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    The Dragon's Shadow
    The Dragon's Shadow
    The Dragon's Shadow
    Ebook149 pages1 hour

    The Dragon's Shadow

    By Jonathan Moeller

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    About this ebook

    A prequel novella to the DEMONSOULED series.

    Lucan Mandragon is the Dragon's Shadow, the most powerful wizard of the Grim Marches. His brother hates him, his father regards him as a weapon, and the nobles distrust him...but they all fear his magic.

    And when Lucan's lost love Tymaen falls ill, stricken by a deadly poison, there is no one else who can save her.

    But to save Tymaen, Lucan will have to plumb the secrets of a master necromancer...and face a trap that even his power cannot overcome.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherJonathan Moeller
    Release dateOct 15, 2012
    ISBN9781301553648
    The Dragon's Shadow
    Author

    Jonathan Moeller

    Standing over six feet tall, Jonathan Moeller has the piercing blue eyes of a Conan of Cimmeria, the bronze-colored hair of a Visigothic warrior-king, and the stern visage of a captain of men, none of which are useful in his career as a computer repairman, alas.He has written the "Demonsouled" trilogy of sword-and-sorcery novels, and continues to write the "Ghosts" sequence about assassin and spy Caina Amalas, the "$0.99 Beginner's Guide" series of computer books, and numerous other works.Visit his website at:http://www.jonathanmoeller.comVisit his technology blog at:http://www.jonathanmoeller.com/screed

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      Book preview

      The Dragon's Shadow - Jonathan Moeller

      THE DRAGON'S SHADOW

      Jonathan Moeller

      ***

      Description

      Lucan Mandragon is the Dragon's Shadow, the most powerful wizard of the Grim Marches. His brother hates him, his father regards him as a weapon, and the nobles distrust him...but they all fear his magic.

      And when Lucan's lost love Tymaen falls ill, stricken by a deadly poison, there is no one else who can save her.

      But to save Tymaen, Lucan will have to plumb the secrets of a master necromancer...and face a trap that even his power cannot overcome.

      ***

      Copyright 2012 by Jonathan Moeller.

      Cover image Copyright Sauderdarcher | Dreamstime.com & Antares614 | Dreamstime.com

      Smashwords Edition

      Ebook edition published October 2012.

      All Rights Reserved.

      This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination, or, if real, used fictitiously. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the express written permission of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law.

      ***

      Chapter 1 - The Poisoned Bride

      Lucan Mandragon's eyes shot open.

      He sat up and threw aside the blankets, his hand raised to cast a spell. Green light flared around his fingertips as he summoned magical power. Marstan dared to attack him? He would burn his former teacher to ashes.

      He looked around, seeking for Marstan.

      But his bedroom was deserted, save for a terrified page in the livery of the House of Mandragon.

      A boy of eight or nine, eyes enormous with fear.

      My lord, whispered the page. Please. Please. I...your father sent me, please... He swallowed. Please don’t hurt me.

      Lucan blinked several times, his mind swimming into focus.

      He was in his bedroom at the castle of Swordgrim. Faint sunlight leaked through the narrow windows, the sun rippling off the waves of the Lake of Swords. Books and papers covered his desk, and a variety of jars and glass vials sat on his sagging worktable. The page stood by the door, face white with horror.

      Marstan had been dead at Lucan’s hand for over a year.

      Lucan looked at the terrified boy and felt a wave of shame.

      He dismissed his magic, the green light fading.

      What is it? he said.

      My lord, said the page. My lord, your father summons you to the chapel at once.

      Why? said Lucan. What does the mighty Dragonslayer wish of his wayward son? I doubt my father has grown pious in his old age.

      Your father summons you to chapel at once...

      I know that, said Lucan, annoyance creeping into his voice. The page flinched, and Lucan rebuked himself. They were all so afraid of him. One harsh word, one dark look, and the servants fled and the knights muttered about dark magic.

      Of course, given what Marstan had been, Lucan could hardly blame them.

      Given what Marstan had done to Lucan.

      Why am I summoned? said Lucan.

      He wishes you to attend Lady Tymaen Highgate.

      A wave of anger shot through Lucan.

      No, he said. I will not see Lady Tymaen. Not for any reason. If she wishes aid, let her speak to her husband. He spat the last word.

      My lord, said the page. She’s…

      Tell my father that, said Lucan.

      My lord, said the page. She's dying.

      Lucan frowned.

      What? he said at last. That’s impossible. I saw her when she arrived with Lord Robert. Not that he had spoken with her. She was the image of health. She couldn't have sickened in a day.

      Your father thinks she was poisoned, said the page.

      Lucan stared at the wall for a long moment.

      Tell my father, said Lucan, that I shall arrive presently.

      The page sprinted from the room.

      ###

      A short time later Lucan came to Swordgrim’s chapel.

      Like most of the churches of the Grim Marches, the castle's chapel had been built in the style of Old Dracaryl, a high dome rising overhead. Altars to the gods of the Amathavian church stood against the walls. Amatheon the king, the ruler of justice. Amater the lady, whose touch brought mercy. Joraviar the knight, who brought courage to valiant warriors. Lucan paid the altars and the priests praying before them no heed.

      He had knelt before those altars as a child, and none of his prayers had ever been answered.

      Lucan went through a small side door to the sick room, where the chapel's priests tended to the castle’s ill and wounded. Three noblemen stood over one of the sickbeds. The first was his father, Lord Richard Mandragon, the white streaks in his red hair and beard seeming to wreathe his head in flames. Lucan's elder brother Toraine Mandragon stood next to Richard, and as always he wore the armor fashioned from the scales of the black dragon he had slain. Besides Toraine stood Lord Robert Highgate, who seemed to grow a little fatter every time Lucan saw him.

      But he ignored them.

      Tymaen Highgate lay unconscious on the sickbed, her long hair a golden pool around her head. Sweat glittered on her brow, and her breath came in short gasps. She wore only a linen shift, and Lucan saw peculiar black streaks marking the pale skin of her wrists and ankles.

      He stopped before the bed, gazing down at her.

      Lucan, said Lord Richard. We require your assistance.

      Toraine laughed. Though little good it will do us, I'm sure.

      Lady Tymaen has been poisoned, said Richard.

      So I see, said Lucan. He took a deep breath, making sure his next words came out calm. How did it happen?

      Lord Robert shrugged. I don't know. He looked at Lucan with a mixture of contempt and wariness. Like a man regarding a sick dog. She seemed healthy enough when we arrived yesterday. This morning I awoke to find her like this. He sighed. I have the worst luck with wives.

      Perhaps the third one will prove more robust, said Toraine.

      One may hope, said Robert.

      Rage burned through Lucan. He wanted to draw on his magic and smash Robert and Toraine against the wall. Or to reach into the dark morass of Marstan’s memories and unleash forbidden spells…

      Instead he said, So she was poisoned at the feast.

      That is my thought as well, said Richard.

      Mitor Cravenlock's doing, I'm sure, said Toraine.

      Lucan frowned...but his brother had a point.

      Mitor Cravenlock hopes to rebel against my rule, said Richard, but he cannot defeat the strength of Swordgrim unassisted. So, like his father before him, he turns to the aid of the serpent priests.

      The San-keth, muttered Robert. Mitor is a toad, but stupid enough to ally himself with the serpents? Even I thought he was smarter than that.

      You showed Mitor too much mercy, father, said Toraine. When you defeated the Cravenlocks, you should have exterminated them utterly. Then we would not face this danger now.

      Perhaps, said Richard.

      But why Tymaen? said Robert. My wife, true, but she is no one of significance. Lucan's hands curled into fists. So why poison her?

      A mistake, said Toraine. The San-keth sought to poison my father at Lord Mitor’s urging, but made an error and put the poison into Lady Tymaen's cup instead. Father, you have all the evidence you need. Call your vassals, march south, and put the Cravenlocks to death.

      Lucan examined the black streaks on Tymaen’s forearms and lower legs. They were her veins, she realized, turning black from the poison. Lucan himself knew very little about poison.

      But Marstan had...and Marstan's memories filled the inside of Lucan's head. And like a drop of blood darkening a glass of clear water, someday those memories would merge entirely with Lucan’s own.

      What would become of him then?

      He pushed aside the thought and searched Marstan’s memories.

      I wish to avoid a war against a vassal, said Richard. The other liege lords would take it as weakness. The lords of the Black Plains and the High Plain may attempt to seize the moment. And Lord Malden of Knightcastle certainly would.

      There may be an easier way to forestall war, said Robert. "Send Sir Tanam Crowley to abduct Lady Rachel Cravenlock. Mitor has no heir, but his sister is young, unwed, and presumably fertile.

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