Draconis' Bane (6 page)

He bit into a peach
as he watched other servants quickly make their way out of the
room. Too quickly, the focus of everyone was back on him. The
little girl was smiling at him from her mother’s lap; the older
woman still had tears in her eyes. His father was clearly exhausted
but relieved and the huge stranger had the strangest look on his
face for someone his size. He looked to be torn between tears and
joy. Tristan was always taught that only babies and women
cry…surely this goliath knew that!

Resentment, always so
close to the surface, reared its ugly head again as Tristan tore
apart the piece of rye with his teeth. Everyone seemed to be
waiting for him to have his fill, another foreign concept; people
waiting on him. Selfishly he took his time, eating the peach and
then an apple, a couple large chunks of cheese and another piece of
bread before guzzling down another glass of water. By the time he
put the plate and the glass back down on the night stand, he was
ready for some answers.

“What happened to
me?” He asked quietly.

Everyone in the room
looked at one another, unsure of how to answer or what to say he
was sure. His father spoke first.

“What is your
earliest memory son?”

Fighting off
irritation, Tristan thought back to his earliest recollection. He
had been five years old, playing on the carpet in the living room,
his father watching the evening news on television as he played
with his toy cars making engine sounds.

“Would you keep it
down!? I can’t hear the news!” His father screamed.

He was quiet for what
felt like forever, but once again after some time had passed he
began making the engine sounds again as he raced his little toy
cars around the carpet. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his
father get out of his chair, stomp over to him, grab him by both
biceps and lift him up so they were face to face.

“SHUT UP!!!!” He
bellowed and then dropped him unceremoniously back down onto the
carpet.

He slowly got up and
limped upstairs to his room where he cried himself to sleep.

Tristan’ eyes filled
with tears as he regarded the man who looked like Father Downing.
The woman in front of him was shaking and her tears were now
flowing from her eyes, dropping onto her beautiful maroon silk
gown. Apparently she could read his mind…and from the looks on
everyone else’s faces so could everyone else. A sense of privacy
rose up inside Tristan and he erected his mental defenses,
ironically, as Father Downing had taught him.

The little girl, her
green eyes much like his mothers had tears gathering in them as she
struggled to run over and presumably knock the wind out of him with
another hug. The towering man looked helplessly at his immense
hands as they opened and closed, powerless to help. His fathers’
knuckles were white as he regarded his son. Tristan wished they
would stop looking at him, he felt ashamed of how weak he was being
again.

In his mind, despite
his pitiful defenses, he could hear his mother’s voice again;

Don’t be ashamed
Mykl. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’re all very proud of
you.

“What the hell could
you possibly be proud about!?” He shouted. “I’m sitting here crying
like a little baby and I don’t understand what’s going on!” He
jumped off his bed, adrenaline flowing through his system as he
stormed around the room.

“Son please, calm
down, we’ll explain everything.” His father said.

“Sit down little
brother.” Boomed the large man.

Without thinking
about it Tristan sat back down on the bed and stared defiantly back
at the large man.

“Well one thing
hasn’t changed. He still acts like he’s three times his size.” The
big man joked.

The stress in the
room lifted as everyone chuckled at his observation. Tristan felt
very foolish, everyone was being very kind and he was acting out
because of his confusion.

“It’s only natural
son.” His father said. “After what you’ve been through, we can only
imagine what it must be like.”

“Yes, please Mykl.
We’ll explain everything to you, but you need to keep calm, we’re
not sure how hurt you are yet.” Continued the woman.

“Fine. Why do you
keep calling me that?”

“It’s Mom, that’s
just what she does Tristan.” Replied the large man
sarcastically.

“I remember you.”
Tristan commented.

“Oh really? What do
you remember exactly little brother?”

“You were Joy’s best
friend.”

“Well I don’t know
about best friend, but son might be a better word.”

“I don’t understand.”
Tristan mumbled.

“Let me explain.
You’re all too serious anyway.” The little girl announced.

Tristan liked her
very much. He couldn’t quite explain why, but she just infected him
with love and trust. It didn’t feel normal at all, though not in an
alarming way. Her presence was infectiously and inexplicably
joyous. For years he’d been abused and neglected and all it took
this little wisp of a girl moments and his defenses were down. She
happily leapt off her mother’s lap, ran over and jumped up onto the
bed with him again. She sat cross legged staring at him as he
turned and leaned back against the pillows, wincing in pain as he
waited.

“Ok. You were in the
training area; Mom won’t let me go you know, she doesn’t think
swordplay is very lady like and….”

“Ahem.” Their father
cleared his throat and Eurydice blushed.

“…right. So you were
at lessons, learning how to use a sword. One of the servants walked
into the room to bring you water with a slice of lemon in it. He
walked out and when another servant brought lunch a few minutes
later…you, your fencing partner and everyone else in the room was
unconscious. No one knows what happened, the water wasn’t poisoned
or anything, it just looked like everyone had passed out, like a
spell.” She explained.

“Wait…hold on…a
spell? Like magic? You mean like card tricks and sleight of hand?”
Tristan laughed.

No Mykl, like
magic….

He wiped his head
around as flame erupted from his mothers palm, she gently blew on
it and it floated in between Tristan and Eurydice. He sat there,
shocked and not wanting to believe; he reached out and held his
hand above it….it was hot!

“Th…that’s
impossible.” He muttered.

Eurydice looked
shocked at that announcement as his mother and father exchanged
meaningful glances, but it was his brother who spoke first.

“Tristan, don’t you
remember us?”

“All I remember is
being beaten, abused, ignored and punished…Ok?” He snapped
needlessly.

This time his father
stepped forward, he knelt down in front of Tristan. Concern clearly
evident on his face he reached into the night table and pulled out
a mirror. He held surrendered it to Tristan.

“You’re not eight
Tristan. Look at yourself.”

Tristan took the
offered mirror, doubt clearly evident on his face, and looked into
it. The face looking back at him was wasn’t his own. It wasn’t the
reflection he was used to seeing. What he’d expected to see was a
skinny dark haired boy. The man looking back at him had long
shoulder length hair, a few days worth of stubble and a faded scar
running down the left side of his face.

The only thing he
could recognize were his eyes, the same three colors of grey, green
and brown looking back at him. It was at this point that he noticed
he wasn’t wearing his hand me down suit, he was clothed in a
comfortable short sleeved shirt and trousers made of a soft
material he’d never felt before.

“You’ll be
celebrating your twentieth Midsummer in a few months.” His father
explained with a confounded look on his face.

“I thought I was
telling the story!” She pouted theatrically and everyone in the
room laughed, including Tristan.

Alright Mykl, tell
your brother the story.

“Wait. What’s that
word? Mykl? You call me that too.” He asked.

“I can tell you
that.” His sister replied eagerly. “It’s what Mom calls all her
children. It’s really funny when she calls Kevin it though,
especially in front of his men.” She giggled.

“He’s so serious
around them.” She whispered as though it was a grand
conspiracy.

Everyone laughed
again and Tristan looked over at his older brother and saw that he
was genuinely amused at her observations.

“You would be too,
little one, if you were their General.” He replied.

“Do they know I can
beat you at chess too?” She said through a crooked smile.

It seemed like
Tristans’ recovery had definitely brightened the room because
everyone was once again laughing at her byplay with the family. She
was clearly the baby that everyone doted on, but there wasn’t
anything “spoiled” about her. She didn’t look pampered and didn’t
give off the impression that everyone should bend to her will. It
was very much outside of Tristan’s experience. His mind seemed to
be stuck in the nightmare and all of his anger and resentment came
back with him.

“So, anyway.”
Eurydice cut off his dark musing. “When the servants found you
unconscious they sent for a healing priest. When she arrived she
looked over you and tried to heal you, only the spell that hit you
had some sort of trap for anyone attempting to force it out.” She
continued. “The spell rebounded on her and she died.”

Tristan ran his hand
through his hair and tried to make sense of this information. Why
had it killed a trained healing priest but spared him? As if to
answer his question his mother began to speak.

“Mykl, no one knows
why you survived. That particular spell normally kills people, only
a handful of others in the course of our history have survived it.
The spell is designed to render you unconscious and plunge you into
some sort of alternate life. It was designed to steal your will to
live.” His mother explained.

“Being our son has
given you something of an interesting education to say the very
least.” She continued with a chuckle. “Learning how to control your
thoughts and strengthen your mind must have been what helped to
save you.”

“Unfortunately it
seems to have created a block in your memory though Tristan.” His
father chimed in. “You still feel like the eight year old wretch
and you don’t seem to be able to remember anything of your former
life.”

Clearly this was the
topic that had everyone in the room on edge. Kevin shifted
uncomfortably, Eurydice’s eyes filled with tears again and his
mother wouldn’t break eye contact with him. His father’s shoulders
sagged visibly as he forced himself to continue.

“The healers are
shocked you made it out at all. For the last few days you were
unconscious it was clear that the spell was starting to eat your
will to live.”

“That is why we had
to force our way into your mind, Mykl. I’m sorry. I know it must
have been terrifying.” His mother apologized.

“It didn’t really
frighten me.” Tristan admitted. “I couldn’t feel any malice behind
it, but it did make me think I was starting to lose my mind. Father
Downing…or…well father I guess, taught me how to meditate and keep
calm.” Tristan continued to explain. “I still feel like I’m
grasping at something beyond me though. I don’t even know why I’m
telling you all this, I guess it’s just nice not to have people
screaming at you…”

At this his sister
lost all her composure and flung herself around his waist again.
The pain in his body must have subsided because this time it didn’t
hurt, even though the wind was knocked out of him again by her
over-zealous launch. He chuckled and put his arms around her,
absent-mindedly playing with her hair. His brother grinned widely
as his mothers eyes filled with tears again.

“You always do that.”
Kevin chuckled. “It’s no wonder she likes you best.”

“That’s only because
your thigh is bigger than she is.” Tristan shot back.

Everyone laughed
again as he heard his mothers’ voice inside his head again.

That’s more like the
Tristan I know.

I’m working on it. He
sent back.

His mother gasped as
everyone looked at her.

“What?” His father
asked.

“He spoke inside my
mind.” His mother replied with shock.

“He…can do that?”
Kevin asked.

“Apparently…” She
said uncertainly.

“Why, is that
strange?” Tristan asked.

“Son, you were our
first born…” His father began.

When Tristan glanced
at his older brother, his father chuckled as he continued.

“…your older brother
was from my first wife, she died years ago and then I married
your
mother.” He explained. “As I was saying, you were
our
first born and the priests didn’t think we would be able
to produce children, your mother being a unique half breed. When we
had you, there were…complications. Complications we didn’t
experience with your sister. You were born fully mortal; there
shouldn’t be any magic in you at all.”

“Maybe the priests
were wrong, father. Maybe he does have some dragon blood in him
after all.” Suggested his brother.

“I’m sorry,
um…
dragon blood?”

“Mom’s part-dragon
and I am too. We can talk to each other through our minds, talk to
animals, and do a little magic….nothing too big though. Dragon
Magic isn’t what it used to be.” Eurydice explained eagerly.

“How in the hell can
you be part dragon? You both look human to me.”

Eurydice giggled as
she explained. “Tristan, Dragon Magic is ancient, older than the
priests and sorcerers. When a dragon wanted to visit a human town
they would transform themselves into human form. Some dragons, who
hated being hunted and shunned by most mortal races, would chose to
live their lives as humans. They couldn’t breed properly and often
the children were born deformed or dead.”