Dragonsphere (The Fallen King Chronicles Book 1) Page 3

  Demetrius’ brows rose. “Who is he? A prisoner?”

  The grey robed man let out a chuckle. The general was not impressed.

  “He is King Manaem’s wizard. We don’t need the Oaks having anymore advantages over us; hence the blindfold.”

  That put Demetrius on his heels. His initial shock, and then anger, was apparent on his face. “I will not work with some fool from Oakvalor,” he cried angrily. “Especially not a servant of their king! Is this some sort of joke? My home was destroyed and you come in here …” his large body was shaking with rage.

  “Be calm, silversmith. The Oaks,” he used the insulting slang term again, “are facing the same problems we are. King Garun has issued an unofficial treaty of peace with Manaem. Do this task so we can be rid of the vermin from our land.”

  Demetrius almost refused, but the look on the general’s face reminded him of the deadly stare of the king. He hated the Oaks as much as anyone else in Talvaard, but he valued his life and nodded in resignation.

  “Follow me.”

  The general led them through a maze of passages and into a chamber similar to the one they left. There was a furnace and an anvil, as well as all sorts of tools hanging on one of the walls. “I still don’t know what I am supposed to forge,” he commented to the general, who in turn said nothing. He instructed the guards to take the blindfold off the wizard and left Demetrius in the room with him.

  Demetrius looked at the wizard. He was young, perhaps younger than himself. His robes looked to be made of velvet. The man’s hair was long and platinum colored, hanging down past his shoulders. His eyes were slate blue and brought the waters of the Ocean to mind. He carried an ordinary looking staff made of wood, but it was not to help the wizard walk.

  The smith had never met a wizard. Before he was born, sorcerers were a common sight. A few bad seeds, however, caused a great persecution to break out against anyone who practiced the craft. The soldiers were able to quell the violence, but it was too late. Those who had not been killed went into hiding or gave up the craft altogether. It was whispered that the church had a hand in the revolt, but the Abbot condemned such accusations. It was also whispered that some wizards had the ability to control others with the power of their minds.

  If the rumors were true … Demetrius suddenly wondered if this man had that power. He looked questioningly at the wizard, who frowned and muttered something about stupidity.

  “Well?” Vallen said impatiently.

  “Well what?” Demetrius answered.

  “Are you ready to get to work or are you going to stand there until the beast destroys both our lands?”

  “The king hasn’t told me what to forge,” he reiterated.

  “I’m telling you what to forge, you fool.”

  • • •

  Demetrius was the best at what he did because he worked alone. No one told him what to make or how to make it. His clients asked for certain pieces, true, but they did not dictate to him how to accomplish it. And that was precisely the reason he wanted to strangle Vallen. The wizard had drawn up a very specific blueprint and he insisted every detail be followed.

  With each hammer blow, he would hear Vallen mutter something about “too much force” or “this is the best smith they could find?” Demetrius glared at him on one such occasion.

  “Do you want to do this?” Vallen returned his glare but didn’t say another word.

  Demetrius prided himself on attention to detail, which was one of the reasons his work was so highly sought after. But this … this was just a round, hollow sphere of silver unadorned in any way. He had to shape it in two separate pieces, each one the wizard inspected meticulously. With both pieces complete, Vallen had him heat the metal pieces up so that he could engrave some sort of symbols onto the inside.

  When Vallen was finished, Demetrius melded the two together, ensuring it was a perfect seal. For all the specifics, it looked like something he may have crafted when he was an apprentice.

  “It looks unfinished,” he lamented, turning his gaze to Vallen. For the first time since they had met, Vallen was smiling.

  “It’s perfect.” Vallen reached over to pick up the sphere. “You are crazy, you blasted Oak!” Demetrius smacked the wizard’s hand away. “The heat of the metal will burn the skin right off your fingers!”

  The wizard’s smile quickly vanished and turned into a scowl. “Watch what my craft can do.” Vallen snatched the sphere off the anvil and held it close to Demetrius’ face. “Do you feel any heat?”

  To his surprise, Demetrius didn’t. If anything, the metal seemed to be radiating a coldness. “What is it?” he questioned.

  “This, silversmith, is a weapon beyond imagining. And it is going to save our kingdoms.”

  “There comes a time when one must sacrifice for what he believes in. I believe in my king and my country. And so into the mouth of death I travel. For King and Country.”

  - a page in Vallen’s journal

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The sphere having been forged and imbued with magic, Demetrius thought his task was done and expressed his desire to go back to Radda to help the survivors with the task of burying the dead and rebuilding.

  “Out of the question,” King Garun stated in a tone that allowed no room for debate.

  “The task you required of me is complete,” Demetrius returned irritably.

  “On the contrary. The wizard requires your continued assistance. There is one last thing that the crown requires of you. You must escort Vallen to the dragon’s dwelling and ensure the safety of the sphere when the wizard captures the beast.”

  “I am not a soldier, Your Highness. I couldn’t possibly protect it better than your men of war.”

  They were in the same room he had first met the king in, which was just as dark and mysterious in the daylight hours. Garun dismissed the servants who were attending him and drew close to Demetrius. “Let me be blunt with you, since you are not wise in the ways of politics. I do not expect the wizard to survive the encounter with the beast.” Garun’s hazel eyes seemed to pierce his soul.

  “Do whatever you must to secure the sphere for Talvaard’s interests.” Demetrius was catching on to the king’s subtle words. “What interests would those be?”

  Garun frowned. He was not accustomed to being questioned. “Let us merely imagine that it may be of use to us one day in the future. In the event that a certain kingdom begins to grow too powerful …” his words trailed off. He called his servants back into the room. “Take our guest to prepare for his journey,” he instructed them.

  “Where are we going?”

  Garun smirked. “You are going to Kerosh Pass in the Viss Mountains. I will remind you of the importance of having that sphere brought back here.”

  “Why me?”

  “Vallen trusts you now. Do not fail me,” Garun warned.

  The servants escorted Demetrius to a room located two doors down. He was given fresh clothes to change into, as well as a lightweight suite of chain mail. The wizard was also there, though he refused to take anything the servants offered to him. “I will not have it said I accepted anything without payment,” was his excuse. Demetrius figured the real reason was because they were not made by Oakvalor hands.

  “How does anyone know where this dragon lives?” Demetrius inquired, still having doubts that it even existed.

  Vallen pointed to a large map that hung from the wall. “The border between our kingdoms crosses through the mountains of Ward and Viss. Within those mountains is a cave the creature calls home. We cannot hope to use the sphere within his domain, so we must draw him out into the open. One of the mountains is level at the top. That is where we will make our stand.”

  Demetrius was uneasy by the way Vallen seemed to be talking about their future encounter. Assuming the dragon was real, it was unlikely that he would be of any actual help to the wizard. Demetrius sighed heavily and half listened as the wizard babbled on. It was going to be a long journey.

&
nbsp; • • •

  Demetrius scrambled up the cliffside, almost slipping on the jagged rocks several times. The wizard had convinced him to enter the cave alone while the wizard stayed at the top of the mountain. Demetrius initially didn’t care as he still didn’t believe there was a dragon. But seeing the massive creature inside the cave suddenly put a lot of things into perspective for the smith.

  The beast had seen him and that immediately caused Demetrius to turn and run. No amount of money or threats from the king could make him stay and do anything. He reached the plateau, his only thoughts on escaping and running as fast as he could. Vallen stopped him in his tracks by letting fly a blast of lightning. “Stay focused. I cannot do this alone!”

  He knew if he tried to flee that Vallen would kill him. The wizard might trust him, but that didn’t make them enemies any less. The ground shook beneath his feet and he looked around frantically. A mighty roar of the dragon echoed off the mountain tops. Demetrius covered his ears, afraid he might go deaf from the sheer volume. The dragon shot up into the sky, a blur of red against the blue sky.

  “How are we going to get the beast to land?” he yelled at Vallen.

  Vallen withdrew the sphere from a leather bag strapped across his shoulders. “That is the good news. We don’t need it to land. We just need it to fly overhead. It is a fire dragon, the deadliest of its kind. As in nature, fire can be extinguished by ice. The magic infused within the metal has a twofold purpose, the main being that it will keep the dragon’s fire at bay. The other purpose is about to be tested.”

  Demetrius’ face turned pale. “Tested? You don’t know if your magic works? Divines save us!” Vallen ignored the smith’s terror.

  “This is not something that has been done before, but I know it will work. The magic will imprison the creature inside. I will distract the beast from there,” he pointed to the edge of the plateau, “and you hold the sphere up in the air as the beast flies over.” He handed the sphere to Demetrius.

  “I thought this was going to kill the dragon?”

  Vallen shook his head. “Dragon’s cannot be killed. At least, not the way we can be killed.” The sound of rushing wings filled the air, and Vallen sprinted to the edge of the mountain top.

  “Where do I stand?” Demetrius shouted at the wizard.

  Either Vallen didn’t hear him or Demetrius didn’t hear the answer. He threw himself to the ground as the massive dragon shot by. The dragon landed close to Vallen, dropping down onto an upraised platform of rock. Demetrius watched with panic as the beast spewed forth gouts of flame from its mouth.

  He expected to see Vallen consumed in fire. A blue light flared to life and protected the wizard from the flames. The dragon went airborne again. The force of the wind from the dragon’s wings seemed to be turned into a weapon and flung Vallen off the cliff.

  Demetrius cried out and ran over to the edge, expecting the worst. He found Vallen holding onto the ledge. Using every last ounce of strength, he pulled the wizard back up.

  Vallen’s facial expression was all the thanks Demetrius needed. The dragon was circling high above them. “Get back over there, quickly.” Demetrius held the sphere tightly and ran back to where he had been standing. Death seemed certain to him. The dragon shot downward, halting overhead and flying a complete circle.

  There was a sudden eerie silence. Why couldn’t he hear anything? He heard Vallen’s voice inside his head.

  If anything happens to me, keep the sphere safe! Do not let the safety of the world be jeopardized by the greed of men.

  The dragon swooped over the plateau and Demetrius lifted the sphere high into the air as it passed above. The dragon jerked awkwardly in the air. All life seemed to leave the beast and it crashed with jarring force into the ground, rolling and tumbling toward Vallen.

  The beast, and the wizard, disappeared over the cliff edge.

  Do not fail!

  Those three words echoed in his mind the rest of his life.

  “The Eradication is a blight on our history, a disgraceful display of proselytizing by a man who did not interpret the Book of Faith properly. Though the church was strengthened in the long term of things, was it worth the incalculable lives of innocent souls? I think not.”

  - From the writings of Denrie’Aluth

  Former Abbot

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Year of the Divines 544

  The Abbey of the Divines was an ancient structure, dating back almost a thousand years. The ruler of Talvaard at the time, King Beraiah, had converted to the worship of the Divines from the pagan religion that prevailed in the country. After his change of faith, he used the royal treasury to finance the construction of the monastery and issued a decree that all other religions were illegitimate.

  The edict had angered the leaders of the major religions and instead of continuing their rituals in secret, they joined together and declared war on the king. What ensued came to be known as the Eradication. Beraiah hired mercenaries to track down and slaughter the rebels. It was a dark time in the kingdom of Talvaard as Beraiah enforced his new beliefs on everyone. Many of his top advisors resigned their positions, not wanting innocent blood on their hands.

  Eventually the defiance from the rebellious people subsided and they converted to the new religion; or at the very least did not voice their opposition. As the years passed, and the Church of the Divines grew, the mercenary bands were replaced with loyalists, people devoted to the crown. Beraiah made them an official faction of the government and split them into two groups; his personal bodyguards and the Retribution.

  The Retribution was a secretive sect that sought out those few who continued practicing the pagan religions and brought them to justice. They would be disbanded three hundred years later by the fourth great grandson of Beraiah, who believed them to be outdated and an unnecessary drain on the treasury.

  Yet the Church of the Divines flourished in Talvaard despite its violent beginnings. The Abbey was the largest ever built, containing more than two hundred rooms. It was one story, made from the dark brown stone that could only be found on the Isle of Eio. Beraiah had spared no expense on the monastery, bringing in craftsmen and resources as far as the forested mountains of Eurista, half the world away.

  No one was sure of the origin of the belief of the Divines, though it was rumored that Beraiah had indulged a missionary from some distant land and had been persuaded to abandon the traditional religion of his royal bloodline.

  The monastery was massive in terms of square footage, larger even than the royal palace. It was situated outside the city of Talvaarin, the quarters of the palace and capitol of the kingdom for as long as anyone could remember. It was surrounded by an island of tall grassy plains with a single wagon-worn trail leading to it.

  At one time, it had been open to anyone for prayer services and other ceremonies, but the Abbot in command closed its doors to the public when Demetrius brought the sphere to them. He claimed it was in the “best interests and safety” of everyone in Talvaard. It did spark some outrage from the king, who demanded that he be allowed to visit anytime he pleased, reminding the Abbot that it was, after all, the crown who paid for their building.

  In a show of good will, the Abbot offered to send monks to Talvaarin each week to hold a prayer service and meet the needs of the people in the palace, to which the king agreed.

  Inside the monastery, the monks continued their teachings by allowing only first born males into their ranks, referring to them as being ‘consecrated to the Divines’. They took oaths of celibacy, forgoing their natural desires to serve the Divines.

  Calderon was one such monk. He had entered the monastery at the young age of six, two years younger than what the Abbot normally allowed. His parents, devout followers of the Divines, had arranged for their son to be the exception to the rule. Many speculations followed as to how they managed it, but no one could decipher fact from fiction.

  Nine long years had passed since the day his parents had dropped him o
ff. Calderon had not seen them since. He could barely remember what they looked like anymore. The pictures he had conjured up in his mind when he first arrived quickly faded, leaving him with only a few distinct memories of events from his early childhood. He could not remember much outside the walls of the monastery. The monks were forbidden to leave without approval from the Abbot and Calderon was no exception.

  It was past noon now, close to the first hour of the afternoon and the Abbot was winding down his exhortation. The Abbot, leader of the monastery and the priesthood in Talvaard, would preach his sermons each day at noon, and though he was typically long winded, todays seemed like it would be shorter than normal.

  Calderon bowed his head as they closed the service in prayer. He quietly whispered his own invocation and rose from the pew. He searched the room but didn’t see Velkyn in the audience. While attendance was not mandatory, his childhood friend hardly missed the daily service. He could always confide in Velkyn without fear of judgment. The two had become instant friends his first day in the monastery. Calderon had initially been shunned and bullied by the older boys because of his controversial admittance.

  Velkyn, however, had taken justice in his own hands and pummeled a few of them. The masters had then punished Velkyn. His friend took it in stride and they became inseparable, doing all of their daily routines together. Calderon left the chapel and traversed his way through the winding hallways, occasionally glancing into private prayer rooms dedicated to the various Divines.

  There was only one reason why his friend would miss the Abbot’s sermon.

  • • •

  Velkyn finished his prayer and kissed the foot of the copper statue depicting Virtue and rose to his feet. Tomorrow would be the culmination of all his recent efforts. He would need all the favor Virtue would give him. The statue stood on a round dais made of curved red bricks that lifted the statue almost a foot off the floor.