Dragonvein

by Brian D. Anderson

  The girl, her brown eyes wide with fear, struggled in vain. Her straight black hair, tied in a ponytail, flailed wildly back and forth across her thin features.

  “Hey, what’s the problem here?” demanded the bartender, his loud voice carrying over the crowd. Quickly, he rounded the end of the bar and approached the table.

  “I caught this one trying to steal my coin purse,” explained the brutish looking man. “Tried to cut it off my belt, she did.”

  “He’s lying!” the girl cried out desperately, tears streaming down her face. “I’m not a thief. I swear it.”

  “Did anyone else see this?” asked the bartender.

  Two companions of the accuser both nodded an affirmation.

  The bartender threw up his arms. “Then there’s nothing I can do. Sorry, my little dove. A hard lesson is coming.”

  The man holding the girl bared a mouthful of rotten teeth in what might just have been a grin. With his free hand, he drew a short sword from his side. “Don’t worry,” he said. “This will only hurt for a second or two.”

  Horrified, Ethan could barely believe what was happening. This ugly brute was about to cut the girl’s hand off. Right here…in front of everyone. And no one was doing a damn thing about it.

  “Stop!” he shouted, just as the sword was raising.

  The man dropped his arm to glare in his direction. “Mind your own business, boy. Or it’ll be you that sees some trouble next.”

  The horror of what he was witnessing was enough to wipe away at least a small part of Ethan’s alcohol induced muddle. Seeing the sword start to rise once again, he reacted instinctively. Racing over to the table, he struck the brute squarely on the jaw with all the strength he could muster. More surprised than badly hurt, the distracted man let out a bellow of rage. At the same time, seizing her opportunity, the girl managed to slip free of his weakened grip. Ducking low under the crowd, she vanished in an instant.

  Ethan stepped back, his eyes searching for a path to the door. But the crowd had already closed in, blocking his way. The furious man advanced toward him, sword still in hand.

  “Durst!” shouted the bartender. “The boy only punched you. And he’s unarmed.”

  “Durst is it?” said Ethan, using his friendliest tone. “I’m sorry I hit you, but –”

  He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

  The clatter of the sword dropping onto the floor was rapidly followed by a huge, ham-like fist smashing into Ethan’s temple. The force sent him reeling back and over a table. He tried to get up quickly, but the heavy blow, together with the effects of drink, were seriously slowing his movements. Durst was on him in an instant, raining down more punches.

  Even though he was a mere fraction of his opponent’s size, Ethan was trained in hand-to-hand combat. He twisted and shifted with all his strength, trying to avoid being hit while maneuvering into a better position to defend himself.

  After receiving a few more heavy strikes, he was at last able to turn to one side and reach into Durst’s crotch. The man let out a sharp yelp of pain as Ethan’s fingers squeezed tight.

  The advantage briefly with him, he pushed Durst hard back and scrambled to his feet. He tried to force his way through the crowd, but before he was clear of them, thick fingers grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. Durst had recovered quickly. Way too quickly.

  “You’ll pay for that, boy,” the furious man growled.

  Another bone jarring punch landed squarely on Ethan’s jaw. This one sent him crumbling to the floor. The last thing he was aware of as darkness closed in was harsh laughter and the taste of his own blood.

  Chapter Three

  Ethan coughed and sputtered, his mouth and nose both suddenly flooded with water. His vision was blurred and his head pounded from a combination of the beating he had taken and the beer.

  “Wake up, boy,” called a harsh voice.

  Slowly his senses began to return. He was in a small room with bars across both the door, and the solitary window. Great, he thought as the fog lifted. I’m in jail.

  Wiping his face with his hands, he struggled to his knees. “What happened?”

  “You got the shit beat out of you, that’s what,” replied a thin, scraggly man holding a now empty bucket. “And from what I hear, you deserved it. Now get on your feet and get out of here. Your uncle’s waiting on you outside.”

  Ethan touched the welts on his face and winced.

  “Yeah, Durst sure did lay it on you,” the man said, laughing. “If you ask me, your uncle should have left you in here for a few days. Maybe that would teach you some respect.”

  Ethan reached out and pressed his hand firmly against the wall. “Durst was going to chop off that girl’s hand. Why isn’t he in here too?”

  The man huffed. “Number one – he didn’t do nothing wrong. If what I hear is right, the girl was stealing from him. Number two – we’ve only got one cell. And I don’t think you’d really want to be sharing it with Durst. Now get on your bloody feet and get out.”

  Ethan heaved himself up, the effort compounding the throbbing in his head. He followed the man down a hall and into a room with a small wooden desk and a variety of swords and daggers hanging on pegs directly behind it. The door opposite was flung wide open, revealing the dim light of dawn.

  “Your uncle’s waiting for you outside,” said the man while making his way behind the desk. “I’ll tell you what I told him. I don’t care how they do things in Al’Theona, while you’re here you had better learn to stay out of people’s business.”

  Ethan nodded, but did not bother replying. Stepping outside, he saw a wagon and two horses waiting. Jonas was in the driver’s seat, his eyes staring straight ahead, a displeased expression on his face.

  “Come on,” he grumbled. “Let’s get out of here before you cause us more trouble.”

  Ethan wanted to say something, but the fact of the matter was, he had caused trouble. He should never have left the inn. He should have listened and done what he was told. If he had, instead of taking a beating and waking up in jail, he might have enjoyed the pleasurable company of the young barmaid. The thought of the night that might have been caused a wry grin to form. But the pain from the swelling instantly turned the grin into a grimace.

  He climbed onto the wagon. “How did you get me out?”

  “I had to pay a fine,” Jonas replied. “And I had to pay it with the same gold coins I wanted to avoid using.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Ethan. “I only…”

  “Save it,” he hissed. “We need to get out of here before the whole town is up to watch us leave. I think we’ve attracted enough attention already, don’t you?” He snapped the reins and the wagon lurched forward.

  A few people were out and about, and all of them seemed to take notice of their departure. Jonas cursed continuously under his breath until they reached the town’s edge.

  “If you intend to survive, this cannot happen again,” he scolded.

  “But I only did it to save a little girl,” Ethan protested. “That animal was going to cut off her hand. I had to do something.”

  Jonas sneered. “Really? You had to? They told me what happened. She was a thief and probably deserved it.”

  “What kind of people are you?” Ethan exclaimed, appalled. “She was just a little girl.”

  Jonas gave him a sideways glance and sighed. “I admit that things have changed. Such barbarity would not have been allowed in the days of the five kingdoms.” He then turned his head to look directly at Ethan. “But those days are gone, and you had better learn to do as you’re told. Thanks to your heroics, everyone in that blasted town will be talking about us. And as for your farmer friends…it will lead anyone who is interested straight to them. You should think about that.”

  Ethan’s stomach knotted. He squeezed his eyes shut. “I only did what I thought was right.”

  Jonas sniffed. “And I suppose getting drunk and wandering about a strange town was right.”
>
  Ethan’s guilt was slowly being replaced by anger. “That’s enough. If you hadn’t brought me here in the first place, I wouldn’t be in this mess. It’s all thanks to you I’ve lost my best friend and ended up stranded on this God forsaken world. And even if I do somehow manage to get back home, I’ll probably end up in the stockade for desertion.”

  “You can’t blame me for that,” said Jonas, unmoved by Ethan’s anger. “I only did what your mother asked of me. Nothing more. As for your friend. That was his own fault.”

  “His own fault? He saved your goddamn life. If he hadn’t kicked that grenade, we would both be dead right now.” Rising from his seat, Ethan jumped from the wagon.

  “Where are you going?” Jonas demanded.

  “Away from you,” he replied fiercely. But it was only a single road leading north and south. After jogging in front of the wagon until he was several yards ahead, he slowed his pace.

  “There’s nowhere to go, Ethan,” Jonas called out. But his words fell on deaf ears.

  They continued like this for more than a mile. Several people passing by gave them curious looks. Jonas tried to speed up and pull the wagon beside him, but Ethan blocked his way.

  “You’re acting like a child,” Jonas told him. “You know you have no chance on your own.”

  Ethan stopped dead and swung around to glare at him. “I’m an Airborne Ranger,” he said. “You may think I’m just a kid, but I bet I’ve seen more war and death than you ever have. I survived the Krauts. I’ll survive this. And I’ll do it without your help.”

  The two locked eyes, neither wanting to blink or look away. Finally, Jonas grunted and shook his head.

  “If I was overly harsh with you, I am sorry. But you cannot make it on your own. Regardless of how capable you are, you know nothing of this world. And though many things have apparently changed, I at least know the lay of the land.”

  Ethan didn’t move for several seconds. Make him sweat, he thought. Only after he felt that enough time had passed to make his point did he jump back on the wagon. “You don’t have any food, do you?” he asked.

  Jonas reached back and produced an apple. “This will have to do until we stop.” He also produce a small dagger. “And you should have this.”

  Ethan examined the weapon and attached it to his belt. He then devoured the whole fruit in only a few bites. The juices helped to cure the dry mouth that had been plaguing him since the moment he’d woken up. Not that he was about to tell Jonas this and give him more ammunition to berate him about the previous night’s drinking. But like it or not, the fact remained that he really was much better off in the company of someone who knew the land than he would be on his own.

  Jonas took a small glass container from his pocket and tossed it onto Ethan’s lap. “Put some of this on your bruises. It will help to heal them.”

  Ethan opened the lid and instantly recoiled. “This smells awful! What the hell is it?” He dipped his finger into a thick green paste, then wiped it off on the edge of the jar.

  “I’m not sure,” admitted Jonas. “Normally I would take you to a healer. But as magic is outlawed, this will have to do. The woman who sold it to me said it was good for minor injuries.” He glanced sideways and smiled. “Of course, you could always allow them to heal on their own. I must say they are already looking a lovely shade of purple.”

  Ethan took a long look at the paste before scooping out a large lump with his finger and smearing it over his worst bruises. Jonas waved his hand in front of his nose and frowned.

  “Damn barbarians,” he muttered. “Humans treating wounds with potions and salves like some sort of wild elf. Even the dwarves are better than this.”

  “It’s not that bad,” remarked Ethan.

  But he soon discovered that it was. As the hours passed, the stench increased. So much so that by early afternoon it was almost unbearable. Ethan tried to wash it off in a stream they happened upon, but this only seemed to make matters worse. By sundown the smell had become so pungent, it was obvious they would be forced to camp outside. There were a few lodges along the road, but Jonas refused to approach any of them.

  “We’ve already attracted enough attention,” he growled. He had already wrapped a cloth over his face, but still felt the need to hold onto his nose for long periods. “And if I ever see the witch who sold me that foul concoction again, I’ll bathe her in it.”

  They found a spot a few yards away from the road and made camp. Ethan could tell by the scowl on Jonas’ face, and the way he checked his blanket repeatedly for insects, that he did not enjoy sleeping outdoors.

  Ethan wanted to build a fire, but Jonas forbade it. At least, he did at first. Less than an hour after they had settled down, Jonas leapt up from his blanket and began jumping frantically about, beating at his chest and legs.

  “What’s wrong?” Ethan asked. But he already knew the answer.

  “Damn bugs!” he cried. “To hell with it. I’m building a bloody fire.”

  Ethan suppressed a laugh. “Fine by me.”

  Only after they’d gathered together some dead branches and twigs did Ethan realize that he had nothing to start a fire with. But before he could mention this, Jonas knelt down and placed his hands directly above the heap of wood.

  “Illimiz,” he said, his voice barely audible. A tiny spark shot out from the tips of his fingers, instantly setting the twigs aflame. Within seconds the fire had spread to the thicker branches and a warm glow fell over the campsite.

  Ethan gasped. “How did you do that?”

  “Don’t get too excited,” said Jonas dismissively. “I can make a fire and purify water…and that’s it. I have no real talent for magic.”

  “Can you teach me?”

  Jonas shook his head. “I doubt it. It took me three years to learn that much, and I still don’t know exactly how it works. Like I told you – I’m a servant, not a mage.”

  “Come on,” he pressed. “You can at least try to show me.”

  Jonas furled his brow and grumbled under his breath. “Come and kneel beside me then.”

  Ethan’s eyes lit up and he obeyed at once.

  Pulling an unlit twig from the edge of the fire, Jonas placed it to one side and adopted his previous position. “Hold your hands above it like I’m doing and say Illimiz,” he said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “How should I know?” he snapped. “Fire, I suppose.”

  Ethan did as instructed and in a clear strong voice said: “Illimiz!”

  Nothing happened.

  He cleared his throat. “Illimiz!”

  Still nothing.

  He tried several more times before sighing with exasperation. “What am I doing wrong? I’m saying it the right way, aren’t I?”

  “The words are meaningless,” Jonas told him. “It’s the power that counts. You have to feel it inside of you. The words only focus the thing you want to make happen. A real mage works simple magic without saying anything at all.”

  “Then can you show me how to…feel it?”

  “No.”

  Ethan let out a loud grunt and returned to his blanket. “Then how am I supposed to learn anything?”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure yet that you should,” Jonas said. “I was just supposed to keep you alive. And from what I’ve seen of Lumnia so far, learning magic may not be in your best interests.” He could see the frustration written on Ethan’s face. “There’s no point fretting over it now.”

  The crackle of the fire almost masked the sharp snapping of a twig that came from just beyond the firelight. Ethan and Jonas both instantly leapt to their feet. Jonas fumbled for his sword, but before he could draw it, a voice came from out of the darkness.

  “You had better keep your mind off magic if you know what’s good for you.” The voice was young and distinctly female.

  Jonas finally managed to unsheathe his weapon. It looked awkward in his hand, and the weight had unbalanced his footing.

  “Put that a
way before you hurt yourself,” the voice continued.

  Ethan felt for his dagger, but didn’t draw it. “Who are you? Why are you hiding?”

  “I’m not hiding.”

  The voice was now coming from behind him. Ethan spun around and Jonas very nearly toppled over completely. Standing a few feet away was the young girl Ethan had saved in the tavern. Her jet black hair was bunched together in the same ponytail as before. Her pants and shirt were black as well, enabling her to easily hide in the darkness. She was not overly tall, but her thin limbs and angular features gave her the illusion of height. Ethan thought that she would likely grow into quite a fetching young woman in time. She flashed a toothy grin at Jonas’ attempt to look fearsome.

  “I’m not here to hurt you, old man,” she said.

  “Move on,” commanded Jonas. “You have no business here.”

  Ethan glanced at Jonas and scowled. “What’s wrong with you? She’s just a child. Put that sword away.”

  After a long moment Jonas complied, albeit hesitantly. “She’s the one you took a beating for?” He sniffed and spat. “Worthless street urchin. You should have left her to her fate.”

  The girl’s nostrils flared at the jibe. “Worthless? I’ll have you know that I’m worth far more than you.” Her initial voice had been laden with the vocal trappings of a commoner. But now all of a sudden she sounded…haughty and somewhat authoritative. “And I know a servant when I see one. So why don’t you go kiss a pig?”

  Ethan coughed out a laugh before he could stop himself. “That’s enough, Jonas. You’re too old to fight with children.”

  Jonas glared furiously. “This one is about as much a child as I am. A thief is what she is.”

  “What’s your name?” asked Ethan.

  The girl pulled her eyes away from Jonas and bowed. “You can call me Kat.” Her stare then shot back to Jonas. “And I am so a child. I’ll have you know that I’m only thirteen years old. You should be ashamed of yourself…threatening a little girl.”

  Ethan had the distinct impression that, despite her youth, Kat possessed the street savvy of someone far older. In fact, she reminded him very much of a boy named Vinnie from his old neighborhood. His baby-faced appearance and the innocent manner he could adopt when caught doing something wrong had got him out of more than his fair share of trouble. Also, coincidentally, Vinnie was a thief. And a damn good one too.