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  Masters & Slayers

  TALES OF STARLIGHT SERIES

  Bryan Davis

  Masters & Slayers

  Volume 1 in the Tales of Starlight™ series

  Copyright © 2010 by Bryan Davis

  Published by Living Ink Books, an imprint of AMG Publishers, Inc.

  6815 Shallowford Rd.

  Chattanooga, Tennessee 37421

  All rights reserved. Except for brief quotations in printed reviews, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means (printed, writ- ten, photocopied, visual electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Print ISBN: 978-0-89957-884-2

  ePub ISBN: 978-1-61715-115-6

  Mobi ISBN: 978-1-61715-179-8

  First Printing—August 2010

  TALES OF STARLIGHT is a trademark of AMG Publishers, Inc.

  Cover designed by Daryle Beam at Bright Boy Design, Chattanooga, TN.

  Interior design and typesetting by Reider Publishing Services, West Hollywood, California.

  Edited and proofread by Susie Davis, Sharon Neal, and Rick Steele.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Masters & Slayers, published by AMG/Living Ink, is the first book in Tales of Starlight, a series for adults that acts as a companion series to Dragons of Starlight, a series for young adults published by Zondervan.

  How to Read the Series:

  You can fully enjoy the Tales of Starlight series without reading the companion series, Dragons of Starlight. If you read both series, however, you will enjoy a fuller understanding of the story world.

  If you intend to read both series, here is my suggested reading order:

  1. Starlighter (Dragons of Starlight book #1)

  2. Masters & Slayers (Tales of Starlight book #1)

  3. Warrior (Dragons of Starlight book #2)

  4. The Third Starlighter (Tales of Starlight book #2)

  5. Dragons of Starlight book #3 (Untitled at this time)

  6. Dragons of Starlight book #4 (Untitled at this time)

  You may switch the reading order for entries 1 and 2 on the above list without any problem, and you may also switch the order for entries 4 and 5.

  Parents’ Guide:

  Although Masters & Slayers is designed for adults, it can be read by teenagers, especially those who have enjoyed Starlighter, the first book in the Dragons of Starlight series. The adult designation is due to the fact that the story follows the adventures of adult characters instead of teenagers.

  The good-versus-evil violence in this book is similar to that of the young adult series, except for a few more graphic events, such as the fiery execution of a boy and the severing of a murder victim’s fingers. There are no sexual scenes, but the breeding of humans by order of the slave-master dragons is mentioned. This practice takes place “off-screen” and is not described, though one character explains his dilemma when faced with an order to participate. There is no profanity or sexually provocative language.

  CONTENTS

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  ONE

  NEVER make a woman bleed, my son.

  Adrian stood at his corner of the tourney ring, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword as he listened to silent echoes of his father’s words.

  If you draw your sword against those you were born to protect, the very ones who trust in your strength, how will you convince them that you are a shield when the dragons come to take them away?

  When the dragons come, Adrian repeated in his mind. If those beasts ever returned, they wouldn’t find easy prey this time. No humans would be dragged away to slavery again, not if he could help it.

  He lifted Spirit and looked at the sharp point. As usual, the tournament officials had attached a stab guard at the end of the blade to prevent puncture wounds deeper than a half inch. Still, that was deep enough. These blood matches were more than mere displays of competitive showmanship; they were tests of courage in the face of real bloodletting.

  He shook his head. The stab guard mattered nothing. No battle courage would be tested in this match, and no blood would be spilled. The only showmanship might be how his opponent would react to the decision he had already made.

  At the other side of the ring, Marcelle stepped across the fighting boundary, her confident stride combining with her athletic lines to draw the usual gaping stares from men young and old. Tucked into her form-fitting gray trousers, she wore a loose, high-necked white tunic with a red dragon emblazoned over her chest. The dragon’s mouth was wide open, and a sword protruded from its belly—a conquered beast, perfectly appropriate for this warrior.

  Since her previous match had ended only moments ago, sweat discolored her chest and armpits, and a spot of blood stained one shoulder, her opponent’s blood no doubt. Still, her slender, petite frame would have made ignorant men laugh. A woman! And a scrawny one at that!

  Adrian knew better. Anyone who doubted Marcelle’s skills would soon be skewered, his own blood marking her garment as a symbol of another conquered foe. Yes, she was a formidable woman indeed. She had won her earlier matches against men twice her weight. Ever since she turned twenty-one about three years earlier, every tournament swordsman in the region had learned a simple truth—no one laughs at Marcelle.

  She looked his way, her shoulders not quite as square now and her dark eyes lacking their usual fire. With her auburn hair tied back in a ponytail, the hint of sweat on her brow was obvious. She lifted her elegant rapier. The hilt’s ornate hand guard revealed her position in society, the highbrow nobility, a caste represented by half the audience—the well-dressed, perfumed half, separated from the peasants by an invisible wall that divided the amphitheater.

  Adrian let his gaze drift around the circle of onlookers. The break between the classes was obvious—browns and grays changing over to purples and scarlets, and mops of labor-scattered hair shifting to velvet hats adorned with feathers and silk. The day’s cooler weather prompted the ladies to don their autumn finery, embellished with the aroma of the season’s flowers, another stark contrast with the poorer class, those who enriched the air with leather and lye soap.

  While eyeing Adrian, Marcelle ran her fingers across the dragon emblem, as if smoothing out her tunic. Her gesture transmitted a message. As a secret believer in the ongoing human enslavement on Dracon, the legendary dragon planet, she desperately wanted to search for the portal to that world, and she would do anything to procure the assignment. Even wearing this draconic vesture would bring punishment to a peasant, but as a noblewoman who claimed that the design mocked the silly tale, she could get away with it. She often tiptoed on the edge of safety while exercising just enough caution to stay out of trouble.

  As the buzz from the crowd grew, any thought that Marcelle was less than battle-focused vanished as her fingers flexed around her sword hilt. She was ready, more than ready.

  Adrian suppressed an emerging smirk. Did she really think this contest would end any differently than the previous three times they had met in tournaments? Of course, she didn’t know if she could really win. Even when they were eight years old and battled using tree branches, both weapons broke, and they fell on their backsides. He had laughed. S
he was furious and let him know it with a barrage of oaths, promising to cut out his heart and feed it to her cat, though the twinkle in her eye never allowed him to believe a word she had said.

  “Your swords,” the referee said in detached monotone.

  Adrian approached the center of the ring and handed his sword to the tall, middle-aged official, and Marcelle did the same, again training her stare on Adrian.

  “To your corners.” While the referee examined the stab guards, Adrian backed away. Marcelle withdrew a few steps, her gaze still riveted on him.

  “Shall I say it for you this time?” she asked, loud enough for everyone to hear.

  Adrian squinted at her. “Say what?”

  With a sparkle in her eyes, she swept an arm in front of her waist, bowed, and spoke in a sarcastic tone. “In honor of the lady’s expertise, I surrender.”

  As laughter erupted from the nobility section, heat surged into Adrian’s cheeks. Marcelle’s mimicry was all too calculated. Obviously she had practiced both the bow and the cadence of speech, but her sarcasm carried more than its usual bite.

  His ears burning as the laughter grew, Adrian bowed in return. “Let it be as you have spoken.”

  When he rose, Adrian looked beyond Marcelle into the peasants’ half of the crowd. His father sat stoically, while his mother covered her face with her hands. Next to her, his younger brother Jason ran tight fingers through his tawny hair, obviously angry at yet another forfeit to Marcelle.

  Adrian retrieved his sword from the referee and stalked toward his family, glancing at Marcelle as he drew near her. She caught his gaze and offered a disarming smile. “I was stupid,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  “Tell it to the crowd. Then I’ll believe you.” Adrian hurried across the grass separating the ring from the amphitheater’s steps. As he climbed to his family’s row, he tried to ignore the glares and whispers, but they pressed in on him like a vise. One remark rose above the others, obviously intentionally louder.

  “Adrian Masters, master of cowards.”

  Then a whispered answer from nearby reached Adrian’s ears. “Just like his father.”

  Adrian stopped. Firming his lips, he stared at the ground. Don’t even look at them. They’re not worth the trouble.

  After exhaling slowly, he continued until he reached the ninth row. He found two empty spaces next to his father and sat at his side. “Where are Mother and Jason?”

  His father breathed in, filling his barrel-chested frame. As a cool breeze fanned thin gray hair across his weathered scalp, he replied in a resigned tone. “Your brother is preparing for his match with Randall, and your mother went with him. She was … well … rather despondent.”

  “I see.” Adrian looked at the tourney ring. Governor Prescott placed a laurel crown on Marcelle’s head while the crowd on the opposite side cheered. Jason’s bout was next on the schedule, the finals for the older teens, the only other division allowed to compete in a blood match. Because of the quick forfeit, plenty of time remained before that contest, so Jason and his mother hadn’t departed because of the schedule.

  “My son,” his father said. “I see the torment in your eyes. Resist fretting over this. Rare is the man these days who understands chivalry. Be content that your sword will never be used—”

  “I know. I know.” Adrian propped his elbows on his knees and glared at the grass around his shoes. “I was born to use my sword in defense of women and children.” He raised his head and looked into his father’s gray eyes. This veteran of wars understood the tragedy of bloodshed, the reality of danger, and the duty to keep the innocent out of harm’s way. After another humiliation in front of both nobles and peasants, maybe it was time to ask again.

  “Father, I intend to make such a defense. You know I’m going tonight with or without your approval, so I was hoping—”

  “For a blessing?” he asked, lifting his bushy eyebrows.

  “Yes.” Adrian lowered his voice to a whisper. “Tonight is the appointed time, so I cannot wait any longer.”

  His father leaned closer. “Why you, my son? An old man can take only so much grief. After losing Frederick—”

  “But Frederick might still be alive! And the brotherhood believes that I am the most qualified for the mission. If I can find the portal before we complete the deal with the dragons, I will be in position to enter their world even if they renege on their part of the bargain.”

  “Mistrust is appropriate,” his father said, nodding. “Any beast that would kidnap and enslave our people cannot have integrity.”

  Adrian folded his hands and stared at his intertwined fingers. “True, and if mistrust were the only consideration, then another warrior could go in my stead. But it’s not that simple. I see attempts at faithfulness on the part of this dragon that no one else perceives.”

  Laughing, his father gave him a loving shove but kept his voice low. “Are you saying that you have met this beast? We’re thankful you didn’t invite him home to dinner.”

  Adrian grinned. “I’ve never seen him, but I have read his messages. Apparently he leaves them close to a willow tree near Miller’s Creek, the same place we found Frederick’s hat. He warns us that the portal is elsewhere, and he will reveal its location after we deliver the extane tank. He will trust us to deliver more gas later.”

  “Such trust indicates a faithful negotiator. Perhaps he is conflicted for some reason.”

  “Exactly my point,” Adrian said. “I hope to talk to him when he comes into our world tonight and learn more about him. I’m wondering if …” He paused. What word would fit his thought?

  “He is a rogue dragon?” his father suggested.

  Adrian pointed a finger. “Yes, that’s it. He is promising only access to his world, not a trade for our people.”

  “Because he is not in a position to offer them.” His father took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And you’re concerned that you’re the only one who would treat this dragon with the respect he might deserve, depending, of course, on what you learn about his character.”

  “You know me well, Father.” Adrian looked away and gazed at a little girl, maybe eight years old, sitting two rows ahead. Wearing a ragged sun bonnet and a work smock that revealed a neck bronzed by the sun, she slid closer to her older brother, a lad of about ten years. Her brother laid an arm over her shoulders, and the two leaned their heads together. The image of brother-sister love was beautiful indeed.

  “The dragon’s message,” Adrian continued, “said that human children are being brutalized there, and since he demands extane in trade for our passage, I cannot but wonder at his motivations. If he has integrity and cares at all about the children, he would welcome our transport without any payment.”

  “True, son. Wariness is called for.”

  Adrian looked at his father, who was now staring straight ahead, as if in a dream. “Does that mean I have your blessing?” Adrian asked.

  With a tear sparkling in his eye, he turned and set a hand on Adrian’s shoulder. “Only if you swear to return. As you know, the people here can ill afford to lose another man of wisdom. It is a rare quality in Mesolantrum.”

  Adrian shook his head. “You ask too much. I cannot swear what I cannot control. But if you will give me your blessing, I trust that my path back to your home will be straighter than if I go without it.”

  “And will you go without it?”

  “Only as a man who is dragged by chains. I must go. I have no choice. I am compelled by unseen forces I must obey, but I would rather march into battle unhindered by the worries of those I leave behind.”

  “I understand those forces … all too well.” Edison shifted his hand to Adrian’s head. Adrian bowed and covered his face. “Son, you are very dear to me, and I cannot stand the thought of losing you, but by faith in the great Creator, I give what I can.” He took a deep breath before continuing, his voice trembling. “Go with wisdom, strength, and integrity. May you put an end to the oppression and
set free the captives. And may you return to us safely, bringing with you a host of unshackled souls, so that we may celebrate the Creator’s purpose that every man, woman, and child should be free from all shackles that bind their wrists, ankles, or hearts.”

  After a moment of silence, Adrian felt his father’s hand lift. He raised his head, and the two locked gazes. “I will rescue the Lost Ones,” Adrian said. “I will find Frederick, and he and I will restore the honor of our father’s good name. Edison Masters will again pass through the lips of young and old alike as an inspiration to warriors in training.”

  Edison leaned close again. “Although I have given you my blessing, that does not mean I am excited about your departure. Please be kind to a poor old man and leave while I am not looking.”

  Adrian rolled his hand into a fist. Yes! His father had given his blessing. What a relief.” All that remains is for me to resign my post and pack one bag—”

  “Shh!” Edison’s eyes darted around. “Not every ear is sympathetic to our cause.”

  Adrian calmed his breathing. Control over his emotions was one of the reasons he was chosen by the Underground Gateway. No sense in blurting out unguarded words now.

  “Governor Prescott will not be pleased,” Edison said, “unless you already have a suitable replacement in mind.”

  “Jason, of course. He will make a perfect bodyguard.”

  A proud smile spread across Edison’s face. “I would like that. I would like that very much.”

  Adrian patted his father’s knee. “I have to change into my uniform. Prescott will be expecting me to sit with him during Jason’s match. He also wants me to attend him at tonight’s invocation of the new counselor, but I will be gone by then. Jason will have to take my place.”

  “Marcelle will likely follow custom and sit with the governor, so you will have, shall we say, awkward company.” Edison’s smile wrinkled into a mischievous grin. “Changing to your uniform is a good idea. We wouldn’t want people comparing the blood and sweat on your clothes to those on Marcelle’s. All the whispers would distract you from your duty.”