The Dragon's Champion (23 page)

Marlin walked
over to Erik and located the areas of the boy’s aura that glowed red. The
priest
hovered
his hand over the red spots and sent
his own energy, green energy, into the boy’s aura. The green slowly pushed the
red away and healed the boy’s hurts. When Erik’s aura had been repaired, Marlin
stood up and pulled Erik to his feet.

“How did you do
that?” Erik asked.

“It is a healing
method that can only be taught to those with the gift of True Sight,” Marlin replied.
“Perhaps if you take the test I can teach it to you.” Erik nodded his head.
Marlin took the rattan sword away from Erik. “I will need to give this back.
Also, you should know that the guards have different assignments based on the
trial attempt. In other words, a different five will be friendly to you this
round.”

“This is going
to be a long night,” Erik muttered softly.

An ear-splitting
shriek ripped Lady Dimwater’s eyes open. Her vision was fuzzy, but she sensed that
Silverfang was standing guard over her. The shriek came again. She rubbed her
eyes and struggled to get to her knees. She was still lying on the floor of her
study, where she had lost consciousness after battling Jerutho.

“Silverfang,
what is it?” she asked. The wolf didn’t answer. It stood calmly next to her. It
nuzzled her side, as if to comfort her. She pet the wolf reassuringly and
clumsily stood on her feet. She snapped her fingers and a crevasse of water
appeared in the air before her, along with a simple glass. She took the items
and filled the glass. She drained it quickly and repeated the process until the
crevasse was empty. The shriek came again. She put a hand to her head and
moaned.

It was the call
of the nighthawk, she realized. Her vision became clear and she forced through
her weariness, running to the window. She looked up to the sky and saw the
magical bird. It was almost the size of a dragon, with wings of gold and purple
feathers. Its beak was turquoise, and even from her window she could see the
golden eyes looking straight back at her. As the bird circled her tower it left
a trail of dazzling colors, sparkling as glitter in the afternoon sunlight.

She looked down
to the courtyard and saw many apprentices out for their afternoon lunch. None
of them noticed the bird, but then that was to be expected. The nighthawk was
only visible to the recipient of its call. No one else could see or hear it,
not even the other wizard-professors in Kuldiga Academy.

Months ago, Lady
Dimwater suggested to Lepkin that he should take the spell with him, in case he
ever had need of her. He had laughed aloud when she had offered him the spell,
she remembered. But she had made him promise to take the parchment with the
instructions for casting the spell. She was relieved that he had apparently
listened to her, but she shuddered to think what danger may have forced him to
use it. She hoped that she would be able to help, despite her weakened state.

She quickly
weaved a spell in front of her and called the nighthawk down to her window. As
the bird lighted on the stone window sill, it shrank to the size of a normal
hawk. It looked at her strangely for a moment and then relayed its message to
her. Mental images of an arrow piercing Lepkin’s chest appeared in Lady Dimwater’s
mind. She felt her heart break at that moment. She fell to her knees, overcome
with grief. The next image brought with it the pain that Lepkin felt as he
forced himself to concentrate through the pain of the arrow. Dimwater placed a
hand to her chest and shed a tear, as though she had been the one struck.

She almost
feared the rest of the nighthawk’s message, but it came anyway. Lady Dimwater
saw visions of light and fire as Lepkin turned into a fierce dragon and battled
a warlock and a horde of Blacktongues. She was shocked. She had not known that
Lepkin was Dragon-born.

Lady Dimwater
pushed that revelation aside and focused on the message. She didn’t want to
miss anything. She was relieved to see that he was alive. Her heart danced at
his victory, but her happiness was short lived. The next images came of the
wound in his chest. She saw soiled bandages and the signs of infection. Lepkin
was changing poultices on the wound, but he was losing the strength to walk.
She saw images of the surrounding area, and then Lepkin closed his eyes. He lay
feverishly on the ground, shaking and sweating. He needed healing, but he was
far from help.

Lady Dimwater
turned to the magical messenger once the images stopped. “I need to know where
he is,” she said. “The images were not enough. You must show me.”

The bird bowed
its head and leapt from the window sill. Up into the air it soared with a
shrill cry. It grew back to its normal size, almost as big as a dragon. It gave
another cry and then dove down for the tower window. She knew this was going to
be a treacherous journey. The nighthawk was not meant as a means of transport.
It was purely a messenger. Only the best of wizards could ever learn to ride
them, as they were not made of solid bodies, but she knew there was no other
choice. She couldn’t waste time by guessing where Lepkin was. He needed her
now.

Lady Dimwater
climbed onto the windowsill and leapt onto the magical bird’s back.

She sank into
the bird slightly, but managed to stay on it as it soared over the courtyard
and away from Kuldiga Academy. Dimwater squinted against the wind and clung
tight to the fistfuls of feathers in her hand. She kept her head low and
focused on riding the bird. She felt as though her stomach turned to lead as
the bird ascended through the sky, gaining altitude faster and faster. The
ground below her spun and became smaller. She clenched her jaw tightly and shut
her eyes. She was accustomed to riding the wind on clouds of her own magical
design, but she hated flying on the backs of nighthawks.

Every few
minutes she would peek over the purple and gold wings to the ground below. The
two of them flew high enough that she couldn’t make out any specific landmarks
except for the mountains and dark green patches of ground she assumed were
forests. At least they were going fast, she thought. In truth, the flight of
the nighthawk was only marginally slower than using her magical portal device.
Still, the trip seemed long enough as her stomach flipped and changed from
feeling like lead to weightlessness and then back to being like lead. Dimwater
was only all too happy to hear the bird shriek, signaling that they were going
to descend.

She looked over
the bird and saw the ground advancing toward her with blinding speed. For a
moment she thought that the hills and valleys were going to jump up and swallow
her like a great, earthen mouth. Then the nighthawk tilted its wings up,
catching the wind and ripping them both out of the dive. Lady Dimwater almost
fell through the bird as she momentarily lessened her focus, but she was quick
to right herself and hold on.

At last, the
nighthawk lighted on the ground and tilted down for Dimwater. She gladly left
the bird and ran over to Lepkin. He lay near a dying fire, unconscious, but
still alive. She knelt beside him and put the back of her left hand to Lepkin’s
forehead. His fever was high. She could see the sweat building across his brow
and upper lip. She gently wiped it away.

“I’m here,” she
said softly. “Everything will be alright now.”

*****

Erik lay in his
bed. He was careful not to make any noise, but he was far from sleep. There was
much on his mind. The messenger falcons were coming in more frequently now, but
Al never shared the news they brought. Even Marlin was acting strangely now during
training sessions. The prelate would often come down and watch as well. There
was something about the prelate that unnerved Erik. The prelate seemed hard and
colder than before. He knew that it was probably all in his head, but he didn’t
trust that man.

The midnight
bell chimed. Erik slipped from his covers, dressed not in his bedclothes, but
in a suit of black silk and soft leather shoes. Tonight, he was going to find
out what message the falcons brought.

He crept to his
door and put an ear to it. Satisfied that no one was outside he cracked the
door open and looked around. He slipped out and started for the stairway. A
thought came to him. What if the guards in the temple were able to hide
themselves? Could they make themselves invisible? Erik figured that if Marlin
could summon clones of himself then they might be able to hide themselves as
well. In fact, Marlin had hidden himself before, and only allowed Erik to see a
false Marlin back in the room with the gauntlet. Erik harnessed his power and
then scanned the room again. Still, no one was there.

Erik nodded to
himself and went to the stairs. He descended down quiet as a mouse, stopping
only at the bottom to listen for any sign of activity. He held his breath and
strained his ears against the night. He could hear two men talking. He focused
his mind on the men’s voices, trying to locate them. After a moment he realized
that they were outside. He poked his head around the wall and noticed that one
of the windows in this room was open slightly, allowing the men’s voices to be
heard.

He slipped off
in the other direction, toward the window he had used before to access Al’s
study. He peered out through the glass, but was dismayed to see a pair of
guards walking the wall outside. He knew that it would be easy for them to see
him, despite the darkness, if he tried to go through the window as he had
before. He ducked down and crept back toward the main hall. He stopped at the
corner and slowly knelt down, getting his head low to the floor before poking
it around the corner of the wall. No one was in the hall.

He scurried over
to the door of Al’s study, careful not to make any noise on the hard floor. He
cautiously tried the door, but it was locked. He sighed. He hadn’t wanted to do
this, but he had prepared for it, just in case. He pulled a slim piece of metal
from the inside of his left shoe, and then he grabbed another tool like it,
except that it was hooked at the end, from his right shoe. A twinge of guilt
came over him as he slipped the tools into the keyhole. He had promised Master
Fink, one of the staff members at his old orphanage, that he would never pick
locks anymore.

“It isn’t
proper,” Master Fink had said.

Erik had given
the man his word that day. He promised never to pick locks or steal any more.
It was one of the conditions of being allowed to stay in the orphanage after
Erik had been caught stealing from the kitchen. Erik knew that without Master
Fink’s help, he never would have been adopted at all, much less by a nobleman.
Erik paused, hesitating to use his lockpick set. No, Erik thought. His adopted
father was in trouble, and those messages might give Erik information he needed
to help him. So, despite his guilt he twisted and turned his tools in the lock.
It was necessary to break his promise.

The lock clicked
and Erik knew the door would open now. He slipped his left hand to the doorknob
and twisted, keeping his right hand on the tools still in the keyhole. The door
opened silently. Erik removed his tools and snuck inside, closing the door
behind him. He checked all around, making sure Al had not decided to spend the
night in the study to keep Erik from finding the messages. Next he looked to
the big window at the back of the room. The curtains were drawn over the glass,
making the room extra dark. Erik didn’t care. He knew where he was going. There
was a small letter box on the desk near the window. That was where Al kept the
messages.

Erik turned and
locked the door to the study, just in case anyone walked by to check locks at
night, and then made his way to the desk. He walked slowly so as not to bump
anything. He had only been in the room three times, and only one of those times
was he actually invited in. His other two attempts to gain information had
failed. He was caught going through the window by Al, and one of the guards had
caught him snooping around a couple days after that. He wouldn’t be caught this
time, he knew. The third time’s the charm.

He bumped the
desk lightly with his leg and then started feeling around for the letterbox.
His hand felt the metal box after a few swipes over the desk. He seized it and
brought it to his chest. He knelt down, with his back resting on the desk and
went to work on the lock. It was a little more difficult than the door, but he
got it in a couple of minutes. The latch popped open and the box creaked as
Erik lifted the lid. He reached his hand in and found only a single piece of
paper. Maybe Al had disposed of the other messages? Erik wasn’t sure what was
going on. His curiosity overrode his sense of caution. He struck a match and
held it close to the paper.

The flare
blinded him for a moment. He squinted against the sudden light until his eyes
adjusted, and then he read the words on the paper aloud to himself. “Nice try,
Erik,” he read. He crumpled the paper and shoved it into the box. He blew the
match out and set the box back on the desk. He almost lost control completely,
but he stuffed down the urge to yell when the doorknob across the room rattled.
Erik sucked in a breath and crawled around the desk. He hid in the cavity
underneath and waited. The rattling stopped and then he heard footsteps walking
away from the door.

“Just checking
the lock,” Erik told himself. He moved to slide out from under the desk but his
head struck something hard and sharp. He sucked on his tongue to keep from
crying out. He gently stuck his hand up and felt around for what had hit him.
His fingers found a metal corner protruding from above him. “That’s strange,” Erik
mused. He knew the desk was made purely of wood. So what was this?

He cupped his
left hand around a new match, trying to dim the flare as he struck it. His eyes
widened with glee when he saw another letterbox, attached to the underside of
the desk. He blew out the match and set to work on the lock. Within a minute he
had the thing open and a flurry of papers assaulted him from above as they fell
out over him. He chuckled softly to himself and gathered the papers up. He
needed to light another match to read with, but he didn’t want to risk the
flare being seen through the window. He crawled back around the desk and put
his back against it.

The match hissed
as it brought forth its flame and bathed the papers in its yellowy light. His
eyes scoured the messages hungrily. The first few were simple updates about
Master Lepkin. Al had already told Erik about the meeting with the Lievonian
Order, so Erik tossed those messages aside. He saw a few messages from Al’s
apprentice, back in Buktah. The man complained about having been charged more
than usual when buying supplies and being paid less than usual when customers
picked up their orders from him. Erik wondered if the man ever stopped
complaining to Al.