Dragon Magus 1: A Progression Fantasy Saga

by DB King

  “I’m not going with you. I don’t want to be a Hell Drake.” Raphael frowned and folded his arms. “Besides, I can’t leave. I’ve got to help Koshi around the house and with the junkyard. Right, Koshi?”

  But a somber look had come over Koshi’s face. He sighed. “Not that I want you to become a mercenary, Raph. Far from it, in fact. But it pains me to hold you back, too. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m still fit and able. If you haven’t forgotten, I gave a certain ill-mannered elf a huge beating last night.”

  “Ha!” Sylvia forked a huge chunk of pie into her mouth. “Touché. Yeah, whatever, Raphael. I’m not taking “no” for an answer. One way or the other, you’re coming with me.”

  “Sounds like you need another beating, elf,” Koshi warned.

  “I’m game for a rematch, old man. Any time, any place.”

  “You shouldn’t speak with your mouth full, Sylvia,” Raphael said. “Wormy had better table manners than you.”

  “Sure, but at least I’m prettier.” She smiled dazzlingly at him. “Speaking of which, that Spell Core turned into an egg, didn’t it? Never seen something like that before. Also, your egg is hatching.”

  Koshi, Raphael, and Eliza cried out in surprise. The faerie dragon egg was indeed hatching. Small pieces of shell cascaded from its surface. It rocked back and forth on the table. A small, reptilian claw burst free, then, it was followed by a tiny green snout.

  “What’s a faerie dragon, Koshi?” Raphael asked, his voice tight with alarm and anticipation.

  “It’s said that they appear wherever dragons are, but not even the Great Drakes themselves really know where faerie dragons come from, only that they’re kin in blood and spirit,” Koshi replied.

  “What you said was vague to the point of uselessness, old man,” Sylvia commented, cutting herself another slice of pie.

  “Silence, elf!”

  Blue light blazed from the egg, then, bright enough to force Raphael to close his eyes. When he could open them again, all that was left on the table were fragments of broken eggshell and the last slice of pie that Sylvia was reaching for.

  “Save some for others!” Eliza scolded, smacking the elf’s hand away.

  “How aren’t you fat to the point of immobility?” Koshi asked, glaring at Sylvia.

  “Natural beauty, old man. Something you lack and wouldn’t understand.” Sylvia sniffed and leaned back in the chair she’d occupied. “Fine, I was starting to get full, anyway.”

  “Aren’t you all forgetting something?” Raphael asked. “Where’s the thing that was in the egg?”

  A blue light emanating from the top of his head answered his question. Something was perched there. It wasn’t exactly light, and it smelled like rain-washed metal. It slithered down his neck and turned a small lizard-snouted face on a delicate, scaled neck to look at him.

  “Raphael,” it said, directly into his mind. Translucent green frills fanned out from its cheeks. “Black hair. Brown eyes. Sharp nose. Magus.”

  “It… it just spoke to me,” Raphael announced.

  “I didn’t hear anything,” Eliza said.

  “Neither did I,” Koshi agreed. “Faerie dragons communicate only with true dragons or—.”

  He blinked and clamped his mouth shut, his gaze flashing to Eliza and then to Sylvia.

  Looks like Koshi knows something he doesn’t want to share with the girls. Raphael picked the faerie dragon off his neck and held it at arm’s length, supporting its rump with one hand. It cocked its head curiously and returned his stare.

  The creature was no bigger than a common housecat. It was lizard-like, with four legs and tiny claws, but its scales were a sparkly blue hue. Small purple and green wings like those of a butterfly sprouted from its back. Raphael wondered if they allowed the faerie dragon to fly.

  It answered his question immediately, hopping out of his grasp and floating in the air, its eyes locked on his. Its wings flapped, but it was clear that the faerie dragon’s ability to fly was magical in nature.

  “Raphael. Magus. But me?” It bumped its snout gently against Raphael’s nose and cocked its head again. “Me?”

  Raphael realized that the faerie dragon wanted him to name it.

  “It wants me to name it,” he spoke aloud, in awe of what was happening.

  “Face Killer,” Sylvia suggested. “Skull Crusher. Death Bringer. Blood Fang. Face Killer. I really like that last one, actually. So, Face Killer.”

  “No!” everybody shouted at her.

  “I can’t call him Wormy,” Raphael said. “That’s just wrong.”

  “Is it a ‘him’ in the first place?” Eliza wondered.

  “Faerie dragons have no gender. They don’t mate. Their eggs simply appear out of nowhere,” Koshi said.

  “Me?” the faerie dragon asked again. “Me, Magus?”

  “Rayne,” Raphael decided. “Your name is Rayne.”

  “Rayne! Me!” The faerie dragon twirled in the air. Its mouth twisted in something that looked like a smile. “Magus! Raphael! Rayne! Me!”

  “Aw shucks.” Sylvia reached out to pat Rayne, only to hastily withdraw her fingers as the faerie dragon snapped at them. “Don’t worry, little guy. You’ll always be Face Killer to me.”

  Chapter 9

  “One other thing,” Sylvia said, dragging Eliza and Raphael by their arms out of the house. “Someone has something to say to you.”

  Fenix stood there, his face bruised, downcast, and sullen. He mumbled something and turned to walk away, but Sylvia pounced on him, put him in a headlock, and hauled him back to Eliza and Raphael.

  “What was that, Fenix?” she demanded. “I don’t think they heard you. Say it again, loudly and clearly.”

  “I’m sorry,” the battlemage said. To his credit, he met Raphael and Eliza’s gazes as he spoke. “I should not have said such hurtful things to you, Eliza, and I should not have attacked you, Raphael. I will do anything to make amends.”

  Eliza gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. Eventually, she nodded. “Back at the Academy, you were the only one who didn’t lay a single finger on me. Yes, you said a lot of nasty things, but you never tried to hurt me, at least until last night. I accept your apology, Fenix, and I will start forgiving you, but I never want to speak with you again.”

  Raphael sighed. Fenix had killed Wormy, but now there was Rayne. Whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen, but they’d fought, Raphael had won, and he didn’t see much point in holding onto any grudge beyond that.

  He reached out and clasped Felix’s arm, wrist-to-wrist, and shook it. “It’s fine, Fenix. Let’s fight again, someday. I’m sure we can learn more from each other.”

  The battlemage seemed truly grateful. He nodded. “Yes, yes. I think I’d like that very much, in fact.”

  In daylight, Fenix looked much younger than he had last night. Sylvia flicked him under the chin and winked.

  “It’s the fake moustache and goatee. He thinks it makes him look older and more intimidating. I made him take them off, because they’re just ridiculous,” she said.

  “How old are you, Fenix?” Raphael asked.

  “Eighteen, like Eliza,” the battlemage mumbled.

  “And his real name isn’t actually Fenix Hellstorm!” Sylvia went on. She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “Go on, tell them what it is.”

  Fenix grimaced and fidgeted, but Eliza leaned forward, every line in her body screaming genuine curiosity.

  “If you tell us your real name, I’ll forgive you right now,” she said.

  “Alonzo,” he muttered. “Alonzo Moreno.”

  “Moreno? As in, Mr. Moreno, the fishmonger at the marketplace?” Raphael asked.

  “He’s my grandfather. But please call me Fenix. What kind of battlemage is named Alonzo anyway?” Fenix, or Alonzo, pleaded.

  “I think your name is just fine,” Raphael said. “But I’m happy to call you whatever you want.”

  “Fenix, then. Please.”

 
“Sure.”

  “Great! Now that we’re all friends, go say goodbye to the old codger inside and grab whatever you need to, Raphael. We’re going to the Guild,” Sylvia said.

  “I already told you that I’m not going with you.”

  “Well, you are, even if I have to hogtie you and carry you on my back.” The elf grinned as she loomed over Raphael and wriggled her fingers.

  “I think kidnapping is against the law, Captain,” Fenix told her.

  “The Hell Drakes are above the law in Lucario,” Sylvia shot back. “We literally own parts of the kingdom. In fact, nearly a third of the capital city belongs to us.”

  “Yes, and we’re only excluded from Lucarian jurisdiction in those regions. This isn’t one of them. The constables aren’t going to look kindly on the kidnapping of a subject of Lucario. Battles in the junkyard, which the city considers unexplored wilderness, is one thing. Abducting a child in broad daylight, in full view of the gates, is another.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Who’s going to report me?” Sylvia loomed closer over Raphael. He didn’t know whether to feel horrified or exasperated. Probably the former, he decided, as the elf began a low, menacing laugh.

  “Hmm,” Fenix grunted.

  The elf looked over her shoulder at her subordinate. “Wait. You. You’re going to report me to the constables, are you?”

  “Never said I would.” Fenix straightened his leathers nonchalantly and looked away. He seemed very interested in checking his gloves.

  “Fenix…”

  “What?”

  Raphael sighed as the elf stalked away and put her subordinate in another headlock. He glanced at Eliza as the mercenaries began yelling at each other. She was smiling, but her expression seemed laden with sadness.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “I’ve always wanted to be an adventurer,” Eliza said, “but it seems that such a life just isn’t for me. I suppose I should have listened to my Master long ago and given magic up.”

  “But if you did, then you wouldn’t have come here, we wouldn’t have met, and we wouldn’t have become friends!” Raphael pointed out.

  “Friends?” Eliza scoffed. “I tried to kill you when we first met, remember?”

  “So did Fenix, and we’re friends now,” Raphael said, beaming at her. “Anyway, the point is that I’m glad you came here and we met, Windy!”

  “That’s not my name!” she protested, but it soon became clear that Eliza was fighting back a laugh. Eventually, she gave in, and Raphael joined her in her mirth.

  Rayne came zipping out of the house, then. The faerie dragon stopped right in front of Fenix, who’d been put into an intricate chokehold by Sylvia, and headbutted him right in the nose. The battlemage cried out in pain. Rayne huffed in an extraordinarily human fashion, then flew over to Raphael.

  “Knight. Hurt. Fallen,” it told him.

  Raphael knew exactly what Rayne was referring to. He dashed back into the house, where he found Koshi on his back, struggling in vain to stand.

  “Koshi!” he cried, as he bent down and helped him up. Was he always so light?

  “I’m fine, Raph. Really,” Koshi said as Raphael seated him on a chair. He sounded embarrassed and slightly angry, but Raphael sensed that Koshi’s anger was directed at himself.

  A bout of coughing burst from Koshi, then, and as Raphael watched, horrified, blood seeped from the corners of his mouth. He immediately picked Koshi up and brought him to his bed.

  “I’ll prepare some of the medicine we got from the marketplace right away.” Raphael fought back the rising panic in his heart and the tears that rimmed the edges of his vision. “Just get some rest.”

  “Tell me where they are,” Eliza offered. She’d followed him back into the house. “I’ll prepare them while you keep an eye on Koshi.”

  “Simple herbs won’t help me,” Koshi said.

  “Ha!” Sylvia had barged into the house once more. Before the door shut behind her, Raphael caught a glimpse of Fenix standing outside and rubbing his badly bruised nose. “I figured you’d try something like this, old man, pretending to be so sick the kid can’t leave you. But your plan will fail, because I’m competent at Healing Magic, too!”

  “Don’t touch me with your foul, abominable magic, elf,” Koshi protested, trying to sit up.

  Sylvia elbowed Raphael aside, shoved Koshi down, and raised her hand. “You speak as if you’ve got any choice at all.”

  “Go away, elf!”

  Sylvia ignored him and began chanting. Soft, white light pulsed from her raised hand. It washed over Koshi, but nothing seemed to change. He started coughing again, and more blood flowed from the corners of his mouth.

  Raphael felt a horrible, sinking feeling in his stomach as he saw the grim look on Sylvia’s face. The elf’s lips were pressed tightly together, and her brow was furrowed. She shook her head.

  “There’s nothing I can do for you, old man,” she said, the gentleness of her tone in stark contrast to her earlier boisterousness.

  “Yes, I know. Must have used up the last of my strength last night,” Koshi said and grinned shakily. “For what it was worth, elf, I had fun.”

  “I bet you did,” Sylvia replied, chortling, “having a beautiful elf maiden as your last dance partner. And I’m going to slap you if you dare say anything about doubting the “maiden” part.”

  “Lady of the Misty Green, such things are not for me to presume.” Koshi’s title for Sylvia seemed old and formal, like how children at school would address Maestro Colombo. It brought a sad, but genuine, smile to the elf’s face.

  “No! What do you mean you used up all your strength, Koshi?” Raphael demanded. “All you need is some rest, right? Then you’ll be good as new again, won’t you?”

  “Koshi, Dragon Knight of Lucario, defender of humanity,” Eliza recited. “He stayed true when the dragons turned against us, and he protected Lucario against the rage of his former comrade-in-arms, Platina the Gilded Death.”

  “Platina,” Koshi muttered. “I haven’t heard that name in so long. It wasn’t her fault, you know? The Chimera got to her, like He did to the other Dragons. Poisoned her mind and flesh, turned my closest friend into a ravening monster. I couldn’t… couldn’t follow her down that path.”

  “Alongside other heroes of legend, Koshi struck down the dragons, bringing an end to their regime of terror. After that, he came to Lucario, then a young kingdom, and made it his home. Over the years, he defended her people from myriad threats. As time passed, he was seen less and less. His last appearance was recorded one-hundred-and-thirteen years ago,” Eliza continued. “I studied all this in the Academy.”

  “My strength lay in my bond with Platina. That was what it meant to be a Dragon Knight. Once she was gone, all I was left with were the embers of her power. I used it as carefully as I could in defense of the weak and innocent, which was what I think she would have wanted me to do.” Koshi closed his eyes. “And then came the time of mages and Spell Cores, thanks to the Chimera. I resigned myself to despair and slowly fading away.”

  He grasped Raphael’s hand. “But then you appeared, Raph, sent by Namakhut, God of Dragons. You gave me hope for the future, but more importantly, you’ve filled these last years of mine with joy.”

  “No, don’t talk like this, Koshi!” Raphael demanded. “You’re scaring me! Get some sleep! You’ll feel better, then.”

  But Koshi didn’t reply. He was unconscious. Raphael choked back a sob and pulled a blanket over Koshi.

  “Rest will do him some good,” Sylvia said. She got up and began walking out of the house. “Stay with him for now, Raphael. Make the most of the time you have left with him. There will be many days ahead for whatever comes next.”

  As the door swung shut behind her, and Eliza hugged him, Raphael felt tears flowing down his cheeks.

  * * *

  Sylvia returned later that afternoon, kicking open the door once more. She was trailed by an anxious Sister Superior Amalia, cla
d as she always was in her simple black robes and gray wimple. A small cloth badge on her right shoulder was the only indication of her rank in the Order of the Crescent Moon.

  Rayne shrank to the size of a tiny mouse and zipped into one of Raphael’s trouser pockets as the nun rushed over to Koshi’s unconscious form and smoothed his brow, whispering a prayer. Eliza looked up from the tool rack she was dusting. She’d been tidying and cleaning up whatever she got her hands on around the house, leaving Raphael to watch nervously over Koshi.

  “Tell me what happened,” Sister Amalia requested.

  “We brawled. Turns out the old man isn’t as good at taking a beating as I am,” Sylvia said, pointedly ignoring the barbed glares from everyone. “I recall you mentioning something about how helpful the father and son living outside the junkyard were, so I put two and two together, figured out you were acquainted, and dragged you here. That just about covers everything.”

  “Can you help him, Sister Amalia?” Raphael tried to keep his voice level and look her in the eye when he spoke, but his words came out shakily, and his vision was blurred by tears.

  Eliza crouched down beside him and took his hand in hers.

  The nun glanced at Sylvia, who shook her head.

  “Let’s bring him somewhere we can better care for him,” Sister Amalia said, “and make him more comfortable.”

  “Yeah. Toss him on the flat of my sword outside, kid.” Sylvia thumbed over her shoulder at the door, now loose on its hinges and bearing a very distinct boot print on its surface. “We’re not traveling too far from here.”

  “No, I’ll carry him myself.” Raphael bent over Koshi and picked him up, feeling horrified at how light and frail the man who’d raised him felt in his arms. To his dismay, he realized that Koshi’s Dragon Meridian was no longer shining.

  Sylvia wasn’t being flippant, as Raphael had expected her to be. They truly didn’t have far to go. Sister Amalia led the way to an old, single-floored stone building just within the city gates. A small cloth banner atop its double wooden doors bore the emblem of the Order of the Crescent Moon.