The Dragon's Champion (5 page)

Erik watched as
green, blue, and purple streaks of lightning sparked over the mirror’s surface.
Each spark was heralded by a crackle just loud enough for Erik to hear before
the bolts streaked across the glass. After a minute of this, a pale light
emitted from the glass. The light became brighter as the lightning bolts
coursed through the mirror instead of over it. As Erik watched, the faint
outline of houses became visible in the mirror. The view became clearer and
showed pine trees, people, pigs, cottages, and a stone altar.

“Take my hand,”
Dimwater instructed. Erik took her hand and then Dimwater ran straight for the
mirror. Erik balked at first, but Dimwater dragged him through the portal. As
Erik passed into the mirror he was blinded by a searing white light. He tried
to say something, but his voice wouldn’t work. He tried to turn back, but
Dimwater’s grip was too strong. When the light vanished Erik found himself
standing on dirt in front of the stone altar he had seen in the mirror.

“Stand up
straight,” Dimwater commanded. “People are watching, and we must make a good
impression.”

Erik struggled
to keep his legs steady as he looked around. There were probably fifty or sixty
peasants standing around them. It was obvious that they hadn’t been expecting a
visit from a sorceress. Some of the men carried fire-wood on their backs in
large packs, while women carried buckets or baskets. Erik saw a few children
peeking around their mothers’ legs, while some older teenagers stood near a
pigpen watching intently.

“I have come to
speak with Baltezer. Where is he?” Dimwater produced a wizard’s staff with a
snap of her fingers. She slammed the bottom of the staff onto the hard packed
dirt below her and a most terrible thunder clap roared over the town. Some of
the villagers fell on their knees, grabbing their ears.

“I am here,
sorceress,” a man called out from behind the altar. “There is no need for your
theatrics.”

“Nor is there
any need for yours, Baltezer,” Dimwater replied sharply.

Erik watched the
dark-haired man come forward through the crowd. He wore long, cream colored
robes of silk. A black crescent moon was embroidered on the front, just above
Baltezer’s heart. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back and a smile
on his face. His head was slightly bowed, yet despite his humble appearance,
Erik felt extremely uncomfortable.

“Pray tell, what
can the humble village of Spiekery do for you?” Baltezer asked.

“My business is
not with the people of Spiekery, it is with you,” Dimwater replied. She then
set a hand on Erik’s shoulder. “Pull the scroll from your pocket and read the
charges,” she instructed Erik.

Erik looked down
and was astonished to see that he was now dressed in black silken robes. He
pulled a scroll out of the pocket and opened it. His eyes went wide when he saw
the list of charges.

“Go on and read
them, and do try to sound authoritative,” Dimwater whispered.

Erik composed
himself and read the scroll out loud for all to hear. “Baltezer the Brown, by
the order of the Honorable Judge Alan McTeabe, you are hereby charged with
several crimes against the crown. These crimes include; fraud, extortion,
murder, and practicing the forbidden dark arts. It is the order of the Royal
Court that you be arrested and brought to stand trial and, if found guilty,
hanged for your crimes.”

“Get out of
here!” a large man shouted. The crowd echoed his sentiments. Baltezer stood
silent, still smiling as smugly as ever.

“Continue,”
Dimwater whispered.

“If you resist
arrest, then the agent of the court, Lady Dimwater, has been authorized to use
any force necessary to subdue you, including death. Any other persons who try
to hide or defend you shall also be subject to Lady Dimwater’s judgment.”

“This is an
outrage!” a woman shouted.

“The priest has
done nothing wrong, he has blessed our village,” another shouted.

“He’s done more
for us than the crown ever has,” yelled another.

Baltezer raised
has hands to silence the crowd. “Why do you come here with false accusations,
read by a beardless boy? I am insulted. You have no proof of these
allegations.”

“If you desire
proof, I will give it to you,” Dimwater replied. “I know that your religion
demands human sacrifices. I have three witnesses that have already testified to
this. Do you deny it?”

“The sacrifices
keep our town safe from demons that would destroy us,” a large, burly man
bellowed.

“He’s right,
Lady Dimwater,” Baltezer said. “I cannot deny that we do sacrifice on occasion,
but without these sacrifices the demon would devour our city whole.”

“What is the
name of this demon?” Lady Dimwater demanded.

Many of the
spectators gasped and covered their mouths.

“You know that
to speak a demon’s name is to summon it,” Baltezer said angrily. He took a few
steps closer and folded his arms. His smile was replaced by flushed cheeks and
sharp eyes. “I will not speak his name.”

“As the agent of
the Royal Court, it is my right to demand this and any other information I deem
appropriate.”

Erik took a deep
breath as Dimwater returned Baltezer’s steady-eyed stare.

“Baltezer the Brown,
I order you, on pain of death, to give me the name of the demon.” Lady Dimwater
lifted her staff and tipped it, pointing the top at Baltezer. Erik had not
noticed the brass lion’s head ornament on the staff’s top before. It seemed to
Erik that the lion’s head was snarling at Baltezer.

“Milady, with
respect, I must remind you that if I say the demon’s name it will be summoned
here. It will put all of us at risk. I fear the demon is too powerful, even for
a sorceress.”

“Enough games,
Baltezer,” Dimwater growled. “You know full well that you may write the name
and it will not be summoned.” A white piece of paper and a quill magically
appeared in the air in front of Baltezer. “Write the name and give it to me.”

“Baltezer was
right about the nobles,” the burly man shouted. “He said they would never help
us without seeing the demon for themselves.” The crowd murmured and shouted
derogatory comments about King Mathias, Erik, and Lady Dimwater. “Well, I ain’t
gonna let some high-and-mighty witch call a demon on us.” The burly man pulled
a broadsword from a sheath on his back and charged.

Erik had not
brought his waster, but he instinctively reached for it and was surprised when
he gripped the hilt of a sword of steel in his hand. He drew the sword and took
a high-guard stance, holding the blade above his head. The crowd laughed at
him, but Erik pushed the noise out of his head. He poured all of his focus into
his foe. This was not a duel with wasters. This was real. He studied his foe’s
heavy run, calculating how many steps it would take for the burly man to reach
him. In the span of a single second, Erik determined that the burly man was
right-handed, due to the fact that he gripped his sword with his right hand
over his left. He also knew that the man would reach him in seven more paces,
placing the man’s left leg forward. Erik figured that these two facts, combined
with the large man’s momentum, probably meant that the first attack would be a
crude forward thrust. Erik knew what to do.

Two seconds
later the man’s left foot stomped hard on the ground. Then the man lowered his
sword and thrust straight at Erik’s exposed chest. Erik pivoted on the ball of
his left foot to dodge the thrust. As he moved he simultaneously flipped his
sword into an upside-down grip and sliced through the man’s right armpit. The
man wailed in agony but still held his sword. Erik stepped behind the man and
drew a red line across the man’s back as he slid his blade across. Erik
gracefully spun; placing himself on the burly man’s left side, and ended the
fight by slapping the burly man’s hands with the flat of his blade. The man
dropped his sword and fell to his knees.

“Yield,” Erik
demanded. The apprentice pointed the tip of his sword at the man’s neck. “Yield
and I will let you live.” Erik’s tone was confident and unafraid.

“I yield,” the
man relented. He was holding his left hand to his right armpit and panting
heavily.

“Baltezer, give
me the name before anyone else gets hurt,” Dimwater demanded after the duel was
over.

“I will not,”
Baltezer roared. “Take your beloved tyrant’s law elsewhere. You aren’t wanted
here.” Others in the crowd reached for their swords and slowly started to close
in.

Dimwater
narrowed her eyes. Erik was almost as scared of her in that moment as he had
been of the wolf guarding her study. After a few seconds Dimwater pulled a
parchment from her robes.

“People of
Spiekery, you have been deceived. The man you know as Baltezer is a
Shadowfiend. Your tormentor and savior are one and the same.”

The crowd
stopped advancing, but a wave of shouts protested Dimwater’s words. The
sorceress tapped the head of her staff on the ground, releasing a sound like a
great gong. The crowd covered their ears and shied away.

“If you desire
proof, here it is.” Dimwater unfolded the parchment and looked at the contents
briefly. “One of your accusers gave us the demon’s name. Now I will reveal the
truth behind your fraud, Baltezer the Brown, or should I say Be’alt the Black?”

The crowd
collectively gasped and started to scatter.

Dimwater tapped
the ground again to get their attention. “Stand and look at your priest, for he
is the beast. He is the one who ravages your village, demanding sacrifices be
made.”

“Curse you
woman,” Baltezer growled.

Erik stepped
back as he watched the priest’s mouth and nose elongate into a hideous, fang
filled snout. His hair turned black and coarse. His ears became pointed.
Bulging muscles filled the robes to their limits before the clothing finally
burst and fell to the ground. The coarse, black hair covered his entire body
now.

“The demon is
now revealed,” Dimwater announced.

The crowd
shrieked and ran. Some men drew swords or knives, but most rushed their
families away to safety.

“What do I do?”
Erik asked. His voice cracked and his hands shook, but he held his sword out,
trying to prepare for a fight.

“Get yourself to
a safe place, young apprentice. I will deal with this myself.” Dimwater pushed
Erik away and then advanced toward the beast. Erik hid himself around the
corner of a stone cottage, but he peered around and watched Lady Dimwater
confront the beast.

“Be’alt the
Black, today you die,” Dimwater shouted.

The beast
snarled, revealing its teeth. Long, pointed talons grew from the tips of its
fingers, but Dimwater was unafraid. She leveled her staff at the beast and sent
a fireball at it. Be’alt waved his hand and the fireball turned to a puff of
smoke.

“I have dealt
with meddling wizards before,” Be’alt growled. He lunged directly at Dimwater,
but was punched back through the air by a psionic blast.

“And I have
dealt with more than a few Shadowfiends,” Dimwater countered after Be’alt
landed on his back.

Be’alt shook his
massive head and roared defiantly. He charged again, this time unleashing a
series of magical blasts from his hands. Lady Dimwater held out her left hand,
palm facing out, and created a shield of golden light. Be’alt’s magical assault
slammed into the shield like thunder claps, but the shield held firm. Even
Be’alt was stopped by the shield. He clawed and punched the golden barrier but nothing
worked. Lady Dimwater calmly raised her staff and spoke the words of an ancient
spell.

As Dimwater
continued the spell, Be’alt tried to go around the shield, but the shield moved
with him. No matter how fast he ran or switched directions, the shield was
always in place between him and Dimwater. Be’alt, driven to madness, slammed
his body into the shield time after time. He clawed at it, threw spells at it,
and even bit it, but the shield continued to hold. Finally he let out a roar
that shook the ground. His talons began to glow like hot coals, and then he
punched the shield with such force that a blast of wind picked up dust around
them. The shield began to crack. Be’alt struck again and it cracked some more,
but Dimwater held her concentration and continued to complete the words of the
spell.

The shield
broke. The golden light shattered and then dissipated like vapor in the wind.
Be’alt, eyes crazed with bloodlust, lunged for Dimwater’s throat. At that
moment, the sorceress completed the spell. She swung her staff as hard as she
could. The brass lion’s head connected first with Be’alt’s snout, then his
ribs, his throat, and finally his spine. Dimwater was so fast, and her magic so
strong that the beast spun in midair with each strike.

When Be’alt landed,
Dimwater struck him once more on the skull. Golden sparks shot out as the staff
connected with Be’alt’s head. Then the beast was still. Lady Dimwater knelt
down and placed her right hand on Be’alt’s forehead.

“Demon, be
gone,” she commanded. A small spark flew from her hand and onto the demon’s
head. She backed away several paces and then Be’alt’s body was consumed by
fire. After she watched the fire she turned and beckoned Erik to her side.

He hesitated at
first, but only for a moment. “What can I do?” Erik asked as he approached.

“When the fire
is done you will collect ashes in this vial. I must take them back with me as
proof of the demon’s death.”

“Alright,” Erik
said as he took the vial and watched the fire die down.

“I will speak
with the townsfolk. They deserve an explanation,” Dimwater said.

Erik nodded and
dutifully began collecting ash in the vial. The stench was unbelievable. He
tried to shield his nose from it, but it was too strong. He had to fight back
the urge to vomit as he scooped ash into the glass vial. He turned away from
the stink and saw a group of men talking with Dimwater.