One Cannot Deny a Blood Oath with a Dragon

by T P Sheehan

  Demi leapt to her feet and threw the last blade with far more ferocity than before. Catanya struggled to see the blade, but she relaxed, closed her eyes and listened. She heard the blade whistle toward her, closing the gap between Demi and herself. She raised both hands and clapped her palms together on the blade of the knife. She caught it. Catanya twisted it in the palm of her bloody hand. She looked at the knife between her red-stained fingers and then at Demi, who stared back with a sour expression on her face and arms crossed in front of her. Catanya sank it into the last target to her right.

  In the healing room, Catanya was surprised to see Demi arrive to help with her wounds. She applied an ointment out of her own travel satchel to Catanya’s hand and ear, before whispering a spell of some kind that made her ear lobe twitch and sting as it healed over.

  “You’ll have a scar there,” Demi said coldly.

  “That’s fine,” Catanya replied respectfully.

  Demi stopped what she was doing and frowned at her. “Why is that fine?”

  Catanya was caught off guard, not knowing exactly why she said it was fine other than to be polite. “It’s fine because you could have killed me with that blade, had you chosen to.”

  Demi pouted her plump, red lips that matched her round face. Her eyes were large and seemed to do her thinking for her. “Joffren told me not to kill you.”

  Catanya thought it sounded like a warning and so chose not to say anything more. Demi was a renowned killer. Catanya had heard other priests talking about her as such. She wondered if Demi’s cold manner was simply a facade to back up her reputation. Regardless, she found it harder to warm to Demi than she did to Jael. She imagined in years to come her own persona may be somewhere between these two.

  The droning bong of the temple bell rang out. It was familiar to Catanya but something was different—it was ringing at a fast and furious tempo that seemed to alarm Demi. It was the first time Catanya had seen a shift at all from her usual cool manner. She packed her ointments back into her satchel and ran out of the healing room. Catanya followed.

  Outside, the bell was much louder. All the priests of the Romghold were walking briskly through the courtyard. Something is wrong! Catanya thought. Demi and Catanya came around to the front of the temple and looked to the training field.

  In the centre of the field was the dragon Liné. She was standing over another dragon—a youngling—that lay motionless. Slumped in Liné’s saddle was Jael, who appeared to be moments away from collapsing. She suddenly slid off the dragon, landing heavily on her side, unconscious.

  All twenty priests who looked upon the tragic scene simultaneously sprinted to the training field. Catanya broke into a run as well and from the far end of the courtyard she saw a priest running as fast as he could toward Jael, easily outpacing the others.

  Austagia! Catanya recognised him. As he reached Jael, she woke and feebly pushed herself upward, only to fall again. Austagia caught her and lifted her into his arms. He placed a palm over her forehead and whispered a spell. Jael gasped for breath. Her eyes opened wide and she stared at Austagia. Catanya stopped and cupped her hands over her mouth, in shock at the sight of Jael—she looked terrible. Her body was battered and bruised with cuts, welts and scars all over. The remains of her Ferustir suit clung to her body in tatters.

  Jael whispered words to Austagia as other priests approached and so Catanya saw fit to do so herself. Demi however, turned and walked briskly toward her private room. Catanya got a closer look at the young dragon that lay protected beneath Liné. Its scales were a dull, greying colour unlike anything she had ever seen before. The poor creature looked to have been dead for some time but even so, its appearance contradicted the words of her Murata Fara that said the scales of a dragon should hold their colour for a thousand years. Joffren appeared beside her.

  “Semsame,” Catanya said. Joffren nodded in reply. He looked as disturbed as the other priests and altogether unsure of himself. Catanya had questions she dared not ask. The other priests formed a half-circle around the two dragons and began discussing the situation. They made room for Austagia, who carried Jael off the field, walking briskly toward the healing room from where Catanya and Demi had come. Catanya desperately wanted to follow them—to be sure Jael was okay and to offer Austagia help—before considering it was not her place to do so.

  Turning back to the dragons, Catanya reached out with her mind to share thoughts with Liné. All she could glean from her was a great sense of sorrow and the knowledge that she was the youngling’s mother. Then Liné blocked Catanya’s mind out completely. All the priests took a step back from the dragons simultaneously and so Catanya gathered Liné had blocked all of them at once. She was clearly not interested in conversing with people. Out of respect, Catanya turned her mind away from her.

  There seemed to be much confusion among the priests, as if they did not understand how this could have happened to the youngling. But Catanya sensed there was more at play here. The two High Priests moved in over the dragon youngling and began examining him as a healer would a sick patient. They mumbled to each other in Fireisgh as they lifted his eyelids, opened his jaw and felt the dull sheen of his gleamless scales. Then the High Priests examined the youngling’s talons and recoiled as if in shock. They conversed feverishly between one another then stood back in silence.

  One of the High Priests hurried back toward the temple. The other addressed the crowd. “We will gather at midnight in the nave. Be rested and prepared,” he commanded. “Trax—call all brethren to the Romghold.” The elderly priest nodded and took off quickly toward the temple. The rest of the Irucantî began to disperse. There were some whispers between them but most moved away in silence. Not sure what to do, Catanya looked at Joffren.

  “Return to your room and prepare—as Ferustir,” Joffren said. “Dress as if for battle, Semsame.”

  “For battle?”

  “We will surely be set to task this night. To what end I’m not sure, but soon enough we shall know.”

  “What is wrong, Joffren?” Catanya whispered as they walked from the training field back across the courtyard.

  Before more could be said, the sound of the temple bell ceased and was replaced by the blaring drone of a horn. Catanya blocked her ears but it did little to stop the sound resonating through her entire body, threatening to shake her apart. Atop the temple in the highest parapet, Catanya saw Trax, blowing into a horn that wrapped itself around the tower like a giant serpent, ending at ground level in a large open bell that visibly vibrated, sending its droning sound across the Romghold and beyond the mountains.

  “Go to your room,” Joffren shouted over the immense sound. Catanya nodded and ran toward her room. As she opened the door and entered, she turned back and looked over to the healing room on the eastern side of the temple, wondering if Jael would recover.

  The horn continued to blow as dusk approached and the winds carried the drone far off into the western skies as if chasing the setting sun. Catanya did her best to rest but found it impossible. The horn was a call—the High Priest had ordered it. She knew more dragons and Irucantî would arrive at the Romghold this evening. But to what end?

  The approaching midnight call to the temple would no doubt answer her questions, but what would happen? What were the repercussions for the death of a dragon?

  Catanya unpacked her Ferustir suit from the blanket she kept it in under her bed. It had been months since she had last worn it, and she quivered with excitement to wear it once more. It was even firmer fitting than before, but Delik assured her its materials were designed to mould to her shape. Just as well. Six months of training had robbed Catanya of much of her womanly curves and replaced them with a leaner figure with muscles in areas she never knew a woman could grow them.

  Midnight finally arrived and the drone of the horn stopped to be replaced with the more familiar calling of the temple bell. Catanya folded her black robes and laid them on the end of her bed, then sorted through her weapons. She pla
ced the throwing knives in their leg pouch then placed her lance into its scabbard in her suit.

  There was a knock at Catanya’s door. She left her bow and quiver of arrows on her bed and went to open it. To her surprise, Jael greeted her. Catanya stared wide-eyed in disbelief. Jael wore a long, loose fitting gown that wrapped around her body, and a hood drawn back enough for Catanya to see her battered face. Her lower lip was split through its centre and her right eye was bruised black.

  “Jael, I—” Catanya began before being interrupted.

  “Do you know where Austagia’s quarters are?” Jael asked with a hoarse voice. Her expression was serious. Catanya was taken aback. She wished to offer her sympathy or condolences or something to show she cared but… “Go there now. He is waiting for you,” Jael said sternly and waited for Catanya to respond.

  “Very well, Semsame.” Catanya stepped into the night and shut the door behind her. She headed eastward toward the wing of buildings where Austagia resided, turning just once to see if Jael was still looking toward her, but she was walking slowly back toward the cleansing room. A dozen or so other priests—all in Ferustir guise and armed to the teeth—were on the move toward the temple, running swiftly like a leash of foxes. Catanya moved against the flow, turning down a corner to her right and across a narrow pathway to the room she knew was her uncle’s. As she took the steps towards it, the door opened. Austagia was expecting her.

  “Come in,” he said. His tone was imperative rather than welcoming. Catanya entered without saying a word. She glanced around, noting that the room was almost identical to her own, and yet, for such a sparse room, it somehow seemed more meticulous. A lamp burned in the centre of his table, its shimmering light giving life to Austagia’s shadow on the wall behind him. There were two chairs at the table. He indicated that she should sit. But before she did, she felt the need to ask after Jael.

  “Jael, is she—”

  “She will be well soon enough. Sit, Catanya.”

  Catanya… She had not heard him use her name before. Strangely though, she did not like him doing so—it seemed to her he was exercising his authority as her uncle when he had relinquished that role when he drafted her into the priesthood. He sat opposite her in the second chair.

  “I need to ask you some questions.” Austagia stared at Catanya, as though he might glean the answers from her without needing to ask for them. After a pause he continued, “Jael found the dragon youngling—deceased—over six months ago.”

  “What? Six months ago?” What on earth has happened to her since then? Catanya’s mind spun.

  “Two things of interest were noted at the site where the youngling was found. I assume at this point you have no idea what either is?”

  Catanya did not understand his point. What do I have to do with the dead dragon? She shook her head.

  “Beside the fallen dragon, there was a fallen horse—an Astermeer.”

  She thought about this for a moment—A white horse of the Ice Realm... She had seen two of these during her time in the Romghold, ridden by priests who were passing through. The only other one she knew of was Breona. But she belongs to Magnus’s mother.

  “There was no sign of a rider?” Catanya asked.

  Austagia looked at her but ignored her question. “The second thing of interest was this.” Austagia placed a brown leather bracelet on the table in front of Catanya. She recognised it immediately—it was the bracelet she had given to Magnus.

  Catanya stared at the bracelet. The world seemed to close in around her, stealing her breath. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared, unblinking, at the bracelet. Her heart seemed to rise as though it were trying to leave her chest. She did not know what to say and dared not look into Austagia’s judging eyes. With shaking hands she reached for the bracelet, but at the last moment withdrew, daring not to touch it. This is a trick. Austagia is testing my strength of mind.

  “Jael struggled to unfurl the enchantments binding this to the Astermeer. Enchantments whose remnants I know to be of our family’s dialect. And the braiding of this bracelet—your mother taught you this, did she not?”

  Catanya’s mixed emotions twisted into anger and she directed them at Austagia. “Our family? What family? We have no family thanks to you!” She couldn’t help herself.

  “I was there, Catanya. The day you gave this to your companion. The one named Magnus.”

  Catanya remembered back to the Nuyan River, when she placed the bracelet around Magnus’s wrist and whispered her spell—“Bound forever, forever mine…”. Austagia was indeed there, waiting to take her away. She scowled at Austagia. “Where is he?” Catanya stood, kicking her chair back hard against the wall. “Where is he?” she yelled again. Austagia remained seated and composed. “He wouldn’t have killed the dragon. He couldn’t have killed the dragon.” Catanya shook uncontrollably. All her training to remain calm and at peace accounted for nothing in this moment. Just now, she was Catanya again.

  “Be seated, Semsame,” Austagia instructed. After a moment she calmed herself enough to retrieve her chair. Austagia continued. “Time is short and matters are urgent. Listen to what I tell you. There is enough evidence that Quagmen killed the dragon youngling. But that is not of concern to our brethren.” Catanya did not understand. “What will concern the priesthood is this.” He picked the bracelet up off the table, showing it again to Catanya. “Whoever this belonged to has received the bond of fire.”

  Catanya stared into her uncle’s eyes. She finally understood what he was getting at. The bond of fire… the chosen one... Magnus? It still made little sense to her. What was he doing there—in Froughton Forest?

  “Then shouldn’t we be trying to find Magnus?” she asked. “I’m sure whatever he did was not intentional,” she said in his defence.

  “Did the Astermeer belong to him?”

  “It was his mother’s. Breona was bonded to her, not Magnus. What of her then?”

  For the first time, Austagia looked away from Catanya. She sensed there was something he knew but was not telling her.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Much has happened since we left the Fire Realm. The Quag army have attacked our lands and many of our people have been taken prisoner. Your friend Magnus is likely among them.”

  “Then why are we not defending them? Is this why we gather in the temple? To plan our attack against the Quag?” Catanya paused for thought. There was more. There was something she was missing. “That is not their intention is it? They are not going to protect our people.”

  “No, they are not.” Austagia’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly and for the first time, his voice carried emotion. “The High Priests made the decision some time ago—there will be no defence of our people.”

  Catanya racked her brain looking for reason in Austagia’s words. “If not to defend our people, what purpose does the priesthood serve?” As the words left her mouth, she understood. “The High Priests—they want the bond of fire for themselves.”

  “They believe it to be their right.” Austagia hung his head, as if in shame.

  “And if the bond is given to Magnus, who is not of our order…”

  “They will want him dead.” Austagia took the words from Catanya’s mouth.

  “Are you not involved in this decision? What is your part in this?”

  “Not all of us support this movement.”

  The door to Austagia’s room opened and Jael entered. Outside it had started to rain heavily. “The rain will hide her tracks. We must go now before they wonder where we are,” Jael said to Austagia, looking then to Catanya with concern on her face.

  “Fara Namon,” Austagia whispered, extinguishing the flame in the lamp and cloaking them in darkness.

  “Catanya, this may seem a strange question now that you are an Irucantî,” Austagia spoke in a gentle manner. “But, Magnus…who is he to you now?”

  “If not for you, I would marry him,” Catanya replied curtly.

  “If not for me, yo
u would likely be held captive in Ba’rrat with many of our kinsmen. That is why you are here. Your mother wanted you protected.”

  Catanya slumped in her chair. My mother? She wanted this?

  “Semsame, we must go,” Jael insisted. She hugged her robe closely. To Catanya she appeared far from well enough to be moving about.

  “Just a moment. Catanya must know the truth,” Austagia insisted.

  Catanya tried to understand the gravity of what was happening. “My mother knew this war was coming?” she asked.

  “I warned her. The Quag armies had been amassing, positioning themselves for attack for some time.”

  “Why would you confide such a thing in my mother?”

  Austagia was slow to respond. He walked to the door, peering out into the rain soaked night that drove a cold draft of wind into the room. “We are family Catanya—first and foremost. I could not sit idly by and do nothing to protect my family. There is much for you to learn but time calls for urgency. For now you must understand this. Your friend Magnus is in danger—perhaps more so than he faces as a prisoner in Ba’rrat. Tonight the priests will descend on Froughton Forest in search of the one who possesses the bond of fire. They will track him down, one way or another. You must get to him first if you wish to save him.”

  Jael spoke then. “Our brethren do not know who the youngling bonded with. Only Austagia, myself and you share that information.”

  “What of Joffren? Is he in support of this movement?” Catanya found it hard to believe Joffren of all people would think this way.

  “Jael is better qualified to answer that question,” Austagia said. “She was Joffren’s Semsarian once. I do not share such intimacy with him.”

  “I am not sure where Joffren’s loyalties lie,” Jael answered curtly, looking at Austagia.