Theft of Dragons (Princes of Naverstrom)

by John Forrester

  Rose glanced down at her figure and wiggled her narrow hips seductively. "The way I look at it is quite simple. If the men aren't knocking then tonight I have to give a few of them a good reason to want to see me again."

  "Only a few of them?" Sebine winked and tickled her friend. She lowered her voice and whispered in her friend's ear. "The night is long...perhaps we can bed of few of them together."

  Eyes flared, Rose covered her mouth in mock horror. "You little devil! I never thought I'd hear that from your lips. What wickedness has made its way into you?"

  Still close, Sebine glanced around and continued speaking in a hushed voice. "I met a handsome young man today at Balzan Square—a Yhalan jewelry merchant. He gave me this." She raised her long dress, revealing the golden anklet.

  "How did you get past Yaez to see this man?"

  Sebine flicked her wrist as if the mention was ridiculous. "He doesn't rule my life. I commanded him to guard outside the merchant's tent. Dakar was the young merchant's name—and I allowed the man to show me his fine wares."

  "His fine wares?" Rose's shocked expression reeked of scandalous thoughts. "Tell me every detail—you just have to!"

  "It's nothing so sordid, you little tart. He was kind—though a terrible flirt—and I have to say if he had pressured me, I doubt I could have resisted. Something about him was fantastically mysterious. Anyway, after all that it got me thinking...what am I waiting for? All the suitors the King has sent my way are old and stale and well...simply unappealing. I'm tired of waiting."

  "Be careful. If you lose your flower before you're married the King might do something dreadful."

  Sebine raised an eyebrow. "There are many things to enjoy besides that. Or so I've heard..."

  At the suggestion, Rose gave Sebine a wicked grin, as if she couldn't wait to find out. The door burst open and Sebine's other friend Macine darted inside, her long silk gown trailing behind her. Macine was the cutest girl Sebine knew, tiny, ebullient and very voluptuous for her eighteen years. Her breasts practically jumped out of her low-cut green gown. Macine's doll eyes flared excitedly and she paused, allowing herself to catch her breath.

  "I'm so sorry I'm late. Did I keep you both waiting too long?" Her expectant expression caused Sebine to smile as she stood and took her friend's hands.

  "Think nothing of it...Rose and I were just talking about the party." Sebine squeezed Macine's soft, tiny hands. "And about all the handsome young men that'll surely be there tonight. Whom are you looking forward to seeing?"

  "Count DeLare of course—you know he fancies me. He came calling twice last season."

  Sebine remained quiet at that. The Count was a known womanizer and often led girls and their families on with his visits and insinuations of offers of marriage. If he discovered they lacked the dowry to fund his extravagant lifestyle he would leave them hanging. He was handsome and his good looks and charm had completely won over Macine's affection. Her family was in decline along with her father's health. It was rumored her mother had to sell off the family's art collection to support the estate.

  "I'm sure there will be many others besides the Count who will find you alluring. You're such a tiny thing, and such a fine figure." Rose scanned Macine's figure with envious eyes. "I can't help but be jealous. If I had your body I'd be wed for sure by now."

  Macine hung her head at her friend's words, surely saddened by the implication of her own unwedded state.

  "We sound like a bunch of old maids...what are we still waiting here for? The party has already started!" Sebine stood and pulled her friends to their feet and they all skipped over to the still open door.

  The music playing from the Hezalian Orchestra wafted through the air and stimulated the mood of the dancers spinning around in a grand waltz. Their red faces shone from the exertion and likely from the sparkling wine flowing freely from the servants sauntering through the crowd, trays of the delicious drink held by their upraised hands. Sebine took a flute filled with the fizzy, pink wine, and closed her eyes as she savored the taste. The musicians in the Orchestra were both performers and magicians, weaving their spells to cause the emotions of their audience to ebb and flow. The score they played was joyous and sweet, inspiring Sebine to move her hips around, yearning to dance.

  She scanned the crowd, trying to find a familiar face who might offer to dance with her. Macine raised her hand to accept an invitation from the son of Viscount Raelar—a handsome young man by the name of Prasar. Sebine felt a twinge of jealousy strike her heart as Macine's face glowed at the obvious attraction in Prasar's eyes. But deep down she felt happy that her petite friend had drawn the attention of such a well thought of boy.

  Each time her eyes noticed one of her previous suitors she quickly glanced away, feeling uncomfortable. She accepted another glass of sparkling wine and felt her stomach grumble, realizing she hadn't eaten since the tea and cake at lunch. The alcohol rushed straight to her head and she felt a bit light-headed, and she wished she had asked her lady's maid to bring her some food before the party.

  "Don't get too drunk so early," whined the annoying voice of her half-brother, Prince Brandeth. He gnawed on a haunch of meat and scanned the crowd with hunter's eyes. Nineteen, her brother had developed an early appetite for loose courtesans and the smell of burned flesh from his dragon's fire. He leaned over towards his friend, Duke Selby's eldest son Valeth, who was already as corrupt as her brother. "That little bitch over there is new...I can smell her stink from across the room. I bet you a dragon you can't bed her tonight."

  Valeth gulped at his words, as Sebine knew the boy dearly wanted a dragon. "You have a bet."

  Her brother and Valeth swaggered away from them, aiming towards their prey. Sebine scoffed at them as they disappeared into the crowd, hoping her brother would choke and die on the meat he so greedily ate.

  "Let's find something to nibble on," she said to Rose, and took her friend's hand and led her over to a table set at the side of the grand ballroom, with an ornate silver tureen and dishes of sliced meats, fish, fruits, frog legs, pates, cheeses and bread. Sebine glanced expectantly at the servant stationed at the tureen, and the woman dipped the silver ladle into the steaming soup. A handsome, dark-skinned Arathian from the southern Islands of Marr led her to a white-clothed table, and positioned himself behind the chair as Sebine sat. He brought her and Rose two bowls of the soup and a plate of bread and cheese and creamed butter.

  Sebine was deep into devouring the delicious soup and bread when Ambassador Droman and an exotically dressed group of young nobles came over to where she and Rose sat. The Ambassador held a warm smile as he motioned to the two young men and a girl her age. One man was dressed in shiny green silk pantaloons, white silk shirt, and a silk hat with colorful feathers blossoming from the rim. He grinned a teasing, confident grin that irked Sebine. The other man wore clothes of a similar style though with subdued, earth-tone colors and his amber eyes were curious and shy as he looked attentively at Sebine. The girl was tall, perhaps a few inches taller than Sebine, with almond-shaped eyes and a kind, beautiful face. Her skin was as lovely and fine as a doll's and Sebine found herself staring at the girl's upright breasts and delicate neck.

  "Your Royal Highness, may I introduce you to Prince Jaraz and Princess Marei of the Malathian Empire, and Marquis Kalan." At the last name he motioned to the first young man, who now stared slyly at her.

  Sebine turned to face Prince Jaraz and Princess Marei, and extended her gloved hand to the prince who kissed her briefly. The Princess bowed slightly and gave Sebine a curious, entrancing look and tilted her head as if a tantalizing question played in her mind.

  "Won't you sit, Your Royal Highnesses and...Marquis?" She said the last word with purposeful loathing, as by now she was tired of the man's lewd attention. The Ambassador waited for an invitation to sit, but excused himself when none was given.

  The handsome Prince sat next to Sebine, and she found herself feeling a heat rise up her spine at his proximity. His wavy
hair was black and long, and she couldn't help but glance at his long, delicate fingers folded neatly on his lap. Questioning eyes met hers and he parted his smooth lips in a practiced smile.

  "Your Royal Highness, it brings us great pleasure to finally meet you in person." Prince Jaraz raised clasped hands up to his forehead as if in a prayer. "May our two Kingdoms always be at peace." Although vast in size, the Malathian Empire was small in power compared to the Kingdom of Valance. They had no dragons, but were rumored to possess immense wealth and ancient magic. Situated in a vast desert, with cities nestled in lush oases, the Malathians were exotic, refined peoples, with a proud history of art, music, mathematics, science, and poetry.

  "I'm so glad you've joined us, Prince Jaraz. It's wonderful to meet you both. Please allow me to introduce you to my dear friend, Lady Rose, daughter of Duke Salzar."

  Prince Jaraz inclined his head at Rose. "Well met, Lady Rose." She blushed at his attention.

  "Why has no one bothered to serve us drinks?" Marquis Kalan's voice was clear and confident and utterly unattractive to Sebine.

  She faced Prince Jaraz once again. "How was your journey to the Kingdom of Valance?"

  "Long and hard, I'm afraid. We traveled by ship along the coast for weeks and by boat up the Elden River." The Prince's eyes held a faraway look as if remembering the journey. "We've only just arrived this noon."

  "You must all be exhausted." She fixed her attention on the Prince's sister. "You look lovely, Princess Marei. Your skin is so radiant and smooth...like silk...simply beautiful. I'm amazed you look so well considering your long adventure here."

  Princess Marei flushed in friendly excitement and flourished her fingers as if casting a spell. "We live in the desert, Princess Sebine. We're accustomed to harsh conditions. Our civilization is very old and we've learned to thrive in places where no life should exist at all. In fact many historians say the birthplace of mankind lies in the Malathian Kingdom."

  "Really? I haven't discovered that yet in the lessons of your Kingdom. Perhaps we should send more historians to study abroad in your kingdom." Sebine grinned enticingly at Princess Marei. "I've always dreamed of traveling to exotic lands outside our borders."

  Prince Jaraz raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Which lands allure you, Princess?"

  "Dance with me, and I will tell you." Sebine felt a hot flush rising up her neck at her boldness, but was rewarded as the Prince stood and offered his hand to her.

  Chapter Seven

  TAEL THOUGHT HE felt his heart stop beating at hearing Bishop Draven's words. He witnessed me fighting the Hakkadian sorcerers and the ghoul? Or maybe he only saw the last battle with the ghoul... Which part of the battle did he see? Tael narrowed his eyes at the Bishop, studying his face for hints. He decided he'd start backwards.

  "Master Loral was in dire need...the creature of the dark," Tael said, his voice low and cautious.

  "Why did you leave him?" Bishop Draven sighed, but kept his eyes fixed on Tael.

  "I didn't want to be blamed by the city guard. How could I explain all that? They wouldn't listen to a commoner like me."

  The Bishop's bobbing head assented the truth of his words. "Of no matter...Master Loral will recover. The ghoul only stunned him with its gaze." He glanced at the sword mounted on Tael's back. "Luckily you were able to ward off the ghoul, your sword is a bane to undead."

  At Tael's wary expression, the Bishop raised his hands in an assuring gesture. "Don't be frightened. I have no intention of prying. Suffice it to say your secret is safe with me. I vow to the Goddess Naria not to tell another soul. You will not be identified in my official account to the Patriarch. Merely a mysterious hero saved the wizard, bearing a magical sword that warded off the ghoul. I will say it was dark that night, and I was unable to identify the hero and the man disappeared."

  Tael couldn't believe the Bishop gave him such a pure and kind smile. Was he being truthful or was this simply a ruse to win his trust?

  "And you need not worry about Master Loral. He is quite trustworthy and rarely cares for what those of power think of his ways. I suspect that's why he was targeted. Don't look surprised, although I arrived late as you were chasing off the ghoul, I clearly recognized the slain sorcerers." He leaned in and whispered in Tael's ear. "Hakkadians. They don't much like those of the Arcanum. I suspect you had a hand in their demise as well?"

  A cold chill sank down Tael's spine. So he witnessed everything? Bishop Draven chuckled and leaned back, studying the stars poking through the clouds. "Why do you think I would make an offer of recommendation to Lord Balgron of the Order? I know you can handle a sword."

  Tael joined the Bishop in gazing at the milky stars shining brightly at the zenith. Would it be traitorous to his father to join the Order of the Calathian Knights? Father hated the Church and all the terrible things that it did in secret: assassination, bribery, coercion, shadowy alliances...likely with the Hakkadians. Didn't Father say the deal between the King and the Hakkadians was negotiated by the Patriarch himself? The Church wanted an opposing force against the Arcanum and it largely worked. The wizards kept to themselves over the last ten years or so, refusing to speak out against the introduction of the Hakkadians into the King's inner circle. Although his grandfather had heard rumors that the wizards condemned the theft of the dragons as a sacrilege to the gods.

  Likely the wizards would fight if they thought they had a chance of winning against the Hakkadians. Tael thought back to the night when Master Loral struggled against the two Hakkadian sorcerers. And only two of them, easily beating the Champion of the Arcanum. Where did they get their power from? The dark...the foul darkness of Naverstrom? He heard the soft rhythmic lapping of the water against the ship's hull and found his eyes heavy and tired. Soon a deep wave of remembrance washed over him. Of better days, when his father had taught him the water dance style of the blade.

  "Hold the sword tip down," his father said. The noonday light illuminated the harsh wrinkles of concentration around his eyes. "Lure in your enemies with the illusion of your unreadiness."

  Tael relaxed his shoulders and sword arm as his father had taught him, and the wooden practice blade wiggled in response. Father's ash blade struck from the side and Tael parried and leaned in as he grappled his father's wrist, knocking his sword to the ground. Always try to disarm your opponent.

  "Very nicely played. You've been learning well from Master Drumman. Someday you'll be besting me at every bout." Father's eyes beamed in pride as he bent down and picked up the practice sword. "I was always a better historian than a fighter. Why don't we rest and enjoy the lunch your mother has prepared for us?"

  Tael unwrapped the lunch box and sat under the shade of the black oak tree that overlooked their estate and the blue vastness of the Ferelian Sea. He remembered the incredible feeling of elation he had felt running the two miles from here down to the black sand beach. His father sighed and puffed on his now smoking pipe.

  "Did I ever tell you the story of the time the Hakkadians first came to Valance?"

  A soft breeze blew up from the west, smelling of ripe wheat from the fields. Tael shook his head and took a bite of the honey-glazed chicken from his lunch box.

  "The Hakkadians are a secret order of sorcerers that practice their vile dark magic in the far north, beyond the land of the dwarves. They live in caves in the high mountains, at the mouth of deep tunnels that bore into crystal caverns imbued with the power of the stars. Farther inside those caves the Hakkadians discovered the entrance to the Lair of Naverstrom, a dungeon deep in the heart of the mountain. A dungeon filled with undead creatures, ancient dark relics, runes and wands of power, and banished immortals, imprisoned by spells cast from the First Men.

  "The Hakkadians historically were nomads, wandering the lands of the north, half-gnome and part-human, and part-dwarf. My history master at the Arcanum told me the Hakkadians discovered these caves over two hundred years ago and settled there after discovering the dark secrets deep in the bowels of th
e earth. And the world has suffered ever since."

  "You mean what King Braxion did to the dragons?" Tael hated stories of the evil done against the Dragon Kingdom.

  "Not only that. The Hakkadians allied with the Elves and helped bring enmity between the two Kingdoms. They poisoned the minds of the Elven leaders against the humans, insinuating that they intended to steal the knowledge and riches found in the ancient Kingdom of Drazal'tan. After the elves closed their borders to the humans, the Hakkadians incited war between the dwarves and the elves, playing both sides against each other. And war continues until this day. Next they stoked human-kind's fire of suspicion against the dwarves by giving the Dwarven King Taeran the ancient battle hammer Dromm Raelz, and the King smashed through the humans' northern defenses and expanded their territory by over a hundred miles south past the City of Perinith."

  Father puffed on his pipe and studied the rings twirling in the air above his mouth. "These actions completely reshaped the old peaceful world. Alliances a thousand years old between the dwarves and humans and elves were shattered in the span of twenty years. And few were wise enough to sense the disrupting force of the Hakkadians. Your grandfather was one of them."

  "How did he know?" Tael said, and took another piece of chicken from the lunch box.

  His father grinned mischievously. "Our family lineage possesses ancient Elven magic. Not the kind you read about in books or hear in fireside stories... Real magic, the ability to see things clearly as they are. Raw understanding of the world and people and the movement of life's changes. This is the gift your grandfather possesses."

  "What about me? Do I possess the gift as well?"

  "Not yet...not until you are older. If we are lucky enough to reach our fiftieth birthday, then the gift strikes our minds. It is said that only until then are we ready to withstand the power and the terrible burden the realization brings us."