Queen Collector 2, page 1
Queen Collector 2
Alton Blair
© Copyright June 13, 2024 - All rights reserved.
It is not legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 1
* * *
Night draped shadows over the mountains. Their peaks loomed like dragon teeth, biting at the stars. Both moons hung their silver orbs above the range like two wide eyes tracking Carter Quinn and his dragonriders across the landscape. Ahead of them, the lights of the capital formed an orange dome swaddled in darkness.
Home.
“Almost there, buddy,” Carter spoke to his mount, Garth.
Into Carter’s thoughts, the dragon replied, “Righteous.” But there was weariness present in his tone.
Garth’s enthusiasm was diminished by the trip’s unexpected loss. Malek, along with his dragon Freddy, perished on the battlefield — one they had not even meant to participate in. Their visit to the warzone was only supposed to provide Carter a glimpse of the struggle raging on their borders. To see The General’s army in action.
Lord Garik’s forces sacked human and elven settlements alike, small cities and hamlets dotting the countryside. He was on the warmarch, inching closer to their doorstep. The mountain elves had yet to make an official declaration of war, but war was coming whether they prepared or not.
It was Carter’s preference they not stick their heads in the sand. He decided a proactive tack was best, hence their survey of Lord Garik’s destruction. It was only a brief trip, but one that ended in tragedy.
After weeks earning the trust of his dragonriders, Carter proposed a flight to the northern provinces. He measured the success of his efforts by their ardent assent. Despite murdering two of their already limited number, he found they were quick to accept their new leader. Carter chalked this up to the clarity of sobriety, which cut through their irradion haze once they kicked their habit.
Also, Carter looked good when held up against his shitty predecessor, though he never spoke ill of either Olix or Sed in their presence. He respected the bonds of their brotherhood, bad deeds aside.
Buoyed by their zeal and the fact they were the only force in the world with dragons, Carter kissed his women goodbye and took off for the north. It was a two day journey, during which they spent a night camping out in the mountains.
The time he put in learning their names and personalities paid off. While gathered around a fire, their dragons resting beside them, the riders told jokes and stories, laughed and drank and ate to excess. Carter was pleased to be both leader and brother, able to command while simultaneously cutting loose with these elves.
There was Eran, slim and nimble, a talented yet humble rider. He was first to accept Carter as their new leader and offered the king tips to endear the others to him. As such, he became Carter’s closest advisor on all matters dragonforce. Then there was Reth, youngest of the squadron, hard headed, overconfident, but who looked up to Carter like an older brother. Reth was short, but made up for his diminutive stature with bulging muscles. When Carter playfully diagnosed him with a Napoleon complex, of course none of the riders knew what he was talking about. Nevertheless, it earned Reth the nickname Napoleon, one he accepted with pride as it had been given him by the king.
Wellim was the most senior rider, an elf of thirty-five, the one stoic among the dozen. He often stood apart while the riders engaged in their boyish play. A scar drew a blood-red crescent from his left temple to the middle of his chin. Carter had yet to hear the story, but decided to let the aloof rider tell it in his own time. The elf’s wisdom and experience, however, were called upon regularly, which Wellim provided in his characteristic low voice.
These three formed Carter’s inner circle and when the dragonriders took flight, they could always be found nearest the king in formation. Such was the case when they soared above the razed farming villages. “Doesn’t bode well,” Wellim had said. When Carter inquired with his eyes, Wellim explained, “The General’s going after the food supply.”
“Does the capital not produce enough of its own?” Carter asked. “I mean, these lands don’t technically fall within our kingdom’s borders.”
“Perhaps not,” Wellim replied, “but their destruction will put a squeeze on the market. Your farmers will sell to traders offering much higher prices than our citizenry.”
An economic angle, thought Carter. Not one he would have anticipated. He chided himself for that failure. You have to think of everything now, he told himself. He made a mental note to discuss the supply issue with his trusted advisors when they returned.
“My Lord,” Eran called out to him. “We’ve spotted unburied victims in the rubble. The riders would appreciate it if you allowed us to honor the dead.”
And so they did, swooping down to land amidst the charred fields. They laid to rest the farmers who’d given their lives in a futile effort to protect their homesteads. It was a dour beginning to what would become a grim excursion.
By that afternoon, they came upon a battalion of Lord Garik’s army skirmishing with a ragtag troop of untrained elves. Among the elves were a smattering of humans, the two races forced by the threat of annihilation to join forces. Disorganized ranks met the disciplined line of Garik’s soldiers and broke apart. Units scattered, some attempting to flank the enemy, others fleeing the range of the enemy archers. None succeeded.
From their remove, the chaotic scene looked like warring colonies of ants to Carter and his dragonriders. But knowing it was a slaughter of elves down below, Carter sensed a palpable twinge of agony grip his men. Eran confirmed this when he brought his dragon, Terry, alongside Garth to say, “The riders feel uneasy about watching their fellow elves take such heavy losses.”
Carter gritted his teeth. His feelings aligned with the other riders, but he also had to keep in mind their strategic disadvantage. They hadn’t identified all their enemy’s weaponry, would be entering the battlefield without ground support, and lacked intel regarding possible reinforcements in the surrounding area.
But the longer he watched the elven militia and their human allies routed by Garik’s better equipped forces, the less he cared about any of that.
“Alright,” he said to Eran, “let’s move in.”
Twelve dragons descended like dark angels of retribution. A volley of arrows sailed towards them, each rider quick enough to either dodge or roast the wooden shafts midair. Their first pass decimated the enemy line, a third of its number erupting in flames. As Carter led the charge, he could hear the warcry of the elves they were saving, which brought a smile to his face.
But his expression quickly soured when he spied a second battalion cresting a hill to the north. Among its soldiers rolled a curious device, a wooden tower on wheels, drawn by a half-dozen oxen laboring under the whips of their masters. Carter didn’t know what it was, but he knew it spelled trouble.
“Take out that tower!” he shouted to his men.
But as they approached, something emerged from the peak of the tower. A glowing hunk of green crystal rose up on a platform from inside the structure, accompanied by a man in black armor. The unmistakable glow of irradion use beamed from his eyes. He pressed his hands against the crystal, which was twice his own height, and bowed.
The crystal began to throb with sickly green light.
Before Carter could command the riders to break away, a neon beam shot forth from the crystal with the speed and directness of a laser. It struck Perry in the chest, traveled through the dragon’s body, then swallowed Malek in its haunting glow. Carter watched in horror as Malek’s body disintegrated, turning first into a dim shadow then into nothing at all.
Perry went limp and tumbled through the air. He crashed into the side of the hill beneath the irradion weapon.
Carter led their retreat back to the mountains where they made camp for the night. The mood around the fire was more solemn this time, absent the jokes and stories and drink. They hardly even ate, overcome with grief and fear.
Carter spoke only with Wellim, who told him, “They aren’t used to losing. They’re shaken by the realization they aren’t invincible. But they’ll come around.”
Carter stared into the flames, watched their bright orange tongues dance in the darkness. “You all used to take that stuff. Irradion. Tell me, what did that feel like?”
Wellim sighed. “It makes you feel like a god. Any man charging into battle under the influence of irradion does so without fear.” He hung his head. “Makes you lose sight of right and wrong. You become like a goblin, seeking only pleasure and victory.”
Carter turned and watched the fire dancing in Wellim’s eyes, like an echo of memories the dragonrider longed to forget. Carter gripped Wellim’s shoulder and said, “We’ll rid the wo rld of both The General and the irradion scourge.”
Wellim looked back at him with a wan smile. “Or die trying.”
They broke camp before dawn the next morning and set off for home, but despite the early start still didn’t make it back until dark. As Carter approached the capital, eager for the embrace of his wife and girlfriend, he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d lost more than a dragon and its rider during their trip. He felt a hole in the center of his being, no larger than a pinhead, but exerting a terrific pull on his soul.
He touched down in the courtyard while the rest of the dragons flocked around him, some squeezing into the bailey, others perching on its wall. As he and his riders dismounted, the doors to his home swung open. Out poured Queen Seema and Priestess Linn, followed by a host of guards and staff.
Linn met him first, hurling her body into his arms. “I missed you!” she said, showering his face with a barrage of kisses.
Seema tittered, waiting for her turn. “Hey, he’s my husband.”
Linn relented, stepping aside for the queen to greet her husband. Seema wrapped her arms around his neck while he slipped his around her waist. Hoots and hollers rose up from the dragonriders as their king and queen kissed. Seema leaned her forehead against Carter’s and grinned. “Perhaps we should take this someplace more private,” she suggested.
Inching his hands down her back to the lovely swell of her buttocks, presently accentuated by a skin-tight silver dress worn especially for him, Carter whispered in reply, “That sounds like a good idea.”
Reth emerged from the huddle of riders to interrupt their necking. “My Lord, the boys and I wondered if you might join us tonight to toast the fallen.”
Seema’s face darkened. “Fallen?” she inquired.
Carter turned back to Reth. “Tonight, I must tend to my wife, but wherever you go, let the tender know your tab’s covered by the crown.”
Reth smiled, only slightly disappointed, then hustled back to the riders. As they departed, their dragons took flight, winging off into the night. As Carter whisked his ladies into their castle, Seema asked again, “Fallen?”
In the time it took them to reach their chambers, he explained the unfortunate turn of events, how they lost Malek and Freddy to a new, powerful weapon in Garik’s arsenal. Carter felt the pinprick hole in the center of him ache as he told the story, but its silver lining came in the form of Seema’s solicitous worry. The queen, historically concerned first with her kingdom before all else, now betrayed a reordering of priorities when she asked about Carter’s health.
In the weeks since Carter’s arrival in Terynos, he’d grown closer to his wife, whom he married before getting to know. They quickly made up for lost time, and he considered himself lucky that he not only found Seema beautiful, her sumptuous curves and lovely features bewitching him whenever he laid eyes on her, but also really fun. She was smart, witty, interesting.
All qualities she admitted to seeing in him, too.
Linn, insisting that prayer provided an intimate knowledge of Carter before his arrival, exhibited unwavering affection for the king and seemed always on the cusp of professing her love, but every time pulling back lest she find her love unrequited.
Carter did care deeply for the both of them, but he was still finding his feet in this new world. At the core of its people lay all the same qualities of Earthbound humanity, but that was where the similarities ended. No TV, no internet, no electricity. Instead, magic, dragons, potions and pointy ears. It was a lot to get used to while at the same time falling in love.
And to top it all off, his lessons with Naer ate up a solid portion of each day. Both himself and the High Priest of Sky Temple were pleased that he proved a quick learner in the magical arts, but there was still much left to cover. Every day he grew stronger though, in some moments surpassing his teacher. Carter began to read magic in the air, to feel its language threading the wind. Terynos was sodden with the stuff and the sooner he learned to wield it, the quicker he could make good on the promise of the world-hopper.
When they entered the bedroom, Carter saw their bed covered in winter rose petals, radiant silver and spotted blue. He grinned. “I thought it would be romantic,” said Linn, skipping over to the mattress. She stripped out of her priestly robes to reveal a silver thong whose string disappeared between her plump buttocks. There was nothing to cover her pert breasts.
Seema sauntered after her, crawling atop the bed in such a way that she gave Carter a peek of her wet sex. As she rolled playfully in the rose petals, she said, “Don’t you think it’s just the most luxurious thing?”
Carter smirked, stripping out of his clothes to join the elven girls in his bed. But as he strode towards them, something pricked his consciousness and gave him pause. Linn was first to notice, furrowing her brow as she inquired, “What is it?”
Turning toward the door, he replied distantly, “I don’t know.” But he felt something was askew, as though air was getting pulled into a silent vacuum. Danger. The word loomed in his thoughts.
“Stay back,” he told the ladies while holding his arms out toward the door, pulling magic into their orbit.
When the door swung open to reveal a servant on the other side, Carter initially felt foolish for expecting someone more sinister. The servant’s eyes cut at the king’s dangling johnson and Carter lowered his hands to cover it.
“Apologies for the disturbance, Your Grace,” said the servant.
But in his voice Carter sensed a familiar note of foreboding. He recalled a vision of undead hands reaching out for him. It took a moment to place, but when he remembered how he felt the same chilling shudder pass through him during his battle with Olix, he realized what it was.
Irradion.
Despite the emblem sewn into the breast of his uniform, a dragon soaring over mountains, this elf was no servant.
This was an assassin.
Chapter 2
* * *
Seconds slowed in Carter’s perception to minutes. In the first, he watched the assassin reveal a dagger previously hidden within his stolen uniform. Carter glanced sidelong at his own weapon, which he’d propped up against the bedside table before stripping down to his birthday suit. Out of reach.
By the end of this first second, he’d determined the king’s golden sword would not save him.
In the second second, he began formulating a plan. He was not given much time for its formulation, however, as the assassin charged forth with irradion-boosted speed. Carter’s eyes followed the blade as it cut through the air, thrust forward at his breast. As it closed the distance between its deadly tip and his thudding heart, Carter let instinct take the wheel.
His arms shot up and from his lips poured a profanity-laced spell that called forth magic to his aid. Carter felt it stream through his muscles like adrenaline, launch from his palms in a blinding orb of silver light.
Just as the assassin’s blade nicked the flesh above Carter’s left nipple, the magic cast him back through the open door into the hallway. His body slammed against the wall and collapsed.
The altercation took no more than three seconds total.
Wisps of smoke slithered away from the corpse. Nevertheless, Carter approached with caution, wary one final burst of energy might lend the killer strength enough to skewer him.
With a bare foot, he rolled the assassin onto his back. The front was charred. Crispy flesh peeled back to expose the blackened sinews underneath. The eyelids melted to his brow, leaving a wide-eyed What the fuck!? look. It was the hit man’s final moment of shock frozen on his face.
Or, more accurately, burnt onto his face.
“Your Grace!”
Carter looked up to see Taraen racing down the corridor with a half-dozen guards trailing him. Recalling his exposed state, Carter raised a just-a-moment finger to his bodyguard and dashed back into his bedroom. “Ladies,” he said, “you won’t often hear these words come out of my mouth, but put your breasts away, please.”
Seema and Linn were huddled together on the bed, breathless. As he dressed, Carter saw the exhilaration set in, the thrill of watching their man, naked, thwart an assassination attempt.
