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Short Story: To Catch a Dragon

by

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To Catch a Dragon

Ndrek sat behind the bar and studied his mid-afternoon customers. Some had started drinking early, others had rented a room for the night and were just starting their day. Nothing terribly interesting among the entire lot.

Boredom itched.

Perhaps it was a good time to start work on the new spell he’d discovered.

As he slid off his stool, the door to the bar opened and the man that entered stooped to get under the door frame. Sir Leopold’s shoulders matched his height, and the gold dragon on his breastplate seemed to glow in the dim light.

The archetype for the Knights of Valor.

Now was more definitely not a good time to work on the spell.

Sir Leopold grimaced and lifted his boot off the sticky floor.

“To what do I owe this…” Ndrek paused. “Honor?”

The Knight leaned against the bar, his back to the wall as his faded blue eyes surveyed the tap room. “Don’t believe for a minute you’ve settled down as a barkeeper.”

“That is not what brought a High-Knight to my humble establishment. Perhaps you came for a Fire and Brimstone? My establishment is said to make the very best.”

Leopold stared at the pristine glasses behind the counter. “At least those are clean.”

“Too much cleanliness would scare away my best customers.”

Leopold’s eyes narrowed. “Not what I came to see you about, though I probably should.”

“Your presence is not conducive to my business. What has brought you here so you can be on your way?”

The Knight ignored the jab, reached into his cloak, and withdrew a sheaf of papers imprinted with the wax seal of the dragon church.

“A writ?”

“Interested?”

Ndrek sucked in a breath as he studied the sealed documents. “You have an army of Knights blessed by Dracor Himself. Why would you have need of me?”

“We’ve been issuing more of them lately. Not enough Knights to oversee all of Tamryn and the eastern provinces.”

“Then you need more Knights.”

“That’s up to Dracor,” Leopold said.

Ndrek bit back his quip about fickle gods. Knights were notoriously touchy about such things.

“Figure you’re getting bored about now. This’ll keep you busy and out of trouble. Pay’s not bad either.”

Ndrek grinned and took the papers, but he frowned as he read them. “This is a goose chase, as you Tamarians say. Dragons have been extinct since before men walked these lands.”

“Locals of Kelleran don’t agree with that assessment.”

“A dragon.” Ndrek rocked back on his heels as he tried to wrap his brain around the idea. “Are you sure?”

“Nope, but that’s where you come in.”

“Would not the followers of the Dragon God Dracor wish to be first on the scene?”

“Already sent a contingent of Knights.”

“They did not return?”

“Of course they returned. They didn’t see any dragons, and they didn’t find any proof that there’d ever been any.”

“Then why send me?”

“Found a few things that made some folks worry there might’ve been a dragon. Knights couldn’t tell if it was real or a hoax.”

“Would not the Knights know this best?”

“Dracor might take the form of a dragon, but dragons are magical beasts. Or they were.”

“No wizard was with the team you sent?”

Sir Leopold shook his head.

“So you think I will be able to tell for sure.”

“That’s the reasoning, anyway.”

Ndrek stared at the bundle of papers, including the generous payout. Far more interesting than tending bar.

Sir Leopold pushed off the bar. “I’ll send Knight Kailis over. She was on the original expedition. And Priestess Vaiya.”

“Was she on the original expedition as well?’

“No, but I figure if you find a dragon, you’ll want the healing skills of Priestess of Thalia on your side.”

Ndrek frowned. “You think there might actually be a dragon.”

“Doesn’t much matter what I think. It’s what you find that counts. I’ll send Knight Kailis over in the morning.”

The High-Knight nodded to him and left the bar, leaving Ndrek with the writ in his hands.

If Sir Leopold thought it was a goose chase, he wouldn’t be sending Ndrek, a Knight, and a Priestess of Thalia to investigate.

Sir Leopold also hadn’t become a High-Knight by being wrong.

Short Story: Goldleaf

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GoldLeaf

 

He signed Evan Goldleaf on the document then slid it across the desk. Jerold Bellamy scrawled his signature across the paper then held out his pudgy hand to shake on the deal.

Goldleaf merely smiled, letting his reputation take over.

“Sorry about that,” Jerold mumbled as he took back his hand. “Customary and all.”

“I hope this will be a long and prosperous partnership.” Goldleaf dipped his head as he stood. He never took off his gloves, not even in the afternoon heat. Another of Goldleaf’s idiosyncrasies, but one others tolerated as doing business with him tended to make them wealthy. As it would Jerold Bellamy if he abided by the agreement. If he didn’t, well, Goldleaf would deal with Jerold accordingly.

“As do I,” Jerold said.

Goldleaf motioned toward a young man with a thick shock of unruly blond hair. “Nathan will see to all the particulars.”

It was likely the one and only time Goldleaf would meet Jerold Bellamy face to face, and he was glad for that. The man washed too little and wore too much perfume.

Nathan bowed then took the chair Goldleaf had vacated. The lad had a sharp mind and was eager to prove himself. This was a rather simple deal, but if the boy handled it well, Goldleaf had a great deal more for him.

It was too bad he’d lose the young man in only fifty years or so.

But then humans just didn’t live very long.

Turning the meeting over to Nathan, Goldleaf strolled through the offices, assuming a bored indifference. Few glanced his way as he appeared to be like every other successful merchant in Aerius.

His glamour spell was holding beautifully, but then most saw what they expected to see. The spell simply reinforced it. Yes, the occasional child pointed at him, or stared, but most parents quickly corrected their children and fussed at them about their lack of manners.

That suited Edrahil Goldleaf quite well.

Edrahil.

He hadn’t thought of himself by his birth name in years. Easier to adopt a human name than listen to them mangle his elven one. Besides, no one questioned Evan. Edrahil might draw attention.

And he’d rather stay unnoticed.  It had worked for 200 years. He wanted it to work for 200 more. Maybe longer.

His time in Aerius had originally been intended as a way to make amends for his trespasses. Now, his position in the capital city of Tamryn made him valuable.

Of course it did.

Few other elves could tolerate life among humans, much less build a thriving mercantile empire. And unlike so many of his kind, he liked humans. Yes, they tended to be dirty, uncouth, and always in a hurry, but they didn’t dwell on the past and forget to live. Sometimes that caused them to repeat foolish mistakes, but it also propelled them forward.

They were a boisterous, messy race, trying to cram too much into their short lives, but you’d be a fool to underestimate them. Most of the world already bowed to their dominance. If the elves wanted a place in this world, they had to find a way to coexist. Better yet, they’d have to find a way to thrive.

And Goldleaf would help them. They were still his people, no matter what else had happened.

But few elves agreed with him.

Another wedge between him and his home.

Goldleaf had been away so long, changed so much, he wondered if the woodlands of his youth were still his home. As his cane tapped against the marble floors, he knew the answer. Admitting it was something else.

But then, he had little need to admit anything. And if he were wise, he’d emulate his human companions and forget about such troubling things while enjoying an excellent glass of brandy.

He stepped out onto the street, planning to indulge in the brandy or perhaps open a cask of elven wine. Humans had never made good wine, but brandy was quite a different story.

Goldleaf’s carriage driver tipped his hat and pulled up to the building. As a footman opened the door, magic slapped Goldleaf.

Strong magic.

The kind he hadn’t felt since leaving the elves.

His breath knotted in his chest as he searched the street for this threat.

Short Story: Practice

by

Back from vacation and plagued by computer issues. Here’s a repost of an older story while I try to get my Alienware computer back to acting like a computer and less like a very expensive brick.

 

 

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Practice

Mara swept the first young Knight’s feet out from beneath him and shoved him hard with her shield. He crashed to the ground, and before he could roll away, she hit his breastplate with her sword.

A second Knight charged her, but she pivoted, letting his momentum in full armor carry him past her. As he tripped over the first Knight, Mara hit his back with the flat of her sword.

Two kill shots. Both Mara’s. Anything but a training exercise, and the two Knights of Valor would be dead.

There was laughter and teasing from the sidelines, but a quick look from Mara silenced the other Knights. “How long will you survive in the eastern provinces?”

Knight Keenan helped the two younger men back to their feet. “We’re practicing. They’ll get better.”

“But not good enough.”

“Not all of us can be Sir Marcus,” the Knight Mara had tripped said.

Mara pierced the boy with her hard stare. “Sir Marcus spent his life training to fight a lich. You spent yours training to protect the safe streets of Tamryn.”

Knight Keenan cleared his throat. “We’ll practice again tomorrow.”

Mara looked over the assembled Knights, her gaze resting on each man in turn. “Anything you face in the eastern provinces will be alive because it’s survived worse than whatever haunts your nightmares. Do you think your enemies get knocked down during practice then toddle off to say a few prayers?”

The Knights stared back at her, and several of them clenched their fists at their sides.

“Good. Get angry at me. Better angry than dead. Next lesson.” Mara motioned to a figure dressed in a plain brown cloak.

The woman walked over to Mara and bowed, then turned toward the Knights.

“Skyla,” Keenan said. “What are you doing here?”

“She’s helping me demonstrate a lesson,” Mara said. “Are your healers out here?”

Keenan nodded toward Knight Matthias, but concern reflected in his pale green eyes. “Is this safe?”

“Less dangerous than sending out half-trained men.”

Knight Keenan glanced at Skyla then stepped back. “Be careful.”

Mara looked at the woman in the robes. Her rich brown hair was tied in a simple ponytail, and her large grey eyes seemed too big for her face. She was easy to underestimate as so many mages were.

“Just like we practiced,” Mara said.

Skyla nodded and moved several sword lengths behind Mara.

“Do you think your Knights can beat Skyla and me?” Mara raised a challenging brow at Keenan. “Or are you going to send them to their prayer vigil and hope Dracor gives them fighting skills?”

“I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Not what I asked.” Mara smiled at the gathered Knights, a taunting expression meant to rile them. “Pick your best seven. If they can get three points in before I get a killing blow, you win, and I’ll come back and help you train them until the new moon.”

Keenan glanced at the recruits and then back at Mara. “You called for a healer. What do you have in mind?”

“Don’t think seven of your Knights can get in three hits?”

“And if they can’t?”

“You owe Skyla and me a hellfire at Ndrek’s bar.”

“Seven against you and Skyla?”

Mara nodded.

“Until the new moon?”

Mara nodded again.

“They could really use the practice against someone with your skills. You’re sure Skyla won’t be hurt?”

“It’s not her you should be worrying about.”

Mara fell into her battle stance, and she felt Skyla building the first spell as seven young Knights took their positions opposite her.

Keenan signaled the start of combat, and Skyla let loose with the spell.

A wall of flames scorched the ground and rose up between Mara and the Knights. Mara ignored the fire, ducking her head as she charged through it and tapped the chest plate of one of the Knights. Pivoting, she tapped the chest plate of a second before any of them had recovered their wits enough to close their mouths.

The remaining five backed away from the fire and Mara’s blade. Just as she’d anticipated.

Skyla loosed her second spell, and the ground under the remaining Knight’s feet turned to mud.

Mara charged.

Slamming her shield into the first Knight’s sword, she shoved hard and sent him stumbling back then barreled into the second. Surprise widened his eyes, and when he tried to turn, he slipped in the mud.

Mara slammed his chest plate with her sword, and if it hadn’t been a practice blade, she’d have killed the Knight. Instead, she sent him into the mud with the first, who’s chest plate she tapped.

They’d hurt, but the bruises would teach a lesson they wouldn’t forget.

The remaining three Knights extricated themselves from the mud as Mara circled around them. She smiled as one tried to flank her while the other two came at her. Sprinting towards one, she used her shield as a battering ram and knocked him to the ground as the second scored a glancing blow against her arm.

She pivoted and knocked his feet out from underneath him them hit his chest plate with her sword. Leaping over him, she tapped the Knight she’d steamrolled to the ground.

One Knight remained.

As he stood watching her, black vines shot out of the ground and encased his feet, rooting him there.

Mara circled around him, but he couldn’t turn to face her. She came up behind him and tapped the middle of his back.

There were growing whispers that the battle hadn’t been fair. That they hadn’t been warned.

Mara only smiled. “Combat isn’t about fair. Or justice. Or right and wrong. It’s about winning. In real combat, Skyla would’ve been using fireballs, flame clouds, and ice storms. Never ever under estimate a mage.”

“Good lesson,” Sir Leopold said. “Well done, both of you.”

Mara felt the High-Knight’s faded blue eyes fix on her. She met his stare, her face impassive even as her stomach clenched. Tall and broad, the only thing that belied his age was the silver in his hair and the rank insignia on his uniform.

She wondered again what he’d feel like beneath her and how hard he’d fight her for top. How much she’d relish that fight. The thought made her belly tighten.

Stabbing the thought and leaving it to bleed to death, Mara handed her practice sword back to Keenan.

She picked up her battle-worn sword and wiped the soot from her cheeks. “One hit to seven kills. See you at Ndrek’s.”

Keenan only nodded as he checked on his men.

Short Story: A Knight’s Prayer (Part 2)

by

Continued from A Knight’s Prayer Part 1.

Based on the previous stories Adrift and The Vision.

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A Knight’s Prayer

Sir Gabriel blinked then stared down at the elf wrapped in his tabard. “It’s not what you think. I didn’t-”

Leopold chuckled. “Unless you’re an elf, I know you didn’t.”

Relief loosened Sir Gabriel’s shoulders. “She couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old when I found her. I was walking along the sea as part of my rehabilitation and found her among the wreckage of a ship.”

“So you brought her back with you.” Sir Leopold bit back a smile. Sometimes the gods gave you what needed in the strangest of ways.

“I’ve been searching for her family since I found her, but I haven’t found them yet.”

“Can’t be easy taking care of a child by yourself with your duties and working on healing that leg.”

“I’ve been very fortunate. People have been willing to help. Thalia’s compassion beats strong in Tamryn.”

Sir Leopold chuckled as he watched the tall, broad-shouldered Knight gently brush a lock of hair from the little girl’s cheek. Thalia may play a part in people’s willingness to help, but he suspected the Twins had a hand in it, too.

“I brought her to Aerius at King Eli’s request.”

“King Eli?” Leopold’s brows shot up. “What does he want with a foundling elf?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m supposed to be meeting with him and Queen Auburn.”

Leopold leaned back against the pew. That meant Auburn had a vision. One strong enough and with big enough implications that Eli felt it necessary to investigate. Both interesting and terrifying. The elves were formidable but isolated.

Or they had been.

And he’d preferred it stayed that way. The fewer uncertainties the better while dealing with the eastern provinces.

“Tell me when you go meet with King Eli. I’ll come along with you. He can’t intimidate me no matter how much he tries.”

“I’m afraid he’ll tell me to send her away.” Sir Gabriel tucked his tabard around the child. “I don’t know where I’d send her. I’ve tried everything I can to find her family.”

“They may not want to be found. Elves are an odd bunch.”

“You’ve met them?”

“A few times, though none that look like this one.”

Sir Gabriel cupped her tiny hand in his. “There’s something else you should know. Her eyes aren’t human.”

“Of course they’re not. She’s an elf.”

“They seem to glow.”

“Like I said, elves are an odd bunch. Never met one that wasn’t more than twice my age, and most were a lot older than that. Maybe all of their eyes almost glow as children.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

Sir Leopold pushed himself to his feet. “Staying in the barracks while you’re here in Aerius?”

Sir Gabriel nodded.

“You’re not anymore. Get your horse. You’re gonna come stay with me, and I’ll introduce you to Marcus and Brelynn.”

The young Knight’s eyes widened. “But Sir Marcus-”

“Is a good man who’ll help Brelynn spoil Aurora. Might even catch Mara spoiling her when she thinks no one is looking.” Sir Leopold knelt before the altar to Dracor as Gabriel stared at him, whispered a prayer, then straightened. He nodded toward the young Knight. “Don’t make me make it an order.”

Sir Gabriel gathered up Aurora and cradled her against his chest as he pushed himself back to his feet without his cane.

Sir Leopold smiled. Boy had a long way to go, but the gods were on his side.

 

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Short Story: A Knight’s Prayer (Part 1)

by

Based on the previous stories Adrift and The Vision.

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A Knight’s Prayer

The moon hung high in the sky when Sir Leopold pushed back from his desk. He’d had plenty to keep his days full before Sir Marcus had killed the Death Knight and blown the eastern provinces wide open. Now sleep felt like a luxury.

But the people in the eastern provinces deserved the gods’ light to shine on them, deserved to tuck their kids into bed and not worry about what would come for them in the night.

Long hours in a comfortable office seemed like little to ask in comparison. And it wasn’t like anyone was waiting for him to come home at night.

Sir Leopold chuckled. Not true. Not anymore.

Sir Marcus would silently worry Leopold was working too much again, but Brelynn would openly fuss at him. Mara would stare at him with her strange amber eyes, her thoughts as inscrutable as ever. Strange lot, but they were family. Even Mara.

Despite the late hour, Sir Leopold strolled one last time through the Temple of Dracor.

The god’s power radiated through the building, filling Sir Leopold and reigniting his faith and purpose. It burned stronger tonight, more brilliant. Sucking in a deep breath, the light filled Leopold and inspired him. Fatigue melted away under Dracor’s radiance, and Leopold again thanked the god for His favor.

Finally ready to head home and take the fussing he had coming, Sir Leopold paused outside the main sanctuary. A young Knight was kneeling before Dracor’s altar.

Sir Leopold waited, but the young Knight’s rigid back and hunched shoulders told Leopold more than words could.

The fussing would wait a bit longer.

Leopold strolled down the main aisle, and as he drew closer, he noticed the heavy cane and glimpsed the young man’s profile.

Knight Gabriel.

Another hero of the eastern provinces, and another victim.

As Sir Leopold sat on the pew behind the young man, he noticed a tiny child wrapped in the Knight’s tabard. Her pointed ears, sharp features, and golden hair warned she wasn’t human.

Not a bastard, then. Sir Leopold had seen enough of those in his time, and he’d learned how to deal with Knights who’d made that misstep.

This was different.

Sir Leopold sat beside the sleeping child and bowed his head in prayer.

Knight Gabriel startled when he finally saw the older man.

“I’m sorry, High Knight, I didn’t hear you come in. I’m normally more observant.”

“You’re in Dracor’s temple. No need for such vigilance here, and nothing to be sorry about. Your devotion is admirable.”

The young Knight of Valor tried to push himself to standing. His face twisted in pain.

Sir Leopold didn’t offer help, knowing better after years of dealing with injured Knights.

Gabriel grabbed the cane and shoved himself to his feet. Disgust twisted over the young Knight’s features before he could lock it away.

“How are you doing?” Sir Leopold asked.

“All right. The Council has assigned me to temple duties… for the moment.”

While he healed, but he didn’t want to admit weakness, not even to a fellow Knight. That was a weakness in itself, but Sir Leopold kept that himself. “Not what I meant. Eastern provinces are a horrible place. My nephew still struggles with nightmares.”

“Sir Marcus? But he’s-”

“A good man, a strong man, but still a man.”

Sir Gabriel ran his hand through his hair and sat beside Sir Leopold. “Nightmares are crushing some nights. Only place they get better is here.”

“Time can help. Talking can help more. You ever wanna talk to Sir Marcus or another Knight that went through what you did, you let me know. There’s no shame in it. Matter of fact, talking takes a great deal more courage than burying the pain.”

Sir Gabriel stared down at his cane, and Leopold could see the memories haunting the young man. Wasn’t fair or right, but nothing about the eastern provinces was. Sir Gabriel volunteered for the horrible assignment after his mother had died. He was unmarried and had no family left to grieve for him if he died.

A selfless act, even for a Knight of Valor.

Sir Leopold laid a steadying hand on the other Knight’s shoulder. “I heard your story, but I don’t know the real horror. Talk to Marcus. If not him, talk to Matthias. There’s no shame. No judgement. But they can help.”

Sir Gabriel balled his fists at his side. “They call me a hero, but I didn’t save them. I didn’t save…”

Leopold let him catch his breath. “I know you didn’t, but for the thirty or forty families you saved, you’re a hero. Thirty or forty families that would’ve died without you.”

“But-”

He squeezed Sir Gabriel’s shoulder. “You sacrificed a lot to hand Dracor a victory. And it was a victory.”

“But it was my fault. I consecrated the church. I had no idea it would bring so many ghouls.”

“And that consecrated church is a beacon of hope to that town and the surrounding lands. A place the locals go even now to escape nightmares I don’t even want to imagine. You gave them that.” Leopold nodded toward the altar. “You did what you thought was right. That’s all a man can do. Even a man in service to the gods.”

Sir Gabriel sucked in a breath as he considered Leopold’s words.

Leopold gave him a few minutes then nodded toward the sleeping child. “Who’s she?”

 

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Short Story: Brothers

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Brothers

“At least I didn’t set Mom on fire.”

Dylan threw up his hands. “I was two years old! Nobody brings up the fact that you pooped on Mom when you were two.”

“Did not. And you were three when you set her on fire.”

“Two, three, whatever. It’s not like I had control of the magic. Not like I meant to do it.”

Lucas inspected the joints on his armor. “Doesn’t matter. You still set her on fire.”

“And I’ve tried to make-up for it every mother’s day since. But no matter what I do, Dad still gives me this look like, ‘That’s it? That’s all you could get your mother after setting her on fire?’ I could magic her up a solid diamond horse and carriage, a fleet of solid diamond horse and carriages, and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

“A diamond horse and carriage wouldn’t move very fast.”

Dylan glared at his brother. “What about the time I tracked down three golden unicorns, captured them, brought them back here and taught them to dance for Mom. Dad still gave me the look because it wasn’t all five. But the other two were so freaking fast.”

“Should move faster.”

“You fast enough to outrun a fireball?” A glowing sphere of flame appeared in Dylan’s hand.

Lucas grinned. “What are you going to get me for my birthday if you set me on fire? The last two golden unicorns?”

“Go to the seventh hell.”

“Speaking of the hells, Dad must like you at least a little. He allowed an Oskelesian mage into Tamryn just to teach you to control your magic.”

“An Oskelesian mage that Sir Marcus, slayer of liches and all around hero, married. You may be a prince, but Sir Marcus would still kick your ass if he heard you say anything bad about her.”

Lucas crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow.

“By Dracor’s left fang, you were engaged to their daughter. How bad can her mother be, Oskelesian or not?”

“You had to bring that up.”

“You were engaged last month. On purpose. I accidentally burned Mom over twenty years ago.”

Lucas strapped on his sword. “But Mom didn’t bargain her life to save Tamryn.”

“Not that we know of, anyway.” Dylan snorted. “Shouldn’t you go slay the dragon or something and bring your betrothed back?”

Lucas’s jaw twitched. “She made the bargain voluntarily, and he lived up to his half.”

“Hasn’t stopped other men.”

“I’m bound by the code of Dracor and the Dragon Church.”

“Sounds like an excuse to me.” Dylan leaned against the door frame.

“Then why don’t you go slay the dragon? Oh wait, if you’re not fast enough to catch the last two golden unicorns, you wouldn’t stand a chance against a dragon.”

“Who says I’d want to? Though better a dragon than Mom and Dad marrying me off. At least that’s a fast death.”

“If you want a fast death, piss Dad off again.” Lucas hefted his shield engraved with the twin dragon crest of the royal family. “Speaking of Dad, we have three minutes until we’re late.”

Both princes bolted down the hall toward the throne room.