Age of the King by Philip C. Quaintrell

Author:Philip C. Quaintrell [Quaintrell, Philip C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quaintrell Publishings Ltd
Published: 2019-10-04T04:00:00+00:00

Any concept of time was lost on Gideon. The only thing he knew was the fatigue steadily taking a hold of him. Ilargo had told him of the sunset and the subsequent dawn, but it meant nothing down here.

Drink it, Gideon, Ilargo instructed for the third time. You cannot sleep down there.

Gideon stared at the vibrant yellow vial in his hand. He really didn’t want to drink it. Of all his concoctions, Allidai’s Voronum was the only one that felt like consuming fire. The Master Dragorn was in need of it, though, a fact he couldn’t deny for much longer; he had been exploring the orc lands of Vengora for well over a day now and he was exhausted.

With a deep breath, Gideon downed the yellow liquid. He almost gagged and spat the last drops out, but he relied on his companion’s determination and resilience to finish the whole thing. Everything inside his mouth hurt, as if he had just tried to swallow a burning chunk of coal. The burning consumed the length of his tongue and ran down into his stomach with a boiling wrath.

Immediately, his heart rate increased and his muscles tensed. Trying to remain as silent as possible, the Master Dragorn stifled his gasp and gripped the hilt of Mournblade until his knuckles were stretched white. Any traces of fatigue were wiped away by Allidai’s Voronum, leaving him alert. The first few minutes after consuming the potion were always the most dangerous for any person; if they were too young or too old, it could stop their heart, but for someone like Gideon, it made him crave a good fight.

Stay in control, Ilargo urged, experiencing the same effects across their bond. You must avoid conflict.

Gideon gritted his teeth and waited for the extreme feelings to pass. When it finally settled down, he was left with a steady heart rate and a clear head, now very much alert. There was, however, a decline in his sight. The Nocturn’s Phemora was beginning to fade, failing to bring light to the farthest patches of darkness.

I’m relying on you to remember the most direct path out of here, he said to Ilargo.

It would not be the first time I have led you back to the light…

Gideon was never more thankful for Ilargo’s incredible memory than when he was lost in the dark. The Master Dragorn picked himself up and shimmied along the edge of a deadly drop to bring himself back to the tunnels of the orc lands. The small outcropping had given him what reprieve he could afford, but the prospect of being stuck without sight was enough to push him onwards.

Taking Mournblade in hand, Gideon crept from one tunnel to the next, hiding whenever he needed to avoid the orcs. What little remained of the Nocturn’s Phemora in his veins was his only guide, its magic just managing to highlight the paths that cut through the mountain. Its true limits were found when the Master Dragorn came across a cavern so large the potion couldn’t illuminate the other side.

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