Dragon Magic: Lyric's Curse 2 (Dragonblood Sagas Book 4)

by Robyn Wideman

Primula rolled her eyes. “The western cities have finally chosen a leader. A lowly duke is now king. King Albert Monet is a distant cousin to King Harn. I think that is why he was chosen, enough royal blood to satisfy the western nobles and not strong enough to be true leader. The western cities have formed a council, it is the real power in the new Kingdom of Monet. It is rather impressive. I would be cheering for them if I wasn’t wanting you to reunite Partha under one ruler.”

  The door to the bar opened and a group of men walked into the bar, all were armed and had the intent look on their faces of men about to enter battle. Two of them looked around the room and their glances landed on her. They tried to keep their eyes moving to avoid suspicion, but it was too late. Shayla knew exactly who they were here for. “Primula my dear, I’m afraid we are going to have to put our talk on hold. A unified Partha will have to wait a little longer.”

  Primula, sensing the difference of tone in Shayla’s voice, casually turned in her seat and looked around the bar. She noted the men who had just arrived and were now standing at the bar. She turned back to Shayla. “You think they are king’s men?”

  Shayla shook her head. “I doubt it, unless he has spies following you. My trip to Whiteridge was unplanned and I wasn’t followed. I think this is something else. They didn’t even notice you. It is me they are after.”

  “Sacred Blood?” asked Primula.

  “Possibly. I am going to go outside now. I don’t want to burn down the Harlot.”

  Primula chuckled. “It wouldn’t be end of the world if you did. Be careful, we will speak again later.”

  …

  When his men entered Harlot Heaven, Jobe Hollow was ecstatic. The Finch woman was still deep in conversation with her companion. His men casually made their way across the room to the bar, Meyer had gotten four of the warehouse men, and judging from the shadows at the bar door, at least two more were waiting outside. Everything was going according to plan.

  As the men reached the bar, the Finch woman’s companion turned in her seat. Jobe almost had a heart attack when he realized it was Lady Bell. Lady Bell was one of the richest nobles in Whiteridge, if not the richest. And while she was a noble, she did much business in Whiteridge with people who would not take kindly to her being killed. And the people she knew were ones Jobe needed if his plans were to come to fruition. Damn the gods, thought Jobe as he turned in his seat to avoid looking at the women.

  Jobe moved his bottle and glass away from him, sliding it across the table to the opposite side of the table.

  Myer stood at the bar, ready to attack. When he looked to Jobe for the final go ahead, he was shocked to see Jobe had moved his bottle across the table. Myer was to stand down and wait. This was surprising. Myer knew how much Jobe needed the Sacred Blood for their weapons and for Jobe to change his mind was rare. Perhaps the woman sitting with her had something to do with the decision? Myer wasn’t sure but he would wait and see.

  After a few minutes, Shayla stood up and walked out of the bar. Myer turned away so his back was to her, but he kept an eye on Jobe’s table. As the woman left the bar, Jobe reached across the bar and pulled his drink back towards himself. He lifted the drink and tapped it against the table twice. That was the sign. Jobe wanted them to attack her outside. Probably for the best Myer decided. He already had two men outside, they could easily trap her. No one knew Whiteridge like they did. She wouldn’t escape. As she walked out Myer and his men started to follow.

  Standing up, Shayla smiled at Primula. “Stay here, I’m going for a walk.”

  “I pity anyone that follows you,” said Primula. “I’ll finish my drink and head home.”

  Shayla nodded. It was good to touch base with Primula, but Shayla wasn’t ready to move forward with their plans. She had more immediate concerns, like the men who were waiting for her to leave.

  Walking out of Harlot Heaven, Shayla could feel the eyes of the men on her. As an attractive woman, she was used to having the gaze of men follow her as she entered and left buildings, but this felt different. Not all the eyes watching her were admiring her shapely figure, some were watching her the way a cat watches a mouse, waiting for the moment to strike. Soon they would find out she wasn’t a mouse at all.

  Outside, Shayla noted two more men loitering at the sides of the building. She ignored them. She knew they were part of the setup. It didn’t matter. She had no intentions of trying to escape. She only wanted to control the situation, to pick her spot. Shayla looked across the street. There was a row of buildings, but what caught her eye were the two off to her right. Several of the buildings were built with brick while others were made of wood. The two she noted were both brick and had an alley between them. Shayla cut across the main street and headed for the alley. Behind her the door to the bar opened and the rest of the men exited onto the street. She could hear their footsteps as they followed her. Shayla didn’t look back. Instead, she simply kept walking until she entered the alley.

  The alley was narrow, only six feet wide, and dark. Half way down there was a left turn. She glanced that way. Two men were walking towards her. She kept walking forward but the other end was blocked off. There was no way to escape. Shayla walked all the way to the end of the alley before turning back to where the two alleys met up.

  Four men were blocking the way she’d come into the alley, and there were three men now blocking the side alley. Shayla walked up to the junction. “Excuse me gentlemen, I seem to have taken a wrong turn.”

  “Yes, you have. Didn’t anyone tell you it is dangerous to walk in dark alleys?” said Myer. He leered at her.

  “Why don’t you gentlemen step aside and I will be on my way,” said Shayla.

  “Afraid not,” said Myer. “You have a price on your head, one we intend to collect.”

  Interesting, thought Shayla. If these men wanted money they weren’t Sacred Blood. Who would put a price on her head? The Sacred Blood was at the top of the list, but probably not the only candidates. The king, if he had any inklings of her previous plans, would certainly wish her dead, but would he used hired thugs? Now her father was dead, Shayla was the last of her bloodlines as far as those in Partha knew. In fact, she had a half-brother on Droll, but his existence was only known to a handful of people, so anyone who aspired to take her family lands needed only kill her, but if that was the case why do it in Whiteridge? No, this smelled of Sacred Blood. “Whatever the Sacred Blood are paying you, I will double it.”

  Myer smiled. “It is a tempting offer. But they can offer something you can’t. No deal.” Myer then drew his sword. “Get her boys.”

  Shayla, already perturbed about being stalked and attacked lost her cool when Myer admitted it was the Sacred Blood who ordered the attack. Those zealots had taken so much from her. Braylon, her father. All the pain she’d suffered being tortured, and now they were hiring thugs to try kill her in a dirty back alley? Shayla’s heart pounded, she could feel the dragon magic surging through her the same way it had during the attack on Oakenreach. As the seven men attacked, Shayla’s hands opened and balls of dragon fire appeared above her hands.

  Shayla’s eyes sparkled, her nostrils flared and she yelled at her attackers. “You should’ve taken the money.” The small balls of dragon fire turned into raging infernos of death. Flames covered the small alley, engulfing the seven men who were trying to close in on her. The screams of the men only lasted a half a second before their lungs were burnt. The deadly dragon fire hit them full blast. The alley offered no protection and nowhere to hide. All seven men died.

  Shayla looked at the devastation she’d caused with satisfaction. Killing thugs associated with the Sacred Blood was almost as good as killing Sacred Blood themselves. She looked at the alley walls, the bricks almost glowed they were so hot and black scorch marks were going to be lasting evidence of the attack, but nothing was on fire. Only the bodies of her enemies. A far better result than the last time she’d used dragon fire. She had almost burned down Oakenreach during the Sacred Bloo
d attacks. Only the quick thinking of the staff had saved the house.

  Leaving the alley, Shayla headed back to the Inn. These men might not have been alone. If the Sacred Blood had more allies in Whiteridge she would find them and dole out a similar fate to this lot. Shayla had no sympathy for such men. Hired thugs who murdered for coin would receive no sympathy or mercy from her.

  3

  After breakfast with Sibylle, Lyric headed to the home of Azina and Valeria Vastel, and their niece Celine. It was strange running now. He was faster and his endurance was better, but it wasn’t only that. His senses in general were heightened. During the tournament, he’d been so focused on the fighting, he hadn’t appreciated how different things were with dragon powers. His hearing was better, he could hear the wind blowing through the trees, even though he was running. He could identify the sounds of squirrels and other small forest animals hidden in the bushes. His sense of smell was heightened as well. He could tell the difference between the smell of the different trees in the forest, the moss covering them and the animal droppings on the road and hidden in the forest just beyond his vision. But his eyes seemed to have changed the most. Even at a distance, Lyric could see details like he had never noticed before. The morning dew beading on a plant’s foliage, the little bugs crawling onto a flower’s petals. It was incredible.

  Far faster than he had ever done before, Lyric arrived at the witches’ home.

  “Hello Lyric,” said Valeria Vastel as she came out the door just as he arrived. “I was just heading out to collect herbs. How are you feeling today?”

  “Strange,” said Lyric.

  Valeria smiled. “Yes, I suppose you would. A lot has happened in the last few days, emotionally and physically. Perhaps I need to reword my question. How does your body feel different now you’ve bonded with a dragon?”

  “Stronger, faster, all my senses are heightened,” said Lyric. “I’m bonded to a dragon? I don’t even know what my dragon looks like.”

  “You’ve started to bond with a dragon, that much is sure,” said Valeria. “I would say your dragon likely flew over during the night. It might not even have seen you. The connection is magical, not one you choose.”

  “How does it work now? Is a dragon going to show up one day and take me away?”

  Valeria shrugged. “You have to understand dragons have been gone for over a hundred years. A lot of the knowledge about dragons and dragonblood has been lost. Our coven of witches has passed our knowledge down for generations, but some has been lost to time, and some to forces that would harm any dragonblood. The ones who know the most about your abilities are the dragons themselves.”

  Lyric frowned. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go asking dragons questions. “So, there’s nothing you can do for me?”

  “There is nothing wrong with you Lyric. What you have is a gift. We’ve prepared you the best we could in the time we’ve had, but since you were fed broggins bark poison as baby we couldn’t work on your magical abilities. Instead, you’ve trained as a warrior. And I do say so myself, you’ve turned out surprisingly decent for a skinny little city runt.”

  Lyric smiled at Valeria’s compliment. It was true. When he arrived at their house he’d been malnourished and weak. The daily training and proper meals had transformed him into someone who almost looked the part of warrior. Of course, he was still slender and small compared to some of the hulking big warriors in the kingdom. However, the tournament had shown size wasn’t everything when it came to a fight.

  “You should head into the house. Azina wants to see if your bonding with a dragon has awoken your own ability to perform magic.”

  Lyric nodded. He didn’t expect much to come of her tests. He was magically challenged, but who knew, perhaps things were different now. Everything else in his life was changing, perhaps his magical abilities would too. “Is Celine inside?” asked Lyric. As much as he wanted to learn about his magic he also wanted to talk with Celine.

  “No, Celine isn’t here. She is away for a few days. I don’t know when she’ll be back,” said Valeria.

  “Oh,” said Lyric. He wanted to know more, but didn’t want to be rude. “Okay. I’ll go inside then.”

  Valeria could see the disappointment on his face, but she knew it was for the best. Things with Lyric were already so complicated he needed to focus on his dragon magic and his marriage, not Celine. “Good to see you, Lyric.” She headed out to the forest.

  Lyric knocked on the door and let himself in.

  “Well, if it isn’t our fair hero the mighty dragonblood,” said Azina.

  Lyric ignored the comment. Azina, besides being a powerful witch, was a master of sarcasm and biting remarks. “Hello, Azina.”

  “Come closer, let’s have a look and see what’s happening with your body.”

  Lyric moved closer to the table where she was sitting. He waited as she prodded his muscles, opened his mouth to look inside then lifted his eyelids to look at his eyeballs. He left like a prize bull being examined before sale.

  “Aside from your eyes, there are no visible differences. What have you noticed so far?”

  “Stronger, faster, and my senses are heightened. I can see better, hear better.”

  “Not surprising. A dragon’s senses are much stronger than those of a human. That yours would increase seems natural. Let’s see if your magic abilities have changed yet.” Azina casually waved her hand and the candle on the table lit up.

  The damn candle. Lyric had spent hours staring at the candle trying to ignite it with magic. But he’d always failed. It wasn’t until the mage who knew his father showed up that they knew he’d been poisoned. He closed his eyes and pictured the candle being extinguished. When he opened his eyes the candle’s flame was burning perfectly. He hadn’t affected it at all.

  “So, no magic yet. Disappointing but it means little. You still haven’t fully bonded with your dragon, you still might regain normal magical abilities, and who knows what dragon ones you will get.”

  “When will I meet my dragon?” asked Lyric.

  “Do I look like a fortune teller? Do you want me to rub your palm and take your money like those hussies in Winport do?” Azina shook her head in disgust. “Sometimes you are daft boy. You think I have any influence with dragons? Or that I know what is going through their minds? You will meet your dragon when the time is right. Either by you searching it out, or by it searching you out. But these things can take time. Don’t you have enough on your plate being married?”

  “Maybe dragons are easier to deal with than marriage?” said Lyric halfheartedly.

  “That is the smartest thing you’ve said all day,” said Azina. “But don’t discount the importance of your marriage. The Lamar family is important in the kingdom, its lands are of high strategic value and Lord Lamar has many strong allies. Allies that you will want to have. Whether you like it or not, you are neck deep into the politics of dragons. Some day you are going to play a role in making sure dragons and men don’t go to war again, and the more allies you have the better.”

  “Me? I’m a nobody. A crippled street rat from Winport, nobody is going to listen to me.”

  Azina shook her head. “That was the old you. Now you are Lyric Finch, son of a powerful mage, bearer of the mark of dragons, champion fighter, and husband to the Lamar heir. You are one of the most important men in the kingdom.”

  Lyric shook his head. He’d come to Azina expecting sad news about his magic, but this was worse. Politics were as cutthroat and dangerous as fighting. Fighting he’d been trained for, but politics? That was a new beast altogether. “I think I like the idea of facing a dragon better than politics.”

  “Second smart thing you’ve said today. Maybe I am finally teaching you something,” said Azina. “Now go and start making friends out of those royals that are allied to the Lamars.”

  …

  Instead of heading directly back to Redfall Estates Lyric went to see Blair at the Pig’s Ear Inn. Entering the pub, Lyric spotte
d his fighting mentor behind the bar.

  “Lyric,” said Blair. “Good to see you, lad. I thought you’d be busy with royal matters today.”

  “Hello, Blair. I have those duties tonight, I just went to see Azina.”

  “I see. How is the old witch?”

  “Her tongue is as sharp as ever,” said Lyric.

  Blair chuckled. “And Valeria?”

  Lyric laughed. Blair was smitten with Valeria and had begun courting her. “She is fine.” Lyric noticed that one of the men sitting at the bar was Sir Allan Chestmire.

  “Sir Chestmire. A pleasure to see you again,” said Lyric.

  “The pleasure is mine, and please call me Allan. You fought wonderfully yesterday. Especially your last fight against Lord Horne. If you’d fought me like that, I would’ve been humiliated.”

  “I rather doubt that,” said Lyric. “I think your fighting style would give anyone troubles. I think I only beat you the second time because I had a chance to fight you once before.”

  “I think there was more to it than that. Rumor has it you are dragonblood. I thought I noticed something different about you yesterday. You didn’t move like that in our first fight, and if I recall correctly your eyes seemed different.”

  “Yes, I am dragonblood,” said Lyric, nervous as to how Sir Chestmire, or Allan, would react.

  “Good,” said Allan. “My record against non-dragon enhanced fighters remains intact.” Allan winked at Lyric. “In all seriousness, it is good that you are dragonblood. With the return of dragons, we are going to need dragonbloods. That a smart young lad like you is one of them is a good sign.”

  “Allan, what are you doing for dinner this evening?” asked Lyric.

  “Probably getting drunk and bitching to my new friend Blair that he taught you too well,” said Allan.

  “He is an excellent teacher. In fact, that is why I am here now. I never got a chance to thank you, Blair.”

  Blair, who was methodically cleaning glasses, smiled. “Watching you and Sir Chestmire here fight was all the praise I need. It was a glorious display of craftsmanship, both fights. I’m proud of you, lad.”