The Black Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 1) Read online

  The

  Black

  Dragon

  SALVADOR

  MERCER

  The Black Dragon

  Copyright © 2015 by Salvador Mercer.

  All Rights Reserved

  First Electronic Edition

  Published by Diamond Star Publishing

  For information contact; [email protected]

  www.salvadormercer.com

  Edited by: Marianne Fox

  Book and Cover design by Christine Savoie aka ‘Cagnes’ c2015

  Art and Stock Photo Credits:

  Dragon Stock by Dimitri Elevit:

  Interior Icons: Svetlana Shirokova | Dreamstime.com

  Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ASIN: B00U336ECM

  First Edition: February 2015

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Other Books by Salvador Mercer

  Claire-Agon Dragon Series

  The Blue Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book 2

  The Green Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book 3

  Claire-Agon Ranger Series

  Ranger Rising: Claire-Agon Ranger Book 1

  Dead Druid: Claire-Agon Ranger Book 2

  Sci-Fi-Technothriller

  Lunar Discovery

  Book Description

  A thousand years ago, on the world of Claire-Agon, a war raged between men and dragons.

  When an expedition of elite warriors goes missing in the fetid Kero Swamp, Olivia Moross, Priestess of Astor and daughter of the regional prefect, is caught in the conflict between her divine holy order, the sinister Kesh wizards, and the nobles of the ruling class of Ulatha.

  Seeking the fate of the lost expedition, and struggling to learn what might exist in the desolate Kero Swamp, Olivia finds herself battling human, beastly and supernatural forces. With the help of her father's nobles, and an unexpected Ranger of the Arnen, she must not only save her town, but also remain true to her beliefs in the pursuit of the truth.

  Olivia soon discovers that in the world of Claire-Agon, when dealing with a Black Dragon, sometimes dead is better.

  For:

  Elizabeth

  Alexandra

  Heather

  Hannah

  Nick

  Max

  &

  Francis

  Chapter 1

  Destruction

  Chapter 2

  Olivia

  Chapter 3

  Diamedes

  Chapter 4

  Evil

  Chapter 5

  Initiation

  Chapter 6

  Preparations

  Chapter 7

  Undead

  Chapter 8

  Skullduggery

  Chapter 9

  Temple

  Chapter 10

  Machinations

  Chapter 11

  Tannis

  Chapter 12

  Hand of Astor

  Chapter 13

  Family Ties

  Chapter 14

  Counterattack

  Chapter 15

  Reconstruction

  Chapter 16

  Disclosures

  Chapter 17

  Horag

  Chapter 18

  Ruins

  Chapter 19

  Dragon

  Chapter 20

  Death

  Epilogue

  One Month Later

  Contact the Author

  About the Author

  Appendix A

  The “Science” of Claire Agon

  Appendix B

  The Black Dragon Glossary

  The Blue Dragon

  Chapter 1 Excerpt

  Chapter 1

  Destruction

  “Stop! Did you hear that?” Haldor said to his group as he raised his right arm overhead with his hand balled into a fist.

  There was a moment of pause before a tall, thin man, dressed in a blue robe and using a staff to walk with, replied, “I hear nothing except the constant buzzing drone of these blasted mosquitoes. You must be hearing things.”

  Haldor scowled at the magician. “I’m sure I heard it. Sounded like something entering the water. Did anyone else hear it?”

  The large group looked around at one another, shaking their heads no. Occasionally one of the men-at-arms took a swat at a buzzing insect near his head, or they would adjust their halberds as they looked around at the swamp that they found themselves in.

  “There are many swamp creatures here,” said a smaller man in black leather armor as he sheathed his dagger and squinted into the pale overcast sky. Then he looked down into the dark waters around them and the small game trail that they were walking on. “Either something fell into the water or jumped in, but I doubt it’s much to be alarmed at.”

  “What would you know, thief, about wild creatures in a dirty swamp?” a young woman said, whirling on him and giving him a look of disgust. “You are a creature of the city, not of the wilds, and you shouldn’t even be here.”

  “The name is Horag, oh, Seyla of the Holy Order, and you have less experience in the wilds than a city bumpkin!”

  “It’s country bumpkin, fool!” Seyla said.

  “Shut up! Both of you!” Haldor said in a hushed voice as he looked between the two members of his party. “Horag, you take lead then, as you’re the quietest of our group, and Seyla, you bring up the rear. Keep a sharp watch about us. I’m sure of what I heard, and whatever is now in the water could easily flank us, so stay alert.”

  Seyla sheathed her holy long sword and adjusted her armor breast plate as she stepped aside, allowing Horag to pass her along the thin trail that continued deeper into the swamp. Haldor nodded to his men as they started off again, albeit a bit quieter and definitely more alert, now that Haldor had set them on edge. Still, Haldor was sure he had heard something and the group he led was entirely too complacent for his comfort, considering what they were hunting . . . or supposed to hunt.

  “Do you think the beast is actually here, Ketas?” Haldor asked the older man with the staff as they walked in the middle of the group.

  “Who knows?” Ketas answered as he kept straining to pull the end of his staff from the boggy ground, placing it with each step of his right foot. “We did not know there were so many drakes just a season ago. As your lord said, it is better to be safe than sorry, and if the rumors in this part of your realm are true, then there is something living here in Kero Swamp. I cannot say if it is a drake or no, but something large enough to take and kill the livestock of your people is here, or near here.”

  “That isn’t very comforting,” Haldor said, looking around furtively at the marshlands surrounding them as far as the eye could see.

  It was only their second day after leaving the main southern trade road near the town of Tannis, and already Haldor felt as if he had entered into a foreign, faraway land. He had no idea that the swampy marshlands were so vast as they bordered the western edges of the realm from the Western Sea.

  “You at least have the attention of your people. They are more alert now after your warning,” Ketas said.

  Haldor looked at his men-at-arms, six of them in front lea
ding the way behind the stealthy Horag, and the other six behind him, just in front of the holy warrior Seyla. She walked with her gloved hand on the hilt of her magnificent sword while stealing quick glances from side to side and occasionally backwards. “Yes, they are—”

  “Watch your step!” Ketas said, reaching out and pulling Haldor back from the edge of a dark black peat bog that the large man almost stepped in.

  “That was close,” Haldor said as he skirted the bog and resumed walking, this time his attention more focused on what was in front of him and not behind him. “It was a shame to have to leave all that armor behind,” he commented, looking at the exposed backs of his men-at-arms as they walked with little more than leather tunics covering their torsos. Their pikes and halberds were waggling in the air in front of them as the soldiers used them, much as their wizard did, as walking sticks.

  “It was wise to leave the heavy mail behind,” Ketas said in a whisper so that only Haldor could hear him. “One misstep in these marshes and drowning would become a more dangerous adversary than any beast.”

  “Still, I’d feel better if we were more protected,” Haldor responded.

  “Chain mail would not make a difference if indeed we find a drake in these forsaken lands. The best we could hope for is to create a defensive wall of our long arms to keep the beast at bay long enough for us to do our work.”

  “Work that would be unnecessary, had your leader not stirred the wrath of the dragons with his greed.” Haldor scowled.

  Ketas stopped and turned to face the large leader of their group. “Do not go there, Ulathan. The Kesh have just as much reason to criticize the greed of your kings and lords. Stay focused on the task at hand. I will not argue with you the merits, or lack thereof, of my High Mage’s actions.”

  There was silence for a moment before they heard the stern but feminine voice of Seyla from behind. “What now you two? You bunched us up in the rear. We need to maintain our spacing, and, besides, it’s getting darker. It will soon be time to find a suitable place to make camp.”

  “So now you’re worried about our defensive posture?” Haldor said, his scowl changing to a grin. “Why the sudden concern for our position?”

  “Because I too think I heard something moving in the water. I think you were right, Haldor—we are being followed,” Seyla said.

  Everyone fell silent as they looked around listening, but they heard nothing. “Psst! I found a place about a hundred yards ahead of us for camp.” Horag motioned forward with his arm.

  “Lead on,” Ketas said, turning from Haldor and resuming his march, apparently forgetting any offense given by the Ulathan to him and his people of Kesh.

  Haldor decided to drop the subject yet again. The near constant friction between the Kesh and the Ulathans was not helping, and he had to admit the wizard was most useful, especially considering his knowledge of the drakes and his ability to protect the group. This wasn’t their first mission together, so Haldor had seen him in action more than once, and the old man’s walking staff was anything but benign. He had seen what the staff could do firsthand, and, though he personally disliked the tall, thin, swarthy Kesh, he felt safer with the man at his side.

  Soon the group had found the clearing that Horag had led them to, and it was a good thing too, for the small thin trail was nearly indefensible. Off to the side of the trail was a nice plot of land that stood on a small rise and therefore was dry and round in shape. This grassy knoll, in the middle of the swamp, he could defend.

  Soon the group had made camp, and Seyla had used her tinderbox to start a small fire despite the objections of Ketas, who felt it safer to go without. The soldiers broke off into groups of four and started a watch that Haldor had set up, three hours on, six hours off.

  “It got dark very quickly,” Seyla said, looking around and warming her hands by the fire.

  “It’s about time you took those gauntlets of yours off,” Horag said, also sitting across from Seyla and warming his hands above the fire. “I could think of a few other things for you to take off so you’d feel more comfortable.”

  “And I could take that offensive head right off of your puny shoulders . . .”

  “What in all of Agon was your lord thinking when he put these two together?” Ketas asked, taking a bite of his apple and then starting to stuff his pipe with weed from his pouch. “I still object to lighting this fire—it will do more harm than good.”

  “Easy for you to say as you light your pipe and enjoy a good smoke, Master Wizard,” Horag said in his finest mocking tone. “As if the foul creatures hereabouts would not smell your weed for miles?”

  “I light my pipe only because the fire is also lit, so the pipe no longer makes a difference, Master Thief,” the Kesh Wizard said in imitation of Horag’s own mocking voice.

  “Shhh, both of you,” Haldor said, waving at them to be quiet. He turned to Castor, the sergeant of the men-at-arms. “What is it, Castor?”

  “The guard is set and we’ve seen to the safe storing of our provisions near your tent, my lord . . .” Castor turned around to look at his men nearby, and then turned back to Haldor and lowered his voice even further. “The men are worried, my lord. They are hearing things, and all this talk between your colleagues is disconcerting. I worry for their morale.”

  “Disconcerting?” Horag said, leaning forward. He stood slightly in a crouch looking to the soldiers then back to Castor. “Where in the abyss did you learn to speak a word like that?” He laughed.

  “Don’t mock . . . Horag,” Seyla said, holding herself back from hurling a pejorative at her companion.

  Haldor waved them to be silent again, and then motioned for Horag to sit down, before turning back to Castor. “Inform the men that we’ll also stand watch with them tonight. I’ll take first watch, and I’ll make sure one of us Ulathans is on each shift with them.”

  “Very comforting,” Ketas said simply, taking a long puff on his pipe to get the weed burning, having finished eating his apple. Haldor just looked at him before seeing to their defenses.

  After an hour, and a small meal of dried meat with stale cheese, the group broke up and prepared to sleep for the night. Knowing that they would have to take a watch each, both Horag and Seyla retired immediately, leaving Haldor alone with Ketas around the small fire that was left to burn lightly. The camp fire hardly put out much light, let alone heat, but still in the intense darkness of the night it seemed like a beacon to anyone or anything in the area.

  “The sisters will rise soon, and they will illuminate the area,” Ketas said, finishing with his pipe and then cleaning it out, dumping the small ashes onto the fire.

  “Assuming we don’t see another fog like we did last night,” Haldor replied.

  Ketas finished with his pipe and quickly tucked it into one of his robe’s many pockets. “Unusual weather for a midsummer’s eve.”

  “Indeed, the weather is most foul here . . . almost as if the swamp itself keeps summer at bay. Do you think we’ll find anything in this cursed place?”

  “I am not sure. I was thinking the entire quest was a waste of our time and resources, considering the war that rages on in the North, until you and Seyla started hearing things. I cannot say that we will find a drake, but most likely your lord and master will feel better once the evil inhabitant of Kero Swamp is found and eliminated, if indeed one exists—one less worry, so to speak.”

  Haldor looked around furtively and rubbed his upper arms with his hands to warm up, which he found odd, considering how hot it was just a couple of days ago. “How could anything as large as a dragon remain undiscovered in the middle of our realm? I find it nigh to impossible to believe.”

  “There were many things that we found impossible just a year ago, but now we know them to be true; one can only wonder at how long we would have continued on in arrogance and ignorance without the High Mage’s enlightenment.”

  Haldor frowned and looked sideways at Ketas. It never ceased to amaze him how the wizard prac
tically worshiped his magocratic leader, sometimes to a fault, and here, many leagues and days away from his homeland of Kesh, the man still thought to praise his leader despite not having an appreciative audience. “What news from Kesh on the battles in the North?” Haldor decided to glean a bit more information from the wizard rather than descend into another squabble over ideology and fault regarding Agon’s current events.

  Ketas returned his focus to Haldor after looking at the many stars in the night sky that were visible overhead. “Nothing new . . . not since the last time we discussed the same issue.”

  “Yes, but you have that spyglass of yours, and we all know how well informed the Kesh are,” Haldor said flatteringly.

  “It’s called a critir, and it is not made of cheap glass, but rather something much more complex and . . . rare.”

  “Well, complex and rare or not, you haven’t said a word since we left nearly a week ago, and I’m sure you use it at night when in your tent. I’ve seen the glow from it myself, and it took several nights for the men to get used to it as well.”

  “Simple superstition,” Ketas said, reaching down and setting his hand on his pack. “Most commoners make similar mistakes. The arcane is not to be feared, but to be respected.”

  “The least you could do is inquire and do so sooner rather than later. It’s hard to receive news in a timely manner with the dangerous conditions along the trade roads. You and your ilk—I mean kind—are much more in tune with what is happening when you use those critirs, as you call them.”

  “It is pronounced cree-tier. Alright, I will see what I can find out tonight. Do you have a plan other than having us stumble around these marshlands blindly, hoping to find a drake, or more likely a large carnivore that has not eaten man flesh in years?” the Kesh wizard asked, changing the topic on the large Ulathan fighter.