In the Shadow of the Dragon King (23 page)

Slavandria’s voice crept into his brain.
Drop her, Trog. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he’s not the one.

David cried out in his mind,
Accelero Silentium
one last time. He shot across the terrace and hurled into an unforgiving object before crumpling to the ground. Nausea churned in his gut and burned upward into his throat. He got to his hands and knees and threw up. Twice.

Charlotte shrieked behind him. “I hate you! I hate you both!”

Trog chuckled as she stormed off.

David glowered at the knight. “Don’t you ever touch her again!”

Trog sucked air through his teeth. “Or you’ll do what, pup?”

David managed to find his feet and shuffled toward Charlotte leaning against the merman statue.

“Don’t talk to me.” Her hands were visibly shaking. Her voice trembled.

“I’m sorry, Char.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, David! All you had to do was say two stinking words, and you couldn’t do that even while I dangled like bait over a shark tank.”

“But I did do it.” Realization bloomed in his mind. He held Charlotte’s hands, his breath coming faster. “I did it. I rocketed to you like a freaking bullet! I was there, and then I was here.”

“Yee haw.” Charlotte folded her arms across her chest. “Excuse me if I don’t celebrate in your newfound talent.”

“Oh, come on, Char. Don’t you see what this means? I did magic.”

“And you’re about to do some more,” Slavandria said, joining them.

David shook his head. “No. No more. I’m not doing that again. I’m sore, and I still feel sick.”

Trog’s shadow engulfed David. “Your enemies won’t care if you are sick or hurt. In fact, they’ll count on it.”

Slavandria nodded. “Trog’s right. That’s why you have to learn all you can to avoid any entanglements with them. The next spell will leave you feeling a bit dizzy at first, but like the spell before it, the more you practice, the less it will affect you.”

“I doubt it,” David said.

“The following spell works well in conjunction with
Accelero Silentium
. It blends you into your surroundings, rendering you more or less invisible. I don’t think I need to explain to you the importance of being able to mask yourself to your enemies and having the speed to move away from them undetected.”

“You know, if you just sent us home, we could avoid having to do this all together.”

Slavandria ignored his comment. “I want you to stand here and this time, picture yourself as part of this fountain and repeat the following words in your head,
Ibidem Evanescere.”

David closed his eyes and envisioned himself as stone.
Ibidem Evanescere
.

Nothing. Four more times, the words tumbled around in his brain, and still nothing happened. He shook his head and said, “I’m not feeling it.”

“You must believe you can do it. Erase all doubt. It will destroy you. Try it again.”

“Come on,” Charlotte said, putting a great deal of space between her and Trog. “You can do it.”

Charlotte’s confidence in him drove back his doubt. He closed his eyes and pictured himself as the merman. Powerful, indestructible, with a triton in his hand.

He waited for the magical buzzing to attack him. Instead, it started in his veins and retreated, flying out of his body.

Charlotte gasped. “David! Where did you go?”

David opened his eyes and looked down. He looked no different. “What are you talking about? I’m right here.”

“Where?” Charlotte asked, walking toward him, her eyes narrowed, searching. He shuffled quietly out of the way as she did her mime impersonation. “Okay, you’re freaking me out. You were just here. I heard you.”

David’s spirit jolted, and he smiled. “Wait. You really can’t see me?”

Charlotte spun around, searching for him with her hands. “No, I can’t see you. Where are you?”

Daring to risk feeling sick once more, he closed his eyes and thought
Accelero Silentium.

The buzzing returned, swarmed, but it felt different this time. The spell collided with the magic within, both springing off of each other like polar equals of a magnet. He shot across the terrace and beyond with unimaginable speed, and clung to a limb high in a nearby tree. Triumph muffled nausea. He hooted with delight.

Charlotte jumped and spun around. “David Heiland, this is not funny. Show yourself!”

David ferried back to the terrace, only feet away from Charlotte. “I can’t. I don’t know how.”

Slavandria stepped toward him, a large smile on her face. “I believe the word you are looking for is
Andor.”

David repeated the word. A cool chill, as if doused in a peppermint patty, spread over him. A thin film disintegrated from him and vanished in a poof at his feet. “Whoa. Awesome!”

Slavandria called for Twiller who trudged toward her dragging three rucksacks. He laid one at David’s, Trog’s, and Charlotte’s feet.

“What are these?” David asked, picking his up.

“Items you will need for your journey, including some additional sundries you’re accustomed to. You can go through it later. Right now, I have one last gift for you.”

Slavandria conjured a longbow, the sleekest, most beautiful weapon David had ever seen. It was almost as long as he was tall, red in color, and feather-light in his hand. She handed him a leather quiver with six arrows and strapped on him an armguard with leather lacing.

David shook his head. “Wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“Thank you would be sufficient. Oh, and as a special treat, each arrow you release will replenish by one. I gave you a few extra just in case.”

“Limitless supply, huh? I like it.”

“You will also need these.” Slavandria rolled her wrist. Three full-length cloaks appeared, draped over her arm. She gave one each to Trog, David, and Charlotte.

“I take it we’re going somewhere?” David said.

“Yes. It is time for the three of you to go. I have done all I can do for now. The rest is up to you.”

Trog tightened his belt and adjusted the sword and dagger at his sides. “I take it you have alerted General Balendar and the shime we are entering the Southern Forest. Our journey will be much smoother if they know you have sent us their way.”

“I’m afraid you will not be going through the Southern Forest, Trog. You are to travel by way of the I’ildril Road and make your way to Gable. From there, you shall travel the Domengart Mountains northward to the fields of Valnor and onward to Hirth.”

Trog’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand, Your Grace. That path takes us out of our way. I must return to Gyllen immediately. Their Majesties are counting on me to find them.”

“Trog, I understand your desire to fulfill your duties as a faithful knight and general, but war has been declared. Your military expertise is now required of you in a different, but equally important, manner. You will accompany David and Charlotte to Gyllen via the I’ildril Road. From there you will travel the Doomideen Pass, then to the field of Valnor, and then on to Gyllen.”

“You’re mad!” Trog said. “The Northern Forest will be teeming with shadowmorths and trolls. I don’t care what sort of spells you’ve given these two; this tadpole will die before he gets within pissing distance of Gyllen.”

“I’m not a tadpole,” David said, “and what are shadowmorths?”

Slavandria raised an eyebrow. “Are you admitting you do not have the wherewithal to oversee two children, Trog?”

David turned to Charlotte. “They’re ignoring me.”

Trog’s glare shot darts through him. David gulped and lowered his gaze.

Trog turned back to Slavandria. “I’m saying you should let me do my job, and perhaps
you
should escort these two to Gyllen. You can do it much more efficiently than I, and in far less time.”

“I am not concerned with efficiency or speed of reaching Gyllen. I am concerned with learning firsthand what is happening on the ground. Who is teaming with Einar, and who is willing to fight for Gyllen. Only you can do this. There is no reason you cannot search for King Gildore and Queen Mysterie while assisting David in his quest, can you not?”

He growled, waved his arm in disgust, and turned away.

David glanced at the ground and shuffled his feet. How humiliating it must be for the highest-ranking knight and commander of an army to be ordered around by a sorceress
.

Slavandria moved to stand before Trog, her eyes soft and gentle. “I know this is not what you expected, but I need you. It has to be this way. How else will David find what he must seek?” She touched his face, her eyes soft and pleading. “May I count on you to do what is required?”

“I cannot protect them as well as you think I can,” he said.

“You won’t need to. Charlotte can heal. David can ferry you out of any precarious situation you might find yourself in. They will, however, need your eyes, your expertise, your wisdom, and your guidance.”

David affixed the quiver against his back.

Charlotte whispered in his ear. “She’s got a lot of confidence in you and those magic spells.”

David’s stomach fluttered. “Yeah. I wish I did.”

Trog brought Slavandria’s hands to his lips and kissed them. “I will do as you request, Your Grace.”

She smiled and withdrew an amber pendant dangling from a gold chain around her neck. She slipped it over his head. “In case you need to summon me. You know how it works.”

Slavandria squeezed his hands and stepped back. “David and Charlotte, stay with Trog at all times. Listen to him. He knows what’s out there. David, practice your spells until you can do them with ease and little discomfort.” She turned toward the verge near the stone table and called out, “Agimesh. Tacarr.”

Two humanoid gargoyles stepped forward. They were the same shime that had accompanied the centaur. Charlotte squeezed David’s hand.

“These two will accompany you as far as the Doomideen Pass. From there, you are at the mercy of the Sankara Mountains and the Northern Forest. Go, and may the heavens be with you and guide you.”

Trog guided David and Charlotte down the terrace steps and turned north to circle the manor, the two winged creatures marching behind.

“Is where we’re going as dangerous as you said?” Charlotte asked as they left the green hills and meadow and stepped foot on the main road.

“More than you know,” Trog answered.

“Are we going to make it?” Her voice trembled.

Trog pushed his way through them and picked up the pace. “Yes, provided we reach Gable before dark.”

Eric spent all day in the courtyard overseeing the clearing of debris, his mind reeling with a hundred different ways to find and team up with the paladin. Of course, each scenario devolved into one of the knights finding out and confining him to his room, or worse yet, the dungeons, so as to learn a good lesson. Sometimes he wished he could clap his hands and make them all disappear. It certainly would make his life a lot easier.

As he sat cross-legged on his bed, he pondered the box of Sestian’s personal belongings before him. A young page had dropped it off just after sunrise, along with his tearful condolences. Eric had accepted both and set the box on the chest at the foot of his bed with no real intentions of digging into memories he’d rather not visit at the moment. Sestian’s death was still too raw. Painful. But there was something about the box, something that called to him, like a warm vanilla cake swimming in drizzled rum.

He eyed the worn sole of a boot poking through the effects and touched a slice in the scuffed leather, remembering with clarity the knife once lodged there.

It had started innocently enough— a jaunt through the castle in the dark on one of Sestian’s many sleepless nights—when they came upon a fellow squire determined to have his way with an unwilling servant girl. A fight ensued, the girl’s virginity rescued, and Sestian ended up with a knife in his foot from an ill-judged kick. It was one of the few times Farnsworth didn’t punish Sestian for his roaming, believing Sestian had learned his lesson. But a knife wound to the foot was nothing to Sestian. He continued to break the rules, keeping life interesting at Gyllen.

Eric lifted a pair of suede shoes and the leather boots from the box and set them on the floor. Next, he withdrew a handful of lace handkerchiefs, no doubt mementos from pleasant moments of seduction steeped in heartbreaking promises. There were several knives, money, rocks, fencing gantlets, a few belts, coin bags, a leather flask, and a pendant the size of his palm made of spun gold with a ruby dragon eye in the center.

“Well, this is interesting, Ses.” He placed it around his neck and tucked it beneath his tunic.

The last item, a suede-covered book, piqued Eric’s curiosity. He flipped through the pages, uncertain why Sestian had it in his possession. His friend had detested books, saying they were distractions from the freakishness reality of life.

Tucked between the pages near the center of the book, Eric found a small sheet of parchment folded in half. His breath hitched at the handwritten note on the outside.

Eric—third one found. Must confront Trog!

“What in dragon’s breath is this?”

The paper crinkled as he unfolded the page. He scanned the scribbled text.

Sir Trogsdill,

Einar is in possession of your most recent letter. He would like to remind you of your agreement and the consequences should you not follow through. The fact that all of Hirth will attend the festivities to welcome home the king and queen makes no difference to him. He has no need for their admiration, only subservience, and you will see to it he gets it. Present Their Majesties to the Dragon King in the manner upon which agreed. Otherwise, consider your accord vacated.

Senior Advisor to Einar, King of Berg

“King of Berg my … ” Eric turned the book upside down and shook it.

Two more similarly-sized parchments floated to the bed. On the outside were more notes written by Sestian, and they were marked as numbers one and two.

More?
He clenched his hands to keep them from trembling.

Eric read the words. His jaw was tight. His temper continued escalating by the second.