Outcast (The Blue Dragon's Geas) (9 page)

“You make it sound as if I have been negligent, Luthian. I have tested him every year. If you wanted more testing, maybe you should have just made sure that he was always on my route."
 Henrick looked from the fire to Luthian. His eyes were piercing and cold as he lifted his gaze to his brother.

Luthian took a step back for he was sure for a moment he saw contempt before it was hooded away. “You forget your place in the tiers, brother!"
 Luthian snarled working to exert his authority over his brother. Only once had Henrick challenged Luthian and in that battle, Henrick had been forced to his knees by his brother’s powers. Luthian smiled with memory at making his brother kiss the toe of his boot in exchange for his very life. That had been the last time Henrick had ever shown any ambition, and that had been long before Luthian had become minister.

Henrick dropped his eyes in deference. “You are right. Maybe I am just upset at myself as well. In addition, as I said, I have not been well."
 Henrick carefully rose to his feet. “When do you wish me to depart?”

Henrick’s voice was veiled, but Luthian could feel a boiling of emotion behind it. Luthian eyed him. “As soon as you see a healer and
ensure you are ready for the trip.”

Henrick bowed although not as low as usual. “It shall be as the minister commands."
 Henrick turned and swept from the room not waiting for his brother’s response. Though his words held the proper content, the contemptuous way that Henrick twisted the word minister sent a shiver up Luthian’s spine.

Luthian frowned, watching him go. It was time to consider getting rid of his brother. He had the distinct feeling he was becoming a threat.

Alador stood in the bathing house as his brother kept moving about and chuckling. He stared at the steaming water and thought about the last time he had been here. Since the day the pool had boiled, he had taken to bathing in the river. The water did not feel as cold to him as it used to, and he did not have to fear being scalded. He was completely befuddled at the moment. He had no idea why these things were happening. He should be happy, but he felt more out of place than he ever had. His whole life seemed to be turning upside down. His thoughts drifted as he stood in the steaming room. It felt comforting as the steam swirled about him.

Almost every day in the village had been a challenge from the time he was old enough to know he was different. He remembered the first time he had come to blows with Trelmar. He and Gregor had been playing by the river in a small eddy that was shallow. The elders hovered close by to make sure none ventured past the marking stone. Gregor had been chasing A
lador, and he had strayed close to the marking stone. The river moved a bit faster here, and something shining had caught his eye. He had reached down to pick it up. There in his hand had laid a kingstone. Kingstones were clear like glass and shimmered in the sun. Trelmar had grabbed it out of his hand.

“You are not fit for a kingstone. My maman says you are soiled and not fit for the gods’ blessings.
 Nothing but a foul Lerdenian!"  Trelmar’s tone had been full of venom.

Alador sighed softly remembering how he had stood confused looking down. He had been quite clean, and he remembered not understanding what Trelmar had meant. It had been the first time he had fought Trelmar. A fight had broken out in the water between Trelmar, Alador and then Gregor and one of Trelmar’s friends. The elder that had pulled him out of the river scolded him for being aggressive. It was the first time he had realized he was different.

After that, he had learned how to cope and adapt to the criticism of his parentage. He knew what routes to take to stay out of Trelmar’s path for the most part. He had learned to fight and defend himself to the point that Trelmar had quit attacking him alone and now would only seek Alador out if he had his group of followers to back him up. It had been one of the many reasons he had asked his father to take him with him when he came to visit.

 
He now was headed for everything he had ever wanted. He was going to be recognized as a true adult of the people. He would only have to work to the welfare of the village as a whole, or if he chose, he had enough slips never to have to work again. He should be happy. He would even have a real chance to be Mesiande’s housemate. He smiled at the idea of sharing a home with her. Surely, even Trelmar would now have to leave him alone.

“Come on lad, strip down and get in.”

The voice startled him from his thoughts, and he jumped in response. Dorien chuckled as he placed meraweed onto the hot stones almost immediately filling the room with the relaxing vapor. Dorien was already stripping down to slip into the steaming hot water. Alador gradually followed suit. He frowned for his body was slight in comparison to his brother. Daezun had a sturdy body to begin with, and the fact his brother was a blacksmith only added to his physique. His muscles stood out and were defined on his chest. Patches of the thick, black chest and arm hair were missing due to burns while blacksmithing. These patches were white against the otherwise tanned body of his brother. Even with the scars, Dorien drew the eyes of the village women when he pulled off his shirt. Alador slipped into the water after his brother, sighing with pleasure. Both brothers just lay back in silence for a long while.

Alador realized his brother was watching him just before Dorien spoke. “Alador, how did you repel that dragon?"
 His brother leaned back against a stone seat watching his younger brother with curiosity. His tone held no accusation.

Alador looked over at him and sighed. “You would not believe me."
 How could he tell his brother he was had heard a voice?  Or had it been some innate knowledge?  It had seemed like a voice. He had known to trust it. Was he losing his mind?  It was known that some of Lerdenian mixed blood became rattled in the head when they came of age. Perhaps this was what it was like:  Voices telling you what to do. Strange dreams that felt so real that you were not sure they had not just happened.

“Try me."
 Dorien encouraged. “We are alone. No one will come in knowing we prepare for your ritual. I have never heard of a dragon repelled with a single arrow. What did you do?”

Alador sighed. “I shot it in the mouth as it opened to draw air for its breath. The throat within has no scales to protect it."
 Alador was staring at the vent of warm water bubbling out of the bottom of the pool. His words were monotone as they spilled from his lips. His gaze was slightly absent.

Dorien was silent for a long while. His eyes were large and his mouth agape. “How did you know that?
 I do not recall much in our lessons on fighting such beasts for they leave the Daezun alone for the most part. It is usually only in the most dire of winters that they even raid the villages."  Dorien handed his brother soap and a rag.

Alador took the rag and began to soap himself. “I must have heard it somewhere."
 He answered in a murmur. He could not tell his brother about the prompting. His brother would think he was losing his senses. By the gods, he thought he was losing his mind. It would seem worse to have it leave his lips, it sounded insane in his own head. His heart was racing, and he silently begged the gods to have his brother leave this line of questioning.

The two settled into silence. The mist swirled about with the vapor of the meraweed and sometimes
it was so thick he could barely see his brother. The sound of the water gurgling up from the ground beneath and the fire under the hot stones were the only sounds as Alador finished bathing.

Finally, his brother spoke again. “Gregor tells me that since you smacked your head that you have emerged as a dead shot with your bow. Is this true?"
 Dorien’s tone was no longer gently prodding. His brother’s tone was curt.

Alador grew wary. His brother’s tone and questions were as if he knew that there was something wrong with Alador. He looked over at Dorien before ducking under the water to rinse off the scented soap. He wiped his face clear of water before answering his brother. “I have been practicing hard. I want to be a guard when I enter the circle, so I have been at it every day."
 He let out a barely contained breath, unable to look his brother in the eyes.

Dorien sighed softly. “There is something I need to tell you Alador. If it is true, you must not tell me. When you were a small one, there was another of half-blood. He came into his magic around the time of your own age. I wondered when I saw the clear color of your stone if perhaps you have gained this ability. I have never seen a stone after its use, so was uncertain if something magical had happened. The day when the boys got burned, and you were not even reddened raised another concern...”

Alador could not look at his brother. It was clear he knew that something had changed the day he had pulled the stone from the ground. He shifted uncomfortably as his brother continued.

“To be honest, when the trader was willing to buy the stone, I was very relieved. Gregor’s mentioning of your changes in the skill at shooting your bow a further point that I have added to the puzzle. Today...today was uncanny. I know of no one who has beat off a dragon with a single arrow. “Dorien looked at him. “If you have gained the skills in magic of your father, you will be cast off. If this has happened, you must hide it if you want to stay with kin and your Mesiande."
 Dorien’s tone was cold in the last sentence. His words digging deeply into Alador’s heart.

Alador winced and began to defend himself, but Dorien raised his hand to silence him. “I love you, little brother. You have ever been dear to my heart with those silver eyes of yours. However, if the village comes to discover any affinity to magic, I will turn my back on you with the others and deny I ever knew."
 Dorien’s tone was a matter of fact. It brooked no argument. Alador could go to his father, Dorien would just become an outcast if he did not deny his brother. “Tell no one of this. Miss a shot here and there if this is from some insight of magic. If I am right and have pieced this together, I may not be the only one. No accusation will be made by any on mere suspicion. They will have to have proof. Step wary brother. It would break maman’s heart if you were to become an outcast. For all her bluster about your parentage, she always becomes most happy when your father visits."  There was a sense of urgency and a tinge of fear in Dorien’s tone.

Alador was speechless. His brother had never said he had care for Alador. The words of love had never been spoken. Yes, he had watched over him as a small one. He had teased and played with him as any brother. His eyes widened as he slowly realized that while his brother had not ever said such things, over time he had shown it. Memories of laughter and of patience, when he broke another handle trying to learn to blacksmith swept through his thoughts. “I will not forget your words."
 He eventually answered. He could feel the meraweed’s relaxing effect steal over him.

A tense silence was as palpable in the room as the steam was visible. It was clear that his brother was upset. Alador decided to change the subject. “Dorien, why do the Daezun hate magic so?
 Is it because they cannot use it?"  Alador had never dared to ask the question. Elders taught small ones early not to ask questions of that which is not taught. When learning, one was expected to stay to the topic being taught, and discussion of alternative points of view were often dissuaded as well. It was just the way of the people.

Dorien considered his response very carefully. “Name the gods as best you can, Alador."
 Dorien looked to his brother. “I will answer your question when you have done so.”

Alador takes a moment to focus, a difficult task given the meraweed filling the room. He puts up his fingers and begins to count them off. “Detharo, Lyiu, Oessyn, Niaet, Rian…"
 He stopped and counted his fingers with a frown. “Krona, Hamaseic, and...Reistare."  He names off the last three and looks up pleased with himself. “Why do you ask?"  It seemed such a strange question to answer his own. What did the gods have to do with the Daezun hating magic?  He tried to focus on Dorien through the haze of steam and vapor.

“Each of the gods decided that they would send a representative of themselves into the world of Vesta to watch over the mortals in their keeping."
 Dorien began. His voice was any other history teller around the fires. While the histories of the people where written, most often they were still passed down in front of a warm fire.

This was a tale that Alador knew well. He interrupted his brother with apparent irritation. “I know this, this was the birth of the dragons. Every small one knows this tale. I do not see what that has to do with the distaste of magic?”

Dorien put a hand to still his brother’s speech. “Patience brother, patience."  Dorien laid his head back and closed his eyes. Only when he seemed truly settled did he go on with his tale. “There is more to the tale that one does not learn until you are an adult. The dragons chose those sworn to their protection, and gifted them with magics. Two groups began to emerge. Some were greedy and constantly sought favor for more power. Some would refuse this gift of power in reverence to the gods’ representatives. You see, when a dragon gifts power to a mortal, it loses some of its own. One day, the leader of those that would become Lerdenia demanded magic of a young dragon. When the dragon refused, he grew angry and slayed the one he had been sworn to protect. As he stood in the dragon’s blood, he slowly absorbed the power of this dragon and became the greatest known mage of the Lerdenian people.”

Alador listened forcing his attention on his brother. A difficult task given the intoxicating air they were breathing. He had never heard this part of the tale. It always stopped with...
and this is why we respect the dragons today. They are descendants of the gods’ representatives in this world
. It never had occurred to him that there was more. It had seemed complete. It had made sense. Why were they not taught this part of the lesson?  “What happened?”

Dorien was obviously struggling with focus as well, and he sighed softly. “A war broke out. Those that served the dragons in truth fought to protect them, and those that served themselves fought to slay them for their power. Those that protected were outnumbered, and so most of the dragons took flight and scattered about the world leaving the Great Isle far behind. Daezun hate magics for they were stolen through betrayal and blood. We do not learn this as small ones for small ones should not learn to hate."
 Dorien’s tone was bitter.

Alador was quiet for a moment. He remembered his own travels as a small one. They learned hate just fine without this story. Slowly his next question formed as Dorien still sat with head back and eyes closed. “Why do they need the stones today then?
 Why do Lerdenians not just kill the dragons for their power?”

“A good question. The gods learned what the Lerdenian’s had done and so lay a curse upon the dragons that only the oldest of each of the clans could gift power to a mortal. All other dragons’ magic would be returned to Vesta that magic never be lost to those of mortal kin. Lerdenian’s would see every dragon dead that their magics could be harvested, but they miss one important point."
 Dorien pointed out, his tone held contempt as he paused.