Invasion and Dragons Read online

  The Wizard’s Seal

  Part II

  Invasions and Dragons

  Jekka Jones

  Wizard’s Seal: Invasions and Dragons

  Copyright © 2018 by Jekka Jones

  All rights reserved

  Cover by Mandi Davies

  Edited by Nick May and Alexandria Melone from TypeRight Editing

  This book is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, or events are fictitious or the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  ISBN–13: 978-1727093544

  ISBN-10: 1727093542

  To CB

  The first person

  to read and edit the first draft

  it was rough, so thanks a ton!

  Chapter 1

  It was a beautiful garden, thick with vegetation but organized to look like a tamed forest. The maple, cherry, and hycamore trees reached above the ambassador suites, almost concealing the tiled roofs so the garden appeared even larger than it was. Pebbled pathways wandered among the trees and bushes, twisting and turning like any path in the woods. Many sections of the path broke off to hug the shoreline of an hourglass shaped pond that sat in the middle. A red bridge spanned the narrowest part of the pond, arching gracefully to the center and down again to the opposite bank. Small shrines devoted to the Tsuregan gods dotted the garden, standing beneath slender cherry trees or atop flat rocks protruding from the pond’s surface. Large gold, orange, and white fish swam lazily in the pond, breaking the surface as they lunged for the dragonflies skimming above. It was just as secluded and peaceful as any forest, and the perfect place for a young couple to escape the stares and gossip of the palace.

  They lounged in the shade of a cherry tree. The young man’s gaze wandered around the garden, his hazel eyes occasionally pausing on the windows just visible through the foliage, studying the opaque glass for movement before moving on. His companion leaned against his side, fiddling with the sleeve of his tunic. At first glance, the young man and woman appeared as any other noble. The young man wore a deep green tunic belted at the waist and plain black trousers. The woman wore a lavender dress that spread around her in a puddle of silk fabric.

  “What I don’t understand,” said Myra, drawing Landon’s attention away from a second-story window—it was well positioned to see anyone in the garden, “is if the meeting isn’t until noon, why do you have to be all dressed up for it? It’s just a fancy tunic with a fancy belt.” She took the corner of Landon’s sleeve, embroidered with silver, and rubbed it between her fingers. “It’s not like those glorified bathrobes the Tsuregans wear.”

  “Dad thinks it’s important for me to look the part of an ambassador’s son when I’m in public,” Landon answered, scowling. His father, Diego, had insisted that Landon stand in the middle of his room while he and three other servants dressed and undressed him like a doll. Landon’s adopted father, Eli, had sat in a chair and voiced his opinion on each outfit. Landon had thought it wouldn’t take very long, especially with Eli’s involvement, but both fathers had been determined that their son appear strong and regal. To Landon’s embarrassment, it had taken three hours before both of his fathers had settled on the tunic. It was an ordeal he was not going to share in detail with Myra.

  “I tried reminding him that we’re Nircanian now,” Landon continued, “but he said the kings don’t see it that way. So, I’m wearing this. It was the only thing that didn’t make me look like a fool—and wasn’t purple.”

  Myra chortled. “They do like purple, don’t they?” She traced her finger over a swirl of silver embroidery. “I have a bunch of dresses that’re either too low in the front or too low in the back in my room. I asked for one of those bathrobes, but apparently that’s too formal for a Nircanian.”

  Landon looked at Myra’s dress. “You managed to find a decent one by the looks of it,” he pointed out. It had a modest neckline embroidered with little silver flowers that crept along the sleeves and bodice. The lavender color made her eyes bluer than Landon had ever seen. “You look beautiful.”

  Myra smiled. “Sierra found it in her room and suggested I wear it because it didn’t fit her. She kept saying that the more I look like a lady, the less the nobles will bother me.” She rolled her eyes. “I have no idea why they would insist on me wearing this thing. It’s not like I want to impress a nobleman or something.” She gave Landon a sly look, and he grinned back.

  “You better not. I’ll stick them in the pond before they can get anywhere near you,” he said to Myra’s giggles. He emphasized his point by tickling her. “You’re my forever girl!”

  “Your girl?” Myra said, trying to counterattack by poking him. “Excuse me, my lord, but I don’t belong to anyone!”

  Landon dodged her fingers as best he could, but the tree he was sitting against made it difficult to evade Myra. “Did you forget about all those stinky nobles—ow!” Landon grabbed his right side where Myra’s finger had jabbed it, doubling over and grimacing in pain.

  “I’m sorry! I didn’t know your stomach still hurts,” Myra said quickly, snatching her hands back.

  Landon looked up into her concerned face, an impish grin curling the corner of his mouth. Myra’s worried expression melted into disapproval. She shoved him, sending him sprawling in the grass. Landon burst out laughing.

  “It’s not funny, Lan!” Myra whispered angrily. “You’re supposed to fake it with the samurai, not me.”

  “Couldn’t resist,” Landon replied, pushing himself upright again. Two and a half weeks of rest had allowed him to regain his strength after the hard journey to Tsuregi. The only symptom he experienced from the journey and when he’d been imprisoned in Menrye was a shortness of breath, but only if he tried to run for more than a few minutes.

  This fact, however, was kept from the samurai. Although every king was eager to see Landon, he and his family had taken full advantage of his condition to avoid banquets and balls. Once Landon began showing improvements, requests for him and his family to attend the banquets had come pouring in. Not wanting to deal with the whispers behind his back and open stares, Landon had continued to pretend that his stomach was hurting him. He’d done such a convincing job that the palace physicians were fooled. They kept bringing him tonics, which he pretended to take and then dumped the contents in the chamber pot or near-empty wine jug. His family and friends knew what he was doing and played along.

  “What did the doctor say this morning?” Myra asked. “Will he excuse you from the council?”

  Landon shrugged. “It was Kobayashi again, and I think he’s onto me. He asked if I tried walking for more than an hour, and when I said no, he told me to give it a try—pretty much ordered me to spend the entire morning in the garden.”

  “Ah,” said Myra, nodding her head. “So that’s why you wanted to sit down for a bit. I thought you were being romantic.”

  “That was the original intention; Kobayashi’s request was just a bonus.”

  Myra pecked a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Look a little more tired, just in case he’s watching. I don’t want you stuck in a room all day with those murderers. I was so hoping the storms would slow them down, but,” she pulled a sour face, “they didn’t. The Borikans made it here on time.”

  Landon suppressed a shudder at her words. King Jerich Issachar of Menrye, the last of the kings traveling to Tsuregi, had arrived four days ago with Kennin, Sayre, and Niklas Drakshu. King Katsunaka had thrown a large banquet, supposedly the largest ever, to celebrate all six kings’ presence in Tsuregi. Landon had pretended that his stomach hurt so much that he couldn’t move, allowing his parents to stay and tend him. He didn’t want to meet anyone, especial
ly the Menrians. The last time Landon had been in the same room as one of the Drakshus was when Kennin had officially handed him over to Angen Hastril for the Twin’s Revenge.

  Landon still had nightmares about those months in Marleth’s Pits—the Menrian dungeons. The Menrians believed that twins were demigods, and if one was murdered then their soul was lost. Only if the surviving twin slew the murderer could the dead twin’s soul be saved. Last summer, Landon had killed Angen’s twin, Ashrin, when he had rescued his parents from the Drakshus. He had later been captured by Angen, who tortured him for months, redeeming his brother’s soul through Landon’s blood. Despite being the guardian of the Wizard’s Seal—an amulet containing a remnant of the wizards’ power—the Drakshus would not pardon him of the twin’s death. If it hadn’t been for a kind Menrian named Deon Paxellan, Landon would’ve died. Deon had secretly ministered to his wounds, and then orchestrated Landon’s rescue by helping Morgan and Myra into Marleth’s Pits.

  And now with the council scheduled to take place that very day, Landon was going to have to face the Drakshus at last. Fear gnawed at him every time he thought about it. At noon, he and his parents would sit in a room with every king and advisor on the continent and allow them to decide their fate.

  “Where’s Morgan and Juan?” Landon asked, hoping to distract himself from those thoughts. “I haven’t seen them yet.”

  Myra gave him a pitying smile. “They volunteered to take the horses to pasture again, especially Thirien. I was about to go with them, but then I saw you walking around and, well, I changed my mind.”

  Landon nodded, trying to disguise the jealousy rising in him. The consequence of playing ill was that he couldn’t sneak out and ride the horses. None of his family or friends could set foot outside of the palace itself without an armed escort, but Myra and Morgan always disguised themselves and went riding. Because Morgan’s skin was as dark as a Caborcan, he pretended to be Juan’s cousin, and Myra his sister. They would avoid the Samurai Masters, and if the stable hands or servants suspected otherwise, they never let on.

  “Do you think I’d—” Landon began, but the sound of the garden door opening distracted him. He twisted around to see who had entered, expecting his parents or guardians, but saw a young woman instead.

  Although Landon didn’t know her name or where she was from, he recognized her instantly. The young woman had been wandering around the garden for the past two weeks, timing her walks when no one was around. She looked to be the same age as Landon and Myra. Her red hair was braided along the sides and pulled back into a bun. She wore a white, sleeveless gown that was fastened at the shoulders by two gold brooches and belted at the waist. The fabric flowed as she walked, winking as the light reflected off the gold trimming around her waist and ankles. Sometimes she had a golden band around her upper arms, but today she had none. Instead she had a red shawl draped over one shoulder and wrapped around her waist. As always when he saw her, Landon felt his cheeks color. Despite having a lot of fabric, the gown hinted at the woman’s body, sometimes shifting to reveal more than Landon felt was decent.

  The woman stepped onto the path that wound around the garden, saw Landon and Myra underneath the tree, and stopped. She hesitated, rocking on her feet as if torn between leaving or continuing her stroll.

  “You can stay,” Myra said, raising her voice to be heard. “We don’t mind.” Landon smiled pleasantly and nodded in agreement.

  The woman stared at them for a few seconds, calculating their invite, and then walked over to the opposite side of the pond. She sat against the far side of a tree so they couldn’t see her.

  Landon and Myra sighed and looked at each other. “Still reclusive. Have you found out who she is yet?” Landon asked in a low voice.

  “Juan did.” Myra fiddled with a strand of her black hair, like she always did when she was bothered. “He overheard one of the—er, waitpersons say she’s from Dagnor. She came with their king and advisor, but that’s all. I don’t know if she has a dragon or not,” she added, seeing he was about to ask. “Juan still hasn’t seen her in the hallways. He thinks she stays in her room to avoid the horny trainees.”

  Landon glanced back at the woman again but said nothing. Dagnor. She did match his parents’ descriptions of the people who lived side-by-side with dragons: red hair, light colored eyes, and olive skin. The Dagnorians had allied with the Drakshus in order to obtain the Wizard’s Seal. Sayre and Kennin had captured his father, but Sierra—who had been pregnant with Landon—escaped with the katana hiding the Seal. Sayre made a pact with Dagnor’s emperor that if he managed to lure Sierra out of hiding then her child would be his. Emperor Dre’Goran agreed, and allowed the Menrians to sneak Diego into Dagnor. Landon’s father was accused of stealing a dragon’s egg and Hondel was threatened with destruction unless Sierra surrendered. But that hadn’t mattered. To ensure Sayre would honor her word, Dre’Goran sent the dragons and their riders to destroy Hondel. All that remained was a continuously burning land, an eternal memorial to the devastation caused because of greed.

  Landon expected to feel animosity towards the Dagnorian woman, but he felt nothing. If anything, he felt sorry for her. She looked so lonely. “I was hoping she wasn’t from Dagnor,” he said. “She looks too nice.”

  Myra nodded. “I know what you mean. I really hoped she was just one of the queen’s helpers having a rough week.” She twisted the strands of her hair through her fingers, agitated. “I feel like I am.”

  Landon immediately became defensive. “Wait. Are those putrid nobles still trying to bed you? I thought Darrin told them to fly off.” When Landon, Myra, and Morgan had been escorted to Tsuregi, Myra had been the only woman in the entire group. The samurai, hoping to appear less threatening to the Nircanians, had brought their foreign trainees. Rather than show some measure of respect, many of the young men had harassed Myra the whole way. It had been a nightmare for all three of them.

  Myra smiled and resumed fiddling with his sleeve. “No, none of that. The trainees keep their distance. They used to whistle at me from across the courtyard, but they stopped after I pegged one of them in the head with a rock.” Landon laughed. “No one’s tried to grope me, but Morgan and I can’t go ten paces without some noble bugging us about you or the Seal—and Darrin’s acting weird.”

  This caught Landon’s attention. “What do you mean?”

  “He’s the only one that doesn’t bother us, or ask us about the Seal. He doesn’t even ask about your health.” Myra picked nervously at the grass. “He just watches me when I pass him in the hallways, and completely ignores Morgan. I’ve asked him loads of times if he needs anything but he says no. He looks like he’s always smiling even if he isn’t. It’s kind of creepy.”

  Landon felt himself say something that was either a confirmation or comfort, but he wasn’t paying attention. He was aware of Myra’s body next to his, her fingers playing with the soft fabric he wore.

  He knew why Darrin Foran, the king’s advisor and leader of the Samurai Masters, would be so interested in her. The man would suspect Landon had feelings for Myra. It was the reason he kept studying the few visible windows, hoping to catch sight of a samurai watching them. He had spied no one so far, but he knew someone was there, trying to gauge the depth of their relationship. He tried to disguise his behavior towards Myra, but it was harder than playing sick. Every moment he spent in her company made him want to drop on one knee and beg her to be his wife. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, even if that meant giving her the Wizard’s Seal.

  There it was—that thought. Anytime Landon thought about the kings, his parents, or Myra, it always came back to the Wizard’s Seal. Two weeks ago, Landon learned that the woman he married would be able to use the Seal. Worse, Darrin, the kings, and possibly every high-ranking nobleman in the palace knew this fact. The thought of telling Myra that marrying him would allow her to use the Wizard’s Seal made his stomach hurt. Landon understood why Diego hadn’t told him, his own son, ab
out the Wizard’s Seal when they’d first met. Despite being harassed by nobles, Myra was happy and carefree. Her ignorance of what a future with Landon meant was so liberating that he didn’t want to destroy it.

  Myra shifted, drawing him from his thoughts. She twisted around and laid her head on his lap. She looked up at him, squinting a bit from the sun filtering through the leaves. It took all of Landon’s self control to not passionately kiss her then and there. “What’s got you all ponderous?” she asked.

  Landon forced a smile as his heart began to race. Now was the perfect opportunity. The Dagnorian woman was too far away to eavesdrop, and there was no one else around. A few short sentences and she would know. Even if she decided to never speak to him again, Myra had to know. She had to understand that marrying him would turn her into one more Sealbearer for Sayre and Niklas Drakshu to hunt down and capture.

  “It’s something my parents told me,” Landon said. “Something else about the Wizard’s Seal.” He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. Myra waited, her eyes bright and curious. “They told me th—”

  The garden door slammed open, startling all three people and demolishing any thoughts Landon was forming. The Dagnorian woman stood faster than a cat having its tail stepped on and practically ran to the far side of the garden.

  “Aw Hell,” Landon muttered.

  Myra twisted her head to see who had just entered, and then bolted upright. “What the . . . ?” she blustered. “It’s not even noon yet. What does he want?”

  Darrin Foran, the last person after the Drakshus that Landon wanted to see, strode towards them. Darrin looked the same as Landon remembered, save for a few more streaks of silver in his black hair, which was pulled back into the traditional samurai knot on top of his head. He wore a green kymono decorated with leaves and swirls covered by a sleeveless light blue robe. It was all held in place with a plain black belt. Darrin walked with his hands folded inside the wide sleeves, which made him look like he was praying as he walked. Although he looked meek and humble, Landon eyed the sleeves and invisible hands. It was the perfect place to hide a dagger.