Dragon Magus 1: A Progression Fantasy Saga Read online

  Dragon Magus 1

  DB King

  Copyright © 2021 by DB King

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

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  Contents

  Other Series by DB King

  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

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

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  Free progression Fantasy Novel!

  About the Author

  Other Series by DB King

  Kensei

  Dungeon of Evolution

  The Last Magus

  Shinobi Rising

  War Wizard

  Chapter 1

  A loud, strong wail echoed across the cavernous stone arches of the Crescent Moon Abbey’s chapel. Sister Amalia froze, dropping her broom. Her gaze snapped toward the main entrance. The enormous double wooden doors should have been closed after sunset. But they now stood open. A bag of tools gleamed beside the left door.

  There was something else there, too: a bundle.

  Sister Amalia edged forward through the dimly lit chapel. The bundle shifted, and she froze. A tiny hand thrust out from the bundle of rags.

  A baby? she thought. A baby! Another sharp wail shot through the Crescent Moon abbey.

  She knelt down and glanced out of the door. No sign of whoever had left him. She picked up the child and held it close. Bright blue eyes shone against dirt-smudged cheeks, returning her gaze. A small mouth opened and let loose another wail – one of indignation at being left alone, of a desire for warmth and comfort.

  Sister Amalia was a young nun, having taken her vows not two days after she’d turned eighteen. She knew very little about most things, but she knew almost nothing about babies. Amalia began to coo, hoping to comfort the baby, but its cries only continued to grow louder.

  “Sister!” a man’s voice rang down the hallway. “Is… Is that a baby?”

  Sighing with relief, Amalia turned to the man. “Koshi! I found this baby here, just now! Right beside your tools! Did you see who—”

  Koshi stepped into the candlelight. He was an old man, as craggy and ragged as Amalia was young and fresh. He wore a laborer’s tunic and trousers of roughly spun wool. A pronounced limp punctuated his every step. Koshi knuckled the gray-brown bristle under his chin and shook his head.

  “I stepped away for a moment,” he said. He walked up to Amalia and looked down at the baby. “Someone must have left this little one here while I was away.”

  Koshi wagged a dirty finger in the baby’s face, and the child clutched it.

  “Oh my!” Koshi chuckled. “We have a strong little one here.”

  “He’s… he’s stopped crying.” Amalia blinked. “I think he likes you, Koshi.”

  “Everyone likes me, Sister. But is it a ‘he’?” Koshi asked. “Well, let’s find out.”

  A quick glance confirmed Amalia’s guess that the baby was, indeed, a ‘he.’

  “Amalia! What’s going on? I thought I heard a child crying,” a woman’s voice called. Another nun strode into the chapel, carrying a bucket and mop in her hands.

  “Sister Superior Sofia!” Amalia bowed hastily and nodded at the bundle in her arms. “Someone left this little boy here. Neither of us saw who.”

  Sofia put down her bucket, leaned her mop against a pew, and walked over to Amalia. “Oh my. Whoever could have done something like that?”

  She cooed to the baby. He gurgled back.

  “He’s adorable!” Sofia said.

  ‘What should we do, Sister Superior?” Amalia asked.

  Sofia sighed and smoothed out her wimple. “It’s not the first time the Crescent Moon Abbey has taken in foundlings. There are orphans aplenty in these troubled times. We can only be one of the places where they are fortunate to wash up at.”

  “Will you take him in, then, Sisters?” Koshi asked.

  The older nun grunted as she took the baby from Amalia. “Yes. I will inform the High Abbess in the morning, and he will be placed among the orphans we care for. In the meantime, we have to find him a wet nurse. Amalia, could you have a word with Mrs. Balotelli? Her house is not far. It’s...”

  “I know where it is, Sister Superior.” Amalia bowed and walked out of the chapel. The dark tones of her robed and wimpled form disappeared into the night.

  “It’s sad for a child to be abandoned like this,” Koshi said, sighing, “but it’s a relief that you are there for him, Sister.”

  “We are sworn to provide what succor we can to those who suffer, Koshi.” Sofia glanced at the chapel doors. “Your work is done, then?”

  “Yes, it is. I just have to gather your tools and return them to the chapel’s storeroom.”

  “Thank you. The Abbey truly appreciates all the times you’ve helped us.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Sister. You and the other Sisters have helped so many people, saved so many lives. I only wish I could do more.” Koshi tapped his thigh gently. “And I would, if not for my bad legs.”

  “A hero’s injury, taken in defense of others.” Sofia clutched the baby closer with one hand and patted Koshi on the shoulder. “You deserve better, good man, you really do. It’s a disgrace how you’ve been treated.”

  “Ah, it’s all in the past, now.” Koshi waved at the baby, who gurgled happily in response and reached for him with tiny hands.

  “The child needs a wash,” Sofia declared. “I hate to ask this of you, Koshi, since it’s already so late, but would you carry that bucket to the fireplace beside the confessional? I’m sure Father Cosimo won’t mind us using his basin to heat up some soapy water.”

  “Of course, Sister.” Koshi picked the bucket up with a grunt and followed the nun.

  There was a small wooden table by the fireplace, laden with Father Cosimo’s notes and books. Koshi gathered and stacked them neatly on a wooden pew, clearing the space for Sofia to lay out some cleaning rags Sister Amalia had le
ft in the chapel.

  Sofia emptied her bucket of soapy water into Father Cosimo’s baptismal copper basin and set it near the fireplace to heat up.

  “Are you still staying in that old shed on the city outskirts, Koshi?” Sofia asked.

  “Yes, Sister.” Koshi pulled his hands from his face and waggled his tongue at the baby. The child gurgled in delight and reached for him. Koshi let the baby hold on to his fingers.

  “That must be lonely. Why don’t you stay with the Abbey’s commune? We have several rooms available, and if you’re worried about earning your keep, you’re more than capable of doing so, with how handy you’ve proven yourself to be.”

  It wasn’t the first time the Sisters had made that invitation, and each time, Koshi had to fight off the temptation. Human warmth, community, smiles and conversations: he’d allowed himself small doses of such things every time he attended the services or helped out with small repairs at the Abbey.

  But it was too dangerous. They might find him before his time was up, and if they did, everyone around him would suffer. That’s why he lived where he did, beside the garbage dump, where no other living soul would choose to dwell.

  Sometimes, in his most guilt-wracked moments, he wondered if even the occasional human contact he allowed himself was too risky. By all rights, he should have never come here, never gotten close to human dwellings, never attended that first service in the Crescent Moon Abbey.

  Koshi hated many things about himself, but he hated his selfish need to be close to humanity the most. He forced a smile onto his face. “I will give it some thought, Sister. By the way, did you hear about Mr. Ferri’s most recent success with his rhubarb patch?”

  Sofia chuckled. “Typical. Say you’ll consider it and then change the subject.” She shook her head, smiling softly. “I’ll say no more about you joining the commune. For now.”

  Koshi bowed to the Sister. “I think the water’s warm enough, now.”

  “Good. Bring the baby here.”

  The child would have burst out into tears as Sofia toweled him down if Koshi had not kept up a barrage of funny faces.

  “What’s his name going to be, Sister?”

  “That’s a good question. I haven’t given it much thought yet. This has all been so sudden, you see.” Sofia washed the rag she’d been using in the basin, wrung it out, and resumed her work, this time clearing out the grime from the baby’s legs and feet. She smiled at Koshi.

  “Perhaps you should name him,” she said.

  “What? No, I could never presume to…”

  “The two of you seem to be getting along famously already. I can just about see the two of you, years from now, keeping the Abbey in tiptop shape.”

  Koshi didn’t want to mention he didn’t know how many years he did have left, so he just focused on keeping his forced smile on his face. “Begging your pardon, Sister, but naming a child is holy work, only for parents, and failing them, well, it falls to you and your Sisters.”

  “That is true, Koshi. You have been paying attention to Father Cosimo’s sermons.”

  “Every word, Sister. Every word.”

  Sofia washed and wrung out her rag again. Holding the baby’s chest up in one hand, she angled his body so she could reach his back. She hummed as she wiped away the grime at his ears, but her voice cut off into a strangled gasp as her rag made its way down his back.

  “Is something wrong, Sister?” Koshi asked, coming closer.

  “This… this…” Sofia made a few more tentative wipes with her rag. Her eyes grew wider, and her breathing became ragged.

  And then Koshi saw it too. He couldn’t believe his eyes. At the center of the baby’s back, there was a golden triangle, pointing downward, open at its base. The triangle was accompanied by four golden lines, two reaching upwards from its heart, the other two running parallel to its sides.

  A Dragon Sigil. Koshi clutched the side of the table to steady himself.

  Sofia’s reaction was far more extreme. She shrieked in abject horror and let go of the baby. Koshi caught him before he could fall more than an inch.

  “Sister! What...” But he knew why the nun was reacting like this, why she was backing away, clutching the sides of her face. He knew why tears of horror had begun to brim in the corner of her eyes.

  Sofia turned and ran. Her slippered footsteps echoed throughout the chapel. As she disappeared from view, Koshi steadied his own breathing and calmed the frantic hammering of his heart. He looked down at the child he held in his arms.

  “Praise Namakhut!” His first tribute in decades to the God of Dragons escaped his lips as a fierce whisper. He knew now what he had to do, what lay ahead for him in the remaining years of his life. Koshi wiped the baby dry, wrapped him in rags, and held him close as he hobbled out of the chapel.

  He cast one last look at the chapel and the nearby Abbey as he hastened from its grounds. The Sisters’ dormitory was several minutes’ away on foot, and it would take even more time for Sofia to raise the others and bring them here. Koshi and the baby would be long gone by then.

  And he could never return again, not with the responsibility he now bore. He said his mental goodbyes as he walked down the dirt path leading away from the Abbey and into the city.

  The baby began crying again.

  “Oh, right.” Koshi nodded. Didn’t Amalia go to fetch Mrs. Balotelli? The Balotelli household wasn’t far away, and the baby could definitely use a wet nurse right now. The money the Sisters had paid him for repairing the chapel doors would be more than sufficient for her services.

  Another thought struck him as he made his way there: the child still didn’t have a name, yet. Koshi smiled. When he’d been walking out of the chapel, he’d passed by a weathered stone statue of the Archangel Raphael, Healer and Guardian of the suffering and afflicted.

  There could be no more suitable name.

  He stroked the baby’s brow and rocked him gently. “Now, now dear Raphael. Let’s find you some food, shall we?”

  * * *

  Other children had a papa and a mama, but Raphael had only ever had Koshi. He was never unhappy, though. They wore clothes that weren’t always clean and had many patches, and they lived in a small house with zinc walls and funny smells. The rain came in through the holes in the roof sometimes, and they didn’t always have enough to eat. Still, they had a gigantic playground, bigger than the eye could see and stretching past the place where the sun went down. Some of the other children at school called it a “junkyard” or a “rubbish dump,” and Raphael supposed that they thought his playground wasn’t a nice place.

  They were wrong, of course. When Koshi took Raphael by the hand, and they walked through the playground hand-in-hand, he never knew what they would find. Every corner was an adventure, and every moment brought excitement. Would Koshi find something he could bring to the marketplace and exchange for apples? Or maybe there was a treasure they would bring home for Koshi to fix, like the brass lamp above their beds of old straw. Sure, sometimes, they would run into something scary that had lots of teeth and smelled bad, but Koshi was always there to beat it up and make it run away.

  One morning, Koshi lit a candle and sang him his sixth birthday song. As the first rays of sunlight danced through the spaces between the walls of their house, and Koshi settled down to start his work, Raphael began putting away their bowls back onto their kitchen shelf. He was almost done when he noticed something.

  “There is a light on top of your head, Koshi,” Raphael said. He didn’t know why he hadn’t seen it before, but there it was, white and shiny, floating just above Koshi’s head as the old man sat at the table.

  Koshi gave him a strange look, then, and turned away from the clock he’d been repairing.

  “A light on top of my head?” he asked. Tell me what it looks like, little Raph.”

  “Small and round. It’s not touching your head, but I still feel like it’s coming out of you.”

  A big smile spread across Koshi’s face,
squeezing the grease stains across his cheeks into funny patterns. When he spoke again, his voice was low, almost like a whisper. “Yes, yes. That’s just it. Now, do you think you can make something like that appear on top of your head, too?”

  Raphael gave Koshi a sideways look, but he shrugged and nodded. Why couldn’t he? In school, they said that children are like their papas and their mamas. So why wouldn’t Raphael be just like Koshi?

  So he did it. A small ball of white light popped out above Raphael’s head. He couldn’t quite look at it directly, but he could feel it, and he could see Koshi take a deep breath and widen his eyes.

  “The Dragon Meridian! It took me a hundred years of cultivation to open it, but you…” Koshi cleared his throat and looked at Raphael. His smile grew even bigger. “This is wonderful, little Raph! Just wonderful!”

  “Hurray!” Raphael raised his hands and cheered. He wasn’t exactly sure why Koshi was so happy, but if Koshi was happy, so was he.

  The light above Raphael’s head went off, though. He blinked, shook his head, and turned it on again.

  “I have to keep thinking about it to keep the light on,” he told Koshi.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “It actually… makes me feel tired. Like I’m running. I don’t think I can keep the light on all the time,” Raphael said.

  “Well, you know how the more you run, the faster you become and the longer you can run?” Koshi chuckled. “It’s the same thing.”

  “But running is fun! I run when I play.” Raphael frowned. “What’s keeping the light on good for?”

  With a big grin on his face, Koshi reached into a small cloth bag underneath the metal table he worked at and pulled out a bunch of small ball bearings.

  “Let the light go out, little Raph,” he instructed.

  Raphael shrugged and obeyed, with a sigh of relief. Keeping the light on was getting tiring.