Dragon Slayer 2_A Pulp Fantasy Harem Adventure Page 5

  “Wait here,” the first guard told me, then spun on his heel to stride from the room. The other two guards remained to watch us. Their stances looked relaxed and their hands hung by their sides, but I could see by the tension in their posture that they were fully alert.

  After the long walk, I was glad to take a seat. Arieste sat on my right, and Irenya took the chair across from me. She gave me a little smile as she crossed her legs gracefully and folded her arms beneath her ample bosom, which only served to accentuate her amazing cleavage.

  It took an effort to move my eyes away from the red-haired woman, but the sound of the door opening drew my attention. I stood as another black-armored man entered with the guard that had taken my letter from King Obragar. The newcomer had a single white stripe on the shoulder of his armor, which I took as a marking of his rank in the Blackguard.

  “You claim to come from King Obragar of Whitespire?” the man said and waved the still-sealed letter under my nose.

  “The letter has his seal,” I replied calmly. I understood he was just doing his job, but I would rather skip all the bureaucracy. “It was signed by his own hand and delivered by his personal messenger.”

  “We will see about that,” the guard said. He broke the king’s seal, unrolled the scroll, and scanned its contents. His face revealed nothing as he read, but his eyes flashed up to my face for a moment before returning to the letter. When he finished, he rolled up the scroll and fixed me with a stern gaze. “If this truly is from King Obragar, the Council must hear about this at once.”

  “Then let’s go,” I said with a grin. “The more we wait around, the bigger our problem gets.”

  After a moment of hesitation, the guard nodded. “Come with me.”

  Irenya and Arieste quickly fell into place behind me as I followed the captain from the waiting room. He led us down a long hallway toward a set of double doors, pushed them open, and motioned for us to enter.

  “Wait here. I will relay your message to the Council.”

  Our two guards followed us into the room and took up position beside the double doors. The ranking officer took our scroll and left the room, no doubt to do as he’d said.

  I studied the room as we waited. It was thirty yards wide and fifteen long, the largest space we’d seen in the palace. The room was decorated simply yet tastefully, with carpeted floors, tapestries on the wall, and paper lanterns hanging from the ceiling. A long wooden table and four plush chairs occupied nearly one-third of the room. It seemed so at odds with King Obragar’s lavish throne room, but I realized it had to be the chamber where the Council of Four held court.

  A door behind the table opened and three figures strode into the room. The first was a tall broad-shouldered man with a dark ponytail that hung below his waist. He had a clean-shaven face, but his five o’clock shadow, bushy eyebrows, and frowning mouth gave him a very stern demeanor. He took long steps with his back straight as an arrow and his hands clasped behind his back. He carried a sword on his hip with the familiar ease of a man that had spent his life wearing one and his clothing was a military uniform made out of a dark gray cloth.

  The next man was as opposite to the first as night and day. His chest and gut hung in flabby folds that strained to break free of his gaudy belted tunic, and his robes were as ornate and colorful as the first man’s were practical. Stains that could only be from food or drink decorated his clothing, and he carried a small ceramic pitcher in one hand.

  The third man was thin as a rail, with a narrow face and long fingers that clutched King Obragar’s scroll delicately. He squinted through the spectacles perched on his hooked nose, and his lips pressed into a tight line. He was a bureaucrat if ever I saw one.

  I glanced toward the door as the three men took their seats, but I saw no sign of the fourth member of the Council or a man that looked like the king.

  “Honored members of the Council,” I began, but the man with the spectacles held up a hand.

  “We cannot begin until the People’s Voice arrives,” he said in a nasal, grating voice.

  “This again,” snorted the first man, and he threw up his hands in frustration. “As the representatives of the Military, Commerce, and Law in Windwall, we are enough to listen to whatever King Obragar has to say without waiting for Danikel to grace us with his presence.”

  “Might I remind you of the Laws of Windwall, Councilor Warrald?” the thin-lipped man replied in a precise tone. “The Council of Four was elected for all sectors of the city to have an equal voice, and—”

  “Yes, yes,” Military Councilor Warrald gave a dismissive wave. “We’ve had this lecture enough from you, Enton. We will wait until the People’s Voice is represented. However long that will be,” he muttered.

  A tense silence descended over the council chamber. Warrald glowered at Enton, but the Justice Councilor seemed unperturbed by the Military Councilor’s ire. The fat man, no doubt the Commerce Councilor, occupied himself by sipping noisily from the ceramic bottle in his hands. I gritted my teeth and tried to restrain myself from sending a fire blast at him every time he smacked his fat lips.

  The door opened to reveal a fourth figure. He wore simple clothing, much like the commoners in the marketplace outside, and I caught a glimpse of grey hair as he turned to shut the door behind him.

  “Ah, at last, People’s Councilor Danikel arrives,” Warrold said in a voice barely above a snarl. “About time.”

  “Forgive me, councilors, but I was delayed by…”

  He trailed off as he saw me, and my jaw dropped as I got a good look at him for the first time.

  It was the man whose daughter I’d saved in the market.

  Chapter Three

  It took the People’s Councilor long seconds before he could speak.

  “You?” he asked, and his eyebrows flew up toward his grey hair. “How… what…?”

  I blinked to make sure it was him. But there was no mistaking it. The dull-colored robes, his greying hair and beard, and strong features were the same I’d seen as I knelt over his injured daughter in the marketplace.

  “You know this man?” asked Warrald.

  “Y-Yes,” said People’s Councilor Danikel as he blinked in surprise. “He…he just saved my daughter’s life.”

  All three of the seated councilors turned to the older man, shocked.

  “This man,” the older man pointed to me, “somehow managed to cauterize a wound that would have killed Jian after our rickshaw collided with another.” His eyes narrowed. “I cannot explain it, but there is no mistake. Jian would have died, if not for him.”

  “It was nothing,” I said as I turned to Irenya. “We trained as healers.” That didn’t explain away the use of magic, but I was hoping they’d let it drop with just that.

  People’s Councilor Danikel came around the long table toward me, and he clasped my right hand in both of his.

  “As I said, I am deeply in your debt. How might the Council of Four help you today?”

  The Military Councilor scowled behind Danikel but said nothing as I held out the scroll.

  “I am here on a mission for King Obragar of Whitespire,” I told the four men before me. “Your king, King Astralon, wrote to us asking for help with your dragon problem.”

  The expressions of all four men grew somber.

  “Forgive our deception,” said the People’s Councilor, “but we were the ones that sent the missive in our king’s name. We had no other choice since His Majesty has not returned from his mission to defeat Emroth the Dusky.”

  “Is the king dead?” I asked and raised a questioning eyebrow.

  “We do not know,” said the prim-faced Justice Councilor. “We are praying to the Three Goddesses for his safe return, but in his absence, we of the Council are left with the duties of running the city.”

  The Military Councilor’s face was hard, with no sign of sorrow in his solemn expression. Indeed, there was a strange glint in his eyes, and he didn’t seem too torn up by the fact that the king
was missing.

  “Very well,” I said. “Then I guess you’re the ones to talk to. The king’s letter should tell you everything you need to know.”

  I wasn’t totally sure what the king had written, but I figured he’d give enough information to convince them that I was here to help.

  People’s Councilor Danikel handed the scroll to the thin-faced Justice Councilor, who studied it through narrowed eyes. “The crest on the seal appears to be genuine,” Enton said in his nasal voice.

  “It was given to me by the King’s personal messenger,” I said.

  Enton opened the scroll and read the letter. His lips pinched together in surprise, and a single line wrinkled his smooth forehead. He glanced up at me once with suspicion in his eyes, but I just shrugged, and the man then returned to reading the letter. After he finished, he passed it to the Commerce Councilor.

  The fat man let out a little gasp, and a strong-smelling liquor sloshed from his ceramic pitcher as his eyes went wide. Military Councilor Warrald snatched the letter from the pudgy man’s hands and read over it. His expression hardened and suspicion filled his eyes.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded as he waved the letter at me. “It is written in King Obragar’s handwriting, but the date is signed this very morning. How is it that you cover five hundred miles from Whitespire to Windwall in the space of a few hours? Over territory belonging to Riamod and Emroth, no less?”

  I saw Irenya stiffen beside me, and a small smile played on Arieste’s lips. The tall blonde-haired woman clearly enjoyed seeing Irenya’s discomfort. Riamod had once been Frosdar’s bitter rival, and I guessed those feelings of hate would take longer than a few days to fade.

  The older People’s Councilor took the letter from his hands, read it quickly, and glanced up at me.

  “Do you know what this says?” he asked.

  “Nope,” I said with a shake of my head. “The king’s messenger gave me specific instructions to deliver it still sealed.”

  People’s Councilor Danikel held the letter out to me, and I read the precise message written by King Obragar,

  “With this letter, I, King Obragar of Whitespire, am sending what aid I can to help defend Windwall against the predations of the dragon Emroth. Sir Ethan has done more for Whitespire in the last two weeks than I could have imagined, defeating both Riamod and Frosdar. I trust that he and his secret weapons will provide your city with the same hope he has offered me. And, when Emroth is dealt with, I implore you to consider sending troops to aid in the defense of Whitespire from the combined armies of Curym and Zaddrith.”

  “Pretty much says everything it needs to,” I said with a grin as I handed the letter back to the councilor.

  Danikel looked me up and down, and his glance went to the two women behind me. For a long moment, no one in the council chamber spoke. Enton’s expression hadn’t changed, but I saw a calculating look in his eyes. Military Councilor Warrald studied me with naked suspicion while the pudgy Commerce Councilor emptied the contents of his ceramic bottle with a gulp.

  “Is it true?” asked Danikel after a long moment. “Did you truly defeat Riamod and Frosdar?”

  “It is.” I grinned and motioned to Irenya and Arieste. “They are my witnesses.”

  “You naughty boy,” Nyvea purred, and I heard her sultry laugh echo in my mind.

  “And these ‘secret weapons’ the king speaks of?” asked Warrald. “What sort of tricks can you offer to defeat a dragon?”

  “To show you, I’m going to need something bigger than this room.” My grin turned into a huge smile as I gestured to the small council chamber. “Like a lot bigger. An outside courtyard, a grand hall, or something like that.”

  The councilors exchanged glances. People’s Councilor Danikel re-read the contents of the letter in his hands, then turned to the others with a shrug.

  “If King Obragar’s letter is any indication,” the older man said, “it’s worth letting him at least show us what he can do.”

  The Military Councilor’s eyes narrowed, but the Justice Councilor spoke up before he could retort.

  “Then come, let us go outside,” the thin-lipped man said as he tucked his book under a slim arm. “The Palace Training Yard should suffice.”

  I grinned as I motioned for Danikel to lead the way, then fell into step behind him. I could have simply explained what King Obragar meant in his letter, but sometimes seeing the proof was the more effective option. Besides, I kind of wanted to see how much I could startle Military Councilor Warrald. I’d feel quite proud if I made him pee his pants in fright at seeing a dragon appear right in front of his eyes.

  The Councilors led us through several long corridors. Each was pretty much identical to the rest, with only the artwork hanging on the walls changing. Every painting was some variation on flowers, trees, birds, or pastoral scenes, so it seemed that the people of Windwall didn’t put a lot of stock in interior decorating.

  The corridor we were walking down ended in a set of double doors, and the two guards on duty there saluted as we passed. I hadn’t realized how dim the lamp-lit interior really was until we stepped outside and I had to squint at the brightness of the sunlight. My eyes quickly adjusted as I followed the Councilors down a set of black stone stairs toward a broad empty expanse that could only be the training yard.

  The space was easily the size of two football fields, surrounded by more walls of the same black stone. I realized the wall on the far side of the yard was the rear of the Windwall that faced the canyon. Two stone buildings stood at the right and left side of the yard, and the men moving in and out hinted at some sort of barracks or quarters for the soldiers.

  Half of the yard was occupied by a group of two or three hundred men going through martial arts drills. They moved in perfect unison and shouted “Kiai!” with each punch or kick. They wore the same black scale mail of the guards at the front gate and manning the walls, and each carried a pair of long curved short swords that looked like a cross between a Japanese katana and a Chinese dao.

  “Well?” demanded Military Councilor Warrald after we reached the unoccupied half of the training yard. “Let’s see what makes you so valuable to King Obragar.”

  I saw the eagerness in Irenya’s eyes, but I motioned for Arieste to come with me, and we walked twenty yards away from where the councilors stood waiting expectantly.

  “Are you sure this is wise?” Arieste asked as her forehead furrowed in concern. “If you reveal our presence now, it could put us in danger.”

  “With King Obragar’s letter, it’ll be clear that I’m here to help,” I said with a confident smile. “Once they see that we’ve got two dragons on our side, they’ll be more than happy to point me at Emroth. We can deal with her quickly and get back to Whitespire in time to help Sir Galfred train the army.”

  After a moment, Arieste nodded. “I trust you, Ethan.”

  I couldn’t help watching as she removed her cloak, belt, and cotton dress until she stood in front of me in the simple cloth shift I’d found her in. Nyvea filled my head with images of passion that proved surprisingly difficult to ignore, but I did force them out of my mind and took the blonde woman’s hand. I squeezed it as I placed the transparent gemstone in her palm, and the hesitance left her eyes. She lifted my hand in hers as she set the gemstone against her forehead.

  “Do it,” she breathed.

  “Yes, Ethan,” Nyvea purred. “Give it to her.”

  I chuckled at Nyvea’s antics as I closed my eyes and reached for the ice magic within me. The power hit me with the force of an icy river, but I’d grown a bit more used to the sensation now. It was getting to be much easier to channel the magic through my fingertips and into the gemstone each time I did it. The stone pulled the power out of me in a rush that set my legs and arms trembling. It felt awesome, but totally weird at the same time.

  I heard gasps of fright and shouts of alarm as I opened my eyes. The Council of Four had taken an involuntary step backward. The pudg
y Council of Commerce and the rail-thin Enton had gone pale, but Warrald drew his swords.

  “What foul treachery is this?” the Military Councilor cried as he prepared to charge.

  “Wait!” People’s Councilor Danikel cried and put a hand on Warrald’s shoulder. The older man’s face was pinched not in suspicion or fear, but curiosity. “This… I have read of this.”

  He took a hesitant step toward Arieste and held out a hand. Arieste glanced at me, and I nodded. With a grin that bared her razor-sharp fangs, the dragon dipped her head close enough for the People’s Councilor to touch. He let out a little gasp but didn’t flinch back. Instead, he ran a hand over Arieste’s snow-white scales.

  “Incredible!” he breathed. His eyes flashed to where I stood. “You summoned the dragon?”

  “In a sense,” I said as I walked over to him.

  “You have the power of the old wizards!” Danikel cried out and bent forward in a deep bow.

  I heard the clatter of armor and turned to find all two hundred and some men that had been training nearby charging toward us with their swords held high. Yet at the sight of the bowing People’s Councilor, they slowed and their expressions filled with confusion.

  “I don’t know anything about old wizards,” I said, “but maybe you should call your men off before they make my friend do something you’ll regret.” I might be here on a mission of peace, but I wouldn’t let anyone hurt the platinum-blonde woman. As Nyvea had told me before, “Harm the dragon, harm the woman.”

  Danikel straightened quickly and turned to Warrald. “Tell them to stand down, Councilor.”

  “I don’t take orders from you,” the Military Councilor said with a scowl. His eyes flashed between Arieste and me, and I could see his suspicion had deepened to something closer to fear at this latest development.

  “Listen,” I told him, “I get that your instinct is to be afraid of these dragons, but—”