In the Shadow of the Dragon King

by J. Keller Ford

  Camden released her chin and the collar melted into her flesh, fading to a dull gray. She curtsied and fled from the room. Master Camden turned to Eric and grabbed his face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks together. “You know, you could have made this so much easier and much less painful if you had told us what we wanted to know. Now look at all the trouble you’ve caused. I don’t like trouble.”

  Eric’s feet lifted from the floor. He dangled there for a moment before flying backward through the air. His body broke over a row of chairs, his arms doing little to break his fall. He yelled out as a rib, maybe two snapped.

  Pain. So much pain.

  He staggered to his feet, swaying where he stood, his hands gripping his sides. He swallowed, hard, his lungs desperate for air. If only he could breathe deeply. If only …

  A weave of magic twined around his neck, squeezing, choking. His eyes widened. He clawed at his throat.

  “I—can’t—breathe!”

  Blackness crept along the edge of his vision. He crumpled, and fell, pain ricocheting through his knees, his side. His head. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, he whimpered, Someone help me, please.

  A loud bang broke through the languid dark. Eric coughed and gagged for air as the hold on his throat released. Tears fell, the pain unbearable. Overhead, dozens of sizzling, crystalline-blue tentacles crackled and whipped through the air.

  “Slavandria!” Camden shouted. Her name caught in his throat like a barbed hook.

  Eric yelped as he struggled to his hands and knees. Using the seats to each side, he hoisted himself to his feet. He blinked to bring everything into focus.

  The sorceress stood on the steps only a few feet away, her fingertips aimed at Camden’s chest. Two Duwan guards stood at her side, their bows drawn and nocked with two arrows each, the remaining council members marked as their targets.

  “Please tell me this is not what it appears,” Slavandria said, her voice as smooth as laced pudding.

  Master Camden sputtered, his finger pointed at Eric. “H-he was caught trespassing, trying to break into sacred vaults.”

  “That’s a lie,” Eric said, his voice weak and abraded. “He wants Trog, and he’s using me as bait.”

  Slavandria’s eyes narrowed. “What business does the council have with Sir Trogsdill?”

  The mage swallowed. “He is wanted for questioning in the disappearance of Their Majesties. We believe he may have information beneficial to discovering their whereabouts.”

  Eric sucked in a shallow breath, then another. “That’s not true. They have someone in Einar’s ranks, someone who will falsely testify against Trog.” Eric shook his head, desperate to rid himself of the dizziness taking over. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “They want everyone to believe he had something to do with the king and queen’s disappearance.”

  “You lie!” Master Camden bellowed.

  The sparks at Slavandria’s fingertips flared and crackled like embers in a flame. “Swear to me on my father’s name these accusations are untrue. Swear it!”

  Aldrich pressed a hand to Camden’s shoulder, his gaze boring into Slavandria. “Do not answer, friend. She is intruding upon a private council meeting, which violates the sanctity of our laws and this chamber. She must be detained for interfering in Council matters that do not concern her or involve her area of expertise.”

  “Do not speak to me of violating the sanctity of this chamber,” Slavandria said. “This is an unauthorized hearing where you are illegally torturing a human. As queen of the Southern Forest and daughter of the Supreme Master, I am well within my area of jurisdiction to not only intervene in this Council matter but to order all of you into solitary confinement until a tribunal can be held to ascertain your guilt or innocence.” She gestured toward the Duwan. “Escort these recreants to the holding cells.”

  Master Camden dodged their grip, spun and thrust out an arm, his palm outward. “Ignisvipera!”

  A barrage of flaming snakes volleyed forth, unfurling in the air. Arrows sailed into the darkness behind the dais, missing their targets. Slavandria’s magic thickened and swelled. The air bent with her power, but three serpents made it through her defenses. They latched onto her and sank their fangs into her flesh. Her limbs twitched as she collapsed to the floor, her skin chalky, her eyes open and void of life. The magic flickered at the tips of her fingers and then blinked out.

  Eric stared, wide-eyed. He looked to the Duwan for help, but they were as rigid as stone, blood oozing from fang marks in their necks. He swallowed, terror clogging his throat. It couldn’t be. Slavandria couldn’t be dead. She was Jared’s daughter. She was powerful. Nothing, no one could defeat her.

  Another snake launched through the air and coiled around Eric’s body. An inhuman cry, unrecognizable as his own, wailed from his throat as the serpent constricted. His heart thudded against his ribcage. Life seeped out of him.

  From somewhere deep in his mind a memory of a training class flared. What had his teacher said? Short, shallow breaths! Don’t panic! Kick groin! Gouge eyes!

  Eric gasped. He couldn’t. His assailant was too far away.

  He thought about death, life, and the senselessness of it all. What was it for, living, if death was the reward?

  A loud, echoing crack split the air. A sword hissed from its scabbard.

  Swoosh!

  The constrictor around Eric’s neck disintegrated into powder.

  What the—?

  Chairs scraped the floor. A chorus of voices shouted, “Incendium!”

  The room ignited.

  A man dressed in black leathers, his face blistered and scarred, leaped through the flames and shoved Eric to the floor.

  Eric screamed the pain in his ribs more than he could take. Tears fell as he lay on his back, drizzling down his face into his ears. Above him, the man dodged fireballs. He swung his sword to the right, then to the left, the veins in his neck bulging in tight cords. Sweat flung from his brow as he danced, deflecting the attacks in fluid, powerful twists, turns, kicks and slices. His blade glowed pewter-blue, and scrollwork etched in the steel flickered in the firelight.

  Eric’s breath caught in his chest. No, it can’t be! He pushed up to a sitting position and wiped his face with the heels of his palms. He recognized the writing. Felindilian script. Every knight, every squire knew there were only two swords like it in the world. One belonged to the Supreme Master Jared, the other to the general of his army, the one and only … Mangus Grythorn.

  One after the other, Eric’s rescuer smacked the fireballs and laughed as they rebounded back to their makers. The mages yelled. Their fleeing footsteps vibrated the floor.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” the man said. “Ventus!”

  Three mages dropped to the ground, their bodies flopping like fish out of water.

  Master Camden backed down the steps, stumbled over his own feet and fell, his eyes wide. The man in black cleared five steps in one leap, and landed, one foot on the mage’s chest, the tip of his sword at Camden’s throat.

  “Please, Grythorn. I beg you. Spare me,” Camden cried, his arms extended.

  “Undo your spells and I might let you live. Do it! Now!”

  “I-I c-cannot, not unless I stand.”

  “I’m not a fool.” Mangus Grythorn flicked the tip of his blade across the mage’s cheek, cutting open a small wound.

  “I-I swear it!” Camden sobbed. A tear trickled down his cheek. “I need to stand.”

  Mangus chuckled. “You need to release them, or I shall release your head from its shoulders. How is that for negotiating?”

  Master Camden rolled to his left side and pushed up on his elbow. Tears dribbled down the coward’s face. He snapped his fingers and waved his hand.

  The air moved, like a wave through the water. The snakes fell in plops.

  Slavandria gasped. The Duwan stirred to life. In seconds, their arrows were pointed downward at Camden.


  “Bind them and take them to Eisig,” Mangus said. “Shoot them if they try to escape.”

  Green threads wove through the air.

  “You’re going to regret this!” Camden yelled as the Duwan carried him from the room. “Jared will hear of your interference.”

  “Good. Tell him, and don’t leave out the part where you attempted to murder his daughter, for I can assure you that will head my report to him.” Mangus sheathed his sword.

  Master Camden struggled as the Duwan led him away. “You cannot do this to me! I will have your head!”

  Mangus knelt at Slavandria’s side and swept the hair from her face. “Are you alright, Van?” He brushed a thumb over the apple of her cheek and the curve of her jaw.

  She nodded. “Yes. How is Eric?”

  “He’s alive, but in desperate need of your help.” He touched his fingertips to the fang marks on her neck. “I will kill Camden for this.”

  “You’re sweet.” Slavandria met his gaze, her eyes soft. She ran her fingers up and down his arm. “But I’m sure my father will beat you to it.” She glanced Eric’s way. “Help me to my feet. I have a rogue squire who needs a bit of attention.”

  Eric shrank as Mangus walked toward him. So much restrained power sparkled in the man’s eyes. He offered his hand to Eric. “Go on, lad. Take it. I won’t rip you apart unless you give me a reason to.”

  Eric clasped the man’s hand and yelped as he stood, his limbs wobbling.

  He flinched as Slavandria pressed her palms to his torso. She sighed and shook her head. “You have two broken ribs. I can take care of them if you like, but I’m afraid you won’t like me for awhile.”

  Eric exhaled. “Is there no magic you possess that doesn’t hurt?”

  “There’s quite a bit, actually,” Slavandria said as she gingerly pried open his shirt, “but when you have bones sticking through your skin, I’m afraid you’re going to feel pain.”

  Eric glanced down at the wound and swayed. There was so much blood.

  Mangus moved behind him and wrapped his arms around Eric’s shoulders. “It’ll be alright, boy. Think of something else.”

  Eric bit his trembling lip. He was so scared. Scared of the pain that was coming. Scared of crying in front of Mangus Grythorn. He froze in place, his eyes closed, waiting.

  Slavandria placed her hand on the protruding bone. She spoke soft and low. The magic slipped from her palms and seeped into his skin in waves of fire and ice. Eric listened and tried to attach his mind to her soothing voice, but the ripping agony came, and he screamed.

  “Noooo! Please stop!”

  Mangus Grythorn tightened his grip. “Hold on, lad. It’ll be over soon.”

  Eric sobbed. Sounds warped, and images faded. His pulse pounded in his eardrums.

  The bone moved deep into his chest and snapped into place. He gasped as the magic sank deep into his body like warm, thick honey. He could feel it, sealing and buffering. Second by second, the pain eased until it was little more than a tolerable ache. He sniffled and stepped away from Mangus. What an ass he must have seemed. Such a fine, noble squire he was, crying like a baby.

  Mangus patted him on the back. “You all right there, lad? You mind telling us how all this happened?”

  Eric nodded. “I’m fine.” He stared at the floor, his hand cupped on the back of his neck. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t look his savior in the eye. He swallowed and looked at Slavandria. “Thank you, both of you, for arriving when you did.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Mangus said, with a heavy slap to Eric’s back. “I’m such a sap when it comes to a good mage fight. I had no idea how bored I was.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

  Eric smiled. A lethal warrior with a sense of humor. What a dangerous combination.

  “Are you okay to walk?” Mangus asked.

  Eric nodded. “I think so.”

  They climbed the stairs and exited the citadel onto the sunny courtyard glistening with puddles. In the daylight, the blistered skin and fresh scars on Mangus’ face were less menacing than they’d appeared in the shadows of the Council chambers. An unmistakable power emanated from his very being, confirming he was still quite dangerous despite his recent injuries. Slavandria faced him; concern ever-present as she stroked his cheek, touched his hands.

  “Mangus, I’m so sorry. I should never have let you leave Chalisdawn. I knew you were no match against Einar alone.”

  Mangus laughed. “Is that how you think I got my injuries, by crossing billywogs with a dragon?” He smoothed her hair from her eyes and cupped her chin. “My dear Van, Einar didn’t do this to me. It’s my own stupidity, really. I decided to act all human and save a few wee ones from an inn engulfed in flames. I got them out, but not before the inn collapsed on me.”

  Slavandria’s eyes widened.

  Mangus shook his head. “Fear not. Jared heard my agony and ferried me from the wreckage. He took me home to Felindil where I was in the middle of intense healing until I sensed your distress.” He ran his fingers along her cheek. “It’s a good thing I arrived when I did.”

  Slavandria rubbed the fading marks on her neck. “Yes, I’m quite thankful for your help. Then again, you always did have a propensity for making grand entrances and rousing exits.” Her turquoise eyes stared at Eric and narrowed. She sauntered toward him. “Now, the matter comes down to you. What are you doing in Avaleen? Why are you not at Gyllen where you belong?”

  “I-I … I was looking for him.” Eric pointed at Mangus. “Sir Trogsdill and I were to meet him here yesterday, but then everything fell apart. I thought —”

  “Ah, yes.” Mangus chuckled. “Sir Trogsdill’s squire. I’ve heard good things about you, lad. Where is your master?”

  Eric shook his head. “I don’t know. He’s missing. Maybe dead.”

  “And you thought he may have died here?” Slavandria raised an eyebrow.

  “No, Your Grace.”

  “So why are you here? Surely you didn’t think your training would continue after all that has happened.”

  “N-no, Your Grace.” Eric’s core liquefied beneath their stares. Internal alarms went off. He wasn’t ready to answer more questions about his purpose in Avaleen. Was he even supposed to know about the paladin? He shifted beneath the weight of their gaze. “I came to Avaleen to find him.” He pointed to Mangus. “I thought I could bring him to Gyllen. Maybe his presence would bolster morale. I mean, the High Council has no intentions to protect us. I-I thought he could help.”

  “Interesting,” Mangus said. He turned to Slavandria. “What do you think, Van? Can your father spare me for a day?”

  Slavandria shook her head. “Doubtful. Maybe I can find you an hour or two, but not a day. As it is, I must return to Chalisdawn immediately to see to an important matter, and then travel to Tulipakar in the morning. Father said he would see me there before he sets sail. Where are the two of you going?”

  “It is best you don’t know. Plausible deniability and all that.” Mangus requested the stable hands to bring two horses.

  “Does that mean you are coming with me to Gyllen?” Eric asked. Excitement rippled through his veins. His plan worked. They never worked.

  Mangus smiled. “Either that or I have an obsession with horses. Do you think you can arrange a meeting with me and the Order while I am there?”

  Eric nodded. “Yes. Of course, sir.”

  Mangus rubbed his palms together. “Good. It’s settled then.” He took Slavandria’s hands in his and kissed her cheek. “Stay out of trouble while I’m gone.”

  She smiled. “I won’t promise you anything.”

  “I would expect nothing less.”

  Slavandria stepped closer to Eric and touched his face. Pulsating warmth rippled through his veins, and all the soreness in his ribs faded. The puffiness around his eyes seeped away, his skin no longer taut and stretched. She stepped back and admired her work. “There. The swelling is gone. By tomorrow,
the bruises should be gone as well.”

  Eric bowed his head. “Thank you, for everything.”

  Slavandria nodded, her eyes dark and narrow. “Eric, what you said in the chambers, was that true? Is the Council conspiring against Trog?”

  Eric nodded.

  Slavandria caressed his cheek. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.” She turned to Mangus and kissed him on the cheek. “Be careful. I will buy you as much time as I can. Give Farnsworth and the others my blessings and tell them I will see them soon. They may not have the Council fighting for them, but they will always have my support. Make sure they understand that.”

  “I will, my lady.” Mangus mounted his horse, as did Eric. “Let’s go, lad. I don’t wish to be on the roads at night. There is no telling what boggarts Einar let in when he attacked, and I’d rather not find out.”

  “Agreed, sir.” Eric turned his horse and spurred the animal into a run. Behind him, a crack splintered, its sound carrying on the breeze. Slavandria was gone, and the second most powerful mage in the world was at his side.

  What a mess he’d created.

  And how glad he was to have friends in high places.

  Chapter 14

  David and Charlotte trudged behind Twiller, their clothing soaked from the torrential rainfall that plagued them since they’d left Chalisdawn. For the last several hours, Twiller had become quiet, agitated, his temper short. He skirted the small towns and hamlets despite David and Charlotte’s pleas to rest and eat.

  “I don’t know why you didn’t just ferry us,” David said. “It would have been much quicker.”

  “We are not in the Southern Forest anymore,” Twiller said. “Ferrying outside the woods would be a death sentence.”

  “Why?”

  “Ferrying leaves signatures, remnants of your presence. If anyone of a higher power chose to look for you, he could trace your essence, which would lead him to Tulipakar. As Tulipakar is my home, I do not wish it to be turned into a battlefield. Now please stop asking questions and hurry. The moon is rising.”