The Lone Dragon Knight

  “So they found the grave as well?”

  “A few years ago.”

  “Where?”

  “Neither Corbin nor I were high enough ranking members to know such a thing. Corbin’s main job was to find ways to strengthen the cult either financially or with little projects like you.”

  “Projects like me?”

  “That’s all you are. The Advent want to see if they can create loyal foot soldiers from corrupted souls, but it’s merely a minor goal of theirs.” Her mouth opened to say something more, but only a great deal of blood spurted out.

  Ghevont gave me an expression that said, ‘She won’t last much longer.’ For the first time since knowing him, he wore an emotion on his sleeve—sorrow.

  After a moment of raspy breathing, she said, “Corbin might have been the one to betray us, but it was that cult who wanted it done.”

  “Why?”

  “Dad knew where the map was and he wouldn’t share.”

  “What was he going to do with it?”

  “Anything he fucking wanted. What do you call yourself?”

  “Mercer.”

  “Well, Mercer, promise me you’ll try and kill every Advent you hear of and I’ll tell you where you can begin to find out who you are.”

  “I’ll promise you if you tell me everything now.”

  “I don’t know the stupid details. Corbin kept the records and hired the bandits to take the people and resources we needed. Besides, you think I would tell you everything even if I knew? It’s your blade that killed me. Hurry up and promise, or I’ll die with the information I do have.”

  “Fine.”

  “Say it, fucker.”

  “I promise.”

  She sighed and rested her head on the ground. “I saved your fucking life, so gods fuck you if you break it… Go to Dranall. Do you remember my assistant?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s there… Magnus Nissen. He’ll be in the shipyard offices Corbin partly owns. After we learned of your body’s natural resistance to corruption, Corbin targeted the rest of your family. I do not know the results of that venture. I was sent to support a more important mission.”

  “The valkrean.”

  “Yes.”

  “Why do the Advent need them?”

  “You need power to resurrect a dead god. Now leave me with my brother. We have a family matter to discuss.”

  A doleful nod from Ghevont had me step away from the pair. The corruption still left began to recede, permitting me to feel the unbroken throbbing of my deepest wound. The corruption had helped stop the worst of the bleeding, but it would take weeks for it to properly heal. I sat against a tree and watched as the siblings spoke to one another, with the dying woman doing most of the conversing. Killing Corbin a second after I was certain death had come to me had been exhilarating, but seeing the increasingly lifeless Vey did not bring me any such feelings of conquest. Was because I didn’t see all that much difference between me and her?

  “What do you know of this ‘dead god’?” I asked Aranath.

  “So you’re planning to keep your oath, then?”

  “I have a feeling that finding out who I am and eliminating some Advent might end up being one and the same. Besides, we can’t have your blade getting too dull on weaker opponents, and these Advent promise to keep things challenging.”

  “If you wish. I personally believe this ‘dead god’ is nothing more than some ancient eidolon with thoughts of grandeur, but old myths say it was once a seventh god of day and night. I’m sure the scholar can give you different tales as to how this god lost its divinity. Whatever its origin, the Advent have long believed that awakening this ‘god’ will have the grateful being reward them with eternal life and power. If they’ve truly found its grave… Well, if a lost god is to be raised, it’ll help having a dragon by your side.”

  Vey died when evening completed its metamorphosis to full blown night. Ghevont came and sat by me, casting his healing spell over my shoulder, making it feel slightly less worse than before.

  “Sorry I’m not better at this healing thing,” said Ghevont. “I’ve only really practiced with rats. Turns out that wasn’t good enough.”

  “I’m sorry about your sister.”

  “I am too. Makes you think, doesn’t it?”

  “Sure.”

  “I mean, she was right about one thing. I’m insanely curious about the world, but all I do is read about it.”

  “I know where this is going.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, and my only answer to you now is that I’m in enough pain as it is. Let’s wait a bit longer before we start contemplating things that annoy me.”

  “Oh, all right… but it would make sense, no?”

  “I really don’t want to have to bury another Rathmore tonight.”

  “Can I request something regarding that?”

  “You better make it quick. I’m pretty sure I’m about to pass out.”

  “Oh my. Well, I realize this is a sacred thing to ask of you, but I was wondering whether I could use some of your dragon flame in her burial.”

  “Sure.”

  His increasingly nebulous voice spoke about how this was a grand opportunity for him to study the effects of dragon fire on a human body, but that was all I caught. My head went limp and I blacked out.