The Blood Stone Page 2

  Their daughter Alushia was all he had left in the world. She was a strong girl well equipped to handle the homestead while he was gone on a hunt. He never worried about her, trusting she’d take care of things as well as possible.

  The blight on the land started not long after her birth. The first two harvesting seasons were traumatic for Tregaron, but the Order assured the people all was well and they’d bring in the Verdant Magus from Woodpine to help grow food.

  It worked for a time. Then, their efforts lessened as dragon hunts grew more frequent, with some Magus grumbling that the Drakku were to blame for it all. Honestly, he didn’t care what the cause was. He was a dragonslayer, trained to kill the great beasts.

  The Order needed their blood, and he needed the dracs to survive. It all worked. For him at least.

  Many other families were not so fortunate. He witnessed more than enough young children die of starvation.

  Working his way past the rotten fields, he passed through a wooded area.

  Something scurried to his right and he froze. “Who’s there?”

  The sound stopped. He waited, listening for the intruder. When it made no further sounds, he moved slowly, watching the trees for whatever made the sound.

  You fool, it’s just an animal. What are you afraid of?

  He heard it again and stopped, withdrawing his large dragon-eyed sword.

  “You best show yourself! I’m not in the mood for games.”

  A small boy crept out from behind a tree.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Please don’t hurt me, sir. I only wanted something to eat. The Drakku—”

  Sticks snapped behind Lailoken and he turned as two men rushed at him. “What the—”

  They slammed into him and knocked him to the ground.

  “Give us all your dracs and we’ll let you live,” one of the men snarled into his ear. They pushed his face to the dirt so he couldn’t see who they were.

  “I swear to you, I have no money on me. You’d do well to leave this place if you know what’s good for you.”

  “Good for us? We need money. We need food. That’s what’s good for us!”

  “Go to the Tower. They can help.”

  “Pah! The Tower cares only for itself!”

  The second man was thinner and seemed hesitant.

  “Druce, we should leave him be. Did you see his sword?”

  “Aye, it’ll fetch a nice sum at the market. Grab it, too. Take anything we can get our hands on.”

  “I warned you.”

  Lailoken forced himself off the ground. He was much larger than either of the two men and had no problem freeing himself from their grip.

  “Get him, Tarry!” the one called Druce cried out. He was shorter with brown hair and with a slightly larger build than his partner.

  Lailoken grabbed Druce and shoved him to the ground with ease. “Don’t make me hurt you! Go to the Tower and ask for help. Tell them Lailoken sent you.”

  “Lailoken?” It was the boy. He’d snuck up on the fight and stood behind Lailoken.

  “Yeah, that’s my name. Tell them I sent you, and they’ll take care of you. I promise.”

  “Lailoken?” The boy said his name as if it were a spell or contained magic.

  “You’re the slayer?” Tarry asked.

  “Aye. Unless you want to share the fate of many a dragon, I suggest you do as I say. Go to the Tower. They’re there to help.”

  Druce backed away slowly, never turning his gaze from Lailoken.

  “We…we will do as you say. Please. We only needed food,” Tarry said.

  “I’m sorry, but I have none to give.”

  The two men looked to each other and then at the boy. Without another word, they raced along the dirt road headed for Kulketh.

  Lailoken dusted himself off and watched until they were out of sight.

  “Something has to change. This is getting out of control.”

  He turned and continued on his way home, wary of vagrants.

  ***

  Nearly two months after the hunt, Magus Breen turned up dead in the Black Tower. He was found in the company of a halfling girl who was later executed. Lailoken never shared his concern, but he was certain the novice Myrthyd had something to do with the death. As he was told, it was Tower business.

  The fallout from the death set in motion a chain of events that lasted for two years before the unthinkable happened. The novice Myrthyd ascended to the rank of Magus on his eighteenth birthday. The more surprising appointment to Kull Naga, the leader of all Magus within the Order of Escaher in Tregaron, was more shocking. A growing sense of disorder amongst the Order took hold in the gossip of inns and taverns. Myrthyd shut down those fears when he ordered a gathering of all Magus in Kulketh, where they unanimously supported his appointment. It was an amazing achievement of harmony amongst the Magus that was unheard of for over a thousand years.

  CHAPTER

  Four

  Myrthyd, the eighteen-year-old Kull Naga, walked swiftly along the dark corridors of the Black Tower. His long black robe with the deep red embroidered crossed lightning bolts on his back hung on his gaunt frame. His hair was shorn in the tradition of the Kull. A black stone hung from a leather cord around his neck. His gray eyes darted back and forth, scanning the tapestries lining the corridors depicting victorious slayers over the centuries. He marveled at the detail; the embroidered dragon blood spilled in the images appearing real. Dragons were slaughtered in every scene he passed over, the watchful eyes of the Magus off in the far corner of every image.

  He smiled. Such lovely images, he thought.

  Despite the late Spring weather outside, the black stone walls offered a cool temperature inside. Torches that burned with eternal flame hung between the tapestries. An ancient Magus spell emitted heat when necessary, and during the warm months offered only light, yet the wood never burned down. As far as Myrthyd knew, these torches had been burning since the tower was built and would continue to do so long after his death.

  Often, he spent his days in study or reflection with constant interruptions. As the Kull Naga, it was his duty to protect the land and his people. Problems and questions were never ending. He knew that would be so when he was elevated to his station and embraced the challenge. It was highly unusual for someone of his age to achieve Kull status, but the election was fair and unbiassed—as far as anyone else knew.

  While a novice, Myrthyd had discovered an ancient forbidden tome written in blood by the Kull Naga Drexon, a Magus so reviled in the south that he was never to be spoken of. For the Magus in Tregaron, he was an anomaly. Powerful and devious, he tricked the dragons during the Great Council after the Wars of Reformation. Their people had been at odds with dragons ever since. He was also somewhat of a dark Magus, delving often into forbidden spells. Myrthyd had found many useful spells reading his book.

  He was on his way to study further from the tome in his personal chambers on the second floor of the tower, hoping to learn anything that might remove the blight that had plagued Tregaron since he was a novice. Crops failed. Rain was infrequent. His people were starving. As a novice, Magus Breen chided him for wanting to fix things.

  “It’s because of the dragons!” he’d claim and cuff the boy. As he grew into his own, Myrthyd accepted Breen’s reasoning, though the Magus wasn’t around to know. Something had to be done about the dragons. They were the cause of all ills that befell their land. Too many people were dying or hungry, and something had to be done.

  Myrthyd walked silently along the halls to his room. Though the Kull Naga traditionally occupied the top floor of the thirty-story tower, he preferred his lower level room.

  “Kull Naga Myrthyd,” a novice said, bowing as Myrthyd walked by. He gave a slight nod and continued. The novices and apprentices frustrated him. The incessant bowing and vying for recognition grew weary. He was once one of them, but now despised their sycophant ways. It was a necessary part of being the Kull, though it didn’t
mean he enjoyed it.

  Myrthyd approached the large wooden door to his chamber. A tower guard stood in front of it with his arms crossed, scanning the corridors for any sign of danger, not that there would be, but Myrthyd never trusted the rest of the Magus. When he ascended to Kull, a large contingent decried his rise and swore to oppose him. They tried at first, but he soon forced them into submission, using ancient forbidden spells. Thus, his intent this day to study.

  “Good day, Trenton. Any sign of trouble?” Myrthyd asked.

  “No sir; all is good.” The guard opened the door for Myrthyd to pass and closed it behind him, no doubt returning to his previous posture outside the door. Myrthyd passed through a smaller door into the bed chamber in the back. He closed the door to keep Trenton from hearing the spells or becoming suspicious of his studies.

  Situated in the far corner of the room was a large cabinet where he stored books, potions, and powders, behind which was a secret compartment. It was to this hidden spot Myrthyd went. He moved the books aside and lifted the barely visible handle, revealing Drexon’s tome. Reverently he carried it to the chair next to his bed. The candles were lit earlier by a novice whose job it was to maintain them for Myrthyd’s needs, and the light flickered as he opened the forbidden text.

  Inside, intricate images were drawn along the margins of the text and at the beginning of the spells. It was one of the most highly decorated books he’d ever seen, though most images were dark and gruesome, often depicting dragons attacking humans. Some images were of horrific acts of brutality inflicted by the Drakku—dragon-kind—such as disembowelment and decapitation. At first when he discovered this tome, the images had frightened him. Now, they enticed him. So far, his studies suggested new methods of attack against dragons while many of the minor spells dealt with subjugating people to his will, something he’d done a little of.

  He returned to a spell that vexed him previously in hopes of unraveling its meaning in order to learn the secret. An image of a half-dead dragon introduced the spell. The colorful drawing depicted a black dragon with torn wings and smoke where its eyes should’ve been. It was devouring the dream of a woman sleeping in a bed. Without the large black dragon, the picture would’ve been serene and calm, but the dragon above her, eating the colorful dream turned the image into something dark. The page’s simple title was Nightwraith. Myrthyd read the spell several times, unable to decipher the steps needed or the items required out of the text. It was to this spell he turned his attention.

  From dark crystal once hidden, now found

  Comes power unchecked, unbound.

  Fill the onyx with a dragon’s soul

  And own the dream, the dreamer whole.

  Myrthyd poured over the words, their meaning lost to him. What crystal? What power? How do you fill a color with the soul of a dragon? How does one own a dream and the dreamer? He stared at the image, trying to piece it together. The words continued.

  Find the crystal on a dragon’s back

  Within a cavern, dark and black.

  Slay the keeper and take the gem

  Power eternal, over dragon, over men.

  The words mocked him; their meaning hidden within the rhymes. Where would one find a gem on a dragon’s back? He’d been with slayers as they killed dragons and feverishly searched along the scaly spines to no avail. He timidly inquired about such a thing and was rudely laughed at by the older slayer. That man, Karnath, no longer walked among the living for his insult.

  The dragon soul you will bind,

  A Nightwraith to destroy the mind.

  The living will live among the dead,

  When you control the visions within their heads.

  The infuriating words meant nothing to him, yet something drew him back to them again and again. He gleaned a promise of power, yet how, he did not know. It seemed to him that a crystal held the ability to trap a dragon’s soul, but what was a Nightwraith? How does the living live among the dead? Isn’t that what people do anyway? The meaning of the verses vexed him. He had to decipher what they meant. If it was anything like the other spells he’d learned from studying Drexon’s text, it held power, and so far, every spell he tried granted him control over someone or something.

  Vile offspring of a dragon’s lie

  Controlled by the onyx eye.

  Within the fatal dragon fate,

  Power of yours, a Nightwraith.

  Myrthyd closed the tome and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He’d not studied the words in a few days, hoping his mind would see the connections, see the truth hidden within the verses. Still they alluded him. They avoided discernment, and that angered him even more. He was one of the wisest Magus in all Tregaron, and yet somehow these simple lines confused him. The Nightwraith, a term he’d never heard before, enticed him. If he could somehow work amongst the dreams of his people, how much power would that give him? No one had ever done such a thing, as far as he knew. He’d be the first and last Magus to ever have such knowledge. It was imperative he decipher the code and bind his people to his side. Their lives depended on it. If only he could break through, he might be able to remove dragons from Tregaron and restore the land to its former state, and save his people

  CHAPTER

  Five

  The spring sun’s early morning rays washed the camp in life. Called to the hunt by young Myrthyd, the tower was in need of more bloody stones. It seemed there was a dire need for the magical gems and an Onyx dragon was spotted in the mountains to the west. Onyx dragons once swarmed the skies, but over the centuries, the need for their blood caused excessive hunting by the Magus. Now they were scarce and when spotted, the local Magus Keeper would gather the hunt together.

  Lailoken was joined by his long-time companions Darlonn and Jor and the two crossbowmen, Tozgan and Ori. The Magus Driano and his novice Belthos completed the group, and they set out to the west.

  Lailoken found it difficult to leave his daughter again. She was capable of running their small farm, and with her snowcat Brida at her side, he didn’t worry about her safety. Still, leaving her alone always forced a touch of guilt to surface. She was all he had left in the world.

  The party arrived at the mountains after searching for days for the Onyx dragon. The skies were clear without a dragon in sight, making Lailoken wonder if their informant was mistaken. Unless the great Onyx revealed itself, they’d be home sooner than expected. It wasn’t like them to be completely outwitted by a dragon.

  “Men, ‘tis time to move. Our glory did not find us this day, but we shall once again rule these mountains and find our prey,” Lailoken said, walking around the camp, waking the sleeping men and Jor. One by one they rose, bleary-eyed and rubbing sleep from their eyes.

  “You’re gonna scare the poor men,” Jor said with a smile. She stood and clapped Lailoken on the back. “You drive them hard. Ori has yet to kill a dragon, and the Magus…he’s not one for company,” she said, nodding toward the sleeping plump man. His novice Belthos had risen and quickly prepared his belongings to leave, careful with the bag of sacred stones waiting to be bathed in blood.

  “How many have you failed to kill?” Jor asked Lailoken, nudging him in the ribs.

  Lailoken peered at her. “That’s between me and Menos. I’m not talking. Ask him.” He winked and walked away.

  Out on the dewy plain with men united in a single cause, the scent of morning mingling with a dying fire wafting in the light breeze gave Lailoken pause. He loved his home and he enjoyed working the fields with his daughter Alushia, but out here under the heavens with a common enemy to fight was where he felt most comfortable. Leading the charge against dragons made his heart race and life seemed more real. “Forgive me, Alushia,” he mumbled. He never wanted to leave her, but hunting dragons was an instinct too powerful to ignore. It was part of him.

  The slayers broke camp and followed Lailoken’s lead across the plain and down the paths that wound through the mountains. It would take at least a day to reach the bottom, a
s their progress was slowed by narrow paths and the Magus, who insisted on resting every hour.

  Around mid-day, the unmistakable sound of a dragon’s roar echoed through the mountain pass. Lailoken stopped.

  “Halt!” he called to the men. “We may yet have a trophy to bring home!” He scanned the skies for the dragon when it roared again. This time, the sound rose behind them. Lailoken spun. “There!” he shouted, pointing upwards.

  A large Onyx dragon soared across the sky, its open wings casting a shadow on them as it flew overhead. It roared again, belching a cloud of acid across the sky.

  “The dragon!” Belthos yelled. Being his first trip, he’d yet to see a dragon in person. He was younger than Alushia, and maybe one day would grow into the role of Magus, if his master would allow it. Driano, like most Magus he’d known, was a harsh taskmaster and never gave the boy any breaks.

  “You speak when spoken to! Got it?” he said to Belthos, cuffing him on the head. The boy winced but said nothing.

  “Be careful of the acid. Once on you, it will sear through your skin, leaving only bones,” Lailoken said. Already Jor and Darlonn had moved to either side of Lailoken, each taking a crossbowman with them. Jor took Ori and Darlonn had Tozgan.

  “Driano, if you please,” he asked of the Magus. The stone around Driano’s neck glowed faintly as the Magus enchanted them with protection against the dragon’s acid.

  Ori was a tall brown-haired man with a scraggly beard. Lailoken knew him from the tavern in Kulketh but was unaware of his slaying prowess. Jor recruited him to their group after the last hunt. Tozgan looked the part and wore a bright green cap with blue feathers. He’d been on many hunts, traveling across Tregaron and attaching himself to the latest hunt. It was rumored he understood most dragons better than anyone, but Lailoken had yet to see him in action.

  “Jor, be ready. It looks like it might come your way,” Lailoken called. The tall woman waved her hand at him dismissively. Of course she knew, he thought. She rivaled him in the hunt, something she constantly pointed out. Jor positioned Ori on a rise, pointing upwards. He’d soon have the opportunity to bring down a dragon.