One Cannot Deny a Blood Oath with a Dragon

by T P Sheehan

  “Do you intend to finish the field by nightfall?’ Magnus decided he would not raise the topic if his father did not.

  Bonstaph pulled on the reins, driving the horses to a stop and setting the plough down. He removed his leather gloves and looked over at Magnus. “I assume congratulations are in order?” Bonstaph finally asked.

  “Why would you say that?” Magnus could taste the bitterness in his own words.

  “You’ve proved yourself better than all other contenders, no doubt.”

  “It does not matter what I’ve proved. As you said, my place is here, on the farm.”

  “I said there is no place for you in the knighthood. Not under the regime of the Authoritarium. There will be other options. What is important is you proved to yourself…”

  “I’ve proven nothing,” Magnus interrupted. “Nothing more than disloyalty when I decline their offer.”

  “They are not worthy of you, Magnus!”

  “You are the only one who believes that,” Magnus replied.

  Bonstaph sighed and shook his head. “Someday you will understand.”

  Magnus walked over to his father, unhitching the first of the horses from the harness, then the second. “What options are there for me father, if you forbid me to follow in your footsteps as a knight? What other post can a farm boy of the outer margins fill?”

  Bonstaph pointed a finger at him. “Being a farmer is nothing to be ashamed about.”

  Magnus led the draft horses to the stable. “I can finish here.”

  Bonstaph opened his mouth to speak but thought differently and gave a nod. “I’ll see you inside for supper then.”

  Magnus felt his father’s eyes watching him for a moment before he moved off to the homestead. He mucked out the stables and dragged in two fresh hay bales for the horses to eat. Leaving the stables, he walked over to the stone well in the gravel-strewn courtyard south of the homestead where his father had left a pail of water. Magnus washed his hands and face of the day’s grime and began to rub the back of his neck when he felt the soft touch of another’s thoughts brush over his mind. He turned about and saw Breona—his mother’s white Astermeer horse—by the nearby watering trough. She was looking at Magnus. Magnus stood as still as a statue. Breona was very reserved and only ever spoke with his mother—Alavia.

  “Hello Breona,” Magnus said softly. Immediately, the beautiful white horse withdrew her thoughts from Magnus and turned back to the trough. Magnus smiled. He was rarely able to feel her thoughts. That was the way with Astermeers—they would only speak with their foresworn, and being the only Astermeer in this entire realm, Alavia alone knew how they thought. Magnus had often tried, especially as a child. She’s curious about you Magnus, but it’s not in her nature, Alavia would tell him.

  Magnus gave Breona a quick pat then headed to the homestead.

  The front door was ajar and Magnus could hear his parents conversing inside. He kicked off his boots and walked in. His father was seated at the small table near the kitchen, drinking a pitcher of ale. His mother stood beside him, unbuttoning and removing her long black robe. She spotted Magnus and came over to him, embracing him. Magnus was as tall as her but had only grown so in recent months.

  “Look at you two,” Bonstaph mused. “Blonde hair… blue eyes. Who is your father again?”

  Alavia smiled at her husband’s jest then turned back to Magnus, who tried his best to hide his disdain at the day’s dramas. Nevertheless, Alavia frowned and her eyes flashed brilliant like sapphires—she knew something was wrong.

  “We’ll talk about it later, Magnus,” Alavia whispered. Magnus smiled weakly. Alavia turned back to Bonstaph, her face serious. “Breona and I rode our usual route today, from the Cliffs of Overpell as far as the Uydferlands. Then further, to the fringes of Froughton Forest.”

  “That’s quite a ride,” Bonstaph remarked.

  “None of the knights were at their posts.”

  “None?” Bonstaph put his pitcher down with a clatter.

  “I returned the same route. Not one. All six posts were unmanned.”

  Magnus looked to his father, waiting for his reaction. The southern borders of the Fire Realm were supposed to be patrolled at all times. It was the frontline of defence. The posts gave vantage over the southern plains all the way to the Corville Mountains. The post closest to them was at Overpell. From there, they could see as far as the Corville Pass—the only passage through the Corville Mountains. It was through here the Quag warmongers would come to attack and had done before. Surely there must be an explanation for the knights’ absence, Magnus thought.

  “Twenty leagues and not a single guard. This is what comes of a dictatorship.” Bonstaph brought a fist down hard on the table, sending his pitcher spinning, spilling half its contents. “In my day, patrols were not left to the fickle ways of men. That’s what dragons were for.”

  Bonstaph stood. He threw his heavy cloak over his shoulders and walked to the large wooden chest in the living room where a fire burned brightly in the fireplace. He opened the chest and removed his longsword, strapping his scabbard about his waist. He turned back to his wife and son. Magnus took a seat at the table. He knew there was more of his father’s speech to come.

  “Well it’s true, is it not? The dragons have been guardians of the realms for an age. The Authoritarium, in all their piety, stepped in and made it the role of men. What good are the beasts and their warrior-priests hiding away in the Romgnian Mountains? The Gods certainly did not intend for this.” Bonstaph turned and pointed to a large brown book upon the fireplace mantel. “It is written—four breeds of dragons bestowed upon the realms, one for each, sworn in guardianship. In the Great Hall of Guame I’m sure the heathen rulers burn such books to keep themselves warm at night. Place me before them with an Icerealmish sword and I’ll chill their night.”

  Magnus had heard it all before. He was not in the mood for his father’s resentments. Bonstaph made for the front door and Alavia stepped forward.

  “Wait till morning, Bonstaph,” Alavia said. “There is an ice-wind rising from the north. It carries with it memory and warning of things past and will do you no favour.”

  It was not like his mother to voice such trepidation. In her support, Magnus tried to reason with his father.

  “Stay, Father. We can ride out together in the morning.”

  Bonstaph turned to Magnus. “This matter is urgent. I will not let day turn to night with the borders unguarded.” He pointed once more at his son. “Stay here Magnus. Look after your mother.”

  “Bonstaph!” Alavia spoke in a forceful voice. It was too late. Bonstaph slammed the door behind him. Alavia flashed a glance back at Magnus. “He will learn to respect your wishes in time, Magnus.”

  “It’s fine, Mother.” He did not want her upset on his account.

  “Always remember. You are as much a man of the North as you are your father’s son.” Alavia re-buttoned her robe. “There is a Rhyderman in you. Be proud of it. Always stand up for what it right. It is in your blood. It is your birth right.” Alavia made for the door.

  “Mother wait, I’ll ready Esmder and ride with you.”

  “There is no need. Wait here. Keep the fire warm until we return. The night will be cold.” She smiled lovingly at Magnus and closed the door behind her.

  CATANYA

  Magnus walked through the kitchen and out the side door. The sun had shifted to the west and the air grew bitterly cold in the late autumn afternoon. Mother is right. It will be a cold night. To his right under a lean-to was a stockpile of pine logs. He had stacked them in his arms up to his chin when he heard movement across the eastern field. Magnus put down the wood and stood back.

  A great warhorse was thundering toward him. He recognised the horse at once for it was a silver Wardemeer horse. Only one of such a coat lived within riding distance to the western margins.

  That’s Xavier’s horse.

  The horse was coming fast. Magnus squinted. At a hundred paces he c
ould see the rider. It was a familiar face, but not Xavier’s. His heart leapt with joy.

  Catanya!

  Even before she had drawn the horse to a halt, the young woman jumped from its back and ran to Magnus. Her black hair and white summer dress flowed behind her. Magnus ran to meet her, all troubles of the day forgotten. At the edge of the field they flung their arms around one another. Magnus could feel Catanya squeezing him as tight as ever she had. After a good moment they stood apart. Magnus took her hands and held them gently. Catanya was short of breath from the ride. Her brown eyes fixed on Magnus and a beaming smile came to her face.

  “Catanya, what is it?”

  “My father. He’s returned home early from his posting. Many knights have come home on leave this day. The whole town of Nuyan is celebrating.”

  Magnus was happy for her. He knew how hard it had been on her family with her father away. A knight’s calling was that of a nomad, constantly patrolling the length and breadth of Allumbreve, and even more so for a Knight Commander.

  “That’s wonderful news. I’m guessing that’s why you ride his horse?”

  “Aye. I’m sure he doesn’t mind me riding Trillium, although I didn’t ask. It was the only way to come to you so fast.” Catanya jumped with excitement. “Magnus, I spoke to him. He said he will see you today.”

  Magnus’s heart leapt. “Catanya…”

  “What is it, Magnus?”

  Magnus wondered if perhaps Xavier had told Catanya of his candidacy already. “It can wait. Let me get Esmder and I will explain on the way.”

  Pulling his boots on as he went, Magnus hurried to the stable and prepared his horse. He returned to Catanya, who was standing high in Trillium’s stirrups, eager to go. The great warhorse reared up, but Catanya sat back in the saddle, smiling. Magnus marvelled at her confidence. She looked like a child seated on the great silver beast.

  The horses galloped across the fields toward the town of Nuyan and Catanya’s home. After a spell, they both slowed to a trot. Magnus leant over and handed Catanya the sealed envelope he had been guarding.

  “Is this what I think it is?” Catanya studied the envelope.

  “Aye.” Magnus wanted to tell her to open it. He desperately wanted to know what the letter said. Did the Authoritarium elders congratulate him for doing so well in the trial? He wanted to see his name in their neatly scribed purple ink printed on the same parchment as the words—to be trained as knight of the Authoritarium.

  Catanya looked back over her shoulder at Magnus’s homestead, then to him. “I take it this did not go down well with your father.”

  “Not the slightest bit.” He spurred Esmder onward, trying to keep up with Trillium, who had picked his pace up once again.

  “You always knew it would be this way.” Catanya reached to Magnus and handed back the letter as the two horses drew neck and neck.

  “I know, but somehow I hoped…” Magnus sighed. I was silly to hope. Magnus sat up straight and rolled his shoulders back. Enough of feeling sorry for myself. “I will go before your father and tell him what is what,” Magnus announced in a comical, formal voice.

  “That’s the spirit.” Catanya beamed again. Magnus found it intoxicating. After all the years of knowing Catanya, he was still mesmerised by her. They both slowed their horses. Catanya reached out and took Magnus’s hand, squeezing it tight. “I love you, Magnus of J’esmagd. We are to be married and live the happiest of lives together here at the margins. We will have many children and they will run among the lambs and chickens and collect the irises that grow along the banks of the Nuyan River. Nothing could make me happier.”

  Catanya turned on her saddle and stood, crouched. With the horses still moving, she leapt onto the front of Magnus’s saddle and landed facing him. Catanya took a breath and sighed. Magnus placed a hand on her waist, their bodies pushed tightly together in the saddle. Catanya lent forward and gave Magnus the gentlest of kisses. He felt the soft warmth of her breath and let go of the reins to cradle her face in the palms of his hands, caressing her cheekbones with his thumbs. Too soon they broke away. Catanya stood and leapt back onto Trillium.

  Magnus felt as if he were glowing from the inside out. He smiled then laughed at Catanya.

  “What? Spit it out!” Catanya teased, a playful smile on her face.

  “I hope your father is ready!”

  “It’s not every day a father gives his daughter away.” Catanya smiled out one side of her mouth. “Go easy on him.”

  Magnus’s stomach twisted. Who am I kidding? He was more anxious about speaking with Xavier than he was with his own father. Still, Magnus reasoned, it couldn’t be any worse…

  XAVIER

  Magnus had not given any thought to his appearance. He wished he’d bathed, changed and seen to the state of his hair before leaving home. The common room of Xavier’s family home felt strange. In all the years he had known Catanya he had never set foot inside it, though Magnus knew her family well enough. As he and Catanya entered, before them stood Catanya’s mother Alessandra and her six-year-old sister Hannah, who insisted on holding Magnus’s hand.

  “I learned my first spell today,” Hannah said. Her big brown eyes stared unblinking at Magnus. He was fond of Hannah. She was so much like her older sister—strong willed, inquisitive, and a dreamer. These were all the qualities he loved about Catanya—the same he knew drove her father to frustration.

  Magnus knelt down beside Hannah, still holding her hand. “Is it a good spell?”

  Hannah grinned, nodding her head. “Do you want to see it?”

  “I’d love to see it,” Magnus said enthusiastically.

  Hannah led Magnus over to the fireplace where a small fire burned. He glanced at Alessandra and Catanya who were both smiling. Hannah let go of Magnus’s hand and stared hard at the fire. Her lips moved as she rehearsed the words quietly. Then she raised a hand to the fire and said, “Fara mi parina.” The flames flared angrily in a burst of light and the glowing coals beneath hissed back at Hannah in response. It was as if she had thrown a cup of oil over the coals. The fire settled back into a weary, orange glow as quickly as it had responded to the spell.

  “That’s fantastic!” Magnus said. “Do you know I didn’t do my first spell until I was seven?”

  “Really?” Hannah’s eyes widened and a look of pride came over her. She held Magnus’s hand again.

  “Really,” he replied.

  “Magnus…” Hannah said, “Are you going to marry my sister?”

  “Hannah—be silent!” Catanya lifted her sister up and carried her to a wooden chair in the kitchen.

  “But I want to wait with Magnus,” Hannah protested. Catanya crouched and spoke quietly to her. Magnus took the moment to brush his hair with the palms of his hands before realising Alessandra was looking at him. He stopped and stood with his hands behind his back, clearing his throat. Alessandra smiled politely, but it seemed to mask sadness. Magnus thought hard for something to say to break the ice between them. It was ridiculous. He had known Catanya’s parents almost as long as he had Catanya and never struggled before now.

  “How is you mother, Magnus?” Alessandra eventually asked.

  “Very well, Ma’am.”

  “Don’t be so formal. Call me Alessandra.”

  Magnus nodded. “She is very well, thank you, Alessandra.”

  “And your father, is he well?”

  “He is well, yes.” The conversation seemed strained to Magnus but he appreciated Alessandra making the effort.

  “Tell me, does Alavia travel back north at all—to the Ice Realm?”

  Magnus thought for a moment. He had never known his mother to travel back north to her people. She was proud of them, always reminding Magnus of his maternal origins, but never spoke of her family. She certainly had not in the years he could remember.

  “Not in some time, Ma… Alessandra,” Magnus struggled. “I don’t believe she has much to do at all with her people. The Rhyder folk I mean.”

&
nbsp; Alessandra gave a nod. “Xavier shan’t be too much longer.”

  Hannah giggled, drawing Magnus’s attention. Catanya was tickling her.

  “Magnus,” Alessandra continued. He looked back to her and saw the sadness return to her face. “I want you to know that if there was ever a suitor Catanya was meant to marry it would be you… if things were not as they were…”

  Alessandra was interrupted when the front door swung inward. In walked Xavier. He was dressed befitting a knight of the Authoritarium. His uniform was impressive—a well-tailored dark blue tunic emblazoned with the Authoritarium coat of arms across his chest in white. It carried the symbol of each of the four realms with an oak tree in the middle representing Froughton Forest. Hannah broke from her play with Catanya and flew to her father’s arms.

  Before a word was spoken, another figure entered the house. Taller than Xavier and wearing a black robe, a hood hid the stranger’s identity.

  “Xavier. Not now!” Alessandra forced through a whisper.

  “Father?” Catanya questioned.

  “Good evening to you all,” Xavier said, seemingly oblivious to his family’s remarks. “Catanya, Hannah, you remember your uncle—Austagia?”

  The figure drew back his hood revealing tattooed markings over the left side of his bald head. The man bowed slightly but said nothing. Magnus knew the markings. He had never seen them before but knew what they meant. He is a priest—an Irucantî. Magnus drank in the sight of the man. This is what becomes of those who are drafted into the priesthood. There was an air about him that Magnus found intriguing. He seemed reserved, yet certain of himself, and so he should—the priests were the ultimate warriors who trained alongside dragons. It was said that in battle a single Irucantî was worth ten knights and a hundred untrained men. Magnus wondered if this Irucantî had come to Nuyan with a fire dragon, for the Irucantî were known to travel with them.

  “Right. Magnus. At my daughter’s request I am to give you counsel,” Xavier said, giving no further explanation as to the presence of the numinous uncle. Xavier pulled the gloves from his hands and walked toward a door at the back of room.