Return of the Dragon (The Dragon's Champion Book 6) (5 page)

“It is not out of spite that I say this,” he
explained. “Feuds run long and deep. Lady Lokton may have forgiven you, but
others will blame you. Many perished in that battle at Lokton manor. If you
find your son, take him far away. Go east, across the mountains or go west
across the sea. Begin anew some place where no one else knows either of you, so
as not to overshadow your family.”

Lady Cedreau nodded. “That is most generous,” she said.

King Mathias turned to Mickelson. “Ascertain the value
of House Cedreau’s holdings. Set the sum of gold aside from the treasury and
take possession of the deed and title.” Senator Mickelson nodded. King Mathias
turned back to Lady Cedreau. “When you are ready, return here, or send your
servant. I will give you the value of your holdings so you may have means
wherewith you can rebuild your lives.”

Lady Cedreau rushed in and fell upon the frail king’s
shoulders. “Thank you,” she whispered. “It is more than I deserve.”

King Mathias pushed her away gently and looked into
her eyes. “May the Ancients, and the Old Gods, guide your search. Go.”

Lady Cedreau turned to leave.

“Lady Lokton, stay a moment,” King Mathias said. He
walked close to her and took her hand. She rose to her feet and then Mathias
brought her by the hand to Senator Mickelson. “Transfer the deed and title to
House Lokton. Lady Lokton will now assume all of House Cedreau’s holdings.”

“My king, I cannot accept this,” Lady Lokton said.

“You have no house,” King Mathias replied. “It is a
fitting recompense for the destruction brought to you. My only regret is that I
cannot restore your husband to you.”

Lady Lokton fell silent and looked to the floor.

“See her out,” Mathias told Mickelson. The senator set
his list on the throne and walked Lady Lokton out of the audience hall.

King Mathias retrieved the list and then turned to
ease himself down into the throne. He glanced at the list and then he looked up
to the nobles remaining in the hall. His features turned hard and cold. He knew
these men. He knew none of them had any excuse for withholding support. He
beckoned the first man forward.

“
Come
Lord Roeper,” King Mathias
said. “Why have you not volunteered your help?”

Lord Roeper, a portly man with a red beard and bald
head bowed from the waist up and then straightened himself. He spoke in a nasal
voice. “Our holdings have not produced a great crop this year, sire. I am
afraid we need all of our men in the fields to tend what we have.”

King Mathias scoffed and pointed a bony finger at
Roeper’s bulbous belly. “You could stand to forego a meal or two to ensure the
women folk in your holding have enough food to fill their own plates with.”

Roeper’s eyes went wide. “Sire, without the men in the
fields, the women would have to tend the crops. Who would tend to the looms
that produce our textiles?”

King Mathias shrugged. “Who cares?” he asked
pointedly. “I am faced with war and all you can think of is how you will fill
your belly and your purse.”

Lord Roeper’s mouth opened and closed as if he was
trying to speak, but nothing came out. He threw his hands up in disgust and
turned his back on King Mathias.

“Escort Lord Roeper to the adjoining hall,” King
Mathias instructed one of the guards. “List all able-bodied men in his service
and then I will decide where to send them along with everyone else.”

The guard moved without a word and grabbed Lord Roeper
by the arm, twirling him around and moving him out of the audience hall.

“Lord Brenigan, I see that you are also unwilling to
share your strength with the kingdom. What is your excuse?”

A short man with a gray circle of hair ringing his
liver-spotted head stepped forward. He held a green felt hat in his hands and
dressed modestly in a forest green tunic over a simple pair of black trousers.
“My king, it is not that I am unwilling. As you know, I have lands that
encompass the region north of Kuldiga Academy. We were attacked, and our lands
were pillaged, by the same forces that attacked Kuldiga Academy. I sent
messengers, but they were cut down. We have been unable to get any
communication to you.”

“I thought you had a wizard in your house?” Mathias
pressed.

Lord Brenigan looked to the floor. “My cousin had
sided with the warlock. I had no idea of his involvement until after the battle
at Kuldiga Academy. It is my suspicion that he is responsible for the army
coming through my lands. I have but five men left who are whole. There are
seven others who lie upon their beds with injuries too grave for me to attend
to. Most of our women have been slain as well.”

King Mathias’ hard demeanor softened and he stroked
his beard and sighed. “I misjudged you, Lord Brenigan. Go with this guard here,
detail to him what you need and we will see what supplies and manpower we can
send your way.”

Lord Brenigan bowed his head. “You have my thanks.”

The King grew weary of the ordeal, and his backside
ached from the hard, unrelenting throne. He cast a gaze at the others waiting
for judgment. “Do any of you have an excuse half as acceptable as Lord
Brenigan, or are you all fat wastrels like Roeper?”

Lord Howgen held up his hand. King Mathias nodded to
him. “Perhaps we can find some manpower to spare. We can go in the other
chamber with Roeper and discuss options with Senator Mickelson.”

King Mathias looked to his left and saw that Mickelson
was indeed returned. He nodded and called out to Mickelson. “Take these men
into the next chamber and ascertain what forces they can spare to help defend
the Middle Kingdom. Don’t let any of them pull the wool over your eyes either.
I am going to my chambers.” The guards behind the throne moved to follow the
king as he rose from the throne and walked away, but he turned and gestured for
them to stay. “Mickelson needs you more than I,” Mathias told the guards.
“Ensure that the nobles fulfill their duty without hassling Mickelson.”

“By your command,” one of the guards said.

*****

Gulgarin moved to the table and took the leather
bracer in hand. He turned it over, admiring the image of the horse, the symbol
of his tribe, and then placed it over his left forearm. He took his time
fastening it into place. He wanted everything to look perfect when he stepped outside.

His officers had already gathered the orc tribes
outside the main keep. Officers had priority and would be grouped in the
courtyard. Lower ranking tribesmen would be lining the walls, stairs, or
without the southern gate.

A platform had been erected near the main keep to
allow him to address all of the orcs.

He looked down to the parchment Maernok had left.
The fool.
Willing to trade the glory for a
simple wizard.
Maernok’s feats on the field of battle would be
short-remembered in the minds of any orc who followed Gulgarin north to reclaim
their homeland.

“I have united the tribes,” Gulgarin said to himself
as he took the parchment in hand. “Every tribe will now merge together, and
move north as one.” He breathed in deeply and closed his eyes. Such an
accomplishment had not been achieved since the first orcs had sailed across the
great waters to this land, in the time before humans came and created what they
called the Middle Kingdom.

Gulgarin would be remembered as the orc who took back
their home. He would be the orc who rid the land of the infestation known as
humans. None of them would stand before him. “Even the dwarves will have no
choice but to run and hide in their holes,” Gulgarin told himself. He would
take back what the dragons had stolen and then given to the humans.

The muscular orc exited the room and made his way
across the large chamber to the exit. His steps echoed off the walls. He moved
with purpose, and confidence. His cousin, Gersimon, stood at the door beaming
from ear to ear. Gulgarin nodded to him and Gersimon opened the door.

Gulgarin passed out into the sun and was greeted by a
sea of fully armored orcs. There was no cheering, no fanfare, only silence as
they watched him ascend the platform and then turn to address them.

“Maernok has given me command of the field,” Gulgarin
stated. He held up the parchment and the ring. “He has decided to hunt the
wizard known as Gilifan, to exact revenge for his family.”

The orcs from Maernok’s tribe cheered and shouted
their approval.

Gulgarin nodded and smiled. “Yes, it is a worthy
cause, but we have not come this far to turn back now,” he went on. “Glory
awaits us in the north!” A cheer went up from all the officers then. “Maernok
has faith in me to lead all of the tribes, united as one, to take back our
home. We are not marching to Pinkt’Hu, or to any other single settlement. Our
ancestors were driven south because they were not united. They were not strong
enough to answer the humans blow for blow, but we are!” Gulgarin pounded his chest.
“We will drive them into the seas and put them into graves. We will burn their
houses and their storehouses. We will lay waste to their forts and destroy
their beloved castle. We will exterminate them, and cleanse our ancestral
homeland of the filth that has perverted it since the dragons came here and
established Roegudok Hall. Then, when we are done, we will fill in the dwarves’
hole and let them suffocate beneath the dirt under our feet!”

A great cheer went up that lasted for several minutes.
Officers drew weapons and clapped them together. Those along the walls stomped
their feet and waved their spears and axes. Gulgarin smiled. He could smell the
victory even now. The imagined scent of human blood flared his nostrils and he
looked out over the army before him.

A melody rose up above the din. It was soft at first,
almost unrecognizable, but as it
grew,
more orcs
ceased shouting and took up the chorus.

Long ago, in days of old,

Legends
born,
and stories told.

Alone he stood,

Fearless
and bold.

His breastplate dented, the
shine grown dim,

His sword he wielded,
protecting kin.

Elshuapa, his might alone,

Vanquished evil, and built
our home.

Our lands were taken, our
heritage lost.

We take them back now, though
high the cost.

Oh Elshuapa,
march
with us now.

As we pay homage, and keep
our vow.

Off to battle, your sons are
bold.

Off to recapture, those days
of old.

The orcs repeated the song, the chorus growing as more
and more took up the song. Gulgarin turned, seeing Gersimon climbing the
platform.

“Isn’t it glorious, cousin? This is what we have
worked for.”

Gersimon nodded. Then he pointed behind Gulgarin.
Gulgarin turned to look and saw a great, thick wall of smoke rising to the
north.

“They set the forest on fire,” Gersimon said.

Gulgarin shrugged it off. “Let the trees burn. Soon
their whole kingdom shall burn. Go tell the officers that they are to prepare
the army. When the fire is done, we march north. Have them gather food and make
wagons. The seasons will change soon, and the harvest will already be upon us
by the time we reach the first settlement.”

“By your command, King Gulgarin,” Gersimon said.

Gulgarin’s smile faded. He turned back to his cousin
and then glanced out at the thousands of orcs still singing their battle hymn.
His smile returned. “King Gulgarin, I like that.”

“It has a good sound,” Gersimon said.

“Go, make the necessary preparations.” Gulgarin turned
back to the orcs below and joined in the singing.

Erik sat cross-legged in a small room of glass. The
walls were so thick that they appeared green. The golden chandelier above shone
brightly with magical crystals that bathed the room in warm light. He sat on
the floor, which was also made of glass, and waited for the Immortal Mystic.

The glass double doors opened on silent hinges.

The Immortal Mystic entered. He was tall, maybe close
to seven feet. His frame was slim, but not frail despite the age that so
obviously tugged at the lines on his face and caused the skin around his jaw to
droop ever so slightly. The long, white beard was neatly braided into a single,
thick plait that hung down over the Immortal Mystic’s chest. His eyes were a
bright golden color, something that Erik found most intriguing. He had seen
many different eye colors before. He had even seen Marlin’s gray eyes that no
longer had any iris at all, but never had he seen eyes that seemed to be made
of gold before. The Immortal Mystic tucked each hand into the opposite sleeve
of a grand, silver robe that was so long it covered the man’s feet.

“Did you sleep well?” the Immortal Mystic asked.

“I did,” Erik said. “I feel as though I have slept for
days.”

The Immortal Mystic smiled and nodded. “That is
because you have,” he explained. “You slept for a couple of weeks, actually.”

Erik’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“Time has little meaning here,” the Immortal Mystic
said. “It exists, but we flow through it at a different pace than everything
else outside.” He held up a hand and moved in to sit upon his knees in front of
Erik. “You needed your rest,” he said. “I wanted to make sure you were fully
rejuvenated before we began our training. Now that I know you have rested, we
can begin in more earnest. Do not fear. The time invested in your recovery will
be returned to us tenfold.”

Erik nodded and let the matter drop. There wasn’t much
he could do about it in any case. His stomach growled loudly enough that the
Immortal Mystic could hear it. Erik blushed at first but the Immortal Mystic
waved the matter off and smirked.

“Do not worry, that is normal after such a sleep. As
for nourishment while you were resting. This palace is able to sustain a body
with a special kind of magic. You will find that not only is your mind more
prepared for the training, but your muscles are none the weaker despite your
sedentary state.”

The glass doors opened and several men dressed in gray
robes entered the room. They split into two lines, circling around either side
of the room and silently turned to face Erik.

“Your training begins now,” the Immortal Mystic said.

Erik turned to look at the men in robes and then
looked back to the slender man kneeling before him. He expected some form of
instruction, but he only was given silence. “What would you have me do?” Erik
asked at last.

The Immortal Mystic frowned. “Must you still be guided
along?”

Erik bristled and leaned back as he repositioned
himself on the floor. It had been months since he had been in Valtuu Temple
with Marlin for training. He had always had clear instructions before, even
when he was given reading assignments by Al. He looked around the room and
tried to guess what his task might be.

He closed his eyes and called up his power. He could
feel the energy roll through him and then out into the room around him. The men
that had entered the room all disappeared. Only the Immortal Mystic remained.
The man smiled and nodded with approval.

“Very well.
Now let’s move to
the next room.” The Immortal Mystic rose to his feet with grace and speed that
eluded even Erik. It seemed as though the man lived up to his title, and was
not subject to age and decay as the rest of the world was. The two of them
exited the small room and walked through the hallway. They passed several
rooms, all of which were empty except for the chandeliers. There was no sign of
anyone else in the palace.

A thought came to Erik then as he looked around. He
hadn’t seen Jaleal yet. Before he could ask the whereabouts of his companion,
the Immortal Mystic turned around with a faint smile on his face.

“Your friend is on the upper level of the palace. I
have opened our library to him.”

Erik nodded. The Immortal Mystic turned around and
continued leading them through the hallway.

Mention of the library brought Tatev to the forefront
of Erik’s thoughts. The horrid sacrifice replayed in his mind and his heart
fell heavy with sadness. He had managed before to hold the emotions at bay,
except for the occasional sorrowful thought here and there, but not now. There
was no longer any imminent danger
nor
treacherous road
to travel and force his thoughts to focus. Now he walked in an empty glass
palace, with only his thoughts as company. Tears filled his eyes. Waves of
guilt washed over him.

He should have saved Tatev. Or maybe he should have
encouraged the red haired librarian to teach him more, instead of cutting off
his lectures whenever he could.

The Immortal Mystic turned around and placed both
hands on Erik’s shoulders. He leaned down, bringing his fiery golden eyes lower
to meet Erik’s gaze. “You must focus your energies, Erik,” he said. “If you
cannot control your mind, then you powers are nothing.”

Erik nodded. “I…I…I lost a friend,” he stammered.
Tears fell from his eyes despite his efforts to choke them back.

The Immortal Mystic sighed and shook his head
disapprovingly. “You have a lot yet to learn,” he said. “Come, I will set a task
before you here. Then you can rest for the day.”

“I don’t need to rest,” Erik interjected. “It would be
better to have something to take my mind off of it.”

The Immortal Mystic shook his head. “No, it would be
better for you to deal with it. For that, you will need silence and solitude.”
The slender man opened the door to a room and showed Erik inside. There in the
room stood thirty men in six rows. They stood silently, watching Erik as he
entered the room.

Erik turned around and looked at the glass wall. It
was thick, but not so thick that he shouldn’t have seen the men inside the room
before the Immortal Mystic opened the door. Erik looked to the tall man, but
the Immortal Mystic declined to offer any instruction. Erik nodded and called
his power up. A few of the men disappeared, but to Erik’s surprise others
appeared for a moment.

The sudden appearance of new people startled him and
he lost his focus. Those who had appeared when he called up his power vanished
again. Then, the remaining people in the room rushed toward him.

Erik remembered the trial where he had to ascertain
which warriors would fight against him and called up his power again. In an
instant he saw that not all who ran toward him had the intent to attack. Most
were going to shield him, but three had other designs. Erik called them out,
and immediately all the others formed a circle around him and kept the three
would-be attackers at bay.

“Well done,” the Immortal Mystic said. “For the most
part,” he added quickly.

Erik looked around the room and tried to focus his
power again, but he never again saw the men who had appeared for a moment when
he had first used his power. Perplexed, he turned to the Immortal Mystic for an
explanation.

“When your mind is clear and focused, then so shall
your power be,” the slender man said. He waved his hand and then all of the
other men in the room disappeared.

Erik was astonished. “None of them were real?” he
asked. “I used my power, how could they have remained if I had tried to dispel
the images?”

“How indeed?” the Immortal Mystic echoed. “Perhaps you
should return to the first room and meditate. Try to work through your feelings
for your friend, and understand the true trajectory that all beings are on.”

Erik screwed his face and asked, “What does that mean?”

The Immortal Mystic wrinkled his nose. “If you are to
take the place of the Champion of Truth, I cannot spoon feed you all of the
answers.” The tall man turned and left the room, leaving Erik both insulted and
confused.

“
If
I am to be the champion?”
Erik repeated after he was sure the Immortal Mystic was gone. “Am I not already
the champion?” He reflected back to the confusing conversation he had had with
Allun Rha. He exhaled impatiently and left the room to retrace his steps back
to the first, smaller room that had been given to him for training.

As his feet carried him through the sparkling halls
his mind gave room for the doubts to grow. Had he lost his power, or was the
Immortal Mystic simply that much stronger than Marlin that his illusions were
harder to dispel?

He tried to tell himself that he had slain Tu’luh, and
done many other great things that most men could never hope to achieve, but
then he heard Salarion’s voice bringing him back down to reality. Erik had
always had help. Dimwater and Lepkin had battled Tukai the warlock. Al had
saved Erik from Janik, and had used a large portion of his life force to do so.
When the dark wizard Erthor came to Valtuu Temple riding a twisted dragon,
Lepkin and Dimwater led an assault to protect Nagar’s Secret from falling to
the Blacktongues. Al had ventured with Erik and saved his life countless times
as Blacktongues assailed him at every turn. An entire army had stood behind him
at Lokton manor. He may have slain the warlock by his own sword, but none of that
would have been possible without the countless warriors who fought and died to
give him that chance. Jaleal and the other gnomes had saved him from the giant
spiders in the forest. A host of dwarves had helped him and the others fight
Tu’luh when Valtuu Temple was destroyed. Tillamon had tricked and killed the
shadowfiend pretending to be Patrical. Erik had ventured to fight Tu’luh on his
own, but even then he had Jaleal with him.

He pushed through the glass door and went to the
middle of the room.

He sat on the uncomfortable glass floor.

Then he let himself lie down and he stared at the
thick, greenish ceiling above him. He could see shadows and light piercing
through and reflecting off the glass, but that was
all.
There didn’t appear to be any movement near him whatsoever. What had at first
been breathtaking and beautiful was now cold, and hollow. He was alone is a
gargantuan glass prison.

He was more frustrated now than ever he had been.
Through every hardship before there had always been a shining hope to reach
for. The promise of his
power,
or the strength of a
dragon born warrior to lean upon had propelled him through it all in the
beginning. Then, when those had seemed not enough, there was the Immortal
Mystic. The one being in the realm who would know the answer to Tu’luh’s riddle
and show Erik how to defeat the four fireballs that would come to devour his
world. The Immortal Mystic was promised to show him the wisdom of fighting on,
when Tu’luh had presented an equally viable plan.

Where was the hope now?

The Immortal Mystic proved more austere than Lepkin
had ever been. Not only that, but there were no answers yet. Erik had been met
only with tacit approval, or outright displeasure, and this was only the first
day of training.

Erik then reflected on the fact that he had been
allowed to sleep for weeks. What kind of nonsense was that?
All
this time he was rushed around, walking, working, and fighting himself to the
bone just to reach the ultimate goal.
Now, with Nagar’s Secret
presumably in Salarion’s hands and Lepkin holding off an orcish invasion, Erik
was placed under a magic spell and made to sleep for weeks. How was that going
to help?

“You left me there,” a voice called out.

Erik jumped and propped himself up on his elbows. No
one was there. He looked around and then shook his head. He closed his eyes,
but quickly opened them when Tatev’s face appeared in his mind. Erik tried to
fight it, but the guilt flooded back over him. Tatev’s screams filled the room
and Erik placed his hands over his ears.

Those screams were joined by others. Scenes from the
battle at Lokton manor came to Erik’s mind. He tried to shut them out. He
conjured up the image of Nagar’s Secret, the book that promised to enslave all
of the Middle Kingdom.

“I am fighting to protect them,” Erik said aloud as he
pressed his hands into his ears in an attempt to shut out the voices.

They would not be silenced.

Right or wrong, Erik’s war had brought death. The
images and faces of those he had known assaulted his mind until he was lying on
his side on the glass floor, crying and shouting for the images to go away and
leave him alone.

“Erik, why are you crying?” a voice called out.

Erik barely heard it. The screams of horror and pain
were so loud he could focus on nothing else.

“Erik, I am here,” a voice beckoned.

The voice was much louder this time, pushing the
screams away. Erik turned and looked. He saw his father, Trenton Lokton,
standing in the doorway. He was wearing his striped pajamas underneath his
green and gold robe, and held a steaming mug in one hand and a pair of oranges
nestled in his other palm. Erik wiped his eyes and blinked. The glass room
melted away and in its place he saw his own room. He looked down and saw that
he was on his bed, wearing pajamas and the sun was pouring in from his bedroom
window.