Outcast (The Blue Dragon's Geas) (7 page)

Luthian did not speak during his dinners alone. He used this time to consider the events of the day and how they fit into his overall plans.
He was irritated that his meal had been interrupted yet again by news that the bloodstone trader had arrivd. He has sent news the man could await his pleasure.  He finished his dinner lost in his thoughts and plans.

As his plate was being removed, a young woman, new to his service, bumped his arm as he sipped his wine. His wine splashed slightly upon his robes, and his surprise brought his eyes upon the girl. She stood before him trembling. Her young body was tense as she stood unspeaking before the minister. No one moved as they waited to see what this sacrilege would bring to the woman who stood before Luthian.

“You made me spill my drink."  He commented quietly, his voice was as liquid as the silk he wore.

“Yes Master, I am so sorry. I did not mean to touch your arm."
 The girl’s voice was barely audible. She was biting her lip as she stared at the floor.

Luthian tipped her face up to look at him. His cold white fingers were in stark contrast to her warm rich skin. He realized her eyes were like emeralds, and he liked the fear that shimmered in their depths. “You are new?"
 He was forced to ask as he often did not pay attention to those that attended his meals. However, now that she had gained his attention, he found her features pleasing and as his eyes roved over her body, a stirring of interest.

“Yes Master."
 She whispered. Her voice warbled in tone as she cast about to the other women as if seeking help.

Luthian could feel her terror growing as he held her chin to force her face to gaze once more upon his own. Even so, her eyes did not quite meet his. “You know that to spill upon the Minister is unforgivable in service?"
 His soft question was deadly.

“Y-yes Master."
 The girl’s eyes filled with tears.

He smiled almost feeding on the terror that was palpable beneath his fingers. “What is your name?"
 He asked slowly setting down his wine glass. While fear was not new to his experiences with women, it was clear that this woman did not know quite what it was she had to fear. The unknown was such an exquisite fear to behold.

“Keelee."
 She answered, her eyes following that wine glass. She still stood holding his plate. She was shaking so hard that the fork rattled upon its fragile surface.

“Well then, Keelee, it is fortunate that I am in a fair mood. You may make it up to me in my bed this night. I suggest you do not disappointment there. I would hate for this to be your first
and
last day at my table."  He drawled out slowly letting his fingers fall away from her chin.

The fascinating eyes were obscured by the curtain of deep brown hair kept loose as he commanded by those that
served him. He heard her mutter, “Yes Master."  She turned and fled his presence. He chuckled softly. He picked up his glass and downed the last. Tonight would be most pleasing.

Finished with his dinner, he rose from the table and moved to the receiving hall. He had received word that a load of stones were in and that there was one of an unusual color and size. He had been irritated that his dinner had been interrupted once more and in uncertain terms made it clear that the trader could wait. The chamberlain had been forced to go and change his scorched robes.

As the Minister walked into the room, the irritating Daezun trader began bobbing and bowing. “I have brought you a fine batch from down south, Minister. You will be most impressed."  He led the minister to the table where various stones were laid out. The table had been covered with a black cloth to set the stones to their best advantage. The trader, as always, had arrayed the stones from the smallest to the largest.

Luthian had arranged for many of the central traders to give him first pick of the stones. Many were the usual small stones of a trade. The problem with small stones was that one did not know if it were a unique power or just a surge to strengthen what one already had. He worked his way to where the larger stones were laid out. He chose several stones to have set aside. He did not quibble or barter. The man knew to charge him a fair price.

“I heard a tale you have found one of an incredible size, but I see nothing unusual."  Luthian eyed the man. If such a stone existed, it had better be here.

The trade smiled with delight. “Aye, Minister. I have kept it special for I knew you would want it."
 The man pulled a small wooden chest from under the table and set it down proudly.

Luthian eyed the chest. If the chest was any indicator of size, then the stone would be bigger than any he had ever seen. Such a stone would have the main power of whatever dragon formed it. He licked his lips in anticipation for there had only been one other stone known to contain such power and it had been many centuries ago. “Well, open it."
 Luthian demanded. He clasped his hands behind him to prevent himself from just ripping the chest open himself.

The trader unlocked the chest in excitement for with this find; he would not have to go out in the winter seasons. He would be able to stay home with his small ones and housemate. He uncovered the pure glass stone with a flourish and stepped back for he had seen the desire on the minister’s face. Yet instead of the pleasure and anticipation he had expected, he saw fury. The trader’s eyes flew open with alarm.

“Do you think me a fool?"  Hissed Luthian as he turned around to fully face the trader. “Who did you sell its magics too?"  Luthian tone was ominous, and his hands began to glow an eerie yellow.

The trader stepped back as if that fury was palpable. “N-no one s-sir. It...It was like that when I bought it. I...I did not think it would hurt the value. I swear. It has been locked within since I purchased it."
 The trader squeaked, dropping to his knees in fear. He had never seen the Minister angry, but he had heard the tales of those that had crossed him. He had never heard of any leaving such ire unscathed. The pulse of the trader’s rapid heartbeat was visible in his neck.

“Bought it where?
 What other mages were present?"  He demanded of the groveling man. He slowly circled the man upon the ground much as a wolf circles his injured prey.

“S...Smallbrook m...my lord. The Daezun village of Smallbrook and there weren’t no mages there."
 He put his face to the floor in hopes of appeasing the Minister. “I...it was a fair stone, and I will give it to you. I won’t want nothing of it."  He offered in a panic. His voice muffled against the floor.

“You fool!"
 Shouted Luthian. “Are you really so stupid?"  The sneering loud tone brought a visible wince from the trader upon the floor. “It is clear because its magic has been given. What miner sold the stone?  I want a name!"  Luthian kicked the trader over, the audible crack of a rib resounded in the room. “A name."  He demanded. Luthian's tone suddenly softer, cold, and definitely vicious. Luthian’s hand crackled with the power of the fire he could wield.

“Alador...it was a man named Alador. Still a middlin and didn’t even know what he had. I swear it."
 The man was practically sobbing now for even he could feel the power radiating from the Minister though he dared not look.

Luthian paused, his foot now on the Trader’s chest who lay beneath him on the floor. . Smallbrook...Alador...Alador...why did he know that name?
 Then it dawned on him. That was one of his brother’s spawn from the project. The boy had come into his power. By blood, he had come into power with that stone?  He looked back at the chest with alarm.

He removed his foot off the trader and moved to the chest gazing down at its contents. The empty stone was beautiful but powerless. Who knew how much power the boy had absorbed?
 Did the boy even know how to use it?  It was not good that such power was uncontrolled. However, one benefit of the treaty included a clause that if any of Lerdenian blood and magical skill were found on Daezun lands, the Council had the right to demand they be turned over for training. This had suited the Daezun well for they distrusted magic.

His anger cooled some as he stared at the stone in calculation. The whimpering of the trader still lying where he had left him interrupted Luthian’s thoughts. He cursed softly and with a fluid motion turned and released the spell at the groveling man. He did not even stay to
see if the trader lived beneath the column of fire that had risen up from his writhing form, the music of his screams pleasing enough. At the door, he paused to look at the guard. “Clean it up and put all the bloodstones in the vault."  He did not acknowledge the guard's chest salute. Such response was expected. Besides, he had more important things on his mind.

He strode down the empty hall in anger and frustration. So much power that had been so nearly his and his nephew had it. His half-breed, tierless nephew who probably didn’t even know what gift had been given him. The stark white halls resounded with the steps of his boots as he strode in anger. “Get me my brother...Now!"
 He bellowed. The words echoed down the vast empty hall. He didn’t care who heard. He didn’t care who acted. He knew someone would see it done. If he couldn’t have the power, then he would control the boy!

Life started to gain some typical routine to it. There were subtle differences now. People would wave to him as he moved through the village and more of the middlins had invited him hunting or fishing. It was the welcome that he had always craved, and though it sometimes felt odd, it also was uplifting. Work in the village was never truly done, so the sign that one could sneak off for more enjoyable things was when the sun began its drop behind the hill. Though the direct sun was gone, it remained light for a while longer leaving plenty of time for fishing or a swim.

He had taken to sneaking off to practice more so he could explore this new found ability to focus on a target and have it seemingly loom before him. Every time he concentrated, the target would jump towards him, it was unsettling and would sometimes slow his shot. He knew in battle that he could not be distracted by the target’s sudden close appearance. Besides, practicing usually took his mind off the strange feelings of possessiveness he had been having whenever he thought of Mesiande.

His thoughts wandered back to Mesiande. He had always seen her as his best friend. He had occasionally wished for more. It was another reason he had taken to practicing, he was concerned about his changes in feelings. He was so lost in these thoughts and the repeated twang of the bow releasing arrows that for a moment, he did not hear the alarm bells. The alarm bell had not been tolled since the end of the war. He, himself, had never even heard it, though he knew what it was immediately. Small ones were trained to the alarm's rhythm with a handheld bell. He glanced about quickly for some seen threat but could find nothing. His eyes focused in on the small ones playing down at the river. Two elders were
trying to gather them up and herd them towards the safety of the village. However, there were several small ones, and though the older ones were helping, it was clear that this group would be in danger if the threat was real. A growl erupted from his throat. He had to protect the fledglings. The intensity of that thought, of fledglings rather than small ones, washed over him with great drive. He broke into a run and headed for the group.

As he reached the cluster of small ones, the threat came flapping into view. He stood for a long
, stunned moment. A dragon spiraled lazily, its red scales gleaming in the sunlight. He had dug the bones of dragons for so long that he had forgotten from where they came. The dragon was magnificent. He watched with amazement as it moved. It was more impressive in person than the red dragon of his dreams, though it bore a striking resemblance. Its large massive wing thrusts gave it the appearance of little effort to remain aloft. The wings seem to snap with each downward thrust.

Dragons usually left villages alone. There was enough food for all in the wilds, therefore, they did not have to ravage the villages for food. However, it was not unheard of for a dragon to hit a caravan carrying precious goods. He had seen a dragon a time or two in the distance but never one this close. They could be seen carrying off a prang now and then. He had once seen one from a great distance rise with a korpen in its grasp and drop it to crack its hard shell. It had been too far away to go and watch to see if this tactic had worked for the dragon or not.

He watched the dragon fly around as if it were looking for something. Behind him, the elders gathered up small ones. “Do not take them to the village. The dragon’s intent is not known, and it is clear he is circling it."  Alador commanded them as if he were in charge. It did not occur to him he was ordering elders. Apparently it did not occur to the elders either for they huddled the children together and ceased trying to herd them to the village.

 
The dragon had not yet made a threatening move. Alador could see from his position that the villagers had taken defensive positions on the roofs of various houses. Bows were at the ready, but no one fired. Dragons were respected amongst the Daezun, so unless the dragon acted aggressively, the people would not fire. Alador could not recall any visits to Smallbrook by dragons, but there were tales that they could speak. Recently, the tales were more that the dragons had forgotten the Daezun, and had taken to robbing from them.

The elders managed to move the children into the bushes. The small ones were used to playing hide and seek amongst these high bushes, and many had small hollows from years of the play and fort making. Alador’s eyes had not left the dragon. His heart was racing as he also feathered his bow, keeping it lowered and watchful. The dragon had banked, its back was towards Alador. He was so close that Alador could clearly see the varying reds of the scales. Two great horns laid back almost against his head, starkly
black against the fiery red scales.  The nose of the dragon had appeared soot-covered before it had turned away. A black stripe continued from the head down a ridge of spikes that traveled down the dragon’s spine, contrasting sharply. It had a long tail ending in a mace like shape with spikes standing rigidly out in all directions and some of the spikes appeared broken. Its tail rippled in movement with its wings much like a snake moving along the ground. Its wingspan was enormous and even as it banked away from him, he could almost feel the power of their mighty thrust. He recognized the main bone of the wing for he liked to find wings for his mining. A large spear like horn protruded from the front of that massive wing bone. Alador was sure that on the ground with those spears and that tail, this dragon was as formidable as it would be in the air. He whispered a silent plea to the gods that it would find nothing of interest and move on.

As if in defiance of his prayer, he watched with alarm as the dragon pulled in a great breath. It banked sharply and sailed right over the village, fire shooting from its massive maw. The rush of flame from the dragon’s mouth caused Alador’s mouth to open in surprise. He had heard that the dragons could breathe out weapons like fire, each color with a differing breath, but he had never seen it. The dragon sailed over an outer row of houses. Alador was close enough to hear the blazing breath rain down upon the roofs of the thatched huts. A flurry of arrows were released by those upon the rooftops.

Small ones screamed behind him drawing the attention of the dragon, its large head swiveling towards the sound. Alador stood upon a small rise before the sage bushes that protected the small ones from the dragon’s view. It was as if everything slowed down before him. He could hear his heart beating loudly. He could hear the elders attempting to silence the children. He could feel the dragon’s great lavender eye upon him. The gaze of the dragon and Alador seemed to lock as the dragon’s head jumped towards him much as the targets did. His breath caught as something seemed to hit him in the stomach. The arrows that had hit the massive serpent seemed to fall away, and he could see none that had landed any harm although a few had stuck where scales met.

The dragon banked sharply and headed straight for Alador. He stood staring for he was sure there had been recognition in that dragon’s eye. There was no doubt in Alador’s mind. This was the red dragon he had seen in his dreams, the one called Keensight. He was so mesmerized by the dragon that he almost did not realize it was bearing down upon him. He snapped out of the haze he was in at just the last moment, diving to the ground as claws the size of spears grasped for where he had stood only moments before. The wind of the dragon’s passing whipped the weeds and brush about him. He rolled up to his feet at the sound of the small ones crying. Meanwhile, the dragon slowly banked back around.

“You must protect the fledglings. A dragon is most vulnerable when it draws breath to bring forth its weapon."

The deep, commanding voice resonated through him. It felt right and powerful and his eyes narrowed as they sought Keensight’s form.

It finished banking around and was coming back towards him. He feathered another arrow and drew the bow back taught. He concentrated and as had been happening lately, the face of the dragon seemed to enlarge before him. He could see the wafts of smoke drifting from its nostrils. Its massive head was filled with small spikes covered in soot. He had never actually seen a dragon up close. The dragon opened its giant maw to draw breath. The teeth were as sharp as the glass knives of the ice caverns. There, the pale pink of the throat was visible as it breathed in. He let his arrow fly and watches as it sank deep into the back of the dragon’s throat. The dragon screamed in pain and agony, its wings shifting position as it attempted to stop its descent to move away from the pain. Its frantic flapping whipped him with the wind caused by the force of their vertical thrusts. The dragon’s guttural screams pierced the air and making him cringe against the intensity.

Having already drawn its breath for fire, the great serpent shot the fire up into the sky, the flames erupting forth like a volcano spewing its molten contents. Based on the frantic flapping and clawing at its face, it had left the arrowhead lodged in its throat. The dragon screamed in fury, its tail whipping widely. It clawed at its mouth with its front feet, its wings flapping just as madly. Eventually it turned and flapped away, Alador had feathered another arrow and kept it trained on the beast till it floundered over a rise. He dropped to his knees, his heart racing and his legs trembling too hard to hold him.

For a moment, it seemed as if the dragon had been looking at him specifically and not the children. He had felt recognition between them. Not only that this was the dragon in his dreams, but the dragon had seemed to know him as well. It had left off its attack on the village to turn to him. His first thought had been that it was after the small ones, but it had made no attempt to turn back to the children. That second pass had been as if it came for him. How had he known to shoot into its mouth?  He tried to remember being taught this weakness in dragons, but he could remember no such lesson. He was sure that the voice was not his own memory. He slowly let the bow string relax as his thoughts raced.

Maredeth, the elder closest to him, stood staring at him. The small ones, however, erupted from the brush with excitement and cheering. They all seemed to be touching him at once. The babble of their voices filling the air.

“You got him."  “You saved us."  “Did you see that shot."  “I bet Trelmar could not made that shot."  “I can’t wait to tell maman."  “Look! The village is on fire.”

The last uttered sentence drew Alador’s eyes. Mesiande had been in the village. He grabbed his bow and jumped to his feet. Smoke billowed from the village. Many of the middle and inner circle houses were close together. A fire started from the top would be devastating. There were cries of pain and screaming still coming from the village. He could hear elders shouting orders for water. “We have to help!"
 He shouted to the elders behind him.

He took off at a dead run. He hit the outer ring leaving the small ones far behind. Frantically he looked about for Mesiande as he ran towards the area of smoke. Many houses were on fire, and the entire village was forming a bucket line. He still didn’t see her. He looked about in panic. He ran to her house, it was not on fire. He hollered within, but no one was there. He knew she would be helping, so he headed toward the area that was blazing.
Twice he had grabbed ahold of women that looked like Mesi from behind, only to realize they were not her. He did not take the time to do more then utter a swift apology before hurrying forward. Finally, with great relief, he saw her near the end by one of the wells. He joined the line, and soon was helping pass water buckets as fast as they could be pulled from the well. He made sure he was positioned with his back to hers. She was passing empty buckets back towards the well.

It took the village nearly three hours to put the fires out. They had spread fast as most of the upper structures of the houses were made of wood. The bottom floor was made of stone to help prevent fires caused by cooking. Fire did not usually rain down from above. The council quickly organized the efforts, moving people to surround the fires and work inward. This prevented the fire from spreading to untouched buildings.

It seemed to take forever. As fast as a bucket could be filled, it was swiftly passed down the line. A second line returned them keeping the buckets moving. Other villagers used large wet blankets to try to smother flames.

When at last the fires were out, most of the villagers were exhausted. Many were blackened by soot. The village was called to the center circle and wearily the injured and exhausted were helped the center. Healers moved about tending burns and any injuries. They moved as if their limbs were made of lead. Even the children clustered in quiet groups. Now that the fires were out, the shock of what had occurred was setting in.

Word spread quickly that six had died in the direct blast of the dragon, caught upon or in their homes, they had been unable to escape the flames in time. The sound of their housekin mourning could be heard at the far edge of the circle. The village had not lost so many at once since the wars. The grief and shock was palpable. The Daezun revered the dragons, so to have one attack with such unprovoked rage left many in disbelief.

Alador moved to Mesiande and put an arm around her to comfort her for she stood in dazed shock. “You okay?"
 He asked softly in her ear.

She nodded yes and looked up at him with tear filled eyes. At that moment, his brave little friend looked small and helpless. He reached out and tenderly wiped a soot filled tear that trailed down her cheek. She laid her face into his hand and then just walked into his arms. He held her tenderly as she stood shivering in his arms. It felt right, to hold her this way.