Outcast (The Blue Dragon's Geas) (16 page)

Alador rushed to answer, somewhat flustered. He had planned to sit over an ale and explain the changes since Henrick had last come to the village. It figured someone had beat him to his father with the tale. “I...but...I-It was just a lucky shot into the creature’s maw. I do not know what had stirred him up so considerably."
 Alador hoped his father would be deflected as the subject of dragons always seemed to draw Henrick’s attention. The mage had presented himself as a bit of an expert on the topic.

“Dragons have been causing more problems as of late. They seem to be more aggressive and irritated. Maybe they are more aware of their dwindling numbers then they are given credit. After all, such admirable creatures can hardly be blind to what is occurring to their race."
 Henrick admitted. There was a hardening of Henrick’s manner, and as if he realized it, he paused taking a drink from his tankard before continuing. “Perhaps it is part of their natural cycle. We still know little of them other than the properties of their blood.”

Henrick picked up on the elders’ discomfort in speaking of the bloodstone magic and changed the topic. “So, did I tell you about this ball my brother had?
 A bunch of peacocks, every one of them, bowing and scraping. Why this one man came, and I swear upon the gods, his hat was taller than a water bucket…"  Alador breathed out a sigh of relief as the focus was once more off of him. He sat and laughed with the others and even helped tell a tale or two of his own. Gregor made a great showing of telling how he had to help Alador put up a rail against the house because Alador fell down the stairs, making sure to emphasize he was sober at the time. Alador took the good natured ribbing with a rolling of his eyes.

The inn soon bustled with village stories since the
 mage had last visited and Henrick brought gales of laughter in the way he could mimic some of the more affluent and arrogant Lerdenians. Eventually the talk turned to mining once more, and Alador’s huge find that had brought in more slips than any could remember. The volume diminished as Henrick did not speak but stared at his son for far too long a moment. Alador shifted uncomfortably under his father’s intense gaze.

Henrick’s gaze held, and the intensity of his look remained uncomfortable. “How large was this stone?"
 Although his voice was soft, it sounded as if it was a loud command resonating through his body.

Despite his intentions to play down the stone, Alador found himself answering. “It was enormous. About this size."
 He admitted to his father. He showed with his hands the large size of the jewel. He stared at his father, concerned at how easy the truth had left his lips.

“I do not know if I have heard of one larger, Alador. You must tell me. Was it normal in its appearance? Was it cracked in some way or different?"
 Alador found his eyes locked with his father’s, unable to look away.

He felt an urge to speak and a bit of panic as he did not want to tell him of the stone suddenly. “It was clear."
 He sighed with frustration at his inability to hold back the words. He was still not able to look away from his father.

“Clear?"
 Henrick leaned forward from where he sat to where Alador sat nearby. His eyes did not leave him. “Elders, if I could be as bold as to request, you would leave us for a time. I would speak with my son in private."  The elders had not missed the exchange between the two, in fact, talk around them had died down.

Alador blinked in surprise when the elders simply nodded and picked up their tankards and wandered away in small clusters. “Is something amiss?"
 He asked with concern once they were at the table alone.

Henrick finally dropped his eyes from Alador. He looked about and then whispered words that Alador did not understand. A ring flared on his hand and then his gaze returned to his son. “Alador, do you know what happens when a mage takes up a bloodstone?”

Alador looked about in alarm for he could not hear anything but his father. No one seemed to be paying attention to them, but yet he could not hear them. Patrons’ mouthed moved, and others were milling about as if all were normal. Alador looked back to his father and shook his head no. “I have only seen them harvested."  He felt his gaze catch again in his father’s eyes. He wanted to look away suddenly. His breath felt caught in his chest, and his heart began to pound. He had never felt fear when he sat with his father before, but he felt it now. Why was he suddenly so scared?  That gaze held almost a predatory assessment. He knew that gaze. He had seen that look in the big marnex. They had that look right before they pounced upon a prang, their large claws ripping into tender flesh. Their fangs taking the throat in a single bite. He swallowed hard and tried to calm his breathing.

“Once the magic is drained, they are clear."
 Henrick whispered softly. His manner was grim and he stared at Alador as if weighing some great decision. He waited for his son to realize what he was saying, watching him intently.

Alador stared at him in confusion. His father's gaze still making him feel hunted. “You mean a mage had already emptied the stone before I found it. It is really worthless?"
 He shook his head in denial, grasping for any truth but the one that seemed to be looming before him. He panicked slightly at the thought of what the trader would say when he returned. His heart raced in his chest, and he wanted to run.

“No, Alador, I doubt a mage dug up the stone, drained it and put it back."
 Henrick grinned at his son. However, that smile did not go to his eyes. In fact, Henrick’s body was tense as he rubbed his throat.

Alador sat puzzled and then his eyes flew open in alarm. “Y-You think that...that...I drained it?"
 He whispered. He looked about. He felt a rush of even greater panic. His hands clenched at the meaning of his father’s words. Suddenly all the changes made sense. Every little thing flashed before his eyes. The water heating in the bathhouse, his sudden ability to see targets as if they were close and the dragon visions he kept having. He clenched and unclenched his hands trying to look away from his father. Trying to shove the fear coursing through him to some level he could manage.

He shook his head in denial. There had been a time when he would have gladly tested to be found with magic. It would have meant that he could have left the village and went with his father, no longer an outcast. But now, he had acceptance. Now he knew that Mesiande would accept him as a housemate. The last thing he wanted was to have to leave now. His house was already started. He had thought maybe he was coming into power. It had never occurred to him he had drained the stone.

“Did you?"  The question was cold. It held an edge that made Alador quiver. Henrick slowly sat back. “Did you drain that stone, Alador?  Have you finally come into your legacy, my son?"  The word son held a cold contemptuous tone.

Alador wanted to run. He wanted to shout to the very ceiling that he was not a mage. “N-No!"
 He managed to stammer out. “I-I mean, I-I haven’t s-suddenly developed any skills or… or...attributes to suggest it."  Alador lied to his father for the first time.

Henrick was quiet for a long moment. Then he leaned forward once more as if some decision had been made. His manner far less predatory and Alador was finally able to break that piercing gaze. He twisted a ring on his hand and picked up his tankard. “Why are you so concerned, my son?
 You used to beg me to test you when I would enter the village?  Now you build a house and…"  Henrick paused for a moment. “Ah, it is a woman, is it not?"  Henrick smiled when he realized that a woman must be involved. He watched Alador as he drank from his tankard.

The room seemed to swim before his gaze for a moment, and his stomach lurched as if he had suddenly been hit. The sounds of the room came crashing back around them. “H-Her name...well it is someone I grew up with, and we are going to be housemates when she comes of age."
 Alador whispered so no one else would hear. “I do not want a life without her."  He felt the need to protect her from his father. He could not explain it, but the feeling was intense. “I have the means to offer a life to her now. I am more than the village half breed."  Alador tapped the table with two fingers to make his point.

“Women come and go, Alador. Magic, ahhhh magic now
that
is a gift worth giving dedication."  The mage sat back and sipped his tankard watching the boy. “I thought it was your dream to be the next great mage?  To take your place on the tiers and show your true heritage as my son."  Henrick watched him with a challenging smile.

“It is no longer mine, Father. Please, let us speak no more of this."
 Alador growled out the answer, his words tense. He could feel his anger and fear rising up. Alador suddenly wanted to wipe the smug grin off his father’s face. He clenched his fists, once more trying to drive down the strange feelings his father was stirring up.

Henrick put his boots up on the table as he leaned back. The odd predatory manner gone, and the lazy, spoiled mage once more sat before him. “I promise you, if you do not pass the tests, I will trouble you no further."
 Henrick took a sip and murmured softly. “Doubtful though."  Although his body and manner spoke of relaxation, the sharp gaze was not missed.

Alador knew suddenly that he would pass some portion of his father’s tests. He knew that he had changed since he had found the stone. As he stared at his father, he realized his father knew it too. “I do not want to take them."
 He whispered hotly. “It is not the path I choose. I will make my own decisions. I do not want this. I do not want it."  He was the one leaning forward now.

“I fear, my dear boy, I am not asking you."
 Henrick answered him in a lazy manner. He sipped on his mug watching Alador. His smile was almost mocking. “I am your father and you will be tested. If not today, then before I leave. You can suddenly shoot when before you could not see?  Oh, you will indeed be tested, and you will pass."  He toasted his son as if applauding his efforts.

Alador jumped up, deep-seeded fear driving him as it never had before. He finally fit in, and his father was going to take it all away. “Damned if I will."
 He jumped up and his chair fell back. Those closest to them were startled by the noise, and looked at the two in surprise. Henrick just sat that with that knowing smile. Alador still wanted to wipe it off his smug face. Instead, He turned on his heel and stormed out. His father’s soft chuckle echoing in his ears.

He broke into a run blindly headed for the river. He moved swiftly over the fence and boundary. He found a rock out in the water at the top of the small rapids and waded out to it. He flopped down in the late afternoon sun and laid there, the sound of water rushing over rocks behind cascading over his tumultuous emotions. He had wanted to hit his father. He could never remembering wanting to hit him before. He could not remember even being upset with him before. His father had become more arrogant as he had gotten older or maybe as he had gotten older he just noticed it more.

He had never considered that he could have harvested the stone. Why had this not occurred to him?  Everything continued clicking into place since he had first taken in his father’s question.
Did you?
  Had he drained the stone when he had pulled it free?  He had taken his gloves off so he had held the stone in his bare hands. The strange dreams made sense. The dragon must have made some sort of impression or left memories somehow. The ability to see and shoot with such clarity. The boiling of the water with Trelmar. The scenes seemed to swirl about in his mind. The knowledge of where to place that arrow in the red dragon’s mouth.

Alador’s mind raced over the facts. Daezun did not allow those of magic to live their midst. Even healers lived on the outskirts of the village boundaries, tolerated only due to the need for such magics. The only exception to this he had ever seen was traveling enchanters like his father. But even then, they were expected to do their work, share their tales and move on. It was a solitary life, or one of traveling constantly. He imagined sharing a traveling wagon with Mesiande. The many nights spent in each other's arms between villages.

He sighed softly. She would be scorned no matter what village they entered, and he knew she would be about as welcome in a Lerdenian city as mage was in a Daezun village. It was a life that he could not ask Mesiande to live. He groaned in fear and genuine distress. Maybe his father was wrong, perhaps the stones could be drained another way. Maybe the stone was just faulty. He would rather give the slips back than risk the loss of Mesiande. Certainly that was a compromise that could be reached. Still, he had spent much of the slips on the house he was building. He had given much to his family, and it would not be fair to ask them to return it. Maybe they would, maybe they would offer to protect him from having to leave.

He had to know. He had to know how to control the magic it if it were true. He had to fail his father’s test. He sat up on the rock. That was it! He had to fail the test. Certainly it was just a matter of not letting the magic appear. He thought about his father’s tests in the past and what way he could best replicate it. There were two things he knew had changed. The water that had heated up in the
bathhouse when Trelmar had attacked him and the ability to see a target. If that had been magic and not the spring, he should be able to recreate it. If he could recreate it, then maybe he could recognize how it felt and force that feeling away. He looked about and spotted a small pool of water protected by rocks as the water swirled past. He hopped off his rock and made his way over to the pool.