Quest Of The Dragon Tamer (Book 1) (2 page)

The formation had inspired
The Legend of the Silver Dragon
, a popular children’s tale dating back to the Dark Ages. The story claimed the Eye of the Dragon was a gateway to another world, and when a silver dragon entered the Eye in search of a better life, it granted all people the gift of magic. But as the years passed, and people abused their newfound power, the silver dragon decided to return to its own kind in order to abolish magic and rid the world of evil.

The legend alleged the silver dragon would return one day in the hopes of finding the people willing to regard magic with respect and fear. Written over nine centuries ago, when all trace of silver dragons abruptly vanished, the legend hadn’t gained much popularity until after the Wizard War, when the wizards of the Alcazar destroyed all trace of the Quy.

No one knew how the wizards had accomplished the feat, but everyone understood the rationale behind it. Barracus, a powerful mage, had betrayed the Code of the Alcazar by creating an army of horrifying creatures to conquer mankind. The wizards of the Alcazar tried everything to stop the beasts, but nothing harmed them, much less killed them. The only solution was magic’s destruction. When the wizards destroyed the Quy, all with magic died, not only Barracus and his creatures but also every living creature possessing the Maker’s gift of the Quy.

Magic’s annihilation had occurred almost four centuries ago and ever since
The Legend of the Silver Dragon
had gained in popularity. Although the story was a fable, children continued to look for the infamous blue-eyed, silver dragon in the tale.

Markum drew a long breath as he studied the Eye. The hollow peered down at him with chilling intellect. The stones surrounding the Eye appeared to form the rest of the dragon’s head, only accentuating the illusion. Markum almost expected hot breath to begin seeping out of the stone nostrils. A breeze whipped through the gaping hole and cooled the sweat on his brow, sending a chill over him even though it was a hot day. After a few breaths the beauty of the Eye became frightful, like the stone dragon was analyzing his worthiness. His heart drummed a steady rhythm as he wiped his brow and tried to regain his senses. It was a beautiful day, and it would be a beautiful view. Besides, the story was just a legend, and the dragon was just a rock.

Markum forced his legs to start the final ascent, but before he had taken two steps a deafening roar exploded around him. Markum glanced up just in time to see a silver dragon soar through the Eye, bellowing to the dawn. If the dragon’s skin wasn’t shock enough, Markum found himself staring into poignant blue eyes. With a vehement curse, Markum stumbled down the rocky path just as spray of dragon’s fire exploded before him.

Dragon’s fire wasn’t only searing heat and scorching pain, it was poison. Because the poison was attracted to heat, if not treated with deft speed the poison would spread through the bloodstream, heat the body and quickly explode the heart. Ironically, the only cure was to place a scalding cloth over the wound, forcing the heat, or the poison, to seep into the hotter conduit instead of the body.

But there was no one around to help, no blanket to scald and no water to heat. He was at the dragon’s mercy.

Markum dug in his heels and tensed for the inevitable. When nothing happened, he turned.

The dragon sat below the Eye, staring at him with wild blue eyes. Although smoke still seeped from its nostrils and its mouth was parted to inhale a quick breath, it made no move to attack.

Then the dragon’s eyes began to change – first to a muted silver, then to a sickening red. Markum feared the dragon’s red eyes more than the threat of attack. They were corrupt, evil. He could almost feel hate oozing from their core.

With a rising sense of panic Markum bolted down the path, sure the deafening blast would soon follow. But instead of fire, the dragon released a dense black fog.

Sudden blackness surrounded him, and as it seeped inside his veins he felt himself begin to change. Markum tried to fight it, but the black fog was too strong. Madness crept into his heart and mind. Hate spilled into his veins.

Markum screamed.

And woke up.

It was just another dream
.

Swallowing back his panic, Markum sat up and glanced at the sundial in his window – midmorning. By now his prince would be dead.

Markum had already cried his fill. He had nothing left but emptiness. Ren had been accused of his father’s murder, and several reliable witnesses had confirmed the ludicrous charge. The triplet advisors were fighting day and night to discover the truth in order to refute Valor’s lies, but they had uncovered nothing.

Yet the dreams were still coming. This one was even more vivid than most. Markum shook his head and stood, the hollow ache in his chest deepening as he thought of Ren’s execution. Valor’s sense of justice was ironic. The masses christened all Razon kings Dragon Lords due to Zier’s golden dragons, but Ren never participated in the annual dragon hunts. Ren was the first true Dragon Lord because he had fought since birth to eradicate the hunts, much to the chagrin of his father. Ren wouldn’t harm a dragon; everyone in Zier knew it. Yet Valor had placed Ren against something he would never fight.

Valor had been hungering for the Zier throne for years. Somehow he had killed Wyrick himself, but the advisors couldn’t put the pieces together. Everyone knew Ren and his father had their differences. Ever since Ren had met his uncle, Michel, Wyrick had been unbearable to the prince. Other kingdoms knew the rumors, but they didn’t know Ren. Ren loved his father, despite Wyrick’s rejection. Ren would never harm Wyrick, and he would die before he harmed the Zier people.

Markum had adamantly refused the triplet advisors requests to stand with them during the dragon match. He just couldn’t bear to see Ren’s death. The advisors had tried to give him hope, telling him anything was possible, but Markum knew Ren couldn’t escape.

Markum rose and threw on his cloak. He needed to find the advisors. Even though Valor would deny Ren a proper burial, Markum had vowed to visit Ren’s grave before leaving Stardom. Markum didn’t know where he would go or what he would do, but he couldn’t stay here, not without Ren.

After combing his hands through his unruly brown hair, Markum opened his bedroom door and strode into the black marble hallway. Although the reflection of golden chandeliers and candlesticks still wavered in its polished surface, Valor hadn’t wasted any time transforming the hall. Where before rich tapestries lined the walls, filled with Zier’s history and lineage, now the walls were bare. Where before powerful statues of Zier’s great kings towered over entrants, now the hall was empty. It was a stark reminder of recent events.

Markum was so engrossed in his own sorrow he didn’t see Quinton until Ren’s captain was right before him, grabbing his shoulders. Quinton’s soft gray eyes danced with renewed hope.

“Ren’s alive, Markum! Praise the Maker, we have another chance to save him!”

Markum stood, stunned, as Quinton described the events in detail. The golden dragon of Zier, stitched in the center of Quinton’s black uniform, danced with his words.

“Go to the library. The advisors are waiting.” Quinton slapped him on the shoulder and hurried past.

“Quinton?”

Quinton turned, brown hair tousled from worry.

“Did you say a silver dragon?”

“Yes. What of it?”

“Did you see its eyes?”

Quinton frowned. “For the love of the Maker, Markum, didn’t you hear me? Ren’s alive. To the Abyss with the silver dragon!”

Quinton uttered a curse before hurrying down the hall.

Markum stood silently as something nagged his consciousness. It was something Quinton had said – a side note to the miracle, a title given to a miracle worker.

Dragon Tamer.

“May the Maker have mercy,” Markum said, recalling an ancient verse. Markum clenched his fists. He had to find that verse. He had to tell the others …

Dragon Tamer.

“May the Maker have mercy,” Markum said again. Ren’s trouble had only just begun.

- - -

When Michel sat down, clouds of dust floated into the air. He groaned, every limb aching, and reached for his water skin. The new colt would be the death of him. It was as spirited as Renee had been when she first arrived at Stardom. Michel smiled, but the memory brought more pain than joy. His loss hurt as if it were yesterday. It would only lessen when his brother died.

Michel winced, ashamed of his thoughts, and quietly whispered for the Maker’s forgiveness. He had no right to condemn his brother. They had both fallen in love with the same woman, but Wyrick was first born. He had first rights.

Michel lifted the leather skin to his lips, almost laughing when he remembered the golden mug he used to hold at Stardom. It was ironic. He didn’t miss the castle, the servants, or the wealth. He only missed one thing, and that was something he could never have.

Closing his eyes, Michel let his tired muscles relax. He had seen the earth more than he cared for that day. The colt had bucked him off at every turn. His entire body felt bruised, but it was his pride more than anything else that was raw and tender. He was getting old. Breeding the king’s finest stallions would one day be transferred to another, and he would quietly pass out of thought as if he had never been born. His horses were all that kept his name on the lips of the people.

As the sun’s rays warmed his worn limbs, Michel gave himself over to well-earned rest. The horses circled the training ring outside, their pounding hooves creating a rhythmic music. Their song floated in his dreams, taking him back in time.

The day had been bright and a bird’s song echoed on the wind as he rode bareback through the fields at full gallop. The wind burned his eyes, bringing the tears he couldn’t cry on his own.

When he reached the stream, Renee was already there. They didn’t speak. Each heartbeat was precious and each look revealed their feelings. As the sun rose higher, they sank into each other’s arms. Although they dozed, Michel was fully aware of the sounds around him: the sensual trickle of water, the soft movement of the grazing horses, the grass dancing in the breeze.

A soft groan caused him to roll over and reach for Renee. She wasn’t there. Michel stirred, a sudden pain in his chest.

The sound came again. Michel opened his eyes with a start, the dream dissipating as quickly as it had come, and came to full attention. The worn board on his front landing groaned under stealthy weight. Someone was outside, someone who didn’t want to be heard.

Michel reached for his sword just as shadow of a man passed across the floor. Michel spun, catching a brief glimpse of the soldier’s bald head before a flaming torch was hurled through the window.

Michel ran to the door as shouts echoed on the wind. Broken glass exploded to his right as more torches were thrown inside. Michel yanked on the door but something was blocking it from the outside. He tried to cut it down, but his sword was dull from years without use. Michel turned, choking as the smoke ensnared him and the heat began to build.

The men were already boarding up the windows, trapping him inside.

He had let down his guard. After all these years, he thought he and Wyrick had come to a silent peace. When he had first left Stardom he had been expecting an attack, even waited for one, but now he felt betrayed. He had never asked Wyrick for anything in over twenty years.

Then a thought struck him: Wyrick must know about Ren. Michel’s eyes burned with shame. There was no fight left in him. His brother wanted him dead. Now, he would never be able to ask for Wyrick’s forgiveness. And Ren …

The horses screamed. A crash indicated they had broken free of their pen. A soldier shouted orders for the horses to be gathered for the Crape crown.

Michel heaved for air. The Crape crown?

Fear’s cold grip clutched Michel’s soul as the flames rose around him. Wyrick would never allow his lands to be taken, not with any breath in his body. And if Zier had been overthrown …

Michel fell to his knees, resolve deepening in the pit of his stomach. He had to survive. He may be Ren’s only chance.

Michel crawled on his hands and knees, searching for the board he had never nailed down. After all these years he didn’t know if the escape tunnel would still be passable. When had he last been inside, five years ago? Ten? But it was his only chance.

With frantic fingers Michel searched each board, choking as the smoke grew thick. Finally, one board lifted under his touch. Michel dove into the hollow head first, pushing himself through the narrow gap in the earth.

- - -

Ista didn’t turn when the door opened, and she didn’t transform into the beauty she had once been. Her true image reminded Valor of her power. She ruled Newlan. Although he could have the title in name and bearing, she ruled him.

Valor’s children sat opposite her, bound and gagged. Chris sagged against Manda, too weak to sit up on his own. His shaggy blond hair was matted with fever, and every so often his eyelids fluttered wildly. He hadn’t responded well to the sleeping herb given him, but then Ista knew he wouldn’t. Chris Kahn would soon give up the fight.

Ista offered Manda a sympathetic smile. The redhead’s face flared with rage as she muttered something incomprehensible through her gag. Ista chuckled. Manda’s biting green glare amused her. It was a pity Manda didn’t have the gift. Her spunk would have given her great power. Chris, on the other hand, was one of the gifted Ista had decided to sacrifice. Valor needed to prove his loyalty.

As Ista rose from her chair, she dipped her hand in a silver water basin and doused her brow. Valor’s gluttonous eyes followed her approach, but he didn’t speak. He knew better.

She ran her deformed fingers down Valor’s cheek. “What news have you brought me, my king?”

“The soldiers have returned. Michel Razon won’t be a problem.”

Ista smiled her satisfaction. “And the silver dragon?”

“The dragon hunters left at high sun,” Valor said. “They’ll find it soon.”

Ista closed her eyes, reviewing the prophecy. Soon she would understand how the dragon could help bring the darkness. Soon now, she would understand everything.