Quest Of The Dragon Tamer (Book 1) (21 page)

Lorlier lost his smile, causing the shadow cast by his vast height to shiver on the forest floor. Many of Lorlier’s soldiers feared their king, but Korin had grown to understand Lorlier’s actions stemmed from love: the love of his family, the love of the land. If you spoke the truth and had good intentions you had nothing to fear from Lorlier.

“I heard you felt the pain when the Quy was reborn.”

Korin’s heart quickened. “Yes, my lord.” Although Korin knew Lorlier wouldn’t hold him in ill regard because of magic, he was unsure how the man would react to it. The king relied on physical strength and cunning. Korin suspected magic’s rebirth wouldn’t settle well with Lorlier.

“What do you think?”

“My lord?”

“I know it’s an odd question, Korin, but I’m just a little, shall I say … unnerved by the entire affair. I don’t like battling unforeseeable enemies. Magic’s rebirth will cause far more than battles. It will bring war. War is something I know about but war and magic together? I don’t like it. And I don’t know what to think.”

“I don’t know if anyone knows what to think, my lord.”

Lorlier sat on a large rock and looked at Korin with a touch of unease. “The people at Stardom seem to.”

Korin almost smiled. The king looked foreign in the serene setting. Korin was used to seeing Lorlier in the castle surrounded by fine things, or on the back of a horse with weapons in hand. The calm trickling of the water and the gentle sway of the trees was lost on Lorlier. Lorlier didn’t heed the peaceful things of nature. Lorlier was a man of action.

“They knew, and I don’t like it. It’s almost as if they knew too much.”

Korin ground his teeth, desperately wanting to reveal the truth but fearing it more than death itself. “What does your instinct tell you, my king?”

Lorlier heaved a tremendous sigh. “My instinct goes back and forth. First it says Valor was full of dragon’s piss to pronounce Ren a traitor but when I look at the evidence, well, let’s just say I don’t know how long a man can deny his own eyes.”

Korin hid his disappointment. He wanted to tell Lorlier Ren wasn’t the one to fear, but if Brice suspected his deceit he would be the first to die. Then he would be unable to save Lorlier the heartache of losing his only son. Korin risked a glance in Brice’s direction. The man was watching, and the presence inside Korin’s mind tightened as if aware of his thoughts. Korin’s insides twisted into knots. He had an obligation to steer Lorlier in the right direction. Although he needed to be cautious, he could still offer Lorlier some semblance of the truth and hope the king would take it to heart.

“My lord, I wasn’t there when the power was reborn but I’ve overheard talk. Ren has never been portrayed as someone who hungered for power. On the contrary, he was the antithesis of Wyrick. Still, most of the men in your guard believe the woman. I don’t know if their belief is due to their hunger for the Quy or if they truly believe the accusations, but I can tell you this … ”

Lorlier leaned forward, intent on what Korin was about to reveal. Korin felt his gut wrench. He didn’t deserve the trust in Lorlier’s eyes.

“I’m questioning the validity of her claim. If she’s a four hundred year old sorceress she could have staged everything. She could have charmed the guards who confirmed Ren’s presence in Wyrick’s chamber, she could have charmed Ren himself, and you mustn’t forget she’s ruling by Valor’s side. Peaceful? I have my doubts.”

Lorlier studied him in silence. A band of sweat broke out on Korin’s forehead. He felt as if he were being stripped of all knowledge, searched for verity. After a few dragon’s breaths, Lorlier chuckled and Korin relaxed.

The king slapped his thigh. “How is it the most obvious thing was never challenged? Maker curse it! Ista can’t be trusted.”

Dread inched up Korin’s spine. He wanted Lorlier to disbelieve Ista, but not adamantly. Lorlier was the type to give credit where credit was due.

“You’ll be honored for this, Korin.”

“No!”

Lorlier took a step back, surprised. Korin flushed and cleared his throat. “My apologies, my lord. I just feel caution would be wise. Openly denying Ista will cause her to rise against you. If you announce your belief in the crown prince your kingdom will be her next target.”

The king creased his brow. “I don’t like being neutral, but you’re right again.” Korin expelled a relieved breath. Lorlier didn’t seem to notice Korin’s worry. Instead, he smiled like a proud father. “Do you think you could learn the Quy without training under anyone else?”

Korin tried to decipher Lorlier’s words. What was the king asking? How could he reply? He already knew how to use it. Although he had never put it into practice, he knew. “I suppose I could try, but I don’t know how successful I’d be.”

“I have books on how to use the Quy.”

Korin blinked in surprise. To his knowledge no training book remained except for the few Ista had taken before the Alcazar burned. “I thought only some minor histories remained.”

“That’s what people think. During the Wizard War Barracus destroyed all the training books he could find, those at the Alcazar burned in the fire, but the wizard in Fest hid some books before Barracus captured the castle. They weren’t enough to cause Barracus suspicion, but enough, I’m sure, to begin powerful training.”

Korin couldn’t speak as his hopes of escape resurfaced. Those books might be able to tell him how to counter the needles. Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to do what he had previously planned.

“Korin, if it’s as you suspect, and my soldiers are hungry to learn, they’ll soon grow restless if I don’t give them leave to train in Zier. I need to teach them here. The sooner the better.”

Korin could barely focus on Lorlier’s words as his mind spun with possibilities, but in the next breath his hopes sank to the pit of his stomach. Ista would never allow him to teach others if she knew about the books.

“I want you to learn the power and teach my people, especially Alise. I know she’ll begin on her own, and it worries me. She’s headstrong and may go too far too fast. I don’t want her to injure herself. When we reach Fest, please begin research. The Maker knows I never knew I would need the books, never even wanted to think about them, but it looks like the time is upon us.”

Korin nodded, mind reeling. “Yes, my lord, it would be my honor.”

Lorlier smiled. “I knew I could count on you, Korin.”

When the king turned away Korin became desperate. He needed those books, but if Ista discovered them he wouldn’t be long for this world.

Before he lost his nerve, Korin cleared his throat. “My lord, I do have a request.”

Lorlier turned to face him. “Ask.”

“I don’t think anyone else should know about the books, not even the soldiers I teach. They could be dangerous in the wrong hands.”

Lorlier nodded. “I agree. The knowledge of them ends here.”

Korin almost cried out in relief. He had a chance. At last, no matter how small, he had a chance.

After Lorlier had taken a few steps toward camp he paused and turned back, worry spreading over his strong features. “Korin, I’m concerned about Marianne.”

Korin felt the heat rise to his face. The king would never approve of a man such as himself yearning for one of his daughters. “My lord, she doesn’t have the power. Why are you worried about her?”

Lorlier heaved a weary sigh. “I fear she may one day take her life. Depression runs in her mother’s line. It has claimed many of them.”

Korin’s eyes widened. Ista had told him to befriend one of Lorlier’s daughters, and he had chosen Marianne because she intrigued him. She was shy and distant, but also caring and gentle. She was terrified of strangers, but when someone needed help or was fraught with anguish Marianne would reach past her fear and touch them in some way. When he had first arrived in Fest one of the guard had lost his wife and child to a sickness. Marianne had gone to his home, heedless of the contamination, and sat with him while he mourned. Her compassion had touched something in Korin he couldn’t begin to explain, but he had never been held when he cried or comforted when he feared. To him, Marianne was an angel, a beautiful, gentle angel.

He hadn’t known about the depression. Had he in some way caused it?

“Depression? My lord, I had no idea. I fear I may have caused it.”

Lorlier’s brows furrowed. “Korin, I’ve seen you with her. You seem to calm her, bring her out of her shell. You caused nothing of the sort.”

Korin shifted his weight, heart laden with worry. “My lord, I didn’t have a good feeling about the ball. I may have caused her distress when I voiced my concerns. I had no idea she suffered from depression. Please, forgive me if I caused her worry.”

“Nonsense, Korin. I think it has something to do with this magic business. She doesn’t have the power, but she may have something related. Can you look into it for me?”

“I would be honored, my lord.”

“Please, call me Lorlier in private.” Instead of turning to go, Lorlier walked forward and clasp Korin’s shoulder. “Thank you, Korin. When we arrive in Fest I will give you a new rank and title, something to make you proud.”

Korin watched as Lorlier walked back to camp, unsure of what to focus on first: magic, Marianne, the needles, Brice or Davis. But before he could focus on anything Lorlier turned once again.

“I would be happy if you would spend more time with Marianne, if you … well, you’re good for her. Try to give her more confidence, like you. She’s very dear to me. I worry about her more than anyone knows.”

Korin was left standing with an ache in his chest. He didn’t want to fail Lorlier, but Ista was powerful and he felt impending doom gathering around him. He struggled against the presence to cling to the peace, to the hope of life, but he knew his time was short. He would be unable to fool Ista much longer. His time was coming. The rope was tightening. But he vowed, before the rope hung him, he would do his best to cripple the monster that had raised him.

- - -

Ista stepped forward and ran her hands over the Red Eye. She could feel its power residing within, churning for release. A small smile lit her face. Soon, everything would begin. Although she had underestimated the Chosen’s power she had predicted his actions with flawless precision. He was far too concerned about his friends, far too predictable.

After Ren’s escape she hadn’t tried to follow him. His power required her to begin the second phase of her plan. She had thought of every contingency long ago. With each step Ren moved closer to his demise. The prophecy the wizards had placed so much faith in would be his undoing. A hollow laugh escaped her throat. When Zorc came out of hiding he would find the Chosen a broken man. She would crush Zorc’s last hope and force him to bow at her feet to reclaim what had been stolen from him – his precious Christa.

Ista chuckled as the spirit inside her stirred in discomfort. If Christa’s spirit dispersed without first rejoining with her other revenant held in Zorc’s body, Christa’s soul would be forever trapped in the Realm of Shadows, forever searching for her other self. Christa would become a soul without completion, a soul with no place to go.

Imagine Zorc’s reaction when he discovered his redhead beauty could be lost for eternity! But Ista would be kind. Zorc would have a choice. Oh yes, he would have a choice. Ista’s festering hand moved over the Red Eye as if caressing a long-lost lover.

“Soon I’ll call and you’ll come, Barracus. Soon you’ll be mine to command.”

Ista dipped her hand in the basin of water and wiped her brow as her thoughts turned back to the Chosen. The poor prince, thinking he had escaped her. He would be surprised to discover she knew exactly where he was, and exactly where he was going. Did he think she was fool enough to leave anything of importance at the camp? Did he think she wouldn’t have had the foresight to leave something behind that would aid in his undoing?

All in the castle, and soon all in the Lands, would believe the accusations against Ren. In fact, those with the Quy would agree to anything if only to be thrown one morsel of knowledge. Yes, things were working out much better than planned.

Already all of Newlan was hers. Soon all of Oldan would be as well. Pity Ramie hadn’t wished to join her, but that was of no concern. Before long one of her pawns would declare Ramie an ally of the prince and attack the Augustus empire. The throne of Yor would fall and Ramie Augustus would fall with it.

Ista pushed those thoughts aside. It was foolish to dwell on subjects of little concern. She needed to focus on the Red Eye. She caressed its form, sensing the power within yearning for freedom.

“Soon, Barracus,” she whispered, gazing into its fiery depths. The cloudy interior shifted in response. Ista licked her lips and yelled for a guard.

When the door behind her opened she didn’t turn. She didn’t need to see the guard to know his face teemed with apprehension. Although she was revered as the savior, everyone cowered in her presence. A small sneer formed on Ista’s lips as the slight glow of the Red Eye illuminated her molten face with crimson flame.

The next day she would begin inserting the needles in those with magic who had chosen to remain behind. But that was the next day.

Now she wanted to concentrate on the Red Eye.

“Bring Lazo to me. I need to question him again.”

The door clicked shut behind her.

Soon now, she would be unstoppable.

Chapter 11

As Sass slowed her mount, she wiped her brow with her forearm and licked her lips. After a few attempts at swallowing she finally managed to send some saliva down her parched throat. She squinted up at the sun, wishing she had paid more attention to her pedagogues when they discussed navigation and geography. Streams were scarce in the territory between Zier and Ketes, but they did exist if you knew where to look.

Her mount nickered and Sass sent a silent prayer to the Maker she would arrive in Ketes before her horse collapsed. She didn’t know much about horses, but she did know they couldn’t ride forever, especially without water. Whispering praises for its efforts, Sass patted the roan’s neck and surveyed the landscape: no stream, no sign of life and nothing in either direction that looked any different than the terrain of the past day.