The Dragon Swordmaster - 10

The Plot Foiled

The creature that had posed as Nerina laughed. "You can't stop me or my minions," it boasted. Cynara lifted her sword touching the tip of it under the beast's chin.

"I can stop you," Cynara replied. "Your minions are already facing an army of dragons and a forest of angry trees. We have foreseen your intentions. If you do not leave this realm, you shall most assuredly die here."

"Then you would condemn the Elven princess to die?" the creature sneered. A spark slowly inched its way up the shaft of Cynara's sword, snapping loudly when it contacted the creature's chin.

"You underestimate the power in this room. While I hold you here, Nerina will be free from your prison. And when she returns, you will die along with any of your breed that are foolish enough to challenge us." Another spark struck the beast's chin, cracking louder than the first. All eyes were on the two at the center of the table. No one noticed that two of the players had left the room. "Do you have a name? Or shall I choose one for you?" Cynara grinned as broadly as a dragon could. Cynara stabbed her sword into the cooked boar's head at her feet and raised it to her maw. After swallowing the whole head, she turned the tip of her sword back to Arnold. A small spark travelled down the edge of the sword, but before it could strike him, Arnold leapt backward away from the table.

The guests left the table and took cover behind the dragon as she sneered at the monster across from her. Cynara left over the table scattering plates and silverware to the floor. Tapping the beast on its shoulder, she announced, "I dub thee Arnold, Lord of the Boars. And I intend to claim your head." The creature started to snicker, then broke into loud laughter. He pressed his hands together to form a small fireball, but before he could throw it, the tip of Cynara's sword emitted a bolt of lightning causing the fireball to fizzle out.

Arnold clapped his hands together and drew forth a larger fireball. Cynara raised her sword and willed it to glow. A bolt of lightning flew out the tip of the sword cutting through the fireball. The fireball crackled and sparked while the bolt poured energy into it. Arnold struggled to maintain control over the growing object in his hands. He focused his thoughts on pushing the fireball away. Off to the side of the room, a young elf ran into the arms of her father. The creature fell for the distraction; his concentration broke. Cynara gave one last push against his fireball, cutting through the other side and reducing the creature to ashes.

The Dragon Swordmaster - 9

The Damning Revelation

Betrys Gwillam, having heard more than enough of the adults' sniping, suddenly announced, "If Sir Linden wishes, he could marry me." It had the desired effect of bringing the table conversation to a halt.

"Betrys," Annwyn chided, "you are much too young to be married. And look what you have done."

Sir Linden had developed a noticeably green tint to his cheeks from the sudden attention. He was however perplexed that the Mage knew the details of his idle chatter with his horse. "Well," he thought, "not exactly my horse, but the one I rode in on." And then it dawned on him. He let out a hearty laugh. Turning to Lord Black, he winked. "I trust your lordship did not find the conversation along the way to be a burden."

"If anything, my good Sir, it spurred me onward." Lord Black offered his empty goblet to a passing servant carrying a pitcher of ale. He leaned in toward the knight. "Please forgive me for my earlier comment. I'm well aware that trees rarely marry outside their species."

Cynara watched Nerina slip some powder into Cedric's goblet. She placed her hand beneath the table and gripped the hilt of her sword.

"I wouldn't drink that, brother," Gilian warned. "The elf may have poisoned it." Cedric lifted the goblet to his lips and pretended to sip. Smiling, he winked at his younger brother before pouring the contents down the front of Nerina's dress.

Nerina and Greydawn rose out of their chairs. Greydawn snarled, "I have never in my life been so abused. May I remind you that we are your guests?"

"Guests do not plot against their hosts. Guests do not send assassins after other guests." Cynara glared at Greydawn.

"Calm, my child," Lord Black advised. "This is not a battlefield. Besides, it is my understanding that the elves do not want to offend the Dark. Is this not so, Master Greydawn?"

"Of course not, Lord Black. We would not be so foolish," Greydawn sputtered.

"Too bad the same cannot be said for the Eastern Empire. I was set upon by elves on my way here this morning. It left me in such a blind rage that I ended up challenged by the palace guard when I arrived." Cynara rose to her feet. "One of you is not who you pretend to be." Drawing her sword, Cynara assumed her dragon form. She pointed her sword across the table resting the tip against Nerina's throat.

"Have you gone mad?" Greydawn stammered, visibly shaking while Cynara lowered her sword slowly toward Nerina's heart. With a swift flick of her wrist, Cynara severed the necklace around the young elf's neck. Greydawn knocked over his chair as he withdrew from the stranger beside him.

The Dragon Swordmaster - 8

The Marriage Conversation

While the servants brought the feast to the table, King Edgar introduced the guests, starting with the most recent arrivals. "Our friends from Alfgard, Lord Greydawn and Lady Nerina,” he raised his goblet, “to their health."

"To their health," a chorus replied.

Lord Greydawn stood. "We are truly blessed by this day. I have come not merely for the naming feast, but to offer the hand of my daughter to Cedric that they may bear a blood treaty between us." At the same time, a servant leaned over Cynara's shoulder to place a silver platter on the table. She smiled as she slowly rotated the head of the roasted boar to face Lady Nerina. Surrounding the head were cooked quail chicks still in their shell. Cynara grabbed two of them, though all of them were likely meant for her consumption.

Cedric turned to Nerina and smiled, "Perhaps we can discuss this further after dinner." Nerina smiled back and nodded.

"Our friend from Arboria within the Great Forest, Sir Linden Arbor, to his health." Another chorus followed, while the serving staff placed bowls of ripe red pears on the table.

Sir Linden stood. "The Kingdom of Arboria pledges its continued support for the House of Gwillam. We will stand for its defense should such a need arise."

"From the Dark Kingdom of the Mages, Lord Onyx Black, to his health." Again, the chorus of voices replied. The servants placed platters of boar meat on the table.

Lord Black remained seated. "There are dark portents ahead, but the Dark Kingdom will continue to strengthen its alliances." He stuck his fork into a thick slab of roast boar and hoisted it onto his plate.

"And last, though not least," the younger son rose smiling at his companion, "we are honored by the presence of a swordmaster from the Eastern Empire, the Lady Cynara."

The revelation so startled Lady Nerina that she poured ale down the front of her frock. Lord Black laughed and winked at Cynara. Cynara rose and lifted her chalice. "Milord, the Eastern Empire pledges fealty to the House of Gwillam and the Principality of Weston for as long as both shall stand."

"Is it true," Sir Linden inquired, "that a swordmaster is never without their sword? If so, I would imagine you to be quite uncomfortable without it."

"We are versed in many forms of combat. Though our swords are never far away should we have need of them." Cynara cracked open an egg and began to peel away the shell.

"It must be hard for you," Lady Nerina spoke as she continued to wring the ale from her frock, "living among those vile creatures. Aren't you afraid of being eaten?"

"I can assure you; I am in no danger among my own kind," Cynara popped the entire chick into her mouth and swallowed. "Does your father have your approval to offer you in marriage? Among the drakon, it would be an offense."

"Although Nerina has a mind of her own, she is most obedient. She would make a good wife. I have raised her well in these matters," Lord Greydawn replied.

Annwyl Gwillam turned to Greydawn, "You speak in contradictions Lord Greydawn. No woman is obedient who has a mind of her own. My beloved Edgar can attest to that."

“As can I,” Gilian whispered to Cynara.

"Tell me, what do the elves hope to gain from such a union?" King Edgar asked. "I have no need of a grandchild as yet. When the time comes, we will invite the eligible females to court. My wife was a stable maid, but she charmed me nonetheless."

 "As I stated earlier, to stiffen the bond between our two kingdoms," Greydawn replied. "A noble cause, is it not?"

"To marry into the lineage, then?" Gilian responded. "I can assure you that it will not gain you the kingdom. It is only with the approval of our people and myself that my father named my brother as successor. Cedric has prepared for this and I will defend his right to rule as I defend our father's. As far as marriage alliances go, we accept them only if the other kingdom involved will honor them."

"My son speaks the truth of the law," Annwyl smiled, "but he leaves out his own betrothal."

"Mother, this is not the time..."

"Nonsense, Gilian! It is exactly the time. When your bride arrived early this morning, you did not recognize her beneath her cloak. Yet you knew her immediately when she fell before you. Both of you are obviously hiding something. If not your betrothal, what then?"

Cynara looked at Gilian. "We should tell them." Gilian shook his head. "They have to be told sooner or later." Again, Gilian shook his head. "We're married," she announced.

"This should have been done in private," Gilian admonished, "not in front of strangers over dinner. I apologize, Father, Mother, for this breach of protocol."

"And yet, you chose to marry in secret," Edgar replied. "I'm disappointed that you thought we would not approve."

"To be honest, we were more worried about her father's approval. He insisted we marry immediately in his presence. I could not refuse such an honor."

"True, it would have been an offense to have refused," Lord Black replied. "But I'm afraid that Greydawn may well have offended Arboria. After all, he travelled here to meet his betrothed, not to hear her pledged to another. Is that not so, Sir Linden?"

The Dragon Swordmaster - 7

The Small Scroll

Gilian escorted Cynara to a private parlor not far from the banquet hall. The preparations for the evening feast - the clinking of glassware, the clatter of plates hitting the table, and the mumblings of the servants – echoed through the main hall. Inside the parlor, the conversation was of a more serious nature. 

"I heard you say something about a message. Was it for my father or his kingdom?"

Cynara pulled a small scroll from a pocket hidden inside her frock and handed it to Gilian. "Can you read the script of elves?" she asked while still holding on to one end of the scroll. "If not, I can translate it for you."

"I'm well versed in the scripts of many races," he stated, "even the runes of dragons."

Gilian unrolled the scroll. After a brief perusal, he asked, "Where did you get this?"

"Off some elves who sought to prevent my arrival. I fought them to their end on the way here."

"That explains your exhaustion," he tucked the scroll into his vest. "We had been experiencing problems for months now, but we did not know the source."

"The elves are not expecting us to come to your defense. We have been watching them as they made their preparations. If you have no need of our troops, they will be withdrawn."

Inside the banquet hall, King Edgar was busy greeting the late arrivals. At the table, his sons sat by his side while his wife, Queen Annwyl, sat at the opposite end. Cynara sat between Gilian and Lord Black. Nerina sat between Cedric and Sir Linden Arbor.

King Edgar rose. "We are gathered here for a solemn moment. As the law dictates, and before our esteemed representatives, I..."

"I'm afraid we are short of the necessary quorum of kingdoms," Greydawn interrupted. "The Eastern Empire is not to be seen."

"I'm afraid you are mistaken. The Dark Kingdom has sent Lord Black to fulfill the quorum," King Edgar corrected. "Now, as I was saying, I hereby name my elder son, Cedric Gwillam, as my heir and successor. Should we both face an untimely demise, I entrust Gilian to fulfill those duties and obligations." King Edgar raised his goblet of dark ale. After his guests had raised theirs, he toasted, "to the future!"

“To the future,” his guests chorused in reply.

The Dragon Swordmaster - 6

The Eastern Scourge

Iron helmets glistening in the early morning sun, a thousand troops marched westward from the Eastern Empire. They held their weapons high above their heads as they crossed the River Tarragon. Fish struggled against the strong current in an effort to escape the crossing horde. Ahead of them lay the hills of Weston. It would be near nightfall when they would breach the woods that bordered the castle lands.

The chainmail over their leather tunics clinked as the swordmasters marched up the slope. Their buckled broadswords, whose scabbards bore the Imperial crest, slapped their sides with a steady beat. Behind the swordmasters, several rows of archers carried full quivers of one hundred arrows each. They would remain ready within the woods until called for.

An envoy travelled ahead with a missive from the Lord of Weston Manor. As she entered the wood, she was set upon by assassins. The first drew a knife attempting to stab her, but she quickly disarmed him. A second sought to slay her with a crossbow. She swatted the missile out of the air with her sword, only to be set upon again by the knife-wielder. She met his second run with the edge of her sword. Taking his blade, she took careful aim at the sniper in the trees. After dodging a second bolt, she launched the knife, felling him.

Attempting to move forward, she faced two swordsmen. She skillfully dodged each thrust and met each parry in a match that lasted for the better part of an hour. The first opponent went down after a skillful slice to his throat. The second opponent, she ran her sword through his heart. She arrived at the castle at the midday hour.

The Dragon Swordmaster - 5

The Late Arrival

While final preparations for the banquet were underway, a carriage arrived at the castle entrance. Two guards dismounted from the back of the carriage, each opening the carriage door to allow the passengers to egress. An elderly gentlemen dressed in finery stepped out, assisted by the guard. Both men circled the back of the carriage until they were at the base of the steps to await the remaining passenger. A raven-haired female stepped out. She smiled at the guards and took the old man's arm while they walked up the seven steps.

Cedric, having glanced out a window, recognized the banner of the southern kingdom of Alfgard. With great haste, he made his way to the front hall and was there to greet the Lord and Lady when they entered. "Welcome to Weston. I was worried that you did not receive my father's invitation. We did not receive a messenger," Cedric tried not to stare into the Lady's bright green eyes while he spoke to the pair.

"We did not send a messenger. Your invitation did not reach us until this morning when a hunting party discovered it on a corpse along the riverbank. It is not our custom to refuse an invitation where food is involved," the young woman replied.

"Hush, Nerina," the old man protested. "I'll not have our hosts think so little of us by implying we are only interested in their food."

"Of course, Greydawn. How unmannerly of me."

The old man turned to Cedric. "Do you know who we are?"

"I'm afraid not. My father did not make me privy to the list of invitees."

"Then allow me. I am Greydawn, a member of the Alfgard High Council. My companion is Nerina, my eldest daughter." Greydawn patted at his coat for several minutes before retrieving a blood-stained parchment. "My apologies for its condition." Cedric unscrolled the missive addressed to Councilor Greydawn to confirm their story. Cedric made a mental note to bring this tale to the attention of Gilian at the first opportunity.

The Dragon Swordmaster - 4

The Westonian Princes

The Lord of Weston had sent out invitations to the surrounding territories to come to a banquet to be held in honor of his eldest son. Having proven himself to be a fair and just person, King Edgar felt that it was time to name him heir to the throne of Weston, a feat that must be witnessed by representatives of the bordering kingdoms. Cedric Gwillam had held court many times in his father's absence dispensing fair justice. His younger brother, Gilian, was more interested in serving in the palace guard than dealing with the complexities of law and the Manor.

Despite knowing that his father would name him heir, much to his brother's delight, Cedric still felt ill at ease about the evening's planned festivities. Gilian had crossed swords with a dragon that now slept somewhere in the castle. The Mage had locked himself away inside his tower room after having wandered the halls muttering odd enchantments throughout. The kingdom of Arbor had sent a single knight. The law was clear on how many witnesses they required for his father's proclamation to be binding. And they were one kingdom short.

Gilian had followed the Green Knight to the castle from The Unicorn's Arse. He wanted to make certain the knight's arrival for the banquet. He also had a few questions for the swordmaster. He knew from her reputation that he and his men had exhausted her too quickly. She should have easily disarmed them. He watched the Arboreal knight slip into her quarters and followed, keeping close to the drapes while watching. The knight's visit was brief.

After the knight left, Gilian approached the bed. As soon as he parted the curtains, a leaf floated free landing on the floor. Cynara opened her eyes and smiled at him. She slowly resumed human form and reached out to Gilian. He took her hand and helped her out of bed. "I take it you are well rested."

"I am," she replied. As she stepped forward, her bare foot felt a cool object. She stepped back and bent down, picking up the leaf. "One of yours?" she teased.

The Dragon Swordmaster - 3

The Dark Mage

To the north of the Kingdom of Arboria in the heart of the Great Forest lay the Dark Kingdom ruled by a powerful mage. Onyx Black, it was rumored, had won the heart of a dragon and fathered a child with her. But only Onyx could testify to the veracity of the claim and he had nothing to say on the matter. He took great pains to travel to Weston without anyone being wise to his arrival. For that reason alone, he did not engage his travel companion in conversation. Along the way, he learned a great deal about the Great Forest and the House of Arbor from the young knight. In spite of his lack of exchange, the lad was quite chatty about matters of import to no one.

Onyx left the Green Knight behind at a local inn and continued on to the castle. He had a matter to attend to there. He arrived at the castle while the Westonian Guard were engaged in combat with a female swordmaster. He quickly passed through the halls and found his way to the back keep where the castle mage held quarters. The young mage greeted him warmly. "Lord Black, thank you for coming. I was afraid that you would not respond."

"What frightened you into calling for my help? You were the brightest and most powerful of my acolytes. This is why you were posted here."

"I have seen portents, Milord, of wickedness sweeping through the halls of this edifice. The Lord of the Manor has called for warriors, but he has refused to state why. Only a few have responded. I fear the other kingdoms may have fallen to the evil stench that wafts on the winds of time."

"We shall find out at the evening meal. Until then, I need to wash off the dust of the road and rest from my long journey."

"Of course, Milord. I shall tend to those needs at once."

The Dragon Swordmaster - 2

The Green Knight

In the early morning, Linden Arbor had arrived in Weston on a black steed wearing black armor and bearing the green and gold banner of the House of Arbor. He had settled in at the local alehouse for a short rest before advancing to the castle. Rumors of the arrival of the dragon swordmaster had travelled quickly throughout the small principality of Weston. Members of the Guard would soon confirm the rumors as they quaffed pints of ale at The Unicorn's Arse.

The Green Knight sat rapt at the end of a long table. The story being told by the men of the Westonian guard intrigued him. The Captain of the Guard spoke of Lady Cynara's prowess wielding her dragon blade. "She battled the ten of us, turn by turn, until she fell exhausted from defending the constant parries and thrusts. She sleeps in the palace now, resting up for the evening feast." 

Linden Arbor had never seen a dragon in its natural form. His curiosity drew him to the palace earlier than he had planned. Finding her quarters, he crept silently into her bedchamber and peeled away the curtains. There, lying peacefully on the down-filled mattress, he found a remarkably pleasing creature. She was warm to the touch and, despite her appearance, totally lacking in scales. As he gently stroked her short snout, she let out a low moan and rolled over, turning her face away from him. He smiled and slowly backed away. As the bedcurtains closed, they snagged a small leaf from the Green Knight's waistcoat.

The Dragon Swordmaster - 1

The Lady Drakon

Cynara dropped to the floor from exhaustion. She couldn't hold the human form any longer. Her unusual raiment would stay with her as she slowly stretched and returned to her natural form. The pale human female sighed with relief. Slowly her outstretched arms scaled over. Her hair became a frill at the back of her head. Her face deformed into a short snout. Her legs became more muscular as they also scaled over.

The small dragon sighed again before closing her eyes, expecting to be killed by the castle guard who had challenged her. Instead, she felt the arms of men lifting her up. The Captain of the Guard offered her the sword she had dropped. She grasped it and slid it back into its sheath.

"I should have known," the young captain bowed. "I am Captain Gilian Gwillam of the Westonian Guard. And you are Lady Cynara Drakon. Had I paid any attention to the hilt of your sword, I would have conceded defeat."

Having lost the ability to speak in her dragon form, Cynara managed a bow and what passed for a smile. She stood but a few inches over the guardsmen who helped her to quarters in the castle where she might rest. "You can rest here. And when you have recovered the ability to transform yourself, we shall dine this evening. I must go now to inform the Lord of the Manor that you have arrived with a message. I assume that is why you are here." She nodded before falling onto the bed and closing her eyes again.