Rise of the Dragon Read online

  The red sun, Agste to the believers, hung low in the east, pushing the last of its rays over the mountain lined horizon. The sounds of drunkards and merriment slowly stifled and died behind closed doors.

  From the alley across Agste Street, Turpin stepped out of the shadows and onto the street. The torch bearers were busy lighting the oil lamps clamped to buildings to light the road.

  Turpin watched the faint glow of a candle in the upper window of the target house as it slowly moved from one room to the next and eventually went out. A cold wind from the mountains blew along the street, wafting the stench of sewage up from the gutters.

  When he could not see or hear any one nearby, Turpin made his approach, creeping into the shadows of the alley next to the house. He paused briefly to study his surroundings, and then quietly walked towards the back of the house. In the back was a small dirt plot with a clothes line draped across it very close to the old wooden door leading into the house.

  Turpin knelt in front of the door, removed two small tools from his pack and quickly opened the door. He stowed the tools back in the satchel and crept inside. Standing motionless for a moment, he scanned the darkness and removed his gloves. His finger tips rubbed along the wall as he slowly traced the wall.

  "If it’s as valuable as Jaques said then it should be locked in a secure room upstairs." Turpin forced himself to think through the thrill of his test. Each step he took through the silence of the house, the harder his heart pounded in his chest.

  His light steps barely left a boot print on the stairs as he ascended to the second floor. At the top of the stairs was a small landing with a table standing against the wall beneath a large oval mirror. On either side of the table, there were two doors leading to the rooms he had seen the light in earlier. Turpin thought for a moment about which room he had last see the light in and opened the opposite door.

  The room was finely furnished, a chifforobe and a changing screen stood in the corner to the left of the door, a vanity unit next to that. On the opposite wall was a fine oak bookshelf. A vast array of books adorned the shelves, ranging from the history of Aramathe and the Elven wars, to learned alchemy texts. Among the books were some objects, either from the country's history or, possibly, an alchemy experiment. There was also a finely crafted chest with markings similar to the ones on the chest the merchant had.

  Turpin pulled out his pipe, lit it with the Dwarven lighter and blew smoke all around the chest. Two small wires this time; one traced back to the wall, the other down to a board in the floor he had almost stepped on. He pulled his pack out and unrolled it on the floor. He removed two small picks, bigger than the ones he had used the night before, and gently prized the board up.

  Attached to the underside of the board he found a small hook where the wire was connected after passing through an eyelet. Another well crafted Dwarven device, pressure sensitive. Gently he removed the wire and replaced the board. After a quick examination of the other wire, Turpin concluded it was the same kind of trap as the one in the merchant's house and made quick work of it.

  "And now for the chest!" He thought as he gently pulled a bottle from his pouch. One small drop of the liquid inside the bottle fell on the top of the chest. Nothing happened. He tried the next bottle with the same result.

  The drop from the third bottle fizzled and the chest started to glow. It began where the drop had landed and moved down the chest like water. The Elvish inscription on the chest shone a bright green. Turpin, thrilled at seeing a working elvish spell, racked his mind about how to try and undo it.

  He saw nothing unusual, in as much as a glowing chest was usual! He studied the few bottles he had in the hope of remembering something that could help.

  "Elfroot and Aelish," he muttered softly. Looking at the bottles indeed helped. Jaques had taught him a little about spells, and that they were all based on nature. Also, that the people who made spells used whatever was native to them.

  "That explains why the merchant's chest wasn't sealed," Turpin thought as he mixed the two ingredients. "Why hasn't this one worn off?"

  The spell began to fade when he applied the mixture to the chest, melting it as if it were ice. His naked fingers trembled as he reached for the now spell-free chest.

  His heart raced as he opened the lid, his breath heavy in the silent air. It was empty. Turpin felt inside for a hidden compartment. Nothing. His mind raced, trying to think of other locations the ring might be. He tensed, fearing failure in the face of such advancement.

  "Perhaps she wears it," Turpin thought as he packed up his tools and secured the satchel. He crossed to the door connecting the two rooms on the second floor, and gently eased it open.

  The furnishings were scarce yet ornate. An attractive, raven-haired woman lay on the imposing bed that jutted out into the center of the room. Next to the bed was a small table with a drawer. Gently he opened the drawer and in it, lying on a piece of parchment, was the ring.

  Turpin picked it up and examined it. It was brilliant silver with a large purple gem set in the middle. Clearly Elvish in origin, and obviously akin to the necklace.

  Turpin put the ring safely in his pocket and picked up the parchment the ring had laid on in the drawer. It was a letter, addressed to the woman who lay asleep on the bed. He was fortunate Jaques taught him how to read and write.

  Madam Chalsea, from the Dragon Keeper, Master Havlen. Silently he read the letter:

  Madam Chalsea,

  I have examined the claim that items you have received are cursed. I have concluded that your initial assessment is mostly correct. It seems they are cursed. However, they do not show any signs of corruption to the wearer. Perhaps other pieces are needed to activate the spells. It is also possible they are locked so as to be worn only by the true owner. Either way, I suggest splitting the set up. However, if you choose to keep them, do so with great care.

  Respectfully yours,

  Master Havlen

  Dragon Keeper

  Turpin wondered if Master Havlen was referring to the necklace and ring. He put the letter back and closed the drawer. He turned and slowly left the room. He slid his gloves back onto his hands as he went back down the stairs, and crossed the hall to the old wooden door.

  As he finally stepped out into the tiny back yard, Turpin allowed himself a sigh of relief. The job was complete; all he had to do now was return to his house.

  The heavy object came down from around the corner and hit Turpin in the face. He stumbled backwards. Before he could react to the first blow, a second struck him on the back of his head. Before he lost consciousness, Turpin recognized the strong smell of sewage. He saw a pair of muddy old boots, after he fell forward towards the ground.

  The damp stone was cold on Turpin's face, a pleasant cooling sensation against his bruised cheek bone. Slowly he opened his eyes. A large rat contemplated him from just inches away. He jumped back instinctively, slamming himself and his already sore head against the wall. Rubbing himself ruefully, Turpin studied the small, empty room he found himself in.

  He realized he was not in the tower prison but below the city, as Turpin felt his pockets for the ring. It was gone. So too were his satchel and cloak. He got up and peered through the small barred window in the door in the wall opposite where he awoke. He could see, down in the darkness, the light of a torch flickering on the wall to an adjacent tunnel, and not much else.

  "Perhaps this is their way of initiating me," he thought. "A cursed way of initiation."

  Although it was not a real prison, Turpin's cell was void of any object that might help him escape. It was as if they had swept the floor clean to keep anyone from leaving without permission. Something glistened in the corner. A small metal sliver from a blade that struck the stone wall. He picked it up and examined the splinter. "Crude but useable," he thought

  He slowly worked it into the lock. It took almost two hours, and a cut on his hand, until he finally felt the pins in the lock align. The lock clicked and the door opened
.

  He crept down the tunnel towards the light he had seen earlier. At the intersection of the tunnels, Turpin stopped and listened closely to his surroundings. He heard only the soft trickle of sewage moving malodorously down the mountain. A stench like that of rotting corpses filled his nostrils. He turned north, towards the light of another torch, moving along the narrow walk way. Eventually he heard voices echoing from another tunnel that connected to the one he was traversing.

  Peeking around the corner, he saw a group of lightly armored humans. They wore a mixture of Human and Dwarven wear, leather breast plates and small metal helms. Everything about them seemed designed for speed and silence.

  Turpin slowly crept down the tunnel to get a better look, hugging the wall as best he could.

  "An' 'ere 'e comes" one of the group said as they looked down the tunnel. Turpin's outline was barely noticeable, yet those who were accepted as members of the Shadow Claw had had years to hone their skills.

  "Come here, boy." The voice was deep and echoed from within the chamber. Turpin abandoned his stealth and moved openly towards the group when he realized they were not going to attack him. "I have been watching you for some time now," the gravelly voice continued. "It took you longer to escape our cell than expected, yet your retrieval of the necklace and ring were well executed."

  "Thank you," Turpin replied as he entered into a heavily lit central chamber. There were many more tunnels leading off it, just like the one he had just emerged from.

  On top of a stone island, in the midst of the liquefied excrement, was a high backed chair. Sitting in the chair was a cloaked man, the one who had greeted Turpin upon his arrival.

  "You are young," the figure in the throne said, "Yet we still have use for you."

  "Even before I started doing jobs for Jaques, I wanted to join you."

  The figure laughed to himself.

  "Jaques works for us. You have been doing those small jobs for us, and have been receiving a small portion of the payment at that. But now it is time you earned your place. That is, if you have what it takes to be a Shadow Claw."

  "What would you have me do? Tell me and I will do it," Turpin said anxiously.

  There was a rumble of laughter from those who stood watching. Turpin knew they were prepared to strike if the situation called for it.

  "You are on the verge of joining the most successful and feared clan in the Storklands," the cloaked man said after lifting his hand to quell the murmuring. "Do you think it will be as easy as entering a wealthy house and taking a small trinket?"

  Turpin thought for a moment. He realized it had all been relatively easy up to this point.

  "Nay, I ask you to find the Seeing Stone from the Grand Wizard. This will not be a small feat."

  "The Grand Wizard!" Turpin echoed in shock.

  "Indeed, and that is only the first part of your final test."

  "What is the second?" Turpin's anxiety grew as he recognized the daunting task that was being laid out before him.

  "You must enter the castle." Turpin felt his heart stop as he looked at the cloaked being. "The Seeing Stone will enable you to see where and how to retrieve the Obelus Gem."

  "What is the Obelus Gem?"

  "A deep red gem, the size of your fist."

  "Once these tasks are completed, will I be a Shadow Claw?" Turpin asked.

  The hooded figure stood, taller than the other humans

  " present, and walked towards Turpin. He placed his pale hand on Turpin's shoulder; Turpin could see his colorless eyes beneath the hood.

  "Bring me the Obelus Gem."

  Turpin asked about his gear and Frost pointed to a small chest next to the throne. Turpin retrieved his satchel, his cloak and his knife.

  "Once you have the Obelus gem," the grey man said, "head to the lowest south eastern corner of the castle and pass it through the grate. I shall have someone there to receive it." The man with the colorless eyes sat back down on the throne. He spoke to Turpin again. "Once we have received the gem, you will be free to escape, unimpeded."

  "I'll head out at once."

  "You have only one night, for once the Grand Wizard realizes the Seeing Stone is missing, the whole castle will be on alert. Be cautious, boy."

  At that Turpin took his leave, and was escorted back to a sewer entrance. The small red sun was already on the rise in the west, adding the usual scarlet to the drab buildings. Turpin crawled out of the sewer into a narrow alley by his hut.

  "It's already morning," he pondered as he entered his humble abode. Although he had been unconscious for several hours, he still felt drained and in need of rest.

  "I can't do anything until dusk anyway," he thought as he sat on the floor by his bed roll. After a moment reflecting on the previous day's events, sleep finally took hold and he drifted off into his subconscious.

  Turpin snapped awake, fearing he slept too late to scout the castle walls. After hastily pulling his pants and tunic on, he noticed the blue-green hue of the sky, a tell-tale sign that the sun was descending, and a sigh of relief escaped his lips. When he was ready he stepped casually into the street and walked northwest, heading to the Lotus Inn.

  The crowd was lively that evening. The bard was playing a song, written in a major key, about meeting his great love. The buxom red head saw him and smiled as she passed.

  "'Ello sir," she said in a sing-song, lilting way. "Hou'r ye?"

  "Fine, woman," Turpin responded with a faint smile. "Is Helmeck in the back?"

  "Aye, he is. Shall I get 'im for ye?"

  "No, I can manage." A voice rose above the clamor of the crowd, calling the wench, an empty mug lifted into the air. "You're busy anyway."

  She looked at the thick-bearded man with the empty mug and rolled her green eyes back to Turpin. "Aye," she said, annoyed. "I shall like to speak with ye somewhere quiet," she began but was cut off by the repeating call for ale and she left to fill the man's mug.

  Turpin watched her for a moment, smiling, before he walked past the counter, waving to the sandy blonde haired man who was tending the bar as he passed. After two knocks on the door to the back room, a rough voice called for him to enter. Turpin walked through the door and Helmeck turned to visually greet him. He was gathering some herbs from the shelves.

  "Turpin," he said. "I see ye have returned from the Shadow's lair." Helmeck smiled.

  "With a mission," Turpin said eagerly. "What do you know about the home of the Grand Wizard?"

  Helmeck looked at him, shock and awe freezing his face as the air in the room seemed to turn cold. Turpin grew uneasy at the length of time it took for Helmeck to respond.

  "Are ye sure 'bout this?" Helmeck finally asked. His tone somber.

  "Of course," Turpin said confidently.

  Helmeck walked to the door that opened onto the backyard and yelled. A moment later Jaques entered, obviously furious.

  "What could be so important, shaz'tet?" Jaques cursed, his eyes bloodshot and distant.

  "Turpin 'as 'is first job from the Claw an' wants ye'r help." Jaques snorted, his temper cooling to mere impatience. "'e's goin' to see the Gran' Wizard," Helmeck added.

  Jaques smiled evilly at Turpin at the thought of him trying to rob one of the most powerful people in Bristork.

  "What do you need, Turpin?" Jaques asked.

  "The usual," Turpin said. "Layout, possible entries and exits."

  "Is that all?"

  "And where I would find the Seeing Stone."

  Jaques raised an eyebrow and glanced at Helmeck.

  "The only thing you need to know is where to look. You can easily figure out the rest," Jaques said hastily.

  "Where's that?" Turpin asked.

  "Ask the Grand Wizard."

  "Hey, Jaques, come on!"

  "It's around his neck, so if you want it, ask him for it! It'll be easier!"

  How big is it?" Turpin asked.

  "It's only a shard," Jaques said angrily, "That's all a wizard needs. Now I have business, rat."
With that Jaques left, slamming the door behind him.

  "He needs to cut back on the Oprianal," Turpin said drily.

  "Aye," replied Helmeck as he walked towards Turpin. "Careful t'night."

  "I will. I'm scared shiteless."

  "That's good, but it's gettin' late."

  "I'll see you in the morn," Turpin said, heading for the door.

  "I 'ope so," Helmeck said as Turpin left. “I ‘ope so,” he repeated softly to himself.

  The eyes, held tightly shut for a very considerable amount of time, finally opened. Gently testing the new light they saw. Faint, blurry outlines, below the windowsill, showed themselves to be bottles and books on a shelf. The floor in front of the shelves was open and clear.

  Carefully measuring distances, the eyes focused on the floor and sent a signal to the brain to release the grip and kick forward. Once the message was sent and received, the floor grew steadily closer, until, finally, silently, it stopped.

  His heartbeat, fast and loud in Turpin's ears, distracted him briefly. A long deep breath in and a slow exhale calmed his mind enough to allow him to move forward across the Wizard's study.

  There were no traps to be seen. Turpin crept forward. He had checked for traps and found none as he had slowly opened the door. "Why would there be?” he thought. “Who would be foolish enough to rob the grand wizard?"

  Outside the study was a large landing that overlooked the foyer. Turpin was amazed at the wealth it must have taken to build such a house. After studying the next door he came to, he opened it cautiously.

  An oppressive darkness spilled out of the room. As his vision adjusted, Turpin was able to see well enough to make out the figure of a man lying on a large feather bed. Slow, light steps took Turpin closer to the bed where the Grand Wizard slept.

  A knife, fresh from its sheath, gently reflected the faint light from the street lamps that spread sparsely across the room. The tip of the blade awaited its target.

  Turpin leaned in closer to see the neck of the wizard. There, laying on his chest, was the shard, clearer then the purest crystal. Turpin felt that if he looked into it too long he would be drawn into another world. And yet he could not shake the feeling he was being watched.