The Dragon Knight and the Light Read online

  Speaking for the general, Eu-Sook said, “Whatever you believe, dragon knight, I am thankful for your intrusion. If I knew the giant’s madness, I would have never have put my men here. I’ve made mistakes before. Why do you think my king put me in the empty north? My want for esteem is why I followed King Tokkosho’s order to take this village. I will not make a new mistake by denying a dragon knight’s demands.” He coaxed his horse forward. As he and his sentinels passed my left side, he said, “Last I heard, the rest of my men are in Uratama. Zhelan Liang leads them now. Take that as you will.”

  With Captain Shao’s circle of men making way for the trio of horsemen, my companions made their way up to me. Ghevont came within earshot, but his attention went back to his specimen.

  “That was fast,” said Clarissa. “What happened?”

  “He and his men will be gone by sunset.”

  “And that’s it?” asked Odet.

  “What more did you want?”

  “People died here, Mercer.”

  “I’m aware, but we don’t have the time, authority, or luxury to worry about doling out punishments. If we can cleanse Jegeru’s leadership of Advent influence, then we’ll let them decide how to handle the matter. Speaking of which, the general claims the king gave him the order to take the village. He also says the rest of his army is in Uratama. Eu-Sook, what do you know of the city?”

  Stroking her restive griffin’s neck, she answered, “It’s a large port by Hohn Bay in the southeast, close to Pukam Forest. Many of our best young warriors train in its academy. They learn there with scholars and sages.”

  “And so you think there’s another nismerdon there?” Gerard asked me.

  “We’re going to have to check settlements near Pukam, anyway. Might as well start there.”

  “But a city?” said a doubtful Clarissa. “Hiding a nismerdon in a lonesome village is one thing, but do the Advent really think they can get away with keeping a soul sucking giant in a big port city?”

  “Don’t forget that a clan of vampires hid in a big city not so long ago.”

  “And our actions might be pushing them to take more drastic measures,” said Odet.

  “On top of that,” began Gerard, “a city can provide prana to more than one nismerdon. If they felt they needed to gain as much prana as quickly as possible, then a city is the only place they can turn to.”

  “Okay,” said Clarissa, “let’s say there are nismerdon in a city protected by Jegeru armies being ordered around by a king in league with the Advent. What do we do about it?”

  “Gerard,” said Odet. “Please put the proper emphasis on Clarissa’s question for me.”

  “Hm? Ah, of course, Your Highness. What the fuck will we do about it?”

  “Thank you.”

  “What we do is dependent on what we can’t do,” I said. “We can’t fight the Advent and their pawns with only a couple of griffin units, and we can’t go to the king for help. But our griffin riders can spread the word of what happened here. Stirring the pot in Jegeru should force soldiers, generals, and nobles to take some kind of action we can better react to.”

  “That might only compel the Advent to hasten their plans further,” said Odet.

  “Maybe, but we can’t stop their plans at all otherwise, and that’s if their plans aren’t already being rushed.”

  “Doesn’t mean we have to rush our own decisions. We aren’t stirring a mere pot, Mercer. An entire nation will have to choose between fighting with a foreign dragon knight or against their king. That confusion will only benefit the cult.”

  I soberly stared at the dead nismerdon. “Yet confusion is all we have if I can’t…” Looking back at Odet, I said, “We don’t have good options left. The Advent are the ones who have brought betrayal and death here, not us. We can use the rest of this day to come up with the least divisive message to send out, but once the Advent learn of this giant’s death, they’ll counter with their own plan. I’d rather they react to the chaos we create, not the other way around. I realize it’s not ideal, but short of summoning ten dragons, we’re never going to find an upper hand here.”

  “I realize it as well, I do. It’s simply difficult to accept. I’ll try wording our message as best I can. We can send out Captain Shao’s riders to several forts as soon as I conceive of the appropriate memorandum.”

  “Well then,” said Gerard, “while our message spreads, we need to confirm whether Uratama even has Advent activity.”

  “Eu-Sook,” I said. “Inform the riders to get as much rest as possible once the general departs. I’ve wasted a lot of energy killing this thing, so my group will have to use your griffins if we’re to reach Uratama as quickly as possible. We’ll hopefully still have the time to infiltrate the city before the point of no return.”

  “I think we’re already at that point,” said Clarissa.”

  Chapter Two

  I told everyone I still needed rest, so I went back into the house to lie in bed for a while longer. Despite removing my armor, my tottering mind only succeeded in getting erratic minutes of light naps. Any little noise woke me right back up. Sleep wasn’t really my goal, but neither was staying awake. My limbo of consciousness ended two or so hours later when I heard a knight’s heavy leather boots thudding toward the room. Sitting up, I told the knocker to come in.

  Shutting the door behind him, Gerard said, “The general’s men are dots on the horizon now.”

  Crossing my arms, I asked, “Did the girls send you to check on me?”

  Moving to sit on the chair beside the bed, he answered, “They were talking amongst themselves about you. I had to intervene to stop them from bothering you. I figured you needed a different kind of company.” Extending his right arm, he showed me a short clay pipe in his hand. “Borrowed it from a whiptail rider. I still have a bit of tobacco left over from the Chance Inn if you want to split it.”

  Snatching the pipe, I said, “Gods yes.”

  A couple of minutes later and Gerard and I were patting the planked ceiling with curls of exhaled smoke. The soothing effect engrossed me sooner than before.

  Gerard let me enjoy the tart heat for a few minutes in silence, but he eventually had to ask, “Is it true you can’t summon Aranath?”

  “I haven’t tried, but I doubt it. Even if I could get the crystals filled, I’m certain my very bones would shake during the summoning.”

  “Hmm…” Gerard leaned back and placed his boots on the foot of the bed, continuing to smoke without changing his placid visage.

  “Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen you unnerved, knight. Not in the Hadarii, not when the bald Advent nearly kidnapped Elisa, and not when a dragon knight just told you he can no longer summon his dragon.”

  “I can say the same of you.”

  “Aye, but I don’t consider myself ordinary when it comes to my reactions to near-death experiences.”

  “Perhaps not, and perhaps I’ve merely become adept at concealing my unease. It’d annoy Odet quite a bit if she observed the anxiety in my face every time she stepped outside the palace. She sees plenty of it from her family and advisors, she doesn’t need me to heap on the distress. Trust me when I say that this moment has me feeling as though my entrails want to come out from my mouth and ass at the same time.”

  “Damn, sorry I said anything.”

  “Hmph. In truth, you not being able to summon Aranath has not affected me as much as the simple fact we’re planning to go deeper into enemy territory. Whether you can summon Aranath or not, fighting entrenched Advent and their nismerdon was always going to be an uphill struggle.”

  “I suppose that’s true enough. It’s not like I mastered my link with the dragon. I’d only put Aranath in an impossible situation by summoning him in a place teeming with powerful enemies. Not even an adult dragon stands much of a chance prevailing against such odds. Not that I don’t feel any less shitty knowing that.”

  “Feel as shitty as you want, Mercer. I don’t think the gods m
ind if we sulk every once in a while.”

  “It might be longer than ‘a while.’”

  “As long as it ends right before our next battle, the extent of your sulking doesn’t concern me.” Standing up, he asked, “What do I tell the girls?”

  “To get their rest. We leave at dawn. I may or may not show myself before then.”

  Finishing my bowl half an hour later finally allowed me to keep my eyes shut longer than five minutes.

  My eyes next opened to a nighttime darkness devoid of moonlight. The window’s view showed an unbroken layer of bloated clouds had rolled over the sky, though I smelled or heard no rain in the area. Hungry for the first time since losing half of myself, I put on my gear and stepped out of the bedroom to search for food.

  With his staff tucked under an arm, a sleeping Ghevont sat slumped on an upholstered chair by the door. Farther down the hall, I peeked into an open door to see Odet and Clarissa sleeping on two separate beds meant for children, giving them an endearingly larger-than-life presence. I discovered Gerard standing guard near the home with four griffin riders on their watch. I sent the knight inside to get his own slumber.

  Hoping one of them understood me, I asked and gestured the riders for food. Two of them reached in their satchels and pulled out pieces of bread, an apple, and one roundish peach thing. The woman who handed me the possible peach also let me drink from her waterskin. Wanting something heartier, I asked if anyone had meat once I finished with the hard bread and not-so-fresh apple.

  Pointing toward the center of town, the peach rider said, “Food. Temple gives food.”

  I nodded and walked to the pagoda temple. A few steps into the journey had me observing that a surprising amount of villagers remained up and about. Most seemed to be cleaning their homes or talking with their neighbors. No one paid much attention to the hooded figure as I strolled past them as inconspicuously as possible. A concentration of villagers and several riders surrounded the temple. They were making piles of debris larger by tossing in broken fragments of wood and objects from in and around the temple.

  The group of griffin riders safeguarded big barrels filled with vegetables, water, and wine as they handed out small helpings of nourishment to the villagers that came up applying for it. Managing everything was a thickset youngish man in a long, loose robe with wide sleeves and tinted gray. His beady, gleaming eyes spotted me stepping up behind the fourth villager in line requesting a meal.

  Walking up to me, the smooth-shaven man asked, “You are the dragon knight, yes?”

  “For the time being.”

  He offered a quick bow and stretched his right arm toward the barrels. With a voice sounding both hoarse and quiet, he said, “No one here will mind if you cut to the front of the line. Do you want anything in particular?”

  “Meat.”

  “Ah, we have a little pork left. Our farm animals were the first sacrificed when they came to feed their giant. We sent out hunters earlier, but the battle appears to have scared away many of the region’s animals. I have yet to hear the hoot of an owl or the chirp of a cricket.”

  “I’ll take what I can get.”

  We came up to a table with two large pots, one empty and the other half filled with shredded pork. The robed man spoke a few words in his native tongue, which compelled a nearby rider to bring a loaf of bread split lengthwise. The halves became stuffed with pork before he handed it to me.

  After I swallowed a big bite, he asked, “Good?”

  “Yes, thank you. You speak the shared tongue well for someone so isolated from it.”

  “It’s tradition for the priesthood to learn the shared tongue. It’s supposed to retain the invisible link between our foreign congregations. Waste of time as far as I’m concerned, but hey, now I get to talk and thank the dragon knight who saved me and my new flock.”

  “New?”

  “Aye,” he answered, the word spoken faster than I was used to hearing it. “The head priestess didn’t make it. Many of our elders couldn’t handle that giant’s spell. Several very young children suffered the same fate.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Aye.”

  “I fear things will only get worse for your kingdom.”

  “Ahh, a blunt answer for once. Not many of those in my vocation. Too many times it’s a vague response an old fart got from an even older book.”

  “Is it me, or do you not sound as devout as someone in your line of work should be?”

  He shrugged. “I have good days and bad ones. This is one of the bad ones. You see, blunders in my youth forced me to choose between the priesthood and a dungeon to correct my ways. I don’t mind the memorizing and writing part, but the preaching part is not strong in me, and that’s all everyone wants now. People actually expect me to make them feel better.”

  “A priest who’s bad at preaching and a dragon knight who can’t summon a dragon. We might be in the same boat.”

  “What? You can’t summon your dragon?”

  “Killing the giant took more than prana from me. Maybe preaching to mortals isn’t your strong point, but how good are you at beseeching the gods? I need someone to plea a few things for me.”

  “Can’t find the words yourself?”

  “As dumb as it sounds, I’d feel too self-conscious kneeling in a temple. Don’t know why.”

  “You don’t have to kneel or enter a temple to beseech the gods. In fact, no one here wants to go back inside a building they feel has been cursed by their jailors. I imagine we’ll have to tear down this temple and build another one.”

  “No wonder I don’t see anyone inside. Why are so many villagers still up at this hour?”

  “Oh, that. As far as I know, unless you’re a soldier, most peoples in Efios time their funerals to take place at midnight. The idea is to let mourners grieve without having to worry about how they look in the daylight. I’ll have to go to our graveyard and begin the service in an hour. It’s going to be a long night… Anyway, if you wish, I’ll put in a few words for you. If the gods are going to help anyone, it’s a dragon knight.”

  “If they still consider me as such. All the same, I’d prefer if you mentioned the welfare of my companions over that of my own.”

  “Priestess Yonezu would have liked hearing that. She says prayers for others are always louder than prayers for yourself. Gods, I hate that I’m going to miss her mawkish wisdom. She’d give you something worthwhile to mull over. Let’s see… She’d tell you something like… To never… No, that’s not it…”

  “It’s fine. The pork is all I needed this time.”

  “Eh, very well. However, going back to your awkwardness with a temple, I will say to not worry so much about where or how you pray. An earnest parent will listen to their child wherever they are. That’s one of those old fart answers.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks again.”

  I ate my sandwich and pear as I moved away from the soldiers and townspeople, and then from the village itself. The more I finished my food, the more I gained the impetus to practice with my new sword and prana reserve. Thus, after taking my last bite and making certain no one could see me behind a line of trees, I unsheathed the blade and tested its balance, weight, and slicing song.

  The blade started thicker on its blunt end and tapered to a much sharper edge. Other than needing a good polish, the steel itself appeared well forged. Regardless, I couldn’t get rid of the impression that it would shatter on impact with a wooden replica. A symptom of its lack of enchantment. I understood finding another dragon-forged sword was a remote possibility, but I still hoped to someday procure another enchanted weapon of some type. A butter knife charmed with an insignificant weight shaving spell would have been comforting at this point.

  As for my reserve, I practiced with my illusion spell rather than taking the chance of attracting attention with my flame. Mirroring the effect when summoning and igniting dragon stones, I found that the quality of my copies did not suffer from my debilitation, only
the quantity and duration I could cast. All in all, it felt as though I was restarting my training.

  The idea of starting over dejected what little spirit I had, at least until I noticed the beginning of the funeral service, reminding me things could always be worse. Torches carried by cloaked men outlined a procession of mourners marching a hundred yards northeast of the village. I kept a respectable distance from the sacramental service by moving farther west.

  For the next couple of hours I discreetly trained with apathetic effort, stopping when the wind picked up. It brought with it a scent of green moisture. Seconds after the rugged breeze bumped into me, an aloof thundercloud somewhere in the horizon quibbled with its neighbors, one of which responded with its own grousing. Not depressed enough to train in a storm, I ambled back into the village to seek shelter.

  On my way to my short-term residence, I saw riders leading the steeds they couldn’t unsummon into stables and barns. I reached my lodging seconds before the first emissary raindrops hit the ground. Heavier rain followed a minute later, but wind gusts and thunderclaps remained too irregular and feeble to convince me to close the double doors of the home. I thus stood against the doorframe and aimed my vacuous stare outside as I listened to my blood pumping inside my ears.

  Ghevont woke up an hour after the rainstorm began, his shuffling feet passing me and presumably taking him to his prized nismerdon specimen. Sensing the incoming dawn, the faint-hearted storm had broken apart by the time one of the girls sneezed a short while later. That must have awoken the other girl, for both came out of their room soon after. Clarissa joined me and Odet as we went to the temple grounds to find a bite to eat. Odet ate solid fruits and a handful of seeds and nuts while I drank from a cup filled with a pulpy mix of sweet fruit juice.

  “Did you send out your message yet?” I asked Odet.

  “No. I believe it’s best to send out Shao’s men during our journey, not before it. I don’t want to send the message out too early and give Advent supporters time to hear of it and prepare their own retort. With any luck, this will give us a day or more to explore Uratama before our enemy can organize against us.”