Outcast (The Blue Dragon's Geas) (5 page)

Alador was left alone with his box of medure for a time. He stared at it still in awe at the changes in his fortunes and even in his existence. He caressed the smooth metal, still somewhat in a state of shock. He remained lost in his daze until Dorien came stomping back into the room.

“Now! Where to hide that box..."
 Dorien’s booming voice made Alador jump. Alador’s startled wide-eyed expression brought a smile to Dorien’s lips. “Sorry brother, I didn’t mean to scare you. However, we do need to be putting that box deep in the house and out of prying eyes."  Dorien held up a chain and lock. “And we will be making sure it doesn’t grow legs and be wandering off.”

Alador grinned back at his brother. He pocketed a few slips and put the rest back into the box. They locked the box back up and then he and his brother lugged the box all around the house. Finally, they decided on the pantry off the kitchen. There was no external door, and inside were the pickling barrels and such. They moved the barrels in such a manner as to hide it beneath and behind them. Before covering it in barrels, Dorien chained it to the coal box for good measure. Once that was done, they both stood back satisfied it was as safe as it could be made short of burying it somewhere.

Dorien ran a necklace chain through both the key heads and then placed it over Alador’s head. “Even I am tempted. I suggest you always keep that close to your heart.”

Alador stared at his brother and then spontaneously hugged him. Dorien just chuckled and smacked him on the back a couple of times before pushing him away. “I believe your friends are expecting to share in your fortunes and trading will be a short time more before we have evening feast. Best run along now.”

Alador nodded with a great smile. He also owed the blood miners a night of drinking, but with the feast, he would wait to pay up that debt till after the traders left. His brother turned him toward the door and pushed him forward. Alador did not need any more prompting to set out and to find Mesiande amongst the trading stalls.

Alador had never had as much fun as he had that night. It had not taken long to find Mesiande and Gregor. In fact, given the e
ase it was more likely they had found him. The first stop had been at the stall for arrows, fletching and bows. He bought each of them new strings and searched through the feathers for the best fletching. His friends were stunned at the price and attempted to protest, but Alador would have none of it. If he could not have fun this one night, what was the point of even having slips?

They bought sweetmeats and looked at many stalls before the bell sounded. Slowly around them, the wagons closed up. It was rather interesting to watch. It seemed almost as in unison that the traders would finish the last sale and a process of packing up began. The people of the village slowly migrated to the feast. One by one, the stalls became just wagons once more.

The feast was crowded, but food was to be had at every board. Each family had picked a board and filled it with their own offerings to the meal. Large platters of the prang had been carved up and laid out upon the tables. Roasted fruit and nuts sprinkled amongst the meat. The smell of food filled the air and the sound of laughter and music was a cascade of sound tumbling down around them. The weather had held for them, and a warm breeze still filled the air as the sun settled behind the hills. People mingled and shared their offerings with friends and even those they did not particularly like.

The dancing began as soon as the boards were cleared from the feast. The fire from where the prang had roasted had been built up to light the circle. Middlins and adults danced about in circles and pairs with no apparent rhyme nor reason to the step. Children dashed about the dancers or attempted to imitate their elders, creating a vision that truly was the village. The Elders played flutes, drums or shakers. That was Alador’s second favorite part, the pulsing beat of those drums seemed to snake deep into one’s soul and the feet could not help but keep time.

The favorite part, however, was watching Mesiande dance. In honor of the festivities, she had taken down her usual braids and her hair hung in waves that the long standing braids had pressed into her hair. Despite its brown color, a trait of the Daezun people, it glimmered in the fire light with streaks of golden fire. Her eyes were closed as her feet kept rhythm to the drums. Her hands were high over her head, and her fingers snapped to the same beat. She had donned a skirt rather than her usual miner’s garb.

To Alador, she was a picture of perfection. Her body, despite the days mining, seemed perfectly formed. She didn’t have the over muscled appearance of many of the mining women. Only the palms of her hands gave an indication that she spent so many hours digging amongst stones. He smiled when she looked up to see him watching her. She waved him to her. He joined her, and the two of them stomped and spun to the pulsing music. The beat began to build in the song as the two of them moved about one another. He could feel the calluses of those small hands whenever she placed her hands into his to dance about in circles. As the music came to a sudden stop, she collapsed against him laughing. She felt so right in his arms as he held her up.

As the evening progressed, he and Gregor both danced with her in turn. Sometimes the three danced together. Alador was leaner and a head taller than the other two. But tonight, he did not feel out of place. Tonight, the village was home. As he watched Mesiande prance around in circles with Gregor, he smiled. Tonight, he would not have wished to be anywhere else.

Village life did not tarry long, and despite the groans of those that had drunk far too much at the feast the previous evening, work began once more. It was planting season so there would not be any mining trips until the seeds were down. Alador was helping keep the korpen in front of the plows. The huge, lumbering beasts would see a piece of green, and wander off in search of a bite if not maintained firmly. They made the plowing easy enough but keeping them distracted from any tidbits could be a challenge. Alador had found it easier to manage the korpen by putting greens into his pockets. The beasts quickly figured out that if they followed him, Alador would slip them a bite now and then. The trick was to keep them placed, so the furrows were straight. It had been a wet spring, the ground was easily broken and plowed. The planting was a bit later this year as the village did not break the ground until the last of the snows melted off the surrounding hills. They had a particular hilltop they watched for an indication of when to start planting. It was usually pretty accurate for once the snow was off the top, usually the valley temperatures stayed warm enough for fragile new growth.

Alador’s thoughts wandered as he strolled in front of the korpen leading them parallel to the last row. The mating ritual was still a ways off and yet still he wondered. He still had no idea what his role would be. He blushed at his own thoughts. Well, he knew if chosen what his role would be but what rituals or things were done before the circle dancing began is what he did not understand. It seemed unlikely that he would be chosen given his Lerdenian blood.

He looked up to see Mesiande a couple of rows over bent in planting. Her rounded form was even clearer to him in those tight mining pants. He shifted as his pants suddenly felt too tight, and looked away from her. Now if she would be in the circle, he would not be fearful. He knew that she would not hold his heritage against him. She was younger than he was, and he knew females did not join the circle until they could bear small ones. He glanced over to find her watching him, her hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun.

He turned his head as he heard her shout at him, his facing flushing at his thoughts as if she could read them. “You are going crooked!"
 Her voice was loud and had a tinge of laughter. The others villagers that were nearby planting looked up and frowned at him.

He looked down and immediately corrected the korpen. He had allowed them to wander out of the path while lost in his thoughts. He could hear her soft laughter and glanced back with a rueful grin. She shook her head and went back to planting once more. He was so absorbed with watching her that he did not hear Tentret approach. In fact, he was unaware of his presence until his brother slapped him up beside the head.

“She is too young."  Tentret scolded firmly. Tentret did not speak much even in the walls of their home, but when he spoke it was usually with a purpose.

“She is not that much younger than me."
 Alador protested. He looked at his brother who was fairly close to him in age. Tentret was forty turns now and still seemed to have no interest in finding a housemate.

“Dorien should have never told you ‘til it was time. You will get yourself banned before you even receive your training."
 Tentret eyed Alador with disapproval. He helped Alador pull up the plow and back the korpen up to where they had veered.

“Training?
 What training?"  Alador asked. It had never occurred to him there was anything to train for those in the circle seemed so at ease unless it was their first year. “Does it not just happen sort of, well, naturally?”

“You do not think they send a male to the mating circle with no…experience do you?"
 Tentret shook his head. He was the one who spent a great deal of time in books and often helped teach the small ones their letters and other skills to do with writing and reading. He always expected everyone 'to just know' things unless they were small ones.

“I do not know. It is not like the men speak of it with the middlins."
 Alador flushed with color. However, middlins spoke of it often. By the time you had been into the center of the circle for drumming, you had looked a few times through the tent flap. It was also possible to hear the activities between songs. Alador had a fundamental concept of what was going on behind him.

“And now you know why, you are already losing your way at the thought of one you desire at the mention that you might be entering the circle."
 Tentret scolded. Tentret looked at Mesiande and back to Alador.

“So…what is this training?"
 Alador quickly tried to divert his brother. Perhaps Tentret would finally speak of the rituals that occurred prior.

“An elder will take you to her rugs and show you all that you need to know to insure not only pleasure, but a successful mating. The circle ensures we have small ones each season."
 Tentret offered.

Alador shuddered at the idea. “An Elder…"
 He squeaked. He immediately began picturing the eldest of the women, toothless and covered in folds of aging skin. “How can one even begin to...want...well you know.”

Tentret laughed. “A man’s nature is not that hard to coax forth, and they choose only those skilled for such tasks. Do not fret. This has been the way, and it has always brought success within the mating circle.”

“I do not want to go to some elder’s rugs."  Alador complained his eyes moved to Mesiande and his blush deepening.

Tentret followed his gaze and frowned. “Do not get to set on that one, little brother. While she may choose to allow you to help raise her small ones, she is not likely to choose you in the circle with your mixed blood."
 Tentret grabbed hold of a korpen as they talked to insure that the animals kept the row straight.

“Mesi does not care about such things."
 Alador defended with a burst of unusual temper.

“Your Mesiande does not care in that she has chosen you as a friend. The matter might fall differently in the mating circle."
 Tentret cautioned. “She has Gregor as a friend as well, and she seems just as close with him.”

Alador felt a strange rush of a feeling he did not understand. He looked over at Mesiande and found himself glaring at her. A strange sense of possessiveness swept over him forcibly. “She is mine."
 He snapped. “Gregor knows how I feel, he would not dare."  Alador had never felt threatened by Gregor’s presence in their friendship before, and did not understand the strange anger he felt at that thought. Truthfully, it was possible she would choose them both as she had when they danced, but at this moment, the idea made Alador boil inside.

Tentret sighed softly. “Alador, if any other heard such things from you, you would be fostered to a new village. Such demands are not allowed by a male. Mesiande will choose whom she mates with and whom her housemate will be. You will have no say in this matter. If you make a scene over it, the elders will send you out."
 Tentret spoke in a matter of fact manner.

There were few things that could get one fostered out and even fewer that could get one banished. However, fighting over one of the opposite sex was one of the few things that could get one sent to another village. Dorien had told Alador that due to the many dangers the Daezun faced, the elders did not allow dissension from within the village. It had been the way for as long as anyone could remember.

Alador quit speaking. He was clearly fuming as he walked. Tentret stared at him for a long moment. “I need to check on the other korpen."  He walked off leaving Alador to keep the beasts moving. Alador did not look at Mesiande again for fear she would pick up on his thoughts. Tentret was right. He had seen a man sent away because he had become angered during the mating ritual. He had never come back, and the one he had desired had chosen another housemate. He had no doubt the elders would send him away despite his recent success in mining. Yet how could he stand by and watch as she took another into her arms, her rug, or even worse as her housemate. He remained dwelling on these strange new feelings as he plowed the rest of the day.

Alador finished his plowing as the sun fell behind the hill. He unharnessed the korpen and took them to the grazing fields. Gregor was just coming up with his korpen and Mesiande was with him. He saw their heads close together, and they were clearly sharing some amusement by the grin on both faces. He went the other direction, not ready to face either of them in his sour mood. Mesiande’s faint call went unanswered as he crossed the grazing fields and hopped the fence.

He headed for a favorite spot down by the river. The river narrowed here through large rocks, and the spray left small cool pools where the winter flows had scoured divots in the rocks. The trees had long limbs that dangled over the water creating a cool, private copse. He sat watching the cascading swirls of rushing water, the sounds as soothing as the sight. He was still sitting there when Gregor found him. The sunlight behind the hill was now fading and it would be dark soon.

“There yah are."
 His friend plopped down beside him. Gregor had the same dull shade of brown hair and kept in the same shaggy fashion. He had a larger build and was shorter. The two were well matched for what Gregor had in size; Alador matched in speed. They had been friends since they had been sent to the elders’ ring as small ones. Trelmar had been a bully even back then and Gregor had taken exception to him picking on Alador. Ever since, the two had been inseparable. “All right, Al, spill it out.”

“It is something I cannot really talk about."
 Alador threw a rock into the river watching it disappear into the swirling depths.

“Let me take a guess. It is Mesi?"
 Gregor eyed Alador. He had always been able to read his friend, a fact that Alador often disliked. Alador’s silence was confirmation enough for Gregor. “What she do this time?”

“She didn’t do anything."
 Alador snapped. “It’s me. Okay?"  He wouldn’t look at Gregor, and he could feel Gregor’s eyes on him.

“No, I think it is me."
 Gregor said slowly. “Are yah jealous?"  The expression on Alador’s face when he asked was enough to confirm his suspicions. “Gods, Alador. I know yah like her. Yah have the slips. Yah and I both know she will choose yah.”

“Not necessarily."
 Alador frowned at him. “You are pure Daezun, your blood is better for small ones. What if… what if that part matters to her?"  Alador asked with both pain and anxiety.

“Now yah are being daft. It has never mattered to her before, why would it start now?
 Besides, I always thought it would kind of be...all three of us."  Gregor teased, but his face sobered immediately when he saw Alador flush. “Umm, or not.”

“I do not want to share her."
 The growl that erupted from Alador after that statement surprised Gregor and his eyes widened.

“Alador, yah got to get a grip on this before she enters the circle or yah will
never
be with her."  Gregor’s concern was evident in his tone. “Gods man, she is not even in the circle this year. Yah are being daft worrying about such things right now.”

Gregor’s words of caution were the second warning of the day, but despite the logic of both Tentret and Gregor, Alador found he did not care. He was not sharing her with anyone. However, one thing Gregor did say calmed Alador some. She was not in the circle this year, so he had no fear of her taking another to her
bed. For now, all was safe. He took a deep breath and merely answered. “As usual, you are right.”

Gregor smiled. It seemed as if his friend was always full of games and smiles. “Good
. Now that this is settled,” Gregor punched Alador lightly in the arm. “let’s take a swim and wash off the day’s work."  Gregor hopped up and headed down stream where the cascade of rushing water swirled into a small natural pool, offset from the main river. The two of them used it as frequently as most Daezun preferred the hot house. It was also too deep for the small ones so only those that liked the cold water, and could swim, used it.

Alador watched him work his way down for a moment then sighed. Gregor was right. Nothing was going to happen this year. It was not either Gregor’s or Mesiande’s fault he was feeling this way. He was just being stupid. He pulled off his shirt as he followed Gregor down. Maybe the water would wash away his anger along with the day’s sweat.