To Curse A Dragon

By Moira Drake

Banished from the highest of society to live among the lowest of the low, Erick must make a living as a thief in order to survive. He longs to return to his life behind the wall that separates his family and friends from those outside it. In the mean time, he works as a thief for a man called Ogg, it is doing a job for him that he steals a map.

It was an oversight that he took it with him, but once he saw the contents in the light of day, he forgot about giving it to Ogg, and thought of paying off his debt to those behind the wall call him like a siren's call.

But the map leads to something he doesn't expect, and the maps owner wants it back, and will stop at nothing to get it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Moira Drake
• Release date: Jan 25, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393249603

Book preview

To Curse A Dragon

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Moira Drake

Copyright

Published by Moira Drake

Cover Design, Leonardo.Ai

Copyright © 2019, Moira Drake

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A special thanks to:

My beta readers. David Stone, Bill Bush, Chris Wight, and Sarah Neuendorff. As well as to everyone who helped make this book a little better by finding typos and grammar mistakes.

Do you like free Stuff? Click here and get a free short story featuring the characters from this novel.

To Curse A Dragon

Moira Drake

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Erick

The inside of Ogg's tavern was its usual gloomy self. With only the light of the candles hanging from the ceiling to see by, Erick pushed past the people, trying not to inhale the stench of unwashed bodies and stale ale. That had been one of the things he had never been able to get over; not bathing and reeking in one's own stench.

He waved to Ogg as he passed, and sat at his usual seat in the far corner of the room. Ogg would join him in a minute, he’d called him here after all.

Ogg placed a couple mugs of beer in front of one of his other customers, sloshing them over the rims and onto the wooden table top before going to speak quietly with his son behind the counter. Then he joined Erick, easing his large girth around the edge of the table and pulling up a chair beside him.

Erick, glad you could make it, he said. The false cheerfulness in his voice did nothing to improve Erick's mood.

Cut the crap, Ogg, what's the meaning of calling me back here when it’s Edwick’s turn. I just did a job for you. Today’s supposed to be my day off.

Ogg dropped the false cheer and replaced it with seriousness. You know how it works Erick, I hear some stuff, I tell you about it and I get a cut. He smiled at the end, but it didn't reach his eyes. I've got a tavern to run and a family to keep.

Erick shook his head. You’re disgusting, you know that?

Then think of it like this, if there's ever a week I don't need ya, ya can have it off. Besides, Edwick can’t do what I need done.

We both know you’ll never let me off. Erick ran a hand through his dirty, blond hair. Edwick’s not going to be happy when he finds out. Erick sighed, Give me the details then.

Alright, that's a boy! Ogg clapped him on the back with one large hairy hand, nearly knocking the air out of him, and barked a laugh. Enough with that sulky attitude. Ya'd think ya’d been raised in the Estates! He laughed at his own joke. Erick didn't, but let it pass; Ogg was Ogg. Wish more of my boys showed loyalty like this! Now, first things first! Dirk! He called his son, the butchy boy now handing out drinks to those who ordered. Bring a pair of pints of the new stuff. He turned back to Erick. Have one on me, for being such a good sport. Without you I'd never be able to have afforded it. Erick refrained from mentioning the only reason he had it in the first place was because he'd stolen it for him earlier that week.

Dirk arrived with a pair of glasses, spilling some of the ale onto the wooden table as he set them down. Be careful you daft boy, you’re wasting the good drink! Dirk ducked his head and apologized before shuffling back to the counter and filling more glasses for the paying customers.

Erick picked up his glass and sipped it.

You'll like this one, it's from the Northern peoples way up in Giyaji. Should remind ya o' home! He laughed again at his little joke.

This is the stuff I got for you earlier this week. There was no mistaking the flavour, and he knew almost as much about fine drink as Ogg.

Course, thought you'd like a little taste of your hard work.

That or you’re trying to butter me up.

Ogg roared into laughter again. Oh you— you can see right through me!

Well, he said with a sigh, there was no point arguing with Ogg, he would get his way one way or the other and it was always easier to just go along with what he wanted. It's working, tell me about the job then. 

Ogg smiled, a proper smile this time.

***

He left Ogg's, and turned left instead of his usual right. He didn’t feel like heading back to the flat roofed building made of dried mud that he stayed in, or maybe he just didn’t want to catch Edwick until someone told him and he had a chance to calm down. When Ogg wanted something bad enough he wasn’t about to let something as simple as a squabble between ‘his boys’ put it in jeopardy. He had to give Ogg credit though, the man had a knack for knowing how to get people to see things his way.

He followed the path, head low as he headed for the heart of the city. The sun sat high in the sky, baking the already dry ground and the few un-luckys out in it. What little vegetation grew had long ago learned to adapt to the year round baking rays of the sun. He couldn't stay long. Part of it was the heat, the other part was he stood out too much. He paused in the shade of a building and checked the cover over his head was still in place. It was bad enough that he had had to learn a new set of rules out here, looking different did him no favours. He dropped his gaze as two women strolled by with jugs of water perched on their heads. Hoping they would just pass by. They watched him with wary glances that they tried to keep hidden but failed, and murmuring low under their breaths to each other until they turned around another corner and out of his sight.

He still stood out, despite wearing the custom long sleeved tunic of the locals and hiding behind a healthy layer of dirt, his skin was still visibly paler. And while he could cover his hair, there wasn’t much he could do about his eyes.

He took his time walking down the hard packed road, holding his breath against the dust of the occasional horses-drawn carriage as it passed. Not many people walked on foot this close to the wall. Another thing that would make him look out of place.

Erick kept walking, passing by houses that got increasingly larger until he came to the wall.

It wasn't a long walk to reach the wall that separated the richest people and kept them safe and snug inside its protection. Outside the wall income decreased rapidly, with the richest living alongside it. From there the further out, the poorer the people, till there were those with nothing but sand to fill their pockets. The people eking out a living by stealing food and water and anything they could sell.

He stopped and stared at the large grey bricks that made up the wall, covered in dry moss and, in some places the crispy remains of ivy. It must have reached some fifteen, twenty feet into the air and dug down he didn't know how many. It’s sole purpose of separating the higher class from the thieves and swindlers. He turned and walked along the road paralleling the wall, resisting the urge to reach out and place his hand against the warm stones. He missed the colour green. Not the dry dusty green found out here, but the rich, vibrant green that covered the ground and the dark lush green of the trees. The colour tainted so many of his memories and now lay beyond his reach. Sometimes he imagined he could smell the sweet scent of grass when the wind blew. It was funny how no matter how high he was up he could not see the tall buildings of the Estates within the wall.

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Three Hundred Years Ago

Trumpets blared from the watch towers; the town’s people scurried into their homes, locking the doors and barring the windows behind them. The guard rushed into their armour, arming themselves with swords, lances, bows and arrows, and mounted their steeds. Already the smell of smoke tainted the winds.

The trumpets meant only one thing; the dragons were coming.

Up above in the pale morning light, came the dark shapes. Still far on the horizon they appeared little more than birds. But looks and distances are deceiving to the naked eye.

The dragons came closer, their red hides glinting in the morning light, powerful wings bearing them through the air toward the castle on the side of the mountain.

The streets emptied as the townspeople fled into their homes. Not a sound came from the houses stacked in rows along the walkways. The guards marched from the gates of the castle, ready for the oncoming battle.

Deep in the castle’s inner chambers, King Gerald’s servants helped him into his armour. Standing in one corner the princess Gemmalinda watched, a frown puckering her brow. I wish you wouldn’t go. Can’t the men fight the dragons on their own?

The king turned, startled to hear her voice behind him. He’d been unaware that she’d came in. Usually she didn’t bother with things that were none of her business. He turned back to the full length mirror in front of him when the servants finished and he shooed them out so he could have a word this his daughter. The men need someone to command them, and who better than their king?

Surely the head of the guard is capable?

Markus may be young, but he is more than capable.

Then why.

Gerald watched her in the mirror, her chin set in determination so she mightn’t burst into tears. He picked his sapphire robes from where they lay against the back of a wooden chair and donned it over his armour. Do you think it right that I hide in my castle while they fight the dragons without me?

Would they not be honoured to protect their king?

Both my father and his father before him have done as I am doing now. It would be a disgrace to both their names, and that of your mother’s, if I didn’t meet the dragons in battle.

Mother would not have wanted you to go.

He spun and faced her, his robes spinning out behind him, his nostrils flaring. Do you presume to tell me what she would or would not have wanted? I who knew her best and longest! Can’t you see that it is for her that I must when it was the dragon Rakou who took her from us!

The look in Gemma’s eye gave him pause, and he made himself take a step back so he could catch his temper. Still breathing hard, he turned back to the mirror. You’ll be more than safe as long as you stay in the castle and away from the outer rooms. He turned, picking up his crown and placing it on his head.

A weight came from behind him as Gemma threw her arms around him, pressing against the cold metal of his armour. It’s not me I’m worried about, she said, her voice quivering.

Gemma, he sighed, his agitation gone as if the mountain wind had stolen it away. Everything will be alright. I’ll be back before dinner. Probably.

And what if you’re not?

I’ve done this before, Gemma, though not for some years. I still know what it is I’m doing. He didn’t add that he might not be coming back. Bad enough that Gemma was scared, the last thing he needed was to catch her worry as well.

I just wish you wouldn’t go.

But I must, for your safety and that of the kingdom’s.

Your Majesty. Thomas, waited at the door. Your troops are beginning to move, the dragons wait for no man.

Gerald strode past Gemma and through the door into the hall where Thomas waited for him.

Your Majesty. Thomas, swept his long advisor robes behind him as he followed the King's quick step, half jogging to keep pace with him. Your troops have mounted and are already on their way through the city. Your horse and personal guard stand waiting. But there is the matter of Borden, it seems he is causing some unrest among the people—

It'll have to wait, the dragons must come first.

Gerald mounted his white stallion where he stood tethered in front of the stone steps leading from the castle. It tossed its head as he spurred it forward, hooves clapping on the flagstones as it picked up its pace so he could reach the head of his army before the dragons arrived.

His army waited on the plateau far to the right of the town. All in formation for the coming battle. As he drew nearer he could hear the shouts of his sergeants like a low murmur over the wind and the screams of horses calling. He hadn’t been nervous before when he had been focusing on just getting there, but now, seeing his men ready to die for him— No, not for him, for their families and their homes.

Markus met him as he neared the front, his horse pawed the air as he reined him in sharply. Your highness, everyone’s in formation. We’re just waiting for the ballistae to be loaded. Some issue about the new— A strong wind buffeted them, cutting him off and stealing the words he spoke out of earshot and nearly knocking them both from their horses. All conversation ceased. The dragons had arrived.

Rakou, the king of the dragons flew just out of reach of Gerald’s best archers. Puny King, the dragon roared, his long teeth and red-gold hide glinting in the sun as he wheeled above them. His smoky, rotten breath reached those on the ground even at that distance, causing the men to reach for anything to cover their noses and mouths with as they gagged on the stench. You cannot hope to defeat us. We were made for killing, chasing, and rendering flesh. Leave this mountain and return from where you came.

Gerald’s fingers inched toward the hilt of his sword. Not that it would do him much good. Rakou was low enough that they might be able to hit him with one of the large steel tipped arrows, and then they might have a chance to end this forever. But the bloody ballistae were still being loaded! Gerald gave Markus a silent look, which he interpreted by spurring his horse down the side of the rows of the armoured men to the ballistae at the rear.

From his horse Gerald called up to the flying beast. His voice sounding thin and weak in comparison to the dragon’s. "This is our home. We live here now, why do you keep coming back?"

Instead of an answer thick, black smoke curled from the dragon’s nostrils and the corners of his mouth. He gave a roar so loud the men on the ground had to cover their ears. The other dragons wheeling further back, rushed forward.

Markus appeared at Gerald’s side, giving a nod that the ballistae were ready.

Another trumpet from the air, and the dragons dove at the army on the ground.

Fire the Ballistae! King Gerald roared, and a spray of large, steel tipped arrows clouded the sky, aimed toward the dragons as they dove.

Rakou curled his wings against his body and spun out of the way of the arrows headed for him, and sent a blaze of fire toward the men below. Heat washed over Gerald’s face and the smell of burnt flesh reached his nose as he fought to keep his panicked horse beneath him. He couldn’t think now of those men who would not be coming home, he had to focus on making sure the survivors had a home to go back to.

Another spray of arrows spread across the sky, and the ground shook as a broken-winged dragon hit the ground not far from where he sat his horse. His horse started as the dragon stirred. Not dead as any human would be from a fall that high, or from the arrows buried mid-shaft through its scale covered body. The dragon hauled itself up onto its four clawed limbs, where it wobbled before finding its balance.

Gerald urged his horse away from it as it fixed its slitted eyes on him and the horse before it raced after him, the earth pounded as the curved black claws dug into the hard dirt and rock beneath its forefeet.

A streak of fire cut across the horse’s path, the heat of it singeing Gerald’s face and he was aware of the smell of burning hair as if it was removed from his present. The horse dithered at the heat of the flames, and the dragon behind them seized the beast in its jaws, lifting it up from the charred earth. The horse screamed as the dragon’s teeth sank into its flesh. Gerald fell, his leg catching in the stirrup of his saddle as the dragon shook them back and forth like a hound playing with its quarry.

Gerald’s foot ripped from the saddle as the dragon flung the horse into the midst of his army. He hit the ground hard, the breath knocked out of him. He struggled for breath, the metal armour feeling more like a tomb than something meant for protection. The sounds of battle engulfed him. The screams, the shouts, the roars. The sound of metal against scales—Goddess how he wanted all this to be over—he had to get up, he couldn’t stay prone on the ground.

Markus appeared in his field of vision. He too had lost his horse somewhere in the melee. Your highness. Concern in his blue eyes as he knelt down by the king’s head. They struggled to remove the helmet from Gerald’s head. The thing was badly dented, and not helping Gerald catch his breath. Can you stand? Markus asked. Pulling the helmet away, his eyes scanning the immediate area around them.

I don’t have a choice. Help me to my feet. Gerald took Markus’ hand and together they pulled him up. He clutched Markus’ shoulder for balance as another dragon fell from the sky, shaking the ground under their feet. The stiffness was already setting into his leg and back from the fall, and he took a moment to get his bearings again. All around him was chaos and he wasn’t sure if this wasn’t actually hell. The rain of fire and the red-gold flash of the sun on the dragon’s bellies seemed convincing, as was the battle field awash with blood, bodies and black char. Thirty of his men lay on the ground for each dragon they had slain. At the rate they were going, the dragons were going to kill them all.

Rakou gave a trumpet and the remaining dragons flew back, returning to his side.

Gerald,