Path of the dragon mage.., p.1
Path of The Dragon Mage: Exiled: A LitRPG Fantasy, page 1
Path of The Dragon Mage
Exiled
S.G. Seabourne
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 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
20. Interlude
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Afterword
Chapter One
“Corvus, stop your fidgeting immediately,” his father snapped.
Instantly, Corvus stilled his fingers which had been tapping against his thigh. He hadn’t realized he had been moving them.
It was just so hard to sit politely still. He had been born in the palace, but this was the first time he had been officially invited to greet the king, his grandfather. Sitting in the royal antechamber, his mind buzzed with questions.
What would the king be like? Would he like him? More importantly, would Corvus have to pass a test to receive his dragon egg? Or would turning ten years old be enough?
He had been waiting and waiting and waiting for this day as long as he could remember.
The dragon egg — his own special egg — was somewhere past the massive stone door. Where, exactly, he didn’t know. He wasn’t told, and from experience, he knew he wouldn’t be allowed to ask.
All he knew was once he picked it out, it would be his forever.
Corvus just knew he would be the first in hundreds of years to hatch a dragon. Then, he would be the next king for sure and—
“Corvus.” Father rested his hand on the back of his neck and squeezed, hard. Corvus had been shifting back and forth in his excitement.
This, he knew, was his father’s final warning. The next would be a sharp slap across his face.
Corvus cringed with a muttered, “Sorry.”
“Cipherus, he is only a child,” his mother, Vesper, said in a long-suffering tone. “Children fidget.”
“He is a prince, and he will conduct himself like one.” His father’s cold, gray gaze regarded Corvus with disfavor. “I already have to put up with his laziness and his inability to manifest a single magical talent. I will not have him misbehave in front of the king as well.”
“I won’t,” Corvus said. “I’ll be good. I promise.” He took a breath, but the question exploded out before he could stop himself. “Will it be much longer?”
This earned another disapproving glare from his father. “Young princes do not ask silly questions, either.”
Corvus winced, gaze dropping to his shoes. Why couldn’t he do anything right?
“Honestly,” Vesper said. “How can you expect the child to manifest any magic with you criticizing him at every turn?” She looped her arm around Corvus's shoulders in a show of support. When he was a little kid, Corvus would have taken comfort in that. Now that he was older — ten years old today, an entire decade! — he knew better.
Sure enough, his mother continued. “If I were in his shoes, I would be reluctant to show whatever talents I had, too. You would only tear him down.”
“So it is not ignorance and laziness, but spite,” his father replied smoothly. “He does take after his mother.”
Corvus focused on a spot on the floor between his shoes and tuned out his parent’s increasingly vicious bickering. Eventually, their voices became a buzzing in his ears.
He had a lot of practice.
Instead, he tried to reorder everything he had ever heard or read about dragons, snatched in between his tutor’s math and history lessons. The last dragon was hatched to the royal family generations ago, so there was a lot of hearsay, but all the books and scrolls seemed to agree: There was no one way to hatch a dragon egg.
Too bad no one ever bothered to write down how one managed to do it.
There was no warning. The wall that separated the antechamber to the royal receiving room simply melted away as if the stones were made of soft wax. The stonework, marble, and the golden filigree puddled to the floor like liquid and ran in rivulets to drainage troughs set against the wall. It would renew to a solid wall again at the king’s command.
It was a spectacular display of power, and yet was a fraction of what King Orphus was truly capable of.
Corvus couldn’t wait until he could wield magic like that. If his talents were of fire and earth, like the king, he promised he would work night and day to be his equal.
I'm not lazy. I can be a good son and a good king. If only I can manifest my magic…
A guard dressed in the livery of the king’s vanguard stood where the wall had once been. He inclined his head to the three of them. “King Orphus bids you to enter.”
Corvus jumped to his feet and took two quick steps before he flinched, remembering himself. He cast a look back at his father.
Cipherus glowered and pointed back to his own side.
“Yes, sir.” Corvus returned to his place. Thankfully, he was not slapped for his impudence. His father usually didn’t discipline him in front of other people.
Together, he and his parents properly stepped past the barrier — which indeed reformed back into solid stone behind them.
The palace receiving room was made of cold white marble and gray slate, gilded in gold edging. Corvus’s tutors had explained that the magic embedded within the walls took on a facet of whomever currently held the throne. Kings and queens whose Talents favored Air would have large windows overlooking the sky, those whose affinities leaned to Water had fountains (and, it was said, poisons) weaving miniature streams through the stonework.
The last ruler to hatch a dragon had a Talent of wood, and it was said the paintings of Queen’s Yira's woodworked throne did not do it justice.
Currently, this receiving room was as stark and severe as the man who led the kingdom.
King Orphus sat upon a heavy silver and gold throne at the other end of the hall. Corvus longed to look at the man but had been drilled enough times in palace etiquette to keep his eyes respectfully down.
The air was cold as if they were walking into the dead heart of a stone. His and his parent’s footsteps echoed over and over against the bare walls.
No one could ever sneak up on the king in here, Corvus thought.
When his father and mother stopped exactly twenty paces from the throne, so did he. His parents sank to their knees in a regal, practiced motion. Corvus’s legs were unsteady with nerves. He more or less fell into a kneeling position.
Then, eyes still downcast, they all held their palms up and out. It was a gesture of supplication and to show that they carried no weapons.
Not that Father or Mother would sink to needing weapons to defend themselves. They had their magical talents for that.
There was a long wait. Corvus could practically feel the king’s eyes upon him, and it was hard not to look up.
Finally, Orphus's single command rang out in the echoing room. “Rise.”
Corvus scrambled to his feet. Now that the moment had finally arrived, he wasn’t sure if he was more excited or scared. Only that his fingers felt like they were vibrating.
He allowed himself to look up at his grandfather.
They lived in the same palace, though in different wings. The king was such a busy and important man. Corvus had only seen him when he'd stood as part of a crowd, listening to Orphus officiating high festivals. He had never spoken directly to his own grandfather before.
When Mother was trying to curry favor, she often said that Corvus was the king in miniature. King Orphus’s hair was no longer black, but salty gray. However, they had similar long faces, and his grandfather’s eyes were the exact shade of colorless silver that Corvus saw when he looked in the mirror.
“Your grace.” Father’s hand fell across Corvus’s narrow shoulders, a warmer gesture than he ever allowed in private. “May I present to you my first, and so far only, son.” There was a slight pause as he gave a significant glance towards Mother, though Corvus did not know why. “Today Prince Corvus has reached his tenth year. Although he is young and untested, his tutors praise his scholarship and dedication.”
“And they say nothing of his magical talents, I’m sure,” the king replied in a voice as chill as the air. “Well, then. Approach the throne, Grandson.”
&nbs p; Corvus glanced at his father and received a nod of permission along with a tiny shove to get moving. He stumbled forward but quickly collected himself and stepped forward to the foot of the throne.
The king watched him without comment, and Corvus thought it was only right to stare back. If the king found this rude, he did not say so. He simply snorted and sat back in his chair.
“Well, well. Ten years old today. You are nearly a man.”
He said it mockingly, but Corvus wasn’t quite sure what the joke was. Best to answer, anyway.
“Yes, sire.” Then he added, just to make sure the event wasn’t forgotten, “I promise I’ll take the very best care of my dragon egg.”
Another snort. “I doubt it will matter whether you do or don’t.” Before Corvus could puzzle that out, the king continued, “Ten is the most sacred of the magical numbers, you know.”
“Why is that?” he blurted without thinking.
Mother made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a squeak. Realizing his error, Corvus dropped his gaze down to the floor.
There was silence. Then, “Excuse me?”
He was in for it now. Might as well explain himself and hope the king only thought he was an idiot and not a disrespectful idiot. “You said ten is the most sacred and magical number. I was wondering why that could be when magic comes from the four elemental disciplines.”
To his surprise, the king barked out a short laugh. “I heard you like to ask questions.”
Only because no one will tell me anything if I don’t. “I do, Your Majesty.”
Orphus hummed. “Ten years marks a turning point within our kingdom. You are no longer a child. Now you are in training to become a young man. That means you are old enough to accept responsibilities.”
That was not an answer at all. The king had neatly sidestepped his question. Did he not know, or did he think that Corvus wouldn’t understand because he hadn’t manifested any magic yet? Before he could decide if he should ask, the king spoke again.
“Do you know what I mean by responsibilities, Prince Corvus?”
“I… I think so, sire.”
“No, you don’t.” Orphus leaned forward. “It means that from this point forward you will be held accountable for your own decisions. These, in turn, will carry forward to the rest of your life. The first is which dragon egg you should choose.”
Corvus still wasn’t completely sure what the king was driving at, but he liked the idea of choosing a dragon egg very much. He nodded eagerly.
“Still… ten years old and you have already been shown good court protocol. Much better than I had expected, judging by some reports. For this, I shall grant you a boon.”
“A… boon, Majesty?”
“A gift. It is your birthday, after all. What would you like, Corvus? A horse of your own, perhaps? An hour’s break from your studies every day? A rare book?”
Corvus opened his mouth to answer that he dearly wanted a horse — he'd never been allowed to so much as visit the stables, though he'd begged for the privilege when he was younger — but then pinched his lips shut again. Why request a horse when he could someday ride a dragon?
Besides, this had the flavor of one of his father’s games. The ones where he would present Corvus with three choices as a test, then criticize him on whichever he chose. For example, if Corvus picked the hour’s break from studies, it would prove he was lazy. To choose the book would mean he was more studious than magically adept, which was an insult to the royal line. Corvus wasn’t sure what failing selecting the horse was meant to prove, but it had to be something.
It was always something.
And the king is my father’s father, he thought, wondering if he had played the same game with his own son.
Corvus caught his fingers twisting together in anxiety and forcefully stopped himself. He was fidgeting again despite being told not to twice. Why couldn’t he do anything right?
The silence in the room was deafening. They were all waiting for him to choose, and choose correctly. But which one? He could practically feel his father’s angry gaze burn into the back of his head. That gave him an idea.
“Your offer is generous, my king,” Corvus said slowly, feeling out the words as they came to him. “The only boon I would ask is to be allowed to choose my dragon egg alone.”
His mother’s gasp made him cringe, but it was the king’s sudden attention, sharp as any sword, that frightened him.
“Alone? Why?” Orphus asked.
The die was cast, as he’d heard his aunt say. It was too late to take his words back. Father would express his displeasure later, but this was more important than a beating.
“Because if I can hatch a dragon, I will be the next king — the most important king in centuries. That’s what all of the palace seers say.”
“Yes,” the king agreed. “But no one has managed to hatch their dragon egg in generations, myself included. What makes you think you can? You have shown no magical talents at all.”
Corvus bit his lip, caught himself, and then lifted his chin to face his grandfather squarely. Father would have already hit him by now, and Mother would have started weeping and carrying on about his betrayal. Grandfather, though, watched him as if he were a particularly interesting bug.
He's trying to decide if I'm worth squishing or not.
“I—I’m not sure, but my decision today will be important. You said I’m almost grown-up, so I think it’s wise to make my own choices without” — the word criticism flashed in and out of his mind —“influence.”
His mother’s voice hissed directly in his ear. “How could you say such a thing? How can you do this to me? Take your request back at once!”
From his father and the king’s total non-reaction, they had not heard her. She’d aimed her whisper at him alone.
It was a use of her magical Talent of Air which allowed her to speak to anyone within the same room without others overhearing.
But that proved Corvus’s point. He could imagine himself trying to choose among the eggs with his mother hissing advice at every step and bent under the weight of his father’s constant disapproval. He pinched his lips together.
No, he would not take the request back.
The king rose stiffly from his seat. “Is this truly what you wish?”
“It is, Your Grace.”
Again, his mother's voice hissed in his ear. “You selfish, selfish boy! How can you take this moment from me?”
Either her second current of air was badly aimed, or she had been incautious, because the king’s heavy brows knit together.
“He has made his decision. I find that independence is a fine quality in a young man.”
Corvus wasn’t sure, but that might have been praise.
“So be it.” The king turned with one clawed hand pointed downward. His silver eyes were half-lidded in concentration. He then twisted his hand as if opening an invisible jam jar.
The tiles inlaid in the marble floor parted to reveal a stone staircase that went down. Hot air smelling of dust rushed out.
The king waved it away with a delicate gesture. Instantly, the scent dissipated. The king’s third magical Talent was air, though Corvus had heard it was the weakest. It was still more than Corvus could manage with any of the four disciplines of Fire, Air, Water, and Earth.
Orphus raised his voice. “Guards, clear this room. I will witness Corvus’s choosing, and no one else.”
The guards posted at the four corners of the room stepped forward to usher his parents out. His father left with stately dignity, though his mother made a point of stomping.
Corvus winced. Normally, he looked to his mother to shield him from the worst of his father's anger, but she was sure to hold this against him for weeks. His only hope was to choose a good egg and hatch it quickly.
