the funeral. The nearest people still in the bar were well out of earshot.

  According to Harran, four bodies were found in different parts of the town. All except one were hidden out of sight, the last being discovered just that morning. They were all strangers. It was the reason the people in the village were on edge, especially where strangers were involved.

  Olag continued by relating what he had learned as an invisible eavesdropper at another table. Some local men had ridden out to Velden a few days ago with some strangers and three of them were found later that day by a small caravan. Ravens were swarming their bodies and the caravan people chased them away. They would have prepared a burial mound, but one of the escorts recognized the men and convinced them to return the bodies to the village for a proper burial. As luck would have it, there was a mage associated with the caravan, and he was able to freeze the bodies for transport. When they got to the village, the undertaker was summoned. He inspected the bodies and determined they were all strangled.

  “Strangled?!” blurted Zylor. “All of them? Are you sure?”

  “That’s what they said at the table,” said Olag.

  “Isn’t that a little odd?” continued the minotaur. “You would think they were stabbed or something. Maybe the occasional one would be strangled if neither combatant had a weapon. But all three?”

  “That is indeed unusual,” mused Kazin thoughtfully. He had been listening intently the whole time and seemed deep in thought. He turned to Sherman. “What did you find out, Sherm?”

  Sherman smiled at his friend’s way of saying his name. It used to irritate him, but now he had grown accustomed to it. The big warrior retold what he had heard, including the part about the man with the thick black mustache. “I think we should be on the lookout for that man,” added Sherman. “He could be trouble if we cross paths.”