One Cannot Deny a Blood Oath with a Dragon

by T P Sheehan

  “You’ve an idea yourself?” Magnus asked. Barron shuffled a little closer to Magnus and looked to the other two prisoners, who seemed content in their states of incoherence.

  “The floor is rotten through. One good blow, maybe two and it’ll give way for sure.” Barron looked away from Magnus as one of the Quagmen rode to the back of the carriage. Once at the rear, he relieved Briet who took his place at the front with Crugion.

  Magnus lifted his legs and let his heels land firmly on one of the central boards of the floor. Sure enough, it gave way a little.

  “Termites,” Barron whispered. “The five middle planks and possibly under the old man. Your side seems intact.”

  “Are you a builder?” Magnus asked.

  “Blacksmith. I have built the frames for many of these carriages. And I built the collar around your horse’s neck. I can have her free of that in a moment.” Magnus nodded in acknowledgement. “Best we wait till dark,” Barron suggested.

  “Very well. My horse can carry us both. They won’t be able to catch us.”

  “Much appreciated,” Barron said, then moved away from Magnus and continued to peer out into the afternoon sky.

  As the last of the day’s rays faded, the prison carriage turned off the Northern Road and into Froughton Forest. They were further east from where Magnus had left the forest two days prior, so their journey through it was set to be longer than before.

  For several hours now, Magnus had been working his way through the tangled labyrinth of emotions that crippled Breona. He knew she must have gone through a terrible ordeal at the hands of the Quagmen to be broken to the point where she was not breaking herself free of her shackles. She was far stronger than any common horse the shackles were designed for, and yet, for the first time ever, she had yielded to the will of others. Magnus needed her to reclaim her resolve.

  Finally, he had her attention, but even more than that, he had her focus. She set aside her feelings and listened to Magnus.

  “What are you, Breona?” Magnus began.

  “I am an Astermeer of the Ice Realm.”

  “From where does your bloodline come?”

  “From the Ice Seas of the North and from the Ertwe Dragons of the seas.”

  “To whom are you sworn?”

  “Beautiful Alavia—Rhyder of the Ice Realm, daughter of Hasledom.”

  Magnus could feel her sense of dignity returning to her. He continued, “Do you still trust me, as Alavia’s son?”

  “I do.”

  “And together, what is our task?”

  “To find her and to protect her.”

  Magnus felt Breona’s new sense of determination. He looked back to her again in the fading light of dusk and her demeanour had changed. She foamed at the mouth and the muscles of her shoulders and neck were flexed with anticipation. At any moment she could cause mayhem.

  “What in all of Allumbreve is going on here? What damnation has me locked in this pig-squalor with these prisoners? I demand an explanation!” The drunken woman had woken and was standing up, stumbling about the carriage. Her legs were tied but the ropes had worked their way loose.

  “Shut your mouth you senseless beast!” one of the Quagmen from the rear shouted at her.

  “Don’t you tell me to shut up, you son of a rodent, I’ve seen men of better stature wearing nappies and feeding off their mother’s bosom!”

  Magnus could see things were going to dissolve into violence. They had to put their plan into action immediately. He looked to Barron who shuffled over to Magnus. He had freed himself of his ropes and started to feverishly untie Magnus’s wrist and ankle ropes.

  “At least she provides distraction enough for me to free you,” Barron said.

  His rope ties removed, Magnus looked Barron in the eyes. “You take care of the floor boards, I’ll ask Breona to break free.”

  “Come here you Quag filth!” The drunken woman shook at the bars of the carriage and stomped her feet. The rotten floorboards creaked and cracked beneath her. One of the Quagmen from the front of the procession rode back level with the sides of the carriage. Magnus cursed under his breath.

  “Lady, you are drunk and your words are painful to my ears.” This time it was Barron. “Now!” he grunted to Magnus. The woman turned and stumbled toward Barron.

  Magnus concentrated on feeding his thoughts to Breona. “It’s time for us to leave. Breona, break free of your shackles. You are an Astermeer from the Ice Realm, you are not meant to bow to anyone. Especially those who also hold Alavia captive!”

  Magnus shifted to avoid Barron and the woman who were locked in a standing wrestle. “NOW Breona. Free yourself!”

  Magnus looked at the woman, who swung a punch and caught him clean in the jaw, knocking him off balance and onto the bloody floor. He stood again quickly and caught a glimpse of the old man who had started to shout incoherently.

  “Breona!” Magnus shouted out loud. Finally she reacted. She reared up, pulling a Quagmen from his horse and sending him falling to the ground. He let go of the pole. Free now on her right, Breona charged to her left and barrelled into the horse on that side, sending it tumbling and taking the other Quagman with it.

  The carriage suddenly pulled to stop. Seizing the moment, Barron grunted loudly and pushed the drunken woman forward. Magnus extended his legs behind her, causing her to trip and fall backward. She fell hard and all the more so for having Barron on top of her. She landed squarely in the middle of the rotten floorboards, crashing straight through to the ground beneath, cushioning Barron’s fall. Still on top of her, Barron was quick to reach back into the cart, offering a hand to Magnus who took it and threw himself down through the hole.

  The Quagmen at the side of the carriage had shifted away in reaction to Breona’s outburst. She was behaving so ferociously even Magnus was concerned. She charged forward, dragging the two poles connected to her neck with her, launching herself from side to side like a raging bull. One of the poles broke free of the collar but she came toward the carriage with the other flailing about to the side.

  Magnus and Barron were still under the carriage, using the dark of night for protection. Magnus saw Crugion charge around to their left, holding a lamp in search of trouble. There was a violent shudder as Breona slammed into the back of the carriage. Magnus and Barron ran out to the right side to avoid Crugion and back to Breona, who was still in the throes of fury. Crugion would soon realise Magnus and Barron had escaped. They had to be quick.

  “Breona, stop!” Magnus cried out with his mind. He reached her and grabbed her by the muzzle, pulling it to his face in the hope she would recognise his familiar scent. Within moments she settled, but her body heaved and shook uncontrollably.

  “Breona, you must carry us both and we must run, like never we have before.”

  Barron was beneath Breona, working the neck shackles free and within seconds, they fell to the ground. He kicked the remaining pole away from under her. Magnus leapt on top of her bare back, cursing the Quagmen for removing her saddle. Or was it that traitor—Eamon? Reaching down, Magnus took Barron’s hand but as he did, Crugion was upon them. He swung his sword, slicing it across Barron’s back making him arch backward in pain. He released Magnus’s hand.

  Breona took off. She charged forward as fast as she could and without any reins, Magnus leant forward, gripping fists of Breona’s mane. He looked back just the once and saw Crugion swing his blade around and drive it down into Barron’s back.

  “I am so sorry, Barron,” Magnus lamented.

  Unperturbed by the lack of light, Breona ran. The road through this part of the Outer Rim was wide and Breona took advantage of its worn, smooth surface and charged faster than ever before. Her ears pricked back as if expecting to hear a Quagman’s whip snapping at her side. They disappeared into the darkness of Froughton Forest once again and Magnus could hear the fading sounds of the Quagmen shouting curses after him. He knew it did not matter—they could not catch him.

  The road through
the Outer Rim this close to Guame ran shallow into the forest. To his right Magnus could see occasional lights on the Northern Road less than a hundred feet away. Breona’s pace seemed to quicken with every passing moment and never let up. A horn sounded from behind. Again and again the ominous tone rang through the forest. Magnus wondered what it was for, but then Breona spotted something.

  “Riders approach from ahead.”

  At first Magnus could not see anyone, then through the darkness he spotted numerous torchlights approaching from the opposite direction—no doubt answering the call of the horn. They were turning off the Northern road, carving their way through the forest, and would soon intersect them.

  “We need to move into the Valley, Breona.”

  Breona slowed her pace as they tried to find a break in the forest wall wide enough for Breona to fit through. Alas, there was none. The forest here was dense—so dense in fact that beyond the ancient trunks was pure darkness. Perfect for hiding… If only we could get in.

  A little way ahead, the Quagmen on horseback broke through the forest to the road through the Outer Rim. Magnus was trapped. He looked to his left, desperate to find a break. Breona pulled to a halt then skittered about, unsure which way to run.

  “They come from both directions,” she stressed.

  Magnus became aware of a focussed spot of warmth in his chest. The Juniper stone! He prised it out of his jacket pocket and held it firmly in his hand, feeling its warmth radiate through his palm. He looked toward the largest of the oak trees and pitched the stone at its trunk. Just as before, the Juniper stone glowed bright and flew straight through the tree, leaving a trace of violet light shimmering across the tree’s surface. Breona needed no encouragement—she ran straight at the tree. They emerged on the far side amongst thick vegetation and pure darkness.

  Magnus alighted and crouched beside Breona, pulling her down onto her haunches into the undergrowth of ferns. She was breathing heavily and shaking. Magnus could feel her fear permeating through his mind. He wrapped an arm around her as reassurance. He was not able to see back out to the road and hoped the Quagmen could not see him. Moments later he heard the two groups of horses approaching from opposite directions. With the sound of crackling gravel and hooves slipping across the road, the groups met directly in front of the tree Magnus and Breona had gone through.

  “Where did they go?” It sounded like Briet, but Magnus couldn’t be sure.

  “They must have turned off the road,” said another Quagman.

  “To where?” the first voice spoke angrily this time. “Where do you think they disappeared to? They rode right past you, you useless sacks of horse—”

  “He was your prisoner, Briet, ya halfwit. What… you just let him get on his ‘orse and ride away?”

  The two men were drawn into an altercation with one another, and the sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard rung through Magnus’s ears.

  “Hahaha! You wouldn’t dare!” shouted the second Quagman. He continued shouting obscenities until Magnus heard the blood-curdling sound of a swishing blade meeting flesh. It was followed by a dull thud.

  There was silence among the Quagmen for a moment, then—“Anyone else have words to share?” Briet bellowed. “We must find the boy or Crugion’ll have our heads. He must’ve gone into the Valley. Find a break in the trees. It’ll be close. There’s nowhere else they could have gone.”

  Magnus heard the horses start to move again, spreading out across the road. He waited in silence with his arm still embracing Breona who was still shaking. The familiar, eerie silence of the forest fell upon him as the Quagmen spread out along the road. Magnus went to push up off the ground when his heart jumped as Briet spoke again, still close on the other side of the tree.

  “Can you hear me boy? I know you’re there. You think you’re smart hiding in the darkness, don’t ya boy. Well let me tell ya something… There are worse things than me in the Valley. And I’ll tell you something else… I will find you. And your horse. And this is what I’ll do to you both.”

  Magnus heard Briet shuffling about. A moment later something rustled in the trees over Magnus’s head. He looked up. In the darkness he could see little, but then from between a fork in the tree an object fell, landing with a thud before rolling back and settling right beside Magnus. It was a Quagman’s severed head.

  Magnus’s stomach heaved. He covered his mouth to mask the sound of his own retching. Breona remained still, but her shaking grew worse. Magnus shared thoughts with her. “Be still Breona, a few more moments and we will be free of this man.”

  They waited in the dark for some time and still there was little sound or indication that Briet had moved. Then Magnus heard a horse let out a snort.

  “Shhh,” Briet whispered.

  Magnus froze again. He’s cunning. He realised he may be playing a waiting game for some time. Minutes passed and a single horse came galloping from the east, pulling up near the tree.

  “Crugion wants to speak with you, Briet. He’s sent some men back to Guame to find that old man. I reckon he’s got a beef with him.” Briet grumbled in reply. “Are ya going to keep him waiting?”

  “Are you going to keep annoying me, Wilfred?”

  “Not if I’m gonna end up like this sorry sod,” Wilfred laughed.

  “Have the men regroup on the Northern Road, and that means your boys too,” Briet ordered.

  Wilfred… Magnus remembered the name. He was one of the men trying to find me two days ago in the forest. It began to seem as though all of Allumbreve was working against him—Wilfred and his thug friends, the Quag and the Authoritarium.

  Magnus heard two horses leave, heading eastward back to Guame. He breathed a sigh of relief but then it dawned on him—What of the dead man’s horse? Where is it? There seemed to him to be a horse unaccounted for. If Briet sent the dead man’s horse with Wilfred as a decoy, then he could still be standing behind the tree in waiting. “Keep silent Breona, just a while longer,” he begged of her.

  After an infuriating wait, Briet eventually spoke. “Until we meet again—son of Bonstaph.” With that, Briet rode back toward Guame.

  THE YOUNGLING

  It was mid morning the following day when Magnus was awoken from blissful sleep by a sniffing nose and warm breath. Hidden in the Valley with no sense of direction or purpose, sleep seemed like the only thing to do. “Let me sleep, Breona,” he mumbled. He resented opening his eyes and having to face the day ahead. But when he did, he found himself staring straight into a pair of large, fiery eyes with thin slits for pupils. It was definitely not Breona.

  Magnus leaped back into a cluster of ferns and took in the rest of the creature before him. Its large head shimmered with bronze-coloured scales that grew in size along its serpent like neck and body. The curious creature snorted loudly and blew rings of smoke through its nostrils, slowly moving closer toward Magnus, prodding him with extended claws.

  A dragon!

  Magnus looked the beast over, trying not to make any sudden movements. Pulling himself free of the ferns, he tried to stand but the dragon pounced on him, pinning him back to the ground with its front paws. It sniffed loudly and licked his face with its rough, forked tongue. Magnus stretched his thoughts toward Breona.

  “Where are you, Breona?” An explosion of thoughts came back to him, but it was not from Breona. It was far more direct and raw, and foreign to him. His heart pounding, Magnus looked deep into the dragon’s eyes, only inches from his own, and watched as they changed colour. What started as an intense, burning amber changed through a multitude of colours before settling on a blue colour—just like his. Is it mirroring me? Magnus wondered.

  “Breona?” Magnus called again, but felt no response. The dragon persisted with its sniffing and licking and Magnus guessed it was being inquisitive rather than aggressive—much like an excited puppy. He decided to treat it like one.

  “Stop it!”

  The dragon paused, drawing its long tongue back into its mouth
with a watery snap. It stared at him, tilting its head to one side. Magnus thought it far too small to be an adult dragon. But with its bronze-coloured scales and smoking nostrils it was definitely a fire dragon.

  He risked a quick scan of the surrounding forest but Breona was nowhere to be seen. What a time to wander off… Perhaps the dragon scared her away? But then surely she would have made a scene to warn me first?

  “What have you done with Breona?” Magnus asked the dragon. “Have you eaten her?”

  The dragon pushed away from Magnus and sat up, craning its long neck back, revealing an underbelly covered in much larger scales of a paler hue giving the appearance of large plates of armour, two of which formed the width of its breast and about eight or ten from neck to groin. It stood at about eight feet tall—or about the size of the wyvern he had fought trying to protect Lucas.

  Magnus felt the abrasiveness of the dragon’s thoughts again as it scanned the forest, locking its focus on something in the distance. Then a deep, drumming growl that seemed to start at the pit of its stomach rose up its long neck to its throat, echoing out through the forest. Still lying down, Magnus could feel the ground tremble with the noise. The dragon fell silent again and crept forward, slowly at first, then broke into a run, heading off through the trees and away from Magnus. Its powerful hind legs stomped across ferns and mosses leaving a path of destruction.

  A dragon youngling, Magnus decided. What is it doing here in Froughton Forest? They were a long way from the Romgnian Mountains. He could not make sense of it. The dragon took a sharp left turn and disappeared into the darkness. Just as quickly, Breona charged out from between the trees with the dragon close on her tail. Magnus sprang to his feet and ran after them.

  “Magnus!” Breona called. Magnus heard her plea for just a moment before the gruff consciousness of the dragon overshadowed the gentler touch of Breona’s. Breona turned and faced the dragon, rearing up tall and neighing. The youngling responded with a bellowing roar. Magnus was in awe at the sight of them upon their hind legs in a brilliant flash of white and bronze, hoof to claw, as two mythical creatures would be in combat.