One Cannot Deny a Blood Oath with a Dragon

by T P Sheehan

  “You’re not a Rhyderman,” Crugion stated.

  “Aye. That I am,” Magnus said.

  “Why is a Rhyderman in the company of an old merchant trader?”

  “I choose my company as I see fit.”

  “What brings you so far from home?”

  Magnus considered all manner of lies and half-truths as to why he was heading into Guame, but in the end decided to be as cryptic as Crugion was. “I bring news to the Authoritarium from the Ice Realm, as you do from the South. I believe you were about to tell us of your news?”

  Crugion breathed heavily through his nose and clenched his jaw tight. Magnus stood his ground and thought of the waiter. If I am going to die, this is surely when it will happen. But then Crugion stepped away.

  “The Rhyderman speaks a truth—I have allowed myself to be distracted. My people are moving northward as we speak in an attempt to… integrate… with the people of the realms.” This drew laughter once again from the Quag henchmen. Crugion smiled, clearly pleased with his own wit.

  Magnus’s frustration was turning to anger. Integrate? He was fuming. Is that what you call your attack on my home? He ached to shout the words at Crugion but bit the inside of his cheek to hold them at bay. He tasted blood and wished for more—for the blood of Delvion’s son. What better place to start. If only I had my sword.

  Eamon kicked Magnus’s leg under the table and flashed a stern gaze. Magnus glared at him. Eamon then stood and gave an over-exaggerated grunt that caught Crugion’s attention. “My companion and I must be off now. It was good to make your acquaintance,” Eamon nodded to each of the Quagmen, then finally at Crugion before motioning to Magnus to make a move to leave.

  The four Quagmen moved toward Eamon, blocking his path to the tavern door. Eamon looked at the men and continued his casual façade. “Come now, I see no need for hostilities. We have a pressing engagement in Guame. The Authoritarium awaits.” Eamon smiled. “We don’t want to keep the Authoritarium waiting now, do we?”

  “Anything you wish to share with the Authoritarium you can share with me, old man.” Crugion was not smiling. “I have shared what news I have, now what do you bring from the Ice Realm worthy of my letting you pass?”

  Eamon reached into two pockets in his coat and pulled out fistfuls of what appeared to be sand.

  “Behold the answer to your inquisitive mind, son of Delvion!” Eamon shouted, casting large plumes of the glittering sand out and over the four Quagman as he mumbled a spell—“Ligta illume!”

  The countless grains of sand exploded into flame as they fell upon the Quagmen and other surrounding people and objects. It brought chaos to the room as the flames took a hold of everything they fell upon, from the tables and chairs to the low ceiling above. One of the Quagmen fell to the floor screaming as some of the dust exploded in his face. Magnus glanced over to Crugion who was as bewildered as everyone else. Eamon cast more and more of the magical substance across the room, mumbling his spell over and over until the tavern was filled with flame, smoke and panic. The people began to riot, desperate to reach the doors and escape the madness Eamon had created.

  Eamon grabbed Magnus by the arm and pushed him toward the exit. “GO!”

  Magnus needed no further encouragement. He held tight to Eamon’s arm, pulling him toward the doors. Only one of the Quagman was recovered enough to try and pursue them—Briet. They were ten men deep from the door but twenty men were trying to funnel into the line. The pushing and shoving made progress slow. Looking back, Magnus saw Briet sweeping men aside with his powerful arms, his gaze fixed on Eamon and Magnus as he worked his way toward them.

  “Leave me Magnus! Go!” Eamon shouted. Magnus ignored him, tightening his grip on Eamon’s arm so as not to lose him in the skirmish. He knew he could make faster progress if he was not dragging Eamon behind him, but he would be leaving him to his death. Pushing through the men as hard as he could, Magnus looked back again and saw Briet was growing ever more desperate, hacking away at people with his swords. Bodies fell and men screamed, inducing even more panic. Magnus knew something had to happen to clear the way to the door.

  “Eamon, do you have any more of that dust?”

  “No. I’m spent of it.”

  Magnus grunted, trying to think of another way to get through. His thoughts were interrupted by screams coming from either side of the room. Two of the other Quagmen came in from either side of the crowd, culling people with swords as Briet was and working their way toward the middle where Magnus and Eamon were now trapped in the desperate, pressing group of people.

  Magnus and Eamon were five people deep to the exit, with many more pushing in from the sides—desperate to be the next in line to leave. Briet meanwhile, was fending off several men who decided to turn on him rather than be slain.

  The door needs to be cleared…

  We need to get to Breona…

  Magnus looked to the door and realised what he had to do. “Breona!” Magnus called with his mind. Soon enough she responded. As always, he felt her emotions. At his panic, she seemed to panic herself. It was not what he wanted to induce in her, but moments later there was a new kind of terror at the tavern door—“Breona!”

  Breona was furious. She reared up and filled the tavern with her screams, then pushed her way through the doorway, sending men tumbling back and scrambling out of her way. The effect made the remaining twenty or so men in the tavern shift back into the Quagmen, pressing them further away from Magnus and Eamon. Breona was soon in the tavern itself, rearing up and inducing as much terror as the Quagmen. Only a few feet separated Breona from Magnus and he pulled Eamon toward her, helping him into her saddle before climbing up himself.

  Breona turned and charged out and away from the Hugmdael Inn at full speed. Eamon, sitting behind Magnus, tightly gripped his waist. They turned back to look at the scene behind them. It was madness. Men were tumbling out of the burning tavern and into the street and people from neighbouring homes had come out to see what the commotion was about, adding to the confusion. Crugion stepped out into the night air. His eyes were fixed on Magnus, watching him as he, Eamon and Breona charged along the Northern Road toward Guame.

  GUAME

  Guame - 2 miles

  The two-mile marker, carved into a flat bed of stone on the roadside, indicated they were close to the capital city. Finally, Magnus sighed. Breona slowed to a walk. He stroked her neck and thanked her for her diligence throughout the night. It was now the early hours of morning and they were nearly there. Breona let Magnus know she was glad to have stretched her legs and distance herself from the trouble at Hugmdael and even more so to be free of Froughton Forest.

  It came at a cost though. “I’m sorry about Mr Overstreet.” Magnus felt terrible that they left him behind at the stables of the Hugmdael Inn, but knew they would never had survived had they tried to flee with him.

  “We’ll be together again soon enough,” Eamon conceded.

  “When my business in Guame is done, we shall travel back together and find him.”

  “That’s very kind of you Magnus. But you’ve done enough for me already and I’m guessing from the moment you enter Guame’s city gates you will have far more pressing issues than helping an old man find his donkey.”

  Still sitting behind Magnus in Breona’s saddle, Eamon patted Magnus on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Magnus. You possess a rare breed of courage. You stood up to Crugion and held your ground.”

  “But I was terrified. There’s not much courage in that.” Magnus felt ashamed, yet was not sure why.

  “Courage is not the absence of fear, Magnus. It is standing up for what is right in the face of fear. Remember that.” Eamon’s remarks made Magnus feel a little better about himself.

  There was a gradual rise in the road and at its peak they stopped to take in the view. Just over a mile away at the bottom of a hill was the city of Guame. Magnus was awestruck by its appearance. It was a vast metropolis with hundreds of buildings made mos
tly of brown stone with thatched or tiled roofs. Between the buildings were more rudimentary constructions of canvas tents and scaffolding ensuring every piece of land was being used. The buildings were laid out in formation around a central building of mammoth proportions. From this vantage point, Magnus observed its rectangular shape with spires at the four corners and a large central dome. The entire city was surrounded by an almost perfectly circular wall made of the same stone.

  “See the cathedral at its centre?” Eamon pointed. “Under that dome is the Great Hall. That is where you will speak before the Authoritarium.”

  Magnus's stomach twisted at the thought. “Why would the Authoritarium grant audience with Delvion’s son?” he wondered aloud.

  “Now there’s a question you could ask them while you’re there,” Eamon chuckled. It did nothing to settle Magnus’s nerves.

  As they neared the city proper, the Northern Road was lined with horse wagons and tables where merchants sold produce to people approaching the city. The merchants flittered about, determined to separate Guame’s visitors from their coin even before they entered the city walls. Magnus and Eamon alighted from Breona and approached the city gates on foot with Magnus leading Breona.

  “Pray tell, what is your business in the city, Eamon?” Magnus asked.

  “Yes well, your business is yours and mine is mine. Best we keep it that way, young knight from the West,” Eamon said, before turning to fend off a persistent merchant.

  Magnus decided not to press the issue, but instead took in the sight of the wall surrounding the city. It seemed much larger than it appeared when viewed a mile back along the Northern Road.

  They took themselves to the end of a queue at the city gates. Over fifty people were waiting to enter. Some were on foot, others on horses or in horse drawn carts. Many were with children. Most of them looked as tired as Magnus felt. He wondered how far others had travelled to get here and what their own reasons were for coming to the capital.

  Magnus looked up at the parapet above the gates where four flags flew, each one depicting a dragon from its respective realm.

  “Can you name them?” Eamon asked.

  Magnus smiled. “I can. A Jaat dragon of the Air Realm, a Spindlefax of the Earth Realm, an Ertwe Dragon from the Ice Realm and, of course, the Couldradt dragon from the Fire Realm.”

  “The largest of course are the Couldradt dragons.”

  The subject raised a question for Magnus, “Do you think, Eamon, that is why the fire dragons have survived, where the others have perished against the Quag?”

  “They certainly aren’t afraid of a fight. I think their tenacity in battle has helped more than size alone. But I wouldn’t be too hasty to write off the dragons of any realm just yet, Magnus. Three of the four may have spawned their Electus, but that’s not to say we’ve seen the last of their dragons.”

  Magnus frowned. Eamon thinks dragons of the other realms may still live? It sounded a little far-fetched to Magnus. But the Electus? Eamon’s tales were starting to smell of myth. There was no greater myth than the prophecy that a dragon from each realm would give their power to a chosen one whom they deemed worthy. So their legacy may live on. “You don’t really believe that do you?”

  “Believe what?” Eamon asked.

  “That there are people walking the lands with the power of dragons,” Magnus scoffed. “The chosen few who walk with dragon blood in their veins? Please, Eamon, spare me.”

  Eamon appeared taken aback. “I don’t believe in blind faith anymore than you do, my young friend. But my old eyes have seen a lot more than yours. I’ve seen power corrupt. I’ve seen the desire for it drive a man insane. Your friend back there, at the Hugmdael Inn,” Eamon pointed back up the Northern Road. “Did you know his father has killed newborns with the blood of a Jaat dragon then drank their blood to get it for himself? Entire family bloodlines have been wiped out for the same reason, all at the hands of Delvion. The most frightening of all, he slayed the greatest dragon that ever lived in the hope to gain its power.”

  Magnus was aware people were staring at him and Eamon. The old man was getting heated. Still, Magnus could not help himself. “You saw that did you? You saw Balgur getting slayed by Delvion?” Eamon went to speak but stopped himself short. Magnus knew he had taken it too far.

  “I pray you’ll never see half of what I’ve seen,” Eamon retorted.

  The queue moved along. They walked beneath a great archway that held an enormous iron portcullis suspended within a deep crevice in the stone ceiling overhead. At the end of the arch was a pair of iron-studded wooden doors that swung open on gigantic iron hinges revealing the city of Guame beyond. Four stately looking knights were positioned at the doors. Their attire was like Xavier’s yet everything about them was meticulous and far more impressive. Magnus could not help but think how proud he would feel dressing like them.

  Magnus, Eamon and Breona came to the inner gates and one of the knights approached them. He carried a sheathed longsword and silver kite-shaped shield. Magnus noticed the knight bore nothing to indicate which realm he was born to, but that his sword was sheathed to his left, suggesting he was right-handed. We of the Fire Realm are left-handed…

  “What business do you have here in Guame?” The knight addressed Magnus and Eamon in a routine manner, without looking at either of them.

  “Simon… it is me good man, let us through!” Eamon stated. The tall knight crouched a little and squinted to look beneath Eamon’s hat. Eamon folded the front portion of the brim back revealing a somewhat comical smile.

  “Ah! Eamon. Apologies. I did not recognise you there without your old mule.”

  “All is forgiven.” Eamon started to move forward past the guard and Magnus followed. The knight stepped across their path.

  “Who is your companion?”

  “This is Magnus, he needs to speak before the Authoritarium.” Eamon said as casually as possible.

  “If it is business of the council it will need to be announced. Is it official?” The guard named Simon frowned as he unfurled a parchment and read over it.

  “It is officially urgent—I can tell you that much. Magnus travels with haste and therefore faster than any precursor to his visit,” Eamon smiled.

  Simon looked Eamon over then did the same to Magnus. Magnus was unsure what to do to contribute to the conversation to persuade him to let him through.

  “Urgent you say?” He looked at Magnus, awaiting further explanation.

  “Such that I myself don’t even know the nature of its urgency,” Eamon explained. “I think it best left to the elders of the Authoritarium to—”

  “Elders you say?” Simon interrupted Eamon then looked around to be sure no one was listening. He moved in closer to him and spoke quietly. “There are few elders left in the council of the Authoritarium.”

  “I have heard words to this effect,” Eamon spoke sympathetically. “Who then holds representation of the realms?” Simon opened his mouth to speak again when another of the knights approached.

  “Other people wait to enter the city this morning. What’s the hold up?” He looked at Simon who addressed Magnus in a more formal manner.

  “What is the nature of this urgency? The Authoritarium will want to know as much before granting an audience with an unannounced guest.”

  With both guards and Eamon now looking at him for a response, Magnus thought of the best way to explain things without announcing to the gathering mass of people behind them that the Quag had brought war to the Fire Realm. He decided instead to risk revealing whom he represented in order to gain credibility.

  “I come as the son of Bonstaph of J’esmagd, under formal instruction of Ganister of Bowthwait, both former knights of Allumbreve. I come also as representative of the greater Fire Realm under instruction of Csilla of the Uydferlands. I bring word of urgency that cannot wait.”

  Eamon and the guards stared at Magnus without speaking. The guards then stepped away to speak among themselves. They st
opped occasionally to look at Magnus.

  Magnus turned to Breona and shared his thoughts with her. “I guess this is it Breona, hopefully we get to speak before the Authoritarium and they give us the support we need.”

  She seemed pleased with this. “I hope they do.”

  Eamon was still examining Magnus, like he was seeing a side of him he had not before. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises. With news of this nature the guards have a duty to report to the Authoritarium and no doubt they will grant you audience.”

  Sure enough, Simon approached Magnus. “Your matter will be brought to the attention of the council. You will be notified if your request for an audience has been granted. Make your way to the Cathedral and enter via the main entrance.”

  “Very well,” Eamon said. Magnus handed the knight three gold coins as payment for their entry into the city as Sarah had instructed him to do so.

  “Much obliged,” Simon said, stashing the money into a pocket in his tunic.

  “What was that for?” Eamon asked.

  “The entry fee into Guame—one gold coin each for you, myself and Breona.”

  Eamon chuckled. “That idea went out a long time ago. There is too much money to be made of the poorer folk within the city walls to discourage them with such things as an entry fee.”

  “But the fee is returned to a person on leaving the city, is it not?”

  “Hmm, maybe that’s where it failed. How often do you suppose coins were returned to their owner upon leaving?”