Heroes and Dragons

By Dee Blackshear

In mystical times past, not all heroes are good and not all dragons are bad. Meet an evil Knight, an unlikely Hero, a brave Princess, and a not real bright Dragon Slayer. Don’t be too surprised though if a resourceful dragon wins one.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dee Blackshear
• Release date: Sep 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005528874

Dee Blackshear

Check out my blog for information about me. http://dblackshear4writing.weebly.com/

Book preview

The Tarnished Knight

1.

Call to Darkness

His heart rebelled against what he was ordered to do, but the king must be obeyed. James finished tying on his shirt with a hard expression, buckled the sword belt around his waist, and slipped a cloak over his shoulders. He stepped out of his tent and shielded his eyes against the morning sun. Something about the rays’ intensity, and a strange odor caused his scalp to tingle. The air smelt strange, almost sweet.

His hand clenched when a glistening ring appeared and swirled before his eyes. A feeling of frustration burned through him. Now was not the time. King Barth demanded a quick response. I can’t delay.

Black wispy fingers floated out and wrapped around him. A seductive whisper enticed him to let them enter. He inhaled and waited as the tendrils flowed into his open mouth. Camp noise faded away. Only the darkness existed.

Why did he always take that breath and surrender to the power pulling at him? The truth? It was beyond his mental strength to refuse. The whisper promised something he craved, freedom.

The tendrils took over. Waves of light swirled. Ripples of energy exploded and shot out in streaks. When their effect hit him, the jolt was enormous. Each time the result was the same. Convulsed with pain, his body jerked and went into spasms. After a few moments, the agony passed, and a strange peace flowed over him.

A pin-dot of yellow light wavered in the blackness and beckoned him. The beginning never varied but what followed constantly changed. The spark exploded in size and opened like a door. James used his sword as a cane and on shaky legs, stepped through. The throbbing in his head faded away, and his mind cleared.

A busy village appeared before him. From a distance, the king’s horse soldiers rode hard and fast along the road. People unloaded their carts and carried the products into shops. Children chased each other in a game. Unconcerned and happy, they ran back and forth across the road. Their high-pitched screams and laughter drowned out the sound of pounding hooves. Any minute the horses would burst into their midst and trample the children.

No! His voice cut through the air like a crack of lightning.

Horses reared up, and the riders struggled to hang on. Running toward the soldiers, his body turned weightless. Like an avenging angel, James flew up and landed on a horse’s neck. The rider stared up at him in shock. Light streaked from the knight’s sword and sent out sparks as he swirled and slashed downward. He flew to the next rider, his cloak spread out like wings. Attacking with superhuman speed, his actions were precise and deadly. When the last soldier fell from his horse, he dropped to the ground and sheathed his sword. His cloak fluttered down around him.

I’ve missed someone. Feel his eyes burning through me. He strode toward a shaking bush with a gleaming knife clutched in his hand. James threw his blade at the man as he tried to escape. The soldier stumbled and gagged before collapsing.

He pulled out his knife and wiped it clean. The glowing circle reemerged. Following sharp flashes of light through the swirling tunnel, the return trip went quick and painless. As he walked out, his form appeared before him in the tent opening. In the blink of an eye, the two figures merged as one.

Always disoriented after the strange occurrences, James glanced around. Why had he returned to his quarters in the middle of the day? Ah yes, my cloak and pack. The king ordered me to ride out this afternoon and capture outlaws attacking travelers along the castle road.

He swirled around and reentered the tent to wash his hands and study his clothes. A few drops of blood sprinkled across his leather vest. His movements were so fast, that most blood sprays missed him. Using a cloth, he rubbed them off. Aware the troops awaited his arrival, James hurried. He had one last errand to complete before leaving. His cloak fluttered behind him as he stomped through the market.

2.

Defiant Page

People stepped back in fear when he approached. The knight was a tall broad-shouldered warrior who walked with brute confidence. Anyone looking closely discovered his dark brown eyes were dead as if life had left him. A month's growth of beard and shaggy black hair flying loose barely covered the scars crisscrossing his face.

James ignored the other people around him and searched through the different stalls. He spotted the object of his quest and reached out to grab a dirty boy by his shirt, lifting him off the ground. Donald, I'm riding out on patrol. Have my quarters ready for me at dusk.

Yes, sir.

He examined his page. The boy had a new black eye, and his shirt was torn. Fighting again?

Donald stared defiantly back at him.

Who did this? He turned around and discovered an older boy with skinned knuckles. His harsh voice threatened violence, You?

The terrified boy backed up against the wall.

If this happens again, you'll regret it.

Donald grinned in satisfaction and tried to wiggle free of the iron grip. He called you, James the Bastard Fist.

He dragged the boy into his tent and closed the flap. Enough! I’ve been your master for two years and not kicked or beat you. Why do you let others do it?

Freed from the hand gripping his shirt, Donald straightened his clothes. Why do you allow people to think the worst? You’re not evil. My rescue proves you have a kind heart.

He glared at the small disobedient youth. Brave from the beginning. You cringed at my scars but did not try to run. It was a good day when I unlocked the cage and took you with me. An efficient page, too. You obey my orders, keep the equipment and clothes clean, and fetch anything I need.

Donald grinned at the compliments.

James shook his head in annoyance. When the king’s guards killed all the villagers and took the children, he noticed the boy. Instead of crying like the rest, Donald boldly returned his stare. While everyone else plundered the houses, James stuffed his small body in a cloth sack and threw him over the horse’s back. The youth kicked and cried until he told him, Shut up. You want to live? The other boys will be turned loose in the games. I’m offering you a decent life."

Over the next two years, their relationship evolved from master and slave into friendship.

One problem though, I tell you to keep a low profile and yet find you wandering in the market again. The danger is real. If you go for anything, ask me first.

I went for some fresh bread for you. He pulled out a loaf from under his shirt.

James sighed. Donald took advantage of his status as a page to the Iron Fist. The boy became bold, and his attitude was dangerous. With a worried expression, the knight took the offered food. King Barth ordered me to go out on patrol, so stay out of sight. If you see the king or his servants, disappear fast. Now, finish packing my stuff while I eat your fresh bread.

3.

The King’s Image

When a man arrived with his horse, James mounted and waved for his troops to follow him. As they crossed a bridge, the metal sound of hooves striking stone cut through the air. People stepped back and watched them leave, their faces blank of emotion.

His men joked and talked as they left the menacing castle behind. James remained silent and withdrawn, preoccupied. He was the bastard son of King Barth the Cruel, bound to follow his father's commands, and hated his life. Cruel orders were to be carried out with precision. Inwardly, James rebelled and did his best to show compassion, but that was not always possible. At those times, a headache formed and felt like his brain would explode.

Barth’s evil influence infiltrated all corners of the castle. The king discovered a servant girl he raped gave birth to a healthy son. The woman thought she had the child in secret, but he was only waiting for the boy to grow a little. James was five when a servant appeared and wrenched him from his sobbing mother.

He stood before his father, tears running down his face. I want my mother.

Even if you’re a bastard, my son does not cry. Your mother was taken away because she made you weak. No longer. I will beat that out of you.

He was punished with cruel precision. Servants spied on him and reported to the king at any sign of tears. Barth used his whip to mold him. At ten, he stood stiff and unemotional. Scars crisscrossed his back. Even that attitude did not please the king. He starved him for a week and forced him to eat the dog scraps at their feet. His legitimate sister and brother laughed and kicked at him under the table.

Servants followed his father’s example and treated him with contempt. Slaps and blows to his sore back or stomach were a daily occurrence. He grew strong in this rough environment and learned how to defend himself, the street way with teeth, knives, and well-placed kicks. After that, no one bothered him.

One afternoon, James was summoned by the king. He was almost fifteen and stood as tall as his father. The man glared for a moment and then laughed. A strange gleam shimmered in his eyes. It’s time for you to be formed into my fist. Tomorrow, the training starts. My soldiers were told to show you no mercy. Any weakness will be reported back to me. My whip is hungry for your flesh.

Two years later, he stood taller than Barth. Called to attend his father’s presence, James bowed.

Marcus, the king's advisor commented with surprise, He is your exact image, my king.

The whip lashed out and ripped across the man’s chest. Marcus stumbled back in shock.

So, my bastard son is my image. Hmm. I’ll have to change something. Stand and face me.

The metal tip ripped across his face. James took a half step back but remained steady. Barth whipped him until he fell to the ground, his face a bloody mass of shredded flesh.

Stand, you sniveling fool. The punishment was to let you know, I am Barth, the One and Only. My face is my own. The scars will be a constant reminder that you exist for my pleasure.

The pain was agony, but James fought against giving in to his shredded body. This was not the first time the king left him half dead from the whip. He slowly rose, bowed, and left his father’s presence.

In the dark room, he lay on the bed, his face covered in dried blood. Delirious with agony, when a figure in black appeared, he thought the image was a hallucination.

I did not think when I commented. Please forgive me. I brought an ointment to relieve the pain. Marcus approached him.

Is this another one of Father’s doings? Another cruel joke?

No. I want you to understand, this was not my plan. Let me help you.

Go. If Barth finds out, you will suffer the same fate.

Let me spread this on and cover your face with torn rags. No one will ever know. His fingers gently smoothed the paste on. Servants’ laughter from the hall caused the man to withdraw into a shadow. When they walked on, he leaned forward and finished wrapping James’s face.

4.

Pursuing Robbers

Not sure why, but the man’s kindness came to his thoughts as he rode ahead of the troops.

Physical pain no longer affected him, and emotional pain he buried deep in his heart. The scars on his face were a constant reminder of Bart’s cruelty.

Donald’s image surfaced in his mind. The worry about his page was real. Spies reported on anyone who got close to him. The king gleefully mutilated or killed them. He hated this existence. The agony and frustration were so intense his chest hurt. When this happened, he rebelled in small ways. Villagers were released instead of killed, a coin dropped in the dirt when collecting taxes, or a bag of grain left on the ground. It was all done carefully because the king’s man spied on his every movement.

He shivered at the memory of his first encounter with the darkness. The strangeness started about a year ago. At its appearance, concerned the effect was an evil apparition, James reached out to push the image away. The shock that followed squeezed his heart and left him trembling on the ground. Staggering to his feet and staring around, he discovered the king’s guards bearing down on him. He jerked back, and instead of falling, his body floated up. Not sure when he unsheathed his sword, but the blade in his hand swooped down and sliced across the men. Their horses came to a rearing halt, and the soldiers tumbled to the ground.

The blackness enabled him to rebel in different, more violent ways. Only the king’s special guards who showed no mercy were killed. When James returned to his original location, peace flooded through him. He slept soundly afterward with no nightmares or guilt.