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Authors: J. Keller Ford

Tags: #magic, #fantasy, #dragons, #sword and sorcery, #action, #adventure

In the Shadow of the Dragon King (6 page)

BOOK: In the Shadow of the Dragon King
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“Speak for yourself. I
am
an apt pupil, you know.” His smile grew wider if that was at all possible.

“You’re an idiot, is what you are. Come on. Let’s go before we’re accused of shirking duties we don’t even know we have.”

Sestian rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

They left the walled town and scampered up the hill, weaving in and out of the throngs of people trekking northward to Gyllen castle. The turrets of the sprawling limestone fortress pierced the sky while hundreds of arched eyes, stacked eight layers high, watched over all that lay below. Vibrant blue and gold silk banners hung over the palace walls; flags flapped in the persistent cool breeze.

Colorful tents and haystacks speckled the lush hillside. A breeze rustled from the east across the Northern Forest of Berg and the Domengart Mountains. The Cloverleaf River meandered southward, glistening in the afternoon sun.

Inside the castle grounds, Eric and Sestian stopped and stared. As if by magic, the royal wisteria tree, its branches so wide it embraced the entire courtyard, was in prolific lavender bloom. To their left, pages led commoners to the small but comfortable quarters beneath Festival Hall. A line of horse-drawn carriages wound along the outer rim of the courtyard, each filled with nobles ready for escorts to take them to their lavish apartments.

“Sestian!” The bark came from the jobmaster, a heavyset man covered in filth and sweat. “Where in flaming dragon’s breath have you been? Get over here, now! Eric! You too!”

“What in creation does he want?” Sestian grumbled.

“Perhaps an audience with the privileged squires. We are practically royalty, you know.”

They laughed and made their way across the courtyard. Sitting on the edge of the merman and hippocamp fountain was a short, stubby man, his feet barely touching the ground. His equally round wife, her hair piled high on her head in a beehive mess, sat beside him.

Sestian groaned. “Ah, the swine-bellied Baron von Stuegler and his haughty wife. Wonderful.” His eyes drifted to the two large trunks and array of handbags stacked to their sides. “From the looks of it, you’d think they were moving in.”

“Don’t suggest it,” Eric said. “They probably would.”

“Sestian, hurry up!” the jobmaster ordered. “Take the Von Stueglers to their quarters on the third floor. They’re tired of waiting.”

“What? I’m not a baggage hand—”

The jobmaster smacked Sestian on the head. “If I wanted your comments, I’d ask for them, now move! Eric!” He shoved a whistle into Eric’s hand. “Take over for a bit.”

“W-what do you want me to do?” Eric asked.

“You’re an intelligent lad. Figure it out.”

“But I should help Sestian. There are a lot of bags, far too many for him to carry alone.”

Sestian glanced over his shoulder weighed down by two large paisley bags. “I’ve got this, Eric. I’ll catch up later.”

Eric’s objections were interrupted by horns sounding from atop the gatehouse. The guard shouted, “The King’s messenger arrives!”

The people scattered as the rider rounded the bend. His cloak flew out behind him as he brought his horse to a stop beside the waiting stable hands. The man dismounted and handed his steed into their care.

The jobmaster shoved Eric aside. “Captain Morant. Welcome back to Gyllen. What is the word?”

The rider stripped off his gloves. “King Gildore and Queen Mysterie are but two hours’ ride from here. They will arrive by sunset.” The captain looked around, taking in all the decorations, and grinned. “They will be most surprised at what you have done to the place.” He turned to Eric. “I need to speak with your master right away. I have a message to deliver to him from the king. Do you know where I might find him?”

“I’m not sure. You can try Crafter’s Row.”

“Thank you.” Captain Morant’s gaze traveled from the tip of Eric’s head to his feet then back to his face. “You should get cleaned up, young man. You are a squire, not a stable hand. You cannot be first in line alongside Sir Trogsdill to greet Their Majesties looking like a bedraggled cat.” He playfully punched Eric’s chin. “Go on! Make yourself presentable!”

Eric grinned. He didn’t need to be told twice. “Yes, sir, Captain.” He flicked a sarcastic smile at the jobmaster and ran to his castle suite.

Chapter 4

 

 

David ran upstairs to his room, his phone pressed to his ear.

“What do you mean your parents aren’t dead?” Charlotte sounded as whacked-out as he felt.

He read the letter to her. His hands shook as the words faded from his lips.

“Shut up,” Charlotte said. “This is so freaking weird.”

“What do I do with this, Char? My brain can’t process it.”

“I don’t know. Let me think. I’m still with my family. I’ll call you when I get home.”

David hung up and fell back on his bed. Unfolding the letter, he read it again. Three phrases stared back at him.

The risk to his life.

His father and I.

David.

No matter how he spun it, there was no room for misunderstanding. His parents were alive. His mother had written the letter, and he was in danger.

He dangled Lily’s necklace above him.
Why did you leave this here?

The woman’s voice from his dream whispered deep in his mind two words he hadn’t heard before.
Keep

safe.

The pendant swung from side to side in a gentle tick-tock motion. His thoughts traveled back in time to his first memories of Lily. Image after image flashed, and in every frame the necklace was draped around her long, regal neck. That is, until this morning. Until she drove away in his car. David bunched the necklace in his fist, his arm draped across his forehead. His forefinger pulsed. David sat up and removed the ring.

Hot molten fire shot through his veins, shooting down his legs, up his arms, through his neck. His blood turned to lava, burning, bubbling. An inhuman cry he didn’t recognize as his own bellowed up from his throat. The room blurred. The ring rolled from his hand, and tinked to the floor.

“Nooooo!”

Fiery torture raged through his limbs. He dived from the bed, searching. Swimming.
Oh, God, make it stop!
Cool metal brushed his hand. His fingers curled around the band and slid it into place. An icy wave crashed through his veins, extinguishing the fire, soothing the burn, and calming his blood.

David stared at the ceiling, panting. “Jesus. What the hell?” His phone rang, but he didn’t answer. Couldn’t answer. His body failed to engage in movement. The grandfather clock did its musical gong thing twice, meaning thirty minutes passed before he could coerce his feet to allow him to stand. He hokey-pokeyed about and let out a long sigh. “Note to self. The creepy ring does not leave the finger.” He checked his phone. Charlotte had called. No message. He grabbed his coat and fled downstairs. He needed to see her, and now, but she wasn’t home.

He walked Chestnut circle from the cul-de-sac to the stop sign, counting his footsteps in his head. When he reached thirty-six, he went home, his feet and legs cold and numb. In the warmth of his room, he crashed on his bed, a picture of Charlotte in one hand, his phone in the other.

 

 

***

 

 

A haze hung around David, lifting him to a green meadow, the morning sun bright and warm. In the distance, a farmer tilled a large field. Children laughed, a dog barked among clothes on a line. Beautiful. Serene. And then it came. Thunder. But it didn’t come from the sky.

Hundreds of armored knights and soldiers clambered over the hilltop. On horses and on foot they charged one another, spears at the ready. Arrows flew through the air. The reverberations of the battle surged through his being. His heart was like a pendulum slamming against his ribcage. The ground shook.

Bark. Bark.

David turned to the children playing. Terror coiled around his spine. His feet left the ground in a sprint. His arms flailed in the air.

“Go! Get inside!”

They paid him no mind.

He ran harder, faster, his arms pumping at his side. An arrow pierced his thigh and agony ricocheted through his bones. He tumbled to the ground. Horses reared around him. Blood splattered his arm. A scream filled the air. He scanned the battleground looking for its source and froze as Charlotte came into view, tied to a lone tree in the middle of the field. The children disappeared, vanished as if never there. He pushed to his feet and ran to her, dragging his wounded leg behind. A man wielding a sword shouted his name, but David waved him away. He reached Charlotte and clawed at the knot binding her wrists, but it failed to budge.

A sudden burst of wind hit him from behind. Charlotte’s face froze in terror; her expression ripped at his heart. Tears slid down her cheeks. He followed her gaze and stopped breathing as a huge shadow blocked the sun. A monstrous dragon, so plum-purple he was almost black, flew over the field, its enormous mouth open, fangs exposed. Flames bellowed inside its throat. And then it exhaled. Fire flooded the field. Men yelled, consumed by the blaze. The foul smell of death burned crisp and pungent in the air. David wrapped himself around Charlotte, her body buried beneath his, the intense heat on his back.

A downdraft of wind enveloped him. The earth reverberated as the dragon touched down. The beast snorted, its horrid breath brought the stench of rotten eggs. David turned and blinked several times to clear the stinging smoke from his eyes and gasped. A talon twice as long as he was tall poised above him. His reflection, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, stared back at him from the dragon’s triumphant slit amber eyes. The talon fell. A scream echoed through the chaos on the field before the world went black.

 

 

***

 

 

David startled awake, sweat pouring from his brow, the nightmare still vivid in his mind. He shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun glaring through the windows. Clutching the mattress, he stood and gathered his wits. Downstairs, the grandfather clock struck two. Lily. He needed to talk to Lily. He needed answers. As if on cue, the Mustang rumbled up the drive. He thundered down the servants’ steps to the kitchen as Lily walked through the back door, her face drawn as if she’d lost her best friend. She flicked him a furtive glance as she hung up her coat.

“W-where have you been?” David asked.

“I had to see someone.” She padded down the hall to the library and stopped on the threshold. She turned to face him, her eyes wide. “David, what have you done?”

David stretched out his arm, her necklace dripping from his fingers. “We need to talk, Lily, and I want the truth.”

Lily took the necklace, her gaze frozen for a moment on the ring. Her jaw tightened. “What possessed you to go through my things? When has that ever been okay to do in this house?” She stormed off toward the kitchen.

“When was it okay to lie to me?” David followed her.

She spun around, her palm held up in front of her. “Give me the ring.”

“I can’t, but you already know that, don’t you?”

Lily swallowed.

He pulled the parchment from his pocket. “Now, tell me the truth about this letter, and while you’re at it, the meaning of this symbol and why it’s branded on my chest.” He pulled the sweatshirt over his head and threw it on the stool behind him.

Lily’s eyes widened, her mouth quivered at the corners. Wispy stray hairs flew wild about her face. She straightened. “When did it happen?” Her words sounded like she’d swallowed a pack of sandpaper.

“It showed up this morning out of nowhere, like your letter, and before the short little dude fell on my balcony then morphed, and vanished into nothing.”

“A short man?” Her words reeked with worry. “Did you see what he looked like?”

“He was short with red hair.”

“Oh, no.” She turned around.

“Oh, no, what? Do you know who he is?”

She hugged her shoulders. “The traveler.”

“The who?”

“The time is nigh,” she whispered, tears in her eyes. Lily took a seat at the breakfast bar and motioned to the seat across from her. “Put your sweater on and sit down.”

David did as she asked.

Lily put her elbows on the table and buried her face in her palms. “There is so much to tell you; I don’t know where to begin.”

“You can start by telling me if my parents are alive.”

She paused and closed her eyes. The words fell from her mouth in a whisper. “Yes, they’re alive.”

The shockwave hit him full blast. The bottom fell out of his stomach. “W-what?”

Lily reached across the table and took David’s hands in hers. “Honey, I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you for so long, but I was sworn to secrecy.”

David ripped his hands away. “Y-you lied to me?”

“To protect you.”

“From what?”

“From what’s happening, from the ring, from the talisman on your chest.” She paused for a moment as if trying to find the right words. When she did speak again, her voice was soft, her cadence slow and calculating. “Honey, your life is … complicated. There’s more to who you are than I am allowed to tell you. Those were your mother’s wishes, and I will not betray the promises I made to her. Your parents made a very difficult decision. Please believe me when I say neither of them wanted this to happen. They love you very much.” Lily wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “It was because they loved you so much they put your life and well-being before their own. For almost seventeen years, you’ve been safe.”

“And now I’m not?”

She shook her head and wiped her cheek. “No, you’re not. Something is terribly wrong. The letter—it’s not from your mother. That much I know for certain.”

Something icy flooded the pit of his stomach. “Then who’s it from?”

“I don’t know. I wish I did.”

“Are you telling me someone is pretending to be my mother?”

Lily nodded. “Yes.”

“Seriously?” He leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest. “Why would someone do that?”

“It has to do with who you are, what you are. I believe this is somehow a test. I’m still trying to confirm my suspicions. That’s why I left today. I had to talk to someone, someone who can help me.”

BOOK: In the Shadow of the Dragon King
5.41Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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