Outcast (The Blue Dragon's Geas) (8 page)

The elders stood in the center of the circle conversing. Other than the sobs of those who had lost kin, there was only the softest murmurs of conversation. The people were tired and confused. Alador was so busy comforting Mesiande that he did not see Maredeth point to him. It wasn’t till the village was suddenly silent that he looked up and saw all eyes on him. He flushed and looked down at the intimate comfort he was giving to the middlin in his arms. Alador stood uncomfortably, unsure if he should push her away or what he was to do.

“Alador, come forward."
 Velkar called. He was the leader of the elders’ council.

Alador blinked a few times and slowly let go of Mesiande. She looked up at him with concern and confusion. Alador, himself, looked about him worriedly. What had he done now?
 Certainly he was not to be scolded for giving his friend comfort?  He moved slowly to stand before Velkar.

“Meradeth tells me that you sent an arrow into the mouth of the beast, and this is why the small ones were not burned by its breath. Is this so?"
 Velkar’s voice held an authority that few ignored. Despite his age, he still carried himself with a strong air of confidence. His eyes were sharp, and his presence was commanding. Alador noticed him when he entered a room even if he never spoke.

“Yes Elder."
 Alador answered quietly. “It was naught but a lucky shot is all."  He breathed out with relief, thankful that he was not in trouble for holding Mesiande.

“Luck seems to follow you these days Alador. This village is beholden to you for we would have lost far more. It has been decided by the council that Alador of the house of Alanis will join the circle of men this night."
 Velkar held up a hand as a murmur went around the circle. “A planning council will be held tomorrow and you will join us there."  Middlins were not allowed in council so it was clear this sudden move up of his ritual was to avoid breaking rules.

Alador sighed softly. He was going to find himself on the outside again as such recognition was not normal in the village. He would rather they bend their ways for once and just let him report to the council as a middlin. That was the only thing he found he did not like about his people. They were rigid in their adherence to rituals and rules. Henrick, Alador’s father, had told him in Lerdenia, laws adjusted as times changed.
Henrick had gone on to emphasize that the Daezun did not change. The eyes of the village today held no judgment. He saw many nod in agreement with the elder as he looked around.

As he looked about the circle, his eyes met Trelmar’s. There, he did not see acceptance. With Trelmar, it appeared that nothing had changed. That was not quite correct, he realized that it was hatred that seethed in the middlin’s eyes as the two’s vision connected for a long moment. Alador realized in that moment, he was no longer a mere victim of mischief. He had made an enemy.

Alador started when the chief elder began speaking again and snapped his attention back to Velkar. “Dorien, see your brother bathed and readied for the ritual. I will see to it that arrangements are made in the ceremonial hut.”

Dorien stepped up and nodded. “I will see him prepared Elder."
 Dorien took the stunned middlin by the arm and began to lead him through the people. Everyone seemed to want to touch him as he went by. It was an odd sensation of so many hands passing over him as Dorien led him away from the circle. Alador said nothing. He turned his head back and looked at Mesiande. She was biting her lip and looking concerned as Dorien pulled him off.

   
 
Luthian had not been able to sit still, and so he paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back. His thoughts were on the size of that bloodstone and the sheer power it had held. Did the boy even know what he possessed?  Had he found some rogue mage to instruct him?  Was he as malleable as most outcasts of the Daezun?  He must still be within the village ranks if he was mining and trading. It would make him not yet an adult. How old was that boy?  His brother had told him in one of his long ramblings about his trips, but he could not remember. It had not really mattered to him much about what his brother spawned as long as those with some capacity for magics were brought into his elite force.

He continued to pace back and forth in his study. It was immaculately maintained, and the library was the most extensive in all of Silverport. Luthian had added every book he could find on magic. He had a collection of maps and tales of the known world beyond the isle. Every mage he had removed from his path had been brought down by the knowledge in Luthian's library and then in the mages' demise, he had pilfered to add to its voluminous shelves. It smelled heavily of old leather, a hint of dusty parchment and the rich sweet smell of a good tobacco. The floor was a black marble
that was shined daily by the servants until it was almost mirror like. It was set off by rich warm thick carpets mulled in a deep red wine color. It spoke of slips, luxury, and power. It was the perfect backdrop for his meetings, for Luthian was as well maintained as his surroundings.

When Luthian had originally sent for
his brother, Henrick, he had not been in the city. It turned out that he had been out on one of the routes assigned to him by the council. Luthian had been forced to wait three weeks for his brother’s return. He had received word that Henrick had returned to the city last evening. He had forced himself to be patient, and had not sent for him till a couple of hours ago. Patience was not Luthian’s virtue. He had forced his energy into bedding many of the Daezun women. There had been a certain pleasure in seeing them beneath him without the protection of their precious potion. Their fear had been almost intoxicating. He smiled at the memory before current matters wormed their way back into his thoughts once more.

Where was his brother?
 He was in the fifth tier and so had access to the council’s tier. He should have been here by now. Luthian’s brow was furrowed, and his eyes were narrow slits. His pace was hard, and his boots could be heard tapping out upon the marble floor. The Black Guards assigned to him had been wise enough to step out and guard his door outside the room. He was furious. Furious he had not paid attention. Furious that a stone of such power and slipped his grasp, and furious that his brother had not found the boy’s capabilities sooner. This was made worse by the fact that his brother was keeping him waiting. People did not keep Luthian waiting. His anger rose as he considered the many things he could do to the impertinent. A malicious smile slowly formed on his face before he shook his head to focus back to the problem at hand.

Henrick had two sons from his excursions into the Daezun lands. Luthian’s thoughts turned to the Daezun. The two cultures were at peace, but for the most part, neither had much use for the other outside of the trade that took place. The bloodstones could not be harvested by any of Lerdenian blood for the magic was always seeped from it, and while some protections could be found, most of those seeking the stones wanted the power for themselves. The Daezun were a hardier folk and more suited for such work and had the added benefit that they could not harvest the stones for their own use. The Daezun tolerated the healers and enchanters of Lerdenia because they could not use magics and some things only a mage healer could cure or fix. All healers that used magics had at least some Lerdenian bloodline. In truth, the two people needed each other, but Luthian would prefer it under his rule.

More intense healings were the most frequent of Daezun requests. Enchantments to bring forth better stock and crops were also another important aspect of this trade off. It had been part of the terms of the peace treaty; trade of bloodstones for magics and items needed in a daily village life. Luthian held them in contempt. They seemed to have no use for the finer things in life like wine or silk. They were led by their elders, and most of those in power were women. Women ran their households and had an equal voice in their council of elders. Women had no place in leadership unless they held great power and definitely should not lead the home. He preferred them beneath him in his bed or silent in their service. They should serve the men in their lives, but this was not the Daezun way. The Daezun way, he scoffed aloud, they were little better than animals with no refinement.

Henrick had too much fondness for his trips into the Daezun lands. It was one more reason Luthian held his younger brother in such contempt. He did not know how his brother could handle these overbearing, independent females. Luthian made sure all those in his stable were properly cowed before they were ever considered for breeding mares. If they had a tongue on them or a will that seemed unbreakable, he used them before the others as examples. More than one willful bitch had been left smoldering upon the floor, a visual example to others that would dare defy his commands. To him, they were a lesser people, a necessary blight upon the edges of the Lerdenian rule. If they were not fit for his Black Guard, then they should be slaves to the mage council’s whims. His lip curled with the strength of his contempt.

Luthian walked to his desk and surveyed the island map. The Daezun currently held one third of the great isle. Despite having magic, Lerdenia had been unable to uproot the Daezun during the Great War. They had a way of melding into the landscape about them. They had made warrens like vermin, far beneath the ground where they could go undetected. Divining mages were few and far between as this was a magic not often used or even discovered in the bloodstones. When the Lerdenian council would find such a mage and bring them into battle, the Daezun archers seemed to have a knack for somehow seeking them out. One of the Black Guard had told him recently that he could feel such a mage when they were searching the fields of magic. Luthian traced the line on the great map before him. Lerdenia should own all the Great Isle and the Daezun should be nothing but slaves to Lerdenia’s pleasure. His eyes narrowed, and despite being alone, he snarled at the idea. Yet the Daezun had managed to hold their ground over the many centuries of conflict. It was not until Lerdenia realized that no new magics were coming forth that they had even considered peace. Luthian planned to bring an end to the time of peace and make it a time of rule. But to do that, he had to be able to fight Daezun on their own ground.

That had been the start of creating and molding the Black Guard. He had named them for the black leather and mail armor they wore. He saw them as slightly above the Daezun people because at least they could be taught the battle magics. Due to being raised in Lerdenian luxury or cast out of their own Daezun homes, Luthian had been able to spoil them just enough to keep their attention. His harsh expectations enforced by corporal punishments, often lethal, commanded a feared regard. He had no qualms at killing one for a failure to study. Of course, he made sure it was through an exhibition of his own fiery power, and only to ones who had failed to live up to the potential that they had initially shown. Luthian did not care whether the Black Guard respected him, feared him, or saw him as a benefactor as long as they followed his orders. His mind drifted to the young female that had failed to practice her archery skills and who had not lived up to his expectations. He had shown the Daezun not only how to treat a less
er female but also what happened when they failed him. He could still hear her screams from within the fiery column he had called down upon her when he had finished.

The door swung open, its hinges creaking from the heavy metal weight, startling the mage from his thoughts. Luthian spun around. His brother was so unlike him. He wore black robes trimmed in silver. His hair was still jet black, and his eyes seemed to glisten with an intelligence that made Luthian nervous. Yet his brother never overstepped his place. He seemed to have no designs for anything higher than the fifth
tier. This suited Luthian for he suspected there were depths to his brother that he did not understand. His brother had always seemed weak at first, and so he had sent him out as one of the traveling enchanters and healers. He had given him the charms to insure chances into the circles. However, on a trip a couple years ago, Henrick had come back different and that difference had made Luthian wary. He was sure his brother had laid hands on a more powerful stone, but when he had attempted to press the issue, his brother had seemed as simple as ever. Henrick had become more independent and free with his thoughts. The usual boot kissing behaviors had ceased. He smiled absently.  He had rather liked instilling those behaviors in his brother, maybe he needed to do it again.

Henrick sauntered into the room. His voice was hoarse and raspy. “Sorry brother, I have been ill. I fear I had to dress to attend your summons. How may I serve?"
 He bowed low before Luthian.

Luthian’s eyes narrowed for his brother was rarely sick. However, he did indeed look pale and somewhat harried. His robes were wrinkled and appeared to have been slept in. That was another difference he had noticed over the last two years, Henrick had become much more fastidious about his appearance. This unkempt state was not his usual manner in the last two years. Luthian shook himself from his thoughts. “The son you have in Smallbrook, when did you last test him?”

Henrick looked at his brother slightly in surprise. “I am due to test him in the next trip. Why do you ask?  You seemed to have no interest in the boy in our previous conversations."  Henrick’s usual bored expression of late was broken as his eyes moved to Luthian.

“He has come into his power, you fool. You missed it, and he has harvested from a rather large stone."
 Luthian snarled out in tones that were harsh with his displeasure. His sharp eyes were intent upon the lesser mage.

“Oh, how did you get this news?"
 His tone casual and drawn out, Henrick dropped into a leather chair by the fire putting his feet up on the small table before him, his back to his brother. His continued tone seemed to indicate that the younger mage was aware. “Forgive me but I am still taxed from my illness."  Henrick’s manner was almost as if he were being inconvenienced, his manner casual as he plucked at a thread upon his sleeve.

“A trader attempted to sell me an emptied stone and gave the name of the one who harvested it as one Alador of Smallbrook. I doubt there are two."
 Luthian frowned with displeasure at his brother’s lack of respect to his position. He moved about where he could see his brother’s face, but the man was just staring into the flames. Had his brother known?  Luthian watched him. “You need to bring him to me."  Luthian commanded. Luthian turned sharp and stomped back to his desk, his tone was such that this should have been the end of the conversation, so he was a bit startled when Henrick softly spoke.

“Is that wise brother?
 Perhaps we should just kill him. Certainly an untrained Daezun with such power would be a concern for you,"  Henrick casually stated, not looking up from the fire. His finger still toyed with the loose thread of his robe.

Luthian blinked in surprise. Ever since the boy had been found to be Henrick’s, the man had seemed proud of his spawn and protective. What had brought about this change of heart?
 Luthian had expected Henrick to rise with excitement to bring in the beloved son he had once rained praises on after every trip. “This would be correct except in this case there is an advantage to his control."  Luthian picked up a chalice from his desk and walked towards the fire. He sipped at it as he stood to the side. His eyes never left off staring at the side of Henrick’s head.

Henrick looked up at him. “Oh, what would that be?"
 Henrick quit playing with the thread and rubbed his throat absently.

Luthian smiled coldly, and he drew out the words. “He is family."
 He could not wait to get his hands on that power. It was too bad that you couldn’t kill another mage and steal their power in their death. He would much rather kill his competition than a dragon.  Luthian’s greed and malice was not hidden with that thought.

Henrick gazed at his brother for a very long time. The silence hung between them. “What if you cannot control him?"
 The soft question hung in the air between them.

Luthian took another sip before he answered. “Then we kill him, but let us try to find the extent of his power and attempt to bring it under our command."
 Luthian’s calculating mind was still considered the possible powers and uses of such a Daezun half breed. He did not consider a halfblooded Black Guard a threat. He also did not intend for there to be an “our command” but for now this would appease his brother.

“Do you wish me to make my usual trip or go straight there?"
 Henrick asked with a slight frown. Henrick clearly looked displeased at the idea of setting out. “The ball, after all, is this week. I have a set of new robes on order. It would be a shame to waste them."  Henrick’s drawl indicated he really had no desire to be upon the road any time soon.

Luthian rolled his eyes. Typical of his brother to care more about his appearance at some gossip filled mongering event than the proper grasping of power. “This is your priority. I want that boy back within a moon’s cycle. The longer he is out there, the sooner another mage may find his power and seek to befriend him."
 There was a pause and Luthian returned to pacing, drink in hand. “I cannot believe you missed this boy’s potential. It is bad enough you are incompetent with magic, to have missed this too is beyond redemption."  Luthian was frustrated at his brother’s ineptness. If not for the man’s loyalty, he would have long since seen to an unpleasant accident. He could not believe that Henrick was born of the same loins for the two were not the least comparable. How could he have missed that his son was coming into power?