Fantasy Romance
The Tamarian soldiers stared at Leikar, then one nodded toward the Knight of Valor. “Closest Priestess of Thalia is hard half day ride from here. He won’t survive that long.”
Leikar stared at the young Knight, his sword no longer aflame with the god’s light. “I know how to cure zombie rot if you can get me the ingredients quickly enough.”
Several of the soldiers whispered he was a mage and shouldn’t be trusted.
Finally, the soldier in charge met Leikar’s gaze. “Get him what he needs. Quickly.”
Leikar avoided the Tamarian forces, knowing exactly what they thought of a mage.
But not even the trousers and work shirt he’d taken from a dead man hid what he was.
Anyone with a modicum of training could sense the magic flowing through him.
He just hoped he didn’t come across anyone with a modicum of
training.
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.
This can be read alone, but you can see an earlier short story with the same characters here.
Cato stared down at the map, wishing its contours would change, but knowing they wouldn’t. He wanted Leonora to be lying, to be playing some political game or another, but she wasn’t.
Their king really had sent them to die.
There was no other explanation. Oskelez was much further south than he’d believed, and it would take considerable effort to protect their supply chain in the event of a full siege. That was assuming King Pentus continued to keep them supplied.
If Pentus was smart, he’d wait until they’d marched south then blame storms for ships being delayed. It would seal their fate.
The door to his tent opened, and Sir Octavian ducked through, his strange purple gaze fixing on Cato.
“There are rumors that Miss Leonora was aboard the latest supply ship.”
Cato motioned to the map. “She brought us this.”
Octavian raised a brow then studied the map. “This doesn’t match with what we’d expected to find. Do you think the map’s accurate?”
“Agrees with what little the scouts have brought back.”
“If it’s accurate, our mission is much more difficult than we thought.”
Cato snorted. “Like it wasn’t hard enough already.”
“We should have Lord Brighton study this. If anyone can see how to make the logistics work, it would be him.”
“You trust him?”
“If he accompanies us on the march.” Octavian traced a finger down the long path to Oskelez. “I wonder how King Pentus got such an accurate map so quickly. We left with the spring winds, and autumn has only just begun.”
Cato rolled up the map. He was certain Pentus had the map long before they’d left and had decided to send them to Oskelez because of where it was, not in spite of it. Cato decided not to share that. It was only speculation, and Octavian’s faith in the Holy Trinity was so pure he could channel Their power. That same faith was a liability in politics.
“I don’t know, but Lenora risked a lot bring it to us.”
“To bring it to you.” Octavian studied him then nodded. “We need to show this to Brighton. Depending on what he says, we may need to make winter arrangements.”
Cato planned to make winter arrangements anyway, but he kept that to himself as they went in search of Brighton.
Octavian found Lenora standing on a cliff overlooking the sea. Her brows were furled in concentration and her arms spread wide, oblivious to her cloak that flapped around her.
He didn’t try to mask the sound of his footsteps, and she lowered her arms.
Turning, she faced him. “Shouldn’t you be inspiring the troops or something?”
“Lord Brighton is reviewing the map you brought.”
“Good.” Waves crashed against the cliffs and sprayed water up at her, but the droplets never landed on her.
“What brings you out here?”
“Salt.” She motioned to a wooden barrel nestled on an outcropping.
“Why?”
“I harvest it from the water. And don’t argue with me about magic being forbidden. We’re not in Stardale.”
“You shouldn’t be here alone.”
“What does it matter?”
“You are King Pentus’s only daughter.”
Lenora laughed, a bitter sound against the thrum of the ocean. “But Queen Hestia has no daughters. Only a sickly son who will be lucky to see twenty summers.”
A seagull soared overhead, its cries undulating with the grey waves.
“There are many that want to see you marry the prince. To become the next queen.”
“They assume my half-brother will live long enough for that to happen.”
Octavian frowned. “He has the best healers.”
“And has his whole life. I don’t know what in the seven hells is wrong with him, but I wish they would cure him already.”
“That would knock you out of contention for the throne.”
“Then I could be my father’s spoiled bastard rather than an upstart threatening the queen’s son.”
“Has Queen Hestia treated you that poorly?”
“You know Hestia. What do you think?”
Octavian stared across the sea. “Why did you really bring the map?”
“Because our knights don’t deserve to die, you don’t deserve to die, and that’s exactly what will happen if you charge into that swamp.”
“That is noble. Very unlike you.”
“There wasn’t room for being noble and surviving.”
“I suppose it couldn’t have been easy living in the castle with a queen that hated you.”
“I’m a living symbol of Pentus’s infidelity and her failure to produce a decent heir. Yes, she hates me, but I survived. We all do what he have to do.” Lenora stared out over the rolling water. “But you don’t have to assault Oskelez until spring. Take the time to scout it. See if the map is accurate.”
“Do you doubt it even though you risked so much to bring it to Knight-Lord Dracasan?”
“Either I landed a coup in getting this to you and saving your lives, or I finally fell into one of Hestia’s traps. Make my sacrifice worth it. Scout the area.”
“You are a brave woman, and Cato is a lucky man.”
She swallowed hard, balling her fists. “He has nothing to do with this.”
“You love him, don’t you?”
“Doesn’t matter. Love has no place in Stardale.”
“Good thing we’re not in Stardale.”
You can catch up on the story here.
To Catch a Dragon (Part 2)
Ndrek watched the rolling hills of the Tamarian countryside slide past. The scent of green growing things and manure filled the air, and the afternoon sun was warm on his back.
Not much more exciting than tending his bar.
And he couldn’t practice any spells as it would spook his horse and probably his companions’ mounts as well.
Magic users were uncommon everywhere, but even more so in Tamryn. The few that did exhibit both desire and potential were trained at the lackluster University of Magical Arts where the Dragon Church could keep a close watch on them.
Ndrek was uncertain why so many Tamarians feared magic, but it did explain why he hadn’t been able to find a horse that magic didn’t bother. The beasts were too much like their owners.
He’d have to pay Mara handsomely to find him one, but he doubted she’d accept such an offer. No, she’d want a favor in return. That’s how her kind worked. Gold was too easy for her to come by on her own.
But that would have to wait for his return to Aerius.
In the meantime, Ndrek whispered a tiny spell to make the saddle more comfortable, and his horse stamped a foot and snorted.
“Told you not to cast any spells,” Knight Kailis said.
Yes, he would trade Mara a favor for a real horse.
Glancing across the idyllic farmsteads with their grazing animals, rich crops, and tended barns, Ndrek had to admit it was better than the last time he’d traveled with a Knight. The roads were tended, riding was easy, and there were plenty of inns along the way. There were also no undead wondering around, a blessing in itself.
“We’ll stop in the next town,” Knight Kailis said.
Ndrek glanced at the sun still well above the horizon. “We could make it to the town after that without difficulty.”
“Protocol says…”
Ndrek sighed loud enough to silence her. “Very well. We stop in the next town.”
Kailis glared at him, but said nothing the rest of the way to town.
As they rode into the village, Ndrek groaned when he saw that it looked exactly like the last five they’d stayed in. Sure, the houses were painted different colors, and there were different flowers in the planters, but the same Dragon Church surrounded by massive oak trees dominated the center of town. Merchant shops lined the main street, and an inn was tucked in the center of them.
As they entered the inn, it was clean and furnished with the same practical heavy wooden tables and chairs that were well-worn from use. A smattering of locals were already comfortably seated, mostly the elderly and very young.
Ndrek could smell a thick stew simmering that would be served with fresh bread for dinner. How he longed for a bowl of spiced meat stew so hot his eyes would water. Something to make his taste buds work again.
He settled for sitting down at the bar and listening to the hum of conversation.
Just as she had at the last five inns, Kailis showed the innkeeper her credentials and secured them a room, a meal, and fresh traveling supplies. And just like in the last five inns, the young Knight was soon surrounded by locals, all wanting news of the happenings in the capital city and stories of her adventures.
While Kalis obliged them with the same boring news she had in the past five towns, Priestess Vaiya tended to the sick or injured of the town.
He should be happy, relieved even, after everything he’d seen. No ghouls. No vampires. No zombies. Another perfectly normal, perfectly quiet Tamarian town.
It was enough to make Ndrek want to vomit.
He watched Knight Kailis talk to the locals as he drained his mug of ale. Decent stuff, but nothing like a Fire and Brimstone. After five days on the road with her, he needed something a lot stronger than ale.
Even after a day of riding, her strawberry-blonde hair was in the same tight braided bun so many female Knights wore. He wondered if they took a course in it so they all did it just right.
Ndrek snorted into his empty glass.
Of course they did. They all had to be the perfect protégés of Dracor.
Knight Kailis wasn’t awful, but she was everything that was wrong with the Knighthood.
He’d seen a glimpse of fire in her, a spark, back in her early days as a Knight. He’d thought she’d be different. Had expected her to shake up the place, but now, she was just like all the rest.
Perfect braids, the blue eyes so common in Tamryn, and pristine armor. She looked like a Knight, and she had the same polite but commanding tone they all used. Must’ve had classes in that, too.
The barkeep stopped over and offered to refill Ndrek’s glass, but he waved the man away. He’d had enough. Enough of beautiful Knights, following orders, and basking in boredom.
He was going to find this dragon.
Making sure Kailis was occupied with the locals, Ndrek flipped up the hood of his traveling cloak and walked out of the inn.
The night was cool, and the songs of frogs mixed with the chirping of crickets. He smiled as he realized some might consider the summer night hot, but they’d never suffered through the Qumarefi desert. Boredom was better than some things.
Still, he couldn’t imagine much that would be a challenge for him anymore. Especially not after his travels with Sir Marcus. But better to be safe than dead, and once Ndrek was at the edge of town, he cast an invisibility and silence spell on himself.
Time to see what the local smugglers knew about dragons.
Of course there were smugglers out here. They had to be more careful in Tamryn than in other places Ndrek had been, but that just made the rewards richer. And there were plenty of goods Tamryn outlawed that would be well worth the risk.
Following the road south, he looked for telltale signs when he felt a prickle on his skin.
Magic. Strong magic.
Stronger than anything he’d ever felt.
He stopped and strengthened his wards.
The magic increased from a whisper to a grinding pulse, pounding against him and driving into his chest. Into his heart. Into his head.
He tried to scream, but he could make no sound.
Ndrek fell to his knees as blood gushed from his nose and soaked the ground in front of him.
The magic intensified until spots danced in front on his eyes. Clutching his chest, he glanced towards the heavens, a prayer Sir Marcus had taught him on his lips, when a shadow glided over the trees.
As it drew closer, the darkness closed in on Ndrek and unconsciousness took him.