Draconis' Bane (8 page)

“You think that
border life is what he needs right now though son?” His mother
asked with concern.

Border life? The
young Prince’s heart raced again. He’d never been on much more of
an adventure than he and his friends building forts in the deep
snow of winter. Tristan tried to put his building excitement aside
so he could continue to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“He needs to be out
of this castle my love; he needs to start becoming a man. He’s not
going to get any better brooding around the keep trying to force
himself to remember.” His father said.

I think it’s time to
get some rest Mykl.

His mothers’
half-hearted chastisement rang like a gong in his mind. He’d gotten
sloppy eavesdropping on their conversation. Like a crack of
lightning ripping apart the sky, he was forced out of their minds.
He couldn’t hear anything coming down the chute of the chimney
anymore either, not even the booming voice of his older
brother.

She must have shut
him out of the conversation and silenced those around her Tristan
decided with a pang of regret. It was certainly disappointing, but
at least he learnt a few things.

First and foremost on
everyone’s mind was some sort of scroll or fortune. Those concerns
were easily put aside though and he focused instead on his trip
with his older brother. He was going to get out and have an
adventure, the excitement made it hard to even close his eyes let
alone fall asleep. For hours he sat up, daydreaming about forests
and roads that he associated with palaces and the décor of his
room. Much later, as the embers in the fireplace began to turn
black; his fitful mind finally gave in to blissful rest.

A week later found
Tristan on horseback in the courtyard of his parents’ palace. Kevin
wouldn’t leave until he was certain that Tristan was ready. What
that meant was a mystery to Tristan though and he was becoming
anxious to leave on his adventure. The plan was for he and his
brother to make their way to Kenting, where Kevin was Duke and
defender of Vallius’ western border with Terum.

The morning after he
had eavesdropped on his family’s conversation he was quietly woken
up by Carl and offered a glass of cold milk and a bowl of porridge.
Shortly afterwards Kevin came to see if he was ready to begin his
boot camp.
Tristan rolled his eyes as he handed the bowl and
emptied glass back to Carl, thanking him, and followed his brother
through their father’s castle.

For the next few days
his brother drilled him in swordplay, riding, strategy and tactics.
He noted more than once that Tristan seemed to have become a
quicker study since his attack. After twirling to the left inside
his brothers extended parry Tristan slapped his brother on the
backside with his wooden practice sword after only a few days of
sword training.

“Where the hell did
you learn that?” His brother asked after regaining his balance.

“Saw it in a movie
once.” Tristan answered without hesitation.

“A mo-vie?” He
asked.

“Oh, uh…sorry…it’s
like theater.” The young Prince answered sheepishly.

After that incident
Kevin’s sword drilling picked up in intensity and Tristan rarely
went to sleep at night without a new welt. Every muscle was so sore
he would gasp and then sigh as he settled into his feather stuffed
mattress. More often than not, Eurydice would come visit him before
she went to sleep, recounting her day and the gossip of the palace
while she defeated him mercilessly in chess.

“You wouldn’t believe
what Holly tried to do today Tristan.” She excitedly recounted.

Tonight Kevin had
sent one of the servants to give Tristan a massage. The young man
had blocked an overhead strike and his neck and shoulder had
knotted up from the blow he should have deflected from a more
powerful opponent. The female servant had arrived in his room and
asked him to disrobe, which allowed his sister to have great laugh
at his embarrassment. He’d been asked to lay on his stomach on a
mat of leather on his floor. The servant had then mounted his back
as Euri setup their nightly game in front of him.

“Who’s Holly?”
Tristan grunted as the servant applied pressure to a particularly
large knot in his neck.

“Oh, she’s the head
cooks daughter.” She replied matter-of-factly. “Anyway, she’s been
trying to get a little flower garden going on the eastern tower, do
you know the one?”

Tristan gasped in
pain as the knot released. He fought for his breath for a moment as
pain shot down his arm.

“Yes, you took me up
there a couple days ago didn’t you?” He answered with a groan of
pain.

“No, no silly.” She
giggled. “That was mothers’ garden on the southern tower. That’s
the one that gets the most sun.”

As she continued to
prattle on about Holly’s exploits in gardening adventure Tristan
began to drift off to sleep.

The following
morning, as he dressed for the day, his thoughts began to drift to
his forthcoming adventure. Not the least of which was his building
excitement. He was going to be spending months under the tutelage
of his older brother whom he found a forgiving teacher with a
sarcastic edge to his humor that Tristan found most compelling.
Tristan’s unexpected tactics often earned him praise. He sensed on
more than one occasion that these bouts of minor brilliance hadn’t
occurred much before the assassination attempt had occurred.

Several times a day
he overheard blacksmiths, soldiers and the palace staff comment on
his change in demeanor and ease with which he picked things up.
This led Tristan to his first long conversation with his father
since he’d assumed the form of Father Downing inside the nightmare
dream, as the young man had come to call it.

“Everyone keeps
mentioning different things about me as though it surprises them, I
don’t understand.” He said one night after his family had left the
dinner table leaving the two of them in private conversation.

“I’ve never lied to
you son, but I’ve not always told you everything either.” His
father replied.

“I’m confused.”
Tristan admitted.

“Before your attack,
you were quite a handful.” He began with a grin. “You really didn’t
listen to anyone except your mother and we’re convinced that’s only
because she could see your thoughts.” His father chuckled.

The only life Tristan
could still remember was that of a wretch; the object of
humiliation and ill treatment by most everyone. In his real life he
had been the tormentor, a spoiled bully of a King who treated most
everyone with cruelty. Tristan felt incredible shame at the
thought.

“Don’t feel bad son.”
His father interrupted Tristan’s dark self-deprecation. “You were
the middle child and we were often distracted with Kevin and then
with Eurydice once she was born. You were largely left to your Dana
to govern. You always were rather protective of your little sister
though.” He said with a wink.

“The two of you used
to share your thoughts when you were young. Until, of course, she
discovered boys.” He continued. “More than one Keep lad ended up
getting a thrashing from you Saturdays.”

“Wait…what happens
Saturdays?” Tristan asked in confusion.

“All the apprentices
get the day off and most of them are on sponsored lacrosse teams.”
His father explained.

“What’s lacrosse?”
Tristan asked.

“It’s just a sport
you young men play.” His father replied dismissively.

“…and people get
hurt?” He blurted.

“Well, over the last
few years I agreed to let a committee of local business owners
create a league with some more defined rules and referees, but
yes…it’s a rather physical game.” He father replied. “Some are more
physical than others.” He concluded, shooting Tristan a mock
appraising look.

The young man’s face
reddened in embarrassment, not only had he been mean spirited, but
he was also a bully. Correctly reading his sons’ mood again, his
father consoled him.

“Don’t feel bad
Tristan. You really only got physical with the boys who toyed with
your sisters affections.” His father soothed.

“Toyed…she’s eleven,
father.” He chuckled.

“That’s almost
marrying age, son.” He reminded him. “Soon I’ll have to find a
husband for her and you’ll need to remember to keep your temper
with him.” His father replied with a smirk.

“It’s a good thing
I’m leaving at the end of the week then.” Tristan observed with a
sarcastic grin.

They both laughed as
Dion took another sip of wine. Over the past week Tristan had
become accustomed to the drink. The first night he’d had a few
glasses too many and had woken up the following morning with a
terrible headache. Carl was kind, though Kevin took great pleasure
in using Tristan’s current state as an excuse to refresh his riding
skills.

Tristan discovered,
even when hung-over, that he was a natural on horseback. His
brother commented that he sat his mount better than he used to and
seemed more at ease in the saddle than ever, which left the Prince
contemplating just how different his experiences had made him in
such a short time. Kevin took his moment of introspection to give
him a brief history of the family line of horses.

His great-grandfather
had arranged for the first horses to be brought into their kingdom
from The Eastern Expanse. The Rhenish horses had thick powerful
legs, a medium length strong neck and responded to knee pressure,
which made them excellent cavalry mounts. The previous horse
masters had bred in a few Palominos to give the breed longer legs
and more stamina for long campaigns. One of the major Vallius
exports now was their purebred mounts. Many cavalry troops and
noblemen prized them both as war steeds and show horses. Or so it
Kevin explained to him.

As Kevin and Tristan
arrived at the royal stables, one of the horses in the corral came
cantering over to the fence as they walked by the training area.
The horse followed them along for a few paces until it chomped at
the back of Tristan’s tunic and pulled him off balance, naying in
protest.

“It seems as though
someone missed you, little brother.” Kevin laughed.

The horse master came
walking out of the stables wiping his hands with a rag and smiling
from ear to ear. He was a short muscular man with flyaway straw
colored hair and bright white teeth. He had a deep tan to his
leathered skin and a comical mustache that grew down both sides of
his mouth, continuing down a few inches on either side of his chin.
He held out a callused hand to Tristan as they approached.

“Young Master
Tristan, good to see you up and about, lad.” He said in a jovial
voice as he shook Tristans hand in a firm grip that easily could
have crushed the young Princes hand.

“Tristan, this is
horsemaster Albert.” Kevin introduced.

“So the rumors are
true? He’s lost his memories?” Albert blurted.

“Albert….” Kevin
warned.

“He didn’t mean
anything by it Kevin, its fine.” Tristan interrupted his brother.
Most people had the same reaction to the young Prince and he was
getting used to the shock and sometimes the relief people
expressed.

“No Master Albert, I
don’t remember you, I’m sorry.” He said.

“Apologies are
unnecessary between you and I, lad. Your mare remembers you, as do
I.” Albert said with a pat on the shoulder. “Would you care to take
her for a ride?”

Tristan’s eyes lit up
with excitement as he looked from the horsemaster to the mare that
pawed anxiously inside the corral. Albert chuckled as he led the
brothers through the gate. The three of them walked into the
stables as the horse came running to the fence line. Tristan
watched the mare closely, fascinated by her speed and agility. His
eyes adjusted to the dimness of the stables as they entered and
began to look around, feeling free to let his curiosity roam.
Tristan noticed one empty stall with a beautifully designed leather
saddle hanging from the support beam next to it. He walked over to
the saddle to get a closer look as the other two men exchanged
looks and followed him.

It was made entirely
of leather, died black in the same fashion as the furniture in his
room. The saddle was ornamental but yet seemed sturdy and highly
functional. The buckles and metal trim of the saddle were silver
colored metal that turned out to be heavy brass with silver plating
as Albert explained. The horsemaster brought the mare into the
stable and it immediately cantered over to Tristan, nudging him
with her nose.

The horse dipped his
head slightly and Tristan felt the urge to scratch her between the
eyes. He chuckled as he seemed to enjoy his attention. The horse
had beautiful chestnut coat, which was broken up by small patches
of white fur above each of her black hooves and a white star shaped
patch of fur between her eyes.

“Pava is her name.”
Albert said quietly. “Would you like me to saddle her?”

“No need.” Tristan
replied as he walked over to a nearby wooden box built into the
side of the stable wall. He reached in and felt around for the
softest blanket he could find, along the side of the box he noticed
a slim box built into the side with the initials ‘A.V.’ on it. He
reached in and pulled out the softest blanket in the container.
Hefting the blanket over his shoulder, he walked past a shocked
Kevin and an amused Albert and put it on his horse. Strangely,
Tristan knew where to retrieve the blanket and even stranger was
that there was no hint of doubt in his mind of what he was doing.
The same instinct that served him in sparing with his brother
seemed to be helping everything he enjoyed. In that moment, Tristan
decided that even if his memories had failed him, his instincts
served him faithfully.