BLOOD OF THE DRAGON GOD

Chapter 5: Shadow in court

The line between a genius and a dead man usually depends on how fast he can swing a piece of iron.

Logan twisted his torso at the very last second, his boots digging deep into the courtyard dirt. Instead of meeting the white fire head on with brute strength, he used the exact redirection technique Garrick had beaten into his muscles the previous afternoon. He angled his iron blade perfectly, catching the core of Julian’s spell on the flat of the metal and sliding it downward into the stone floor.

The white flame slammed into the ground, exploding in a shower of ordinary sparks that blinded the crowd and sent a massive cloud of gray dust rolling across the ring.

Logan stumbled out of the smoke, his hands shaking slightly as he tucked his fingers into his vest to hide the tiny, dark bumps that had briefly started to form on his knuckles. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving, but he was entirely unhurt.

Julian stared at his empty hands, his face pale with utter disbelief. That is impossible, he stammered, looking around the courtyard. No regular apprentice can deflect a high tier spell with a basic iron blade. You used something else. You must have cheated.

Enough, Captain Garrick roared, leaping down from the viewing platform and landing heavily between the two fighters. Julian, you disobeyed a direct order to hold your spell. Guard, take his weapon. He will spend the next three days in the isolation cells reflecting on his arrogance.

Julian glared at Logan as the guards stepped forward to disarm him. This is not over, peasant, he muttered, spitting into the dirt before he was marched away.

Garrick turned his cold, scarred face toward Logan, his eyes narrowing as he inspected the scorched stone floor. You have a strange habit of surviving things that should kill you, Logan. It makes people talk. It makes you a very dangerous wild card in this palace.

I just did what you taught me, Captain, Logan said, keeping his voice steady. I redirected the force.

Garrick grunted, shoving his sword back into its sheath. Get out of my sight. Wash the soot off your face before you cause another riot.

By the time night fell over the capital, the rumors had already spread through every corridor. The lower ranking guards whispered about the boy who defied a noble mage, while the upper class lords viewed him as an unpredictable threat that needed to be handled quickly.

Logan slipped out of the barracks past midnight, keeping his head down as he hurried through the shadows of the royal gardens. He reached the massive iron doors of the royal archives, where Vivienne was already waiting, holding a small, dim lantern that cast a soft golden glow over the stone walls.

You certainly know how to make an impression, Logan, Vivienne whispered, unlocking the heavy door with a brass key and slipping inside. The entire castle is talking about your little stunt this afternoon.

I did what I had to do to keep my skin attached, Logan said, closing the door softly behind them. You told me to hide the dragon traits. I hid them.

Barely, Vivienne said, leading him down a narrow aisle lined with towering wooden shelves that stretched up into the darkness. If you had been a millisecond slower, that fire would have burned your shirt off, and everyone would have seen the glowing crest on your collarbone. We need answers about what is happening to you before someone catches you off guard.

That is why I am here, Logan said, breathing in the scent of old parchment and dust. Where do we even start? The high mages have erased almost every record of the ancient bloodlines.

Not all of them, Vivienne said, stopping in front of a hidden door concealed behind a heavy wool tapestry. The forbidden texts are kept in the lower vaults. The crown keeps them locked away, but my investigator status gives me access to the keys.

They descended a steep flight of stone steps, the air growing colder and damper with every step. The lower archives were vast and silent, filled with ancient stone tablets and leather bound volumes that had not been opened in centuries. Vivienne set her lantern down on a large oak table and began pulling thick, dusty journals from the shelves.

Look for anything regarding the Dragon God crest, Vivienne instructed, flipping through a book with yellowed pages. We need to know if the awakening is permanent or if there is a way to suppress the energy completely.

Logan ran his fingers along the spines of the books, his dragon senses tingling slightly as he passed a section near the very back of the vault. A strange, low humming sound echoed in the distance, so faint that he almost thought he was imagining it.

Do you hear that? Logan asked, stopping in his tracks.

Hear what? Vivienne asked, looking up from her text. It is just the wind in the ventilation shafts.

No, it is not the wind, Logan said, his vision sharpening in the dim light. It sounds like chanting.

Vivienne dropped her book, her expression instantly turning serious. She grabbed her lantern, blowing out the flame to plunge them into semi darkness, and followed Logan as he crept toward the western wall of the archives.

They moved quietly past the final row of shelves, peeking through a gap in the stone pillars. In a large, circular chamber at the end of the hall, a dozen figures dressed in dark red robes were standing in a circle. In the center of the ring, a bowl of black liquid was bubbling, casting a foul, purple glow over their hooded faces.

We offer this blood to the true ruler of the dark, one of the robed figures intoned, his voice deep and raspy. Lord Malakor will reclaim what the crown stole. The ancient blood will rise for him.

Cultists, Vivienne whispered, her hand dropping to the hilt of her dagger. They are performing an active ritual right inside the palace archives. Malakor is a rogue lord who was exiled ten years ago. If his followers are here, the capital is already compromised.

We need to get Garrick, Logan whispered back. There are too many of them.

Before they could turn around, a loud, grinding sound echoed through the chamber.

The massive stone gargoyle that had been sitting silently on the archway above the vault door suddenly twitched. Its gray stone eyes lit up with a harsh, malevolent purple light, matching the energy of the cultists' ritual. With a deafening roar of shifting rock, the creature leaped down from its perch, its heavy stone claws smashing into the floor and completely blocking the only exit out of the archives.

The robed figures stopped chanting, their heads snapping toward the sound of the crashing stone. The leader raised a glowing staff, pointing it directly at the shadows where Logan and Vivienne were hiding.

We have company, the leader shouted, drawing a long, curved blade from beneath his robes. Kill the intruders. Do not let them leave this room alive.

The gargoyle spread its massive stone wings, its shadow looming over the narrow corridor as the cultists bared their weapons and began to advance.