The Dragon's Champion (3 page)

The crowd
cheered as the healers helped Timon back to his feet.  Timon, still not
firm on his legs, glared at Erik. “You’ll pay for this, cast-away,” Timon
snarled.

Orres signaled
for the healers to take Timon away, and then he whirled on Erik. “What’s wrong
with you, boy?” Master Orres growled at Erik.

Erik felt his insides
quiver at Orres’ voice. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Orres
closed the distance between them in two strides and grabbed Erik by the
neck-hole of his chest pad.

“I asked you a
question!” Orres shouted. “You split his head open with that stunt of yours.”

“That’s enough,”
Lepkin said.

Orres looked up
at Lepkin, but instead of reverence, Erik saw only rage and anger in Orres’
eyes. Lepkin slipped a foot between Erik and Orres, and then he wedged between
them and took Orres by the wrist.

“Let me go,
Lepkin,” Orres growled.

The crowd took a
collective step back.

“Release my
apprentice,” Lepkin demanded.

“Your dog
injured my nephew,” Orres countered. “I will not let him get away with this.”

“Your nephew
knew the rules. Perhaps the other masters should have prepared Timon better.”

“How dare you
say that,” Orres roared, Master Orres released Erik and took three steps back.
Orres’ hand hovered dangerously near the pommel of his sword. The crowd backed
away further still.

“Master Orres,
your nephew is seventeen, and Erik is only fourteen. This duel was even, if not
tipped in your nephew’s favor.” Lepkin gently pushed Erik back and then stood
to face Master Orres, with his hands relaxed at his sides.

“This has gone
far enough,” a woman shouted. Erik turned to see a tall, slender woman with
black hair emerge from the crowd. She seemed to almost float as she approached
the center of the courtyard. Her sky-blue eyes fixed themselves on Master
Orres, and her left hand was poised with the palm facing out. Even if she
hadn’t been wearing her dark blue gown, embroidered with a golden crescent-moon
on the front, Erik would have recognized the master sorceress by the missing
thumb on her left hand.

It was said that
Lady Dimwater’s thumb had been devoured by a dragon’s flame in a duel that
saved an entire cluster of villages on Kelboa Island. Whenever apprentices
asked her about it, she was quick to answer that her thumb was a small
sacrifice that she was proud of giving to save so many lives.

Erik had heard
stranger rumors about her that were not as nice or heroic. Some apprentices
said that Lady Dimwater had sold her soul to demons, or that she was born of
devils. Other rumors proclaimed that she gained her power by stealing the lives
of other wizards. Erik paid little heed to most of the rumors, but seeing her
now gave him the distinct impression that there was definitely more to her than
he had thought before.

Erik closely
watched Orres and Lepkin as Dimwater stood between them. Lepkin stood still,
but he fidgeted with his right hand. Erik had not seen Master Lepkin fidget
before, ever. Orres, on the other hand, seemed to get angrier. His whole face
turned red, he clenched his jaw and his hands curled into fists. Erik was
almost certain that Orres was going to explode, but as Orres stared into Lady
Dimwater’s face, all of the rage left him.

“You always were
able to cast a spell over me,” Orres said.

“And you were
always quick to anger,” Dimwater replied. “Your nephew will be fine,” she
stated.

Everyone then
looked over to the healers. Timon’s head wound had already vanished thanks to
the healers’ magic, and his hand was beginning to regain its natural
complexion.

“He’ll be just
fine after a night’s rest, Master Orres,” confirmed a tall Apprentice of the
Hand that Erik didn’t recognize.

“Very well,”
Orres replied. There was an awkward silence then as Orres scratched the back of
his neck and shied away from Lepkin’s unwavering stare. Erik expected Orres to
apologize for his behavior, but it was Lepkin who spoke next.

“Forgive me,
Headmaster Orres,” Lepkin said. “I forgot my place.”

Orres searched
Lepkin’s face with his eyes. Then he looked to Lady Dimwater and sighed. “There
is nothing to forgive,” Orres told Lepkin.

Lady Dimwater
bowed graciously to Orres and helped the healers escort Timon out of the
courtyard. Erik noticed that both Orres and Lepkin watched her leave.

“Shall we resume
the duels?” Lepkin asked after Dimwater had gone.

“I think not,”
Orres replied. Murmurs swept through the crowd. Orres raised his hand to
silence them. “Today’s challenge was to prove the value of a knight’s word. All
Apprentices of the Sword must understand that they must follow through with
their words, for they will be expected to do so as Knights of the Order of
Kelteshteg. Erik has shown his merit by following through on his challenge, and
I have no doubt that he would continue to duel each remaining apprentice. He
has done more than anyone could ask of a first-year apprentice.” Orres turned
to address the remaining apprentices that had yet to duel. “As Headmaster, I
believe that it is unnecessary to risk further injury to any apprentices. Erik
has proved himself enough.”

Some of the
remaining apprentices were obviously disappointed. They whispered among
themselves and some of them shot Erik contemptuous glances. Erik felt a stab of
fear as he realized that his brutal victory over Timon had earned him only
contempt from the older apprentices.

Lepkin then
stepped up beside Orres and addressed the apprentices.

“The Headmaster
has spoken,” Lepkin said.

“Everyone is
dismissed. Go back to your regular studies,” Orres instructed.

If not for
Lepkin, some of the apprentices may have thrown out parting insults Erik’s way,
but the crowd dissolved peacefully as students returned to their classes.
Lepkin walked back to Erik and began to help him remove the training pads while
everyone else filtered out of the courtyard. Erik noticed that Master Orres
left without even looking at him or Master Lepkin.

“There is an old
fire between us,” Lepkin said. He must have noticed Erik watching Master Orres.

“Is it about
Lady Dimwater?” Erik asked.

Lepkin sighed.
“It was a long time ago.”

“Before your battle at Gelleirt monastery?”
Erik pressed.

“Many years
before that,” Lepkin replied.

Erik slipped out
of his chest pad and feather-mail. “If it was so long ago, then why does it
still bother Master Orres?”

“Wounds of the
heart are not easily healed, and more difficult still to forget,” Lepkin
replied. Master Lepkin looked off in the direction that Dimwater had gone. Erik
realized then that it still bothered Lepkin as well.

“I’m sorry,”
Erik offered.

Lepkin gathered
all of the training armor without another word about Dimwater while Erik stood
there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do. After everything was ready the
two of them walked back to the hall.

Erik took three
steps and sluggishly swung his sword. Lepkin stopped abruptly and put a hand on
Erik’s shoulder. Erik looked up at his master with a puzzled look.

“Do you think
you fought well?” Lepkin asked.

“I think so,”
Erik replied. “But I didn’t realize it would be so hard.”

“What was the
hardest about it?” Lepkin asked.

“I think the
hardest thing was watching the healers work on Timon while you and Master Orres
argued.”

“I see,” Lepkin
said. “Well, a knight must understand that the wounds he inflicts touch more
than one life. A man always has a mother, father, an uncle, or a friend that
care about him. When you hurt or kill someone, you must realize that other,
unforeseen consequences may arise from it.”

“It would have
been awful if Master Orres had drawn swords against you, Master Lepkin,” Erik
said.

“Was your duel
with Hal difficult?” Lepkin asked, directing the subject elsewhere.

Erik thought for
a moment. “Only a little,” Erik said. “I wanted to win, but I didn’t want Hal
to have one of his asthma attacks.”

“Your forfeiture
in that duel was actually an honorable victory for you,” Lepkin said. A hint of
a smile appeared on his face. “It would seem that you are listening, and
learning your lessons well. We shall have to harness your temper a bit, but
I’ll make a legendary hero out of you yet, Erik Lokton. Come let us return to
your studies.”

Lepkin led the
way and Erik counted off three paces and swung his sword through the air.

“You no longer
have to do that,” Lepkin announced without turning around.

“Why not?”
Erik asked.

“As I said
before, the purpose of your walking routine was so that others may judge you.”
Lepkin turned around with a smile. “For better or worse, I think that others
will judge your actions today for many days to come.”

“Erik, grab the
bucket and follow me,” Janik said.

“Are we cleaning
windows again?” Erik asked.

“Well, you’re
good at it,” Janik replied with a chuckle.

Erik didn’t mind
washing windows. It was certainly better than sitting and writing lines to work
off his demerits. He also liked having the freedom to talk, and Janik seemed to
like having company as well. The two had become fast friends, or at least,
Janik was the closest thing to a friend that Erik had at Kuldiga Academy.

Janik was not
like Master Lepkin, or any of the masters that Erik knew. He was warm and
friendly, even with strangers. His eyes were so green they seemed to sparkle,
and there was always a smile on his face. He wore an old, tan tunic under a set
of brown, grease stained coveralls. Most of the other masters in Kuldiga
Academy rarely, if ever, spoke to Janik, except to order him around, but Janik
never seemed to mind. Erik often thought that the two could be brothers they
were so similar, except that Janik was well into his fifties now.

Over the months
Erik had spent working off his demerits by helping Janik the two talked about
everything. Almost everything, that is. Janik walked with a terrible limp, and
his left hand was curled at the wrist permanently like a fleshy hook. The cause
of Janik’s disfigurement was the only thing that Janik refused to talk about.
Erik had asked about it once, but after seeing the look on Janik’s face, he
decided not to bring it up again.

“I noticed you
aren’t swinging your waster when you walk anymore,” Janik said.

“Master Lepkin
said I didn’t have to do it anymore,” Erik replied. He scooped up the bucket
and turned to follow Janik.

“I suppose he
figured you used it enough during this afternoon’s swordplay,” Janik said.

“You heard about
that eh?” Erik asked.

“I watched it
from one of the second story windows on the south side,” Janik replied.

Erik nodded his
head. He wanted to ask what Janik had thought of it. After all, Erik had
defeated many of the other Apprentices of the Sword, but there was something in
Janik’s tone that stopped him.

“I hope your arm
is still strong enough to clean windows,” Janik said as he handed a rag to
Erik.

“I’m alright,”
Erik replied. “I’m getting sore though, especially my shoulders.”

“I thought you
would. Tomorrow you will likely be very stiff and achy.”

“Master Lepkin
had one of the Apprentices of the Hand take a look at me.”

“Bah, what do
they know about it?” Janik grumbled.

“Well, they are training
to be healers,” Erik replied with a shrug.

Janik waved his
crooked hand in the air and shook his head. Erik wondered why Janik seemed so
bitter about the healers.

“Actually, why
don’t you set the bucket down and come here?”

Erik put the
bucket on the floor and walked back to Janik. The old, crippled man hobbled
over to a counter, unlocked the top drawer, and pulled out a cobalt blue
bottle. He seized the cork with his teeth and yanked the stopper free.

“What is that?”
Erik asked.

Janik spit the cork
onto the counter and held the bottle out to Erik. “Rub a bit of this on your
shoulders. It’ll help keep you from getting too stiff.”

Erik took off
his shirt and poured some of the clear liquid into his hand. It had no smell,
but the oil felt cool in his hand. As he rubbed it onto his shoulders, the
cool, tingling sensation turned hot. The heat penetrated below his skin and
went deep into his joints.

“How’s that?”
Janik asked.

“It’s
wonderful,” Erik replied happily. “What is this?”

“It’s a special
mixture that I use on my wrist and leg sometimes.”

Erik gently
placed the bottle back on the counter and replaced the stopper. “Where did you
get it?”

“Lady Dimwater
makes it for me,” Janik replied. “It sure beats anything those wanna-be healers
have, that’s for sure.”

“Do you know her
well?” Erik asked. “Lady Dimwater I mean.”

Janik raised an
eyebrow and turned to put the bottle back into the drawer. “I know her well
enough.”

“Is there
something between her and Master Lepkin?” Erik asked.

“It isn’t proper
to speak about others behind their backs,” Janik replied.

“But if you saw
the duels, then you must have seen the argument between Lepkin and Orres. They
would have drawn swords against each other if not for her.” Erik folded his
arms and waited for an answer.

“Actually, they
would have drawn swords because of her,” Janik replied. “A long time ago, that
is,” Janik clarified.

“What do you
mean, exactly?”

“I have told you
too much already,” Janik replied.

“I must know,”
Erik pressed.

“Why, what
business is it of yours?” Janik demanded.

“Janik, don’t be
like this. Either you tell me, or I will find out for myself,” Erik promised.

Janik smiled
slyly. “Very well, put the bucket back in the corner.”

Erik scurried
over to the bucket and put it away. Janik watched silently. After the bucket
was in its place, Janik pointed to the door. Erik was confused for a moment. He
was unsure whether he was being dismissed or asked to close the door. He
decided to close the door, hoping that Janik was about to disclose a great secret.

“Put your shirt
back on,” Janik instructed as he tossed Erik’s shirt at the apprentice’s face.

Erik caught it
and fumbled as he tried to quickly pull it over his head.

“I know you well
enough to know that you won’t stop pestering me about this,” Janik said. “But,
you will not mention to anyone what I am about to tell you.”

“I swear,” Erik
replied.

“Lady Dimwater’s
study is in the south tower,” Janik began. “If you want answers, you will have
to find them for yourself, but be forewarned that if you are caught this will
be far worse than any amount of demerits you can dream of.”

Erik’s toes
fidgeted inside his boots. He was almost as excited about Lady Dimwater’s study
as he was scared of getting caught. “How do I get in?” Erik asked.

“Luckily, I
happen to have the spare key.” Janik pulled a large key-ring from his coveralls
and searched through the seemingly endless keys. After a few moments he
separated a green key from the ring and tossed it to Erik. “As a janitor, I
have access to all rooms in Kuldiga Academy, except for Master Orres’ study.”

“If I get
caught, they will know you gave me the key then,” Erik mused.

“If you get
caught, I will say that you stole it,” Janik replied. “You do know the penalty
for stealing, yes?”

“I do,” Erik
replied with a heavy sigh.

“This is your
last chance to turn back. You can either help me clean windows, or you can
search for your answers. Which will it be?”

Erik thought
hard for a few moments. The risk of getting caught would likely get him
expelled, if not thrown in the stockades first, and dishonor his adopted family
as well. He would probably never be able to find work outside of his adopted
father’s manor either, unless he was willing to join the army as a regular.
But, on the other hand, he had long wondered about Master Lepkin’s history.
Maybe he would finally be able to unravel the mystery of the great battle at
Gelleirt monastery, and of course, what exactly caused a rift between Lepkin
and Orres. The trophy was too much for Erik to turn down. He reached out and
grabbed the key from Janik’s hand.

“I’ll go,” Erik
said decisively.

“Then, for both
our sakes, I suggest you not get caught.” Janik limped over to a small desk and
sat behind it in a padded chair. He shuffled a couple of papers on his desk and
then looked at Erik. “I have often seen a diary on Lady Dimwater’s desk. I
would imagine that the answers you seek can be found in it. Usually all of the
Masters and Ladies are gone around four-thirty. Since today is a Friday, no one
should be around at all tonight, except for me and Groundskeeper Rick. I will
need the key back tonight by eight o’clock. If the key is not back by then, I
will have to fill out a report stating that the key is lost. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Erik
replied. He glanced over at the grandfather clock by the window. “It’s almost
five, shall I go now?”

Janik waved his
hand and sighed. Erik couldn’t be sure if Janik was happy about this, but Erik
had to know more about Lady Dimwater. What was between her and Master Lepkin?
Had she used magic to calm Master Orres in the courtyard? And what was the
potion she made for Janik? These, and many other questions about Master Lepkin,
ran through his head as he made his way toward the south tower.

As he walked
through the halls, Erik was careful not to make heavy footsteps. He kept an eye
out for people as well. He strained his ears, listening for any sign of others,
but the halls were empty. He relaxed a little after he passed through the
dining hall. He knew that he was going the right way when he noticed that he
was walking past paintings of great wizards of the past.  He didn’t know
much about wizardry aside from the fact that magic was a gift. You were either
born with natural ability or you had to turn to the dark arts to gain it. There
were many stories of dark wizards in the land that struck deals with demons in
exchange for great powers. In fact, the existence of the Shadowfiends, as they
were called, was almost the sole reason for the existence of Kuldiga Academy.
Since Kuldiga Academy’s founding, new problems and threats rose against the
kingdom and Kuldiga Academy was expanded until it finally became what it was
now, with several different types of apprentices learning and hoping to graduate
as professionals in their specific fields.

Erik paused to
gaze at a grand depiction of a sorcerer battling winged demons on a mountain.
The colors were striking and overall the painting was masterfully done, but
that is not what captured his attention.  In the painting there was a
second human. This man held an axe and shield, covered in blood. At the man’s
feet lay four slain demons, but it was the man’s face that Erik stared at. It
looked like Janik, if you took away the wrinkles from Janik’s face that is.

Erik looked down
at the brass plate on the bottom of the frame and read the words etched
thereon.

“The rescue of
Lady Zana, daughter of Count Reginald,” Erik read aloud. Erik squinted at the
painting, trying to discern if the axeman really was Janik.

Out of the
corner of his eyes, Erik saw something move across the hallway. He turned, but
saw nothing. He listened carefully, but there was no sound. The hairs on the
back of Erik’s neck stood on end and a chill ran down his back. He gave the
painting one more look and then resumed walking toward the south tower.

As Erik exited
the hall with the paintings, he couldn’t help but turn and look over his
shoulder. He could feel something watching him. It was the worst feeling he’d
ever felt. He looked around the small chamber, which was merely an intersection
of four cold hallways, and checked for any sign of movement.

“Don’t let fear
take control,” Erik whispered to himself. “Janik walks here every day cleaning
the rooms. If it’s safe enough for him…” Erik stopped short as a strong wind
blew through the hallway behind him. It sounded as though the wind itself was
growling at him. He burst into a sprint straight down the next hall. He ran
past sets of armor on display, tapestries, paintings, and the occasional door
or window, but he didn’t stop to look at any of them. Something nipped at his
heels and the wind growled louder. Erik ran faster and faster. He dared not
turn around.

Soon he could
see the end of the hall. The door to the south tower loomed in front of him.
His feet carried him faster toward the dead end as the growling came nearer to
his head and something almost grabbed his pant leg. He knew he would have to
turn and face his hunter because there wouldn’t be enough time to unlock Lady
Dimwater’s door before it took him from behind.

Erik spied a set
of armor displayed on the right side of Lady Dimwater’s door. The gauntlet held
a spear upright. Erik knew it was his only chance. He raced for the spear and
ripped it from the stand with such force that the gauntlet was flung across the
hall and clashed against the wall. Erik dropped to slide on his knees. Just
before he reached Lady Dimwater’s door he spun around and pointed the spear
upward, digging the butt of the spear into the crack under the heavy, oak door
for support.

A silvery shape,
too distorted to identify, parted around the spearhead and flew right past Erik
and through the door. The growling was replaced by a hiss as the mist flowed
by. Erik remained on his knees, his hands relentlessly held the spear ready.

What was
that?
Erik wondered. He slowly stood up, keeping his muscles tense and
ready. He thought of going back to Janik and leaving Dimwater’s journal alone,
but he couldn’t go back now. Whatever it was, it was gone now. There was no
sense in abandoning his mission.

He stood the
spear in the corner and pulled the green key from his pocket. He slipped the
key into the hole and turned it slowly. The tumblers clicked into place and the
door budged open. Erik glanced around once more and then pushed the door open.
He poked his head in and searched the room for any sign of the apparition, but
all was still. Sunlight flooded in from a window, illuminating the room. A
large, open book lay on Dimwater’s cherry-wood desk amid strewn papers. A disorderly
pile of books leaned against the side of the desk. An empty, brass birdcage
stood in a far corner of the room. Erik saw many bookshelves lined with books,
beakers, and various animal skulls. Erik slipped through the door and closed it
gently behind him.