One Cannot Deny a Blood Oath with a Dragon

by T P Sheehan

  “No more talking.” Catanya squeezed on the lance’s grip and it ignited. The explosion of light and sound startled the guard, who yelped in fear. “Take me to Carlo’s slaves now.”

  With encouragement by way of her lance, Stubert led Catanya through the deserted city streets. Twice the drunk guard stumbled, but Catanya dragged him to his feet, pushing him forward. She soon extinguished her lance and held instead the bloody knife to Stubert’s throat as they walked.

  They neared the city centre and turned a sharp left. Stubert spun about quickly, shoving Catanya in the chest, causing her to fall backward. She allowed herself to fall into a roll and sprang forward again with lightening reflexes. Stubert struggled to free his sword from his holster as Catanya swung her knife and severed the tendon at the back of the guard’s heel with a snap. Stubert grunted in pain and half fell before Catanya yanked him to his feet again. She drew the longsword from his side and threw it back down the street.

  “Do that again and you die, do you understand?” Catanya’s eyes were wild. Stubert nodded. “Do you understand?” Catanya repeated. She swept the hair from her face, inadvertently revealing her Irucantî markings. Stubert stared at her, wide-eyed.

  “You… you’re a Ferustir!”

  Catanya could see the fear in his face. Good…

  They continued down a final street with Stubert hobbling awkwardly in pain, and arrived at a wall with a wrought iron gate set in a thick stone arch.

  “Is this the way?” Catanya asked. Stubert nodded frantically. “Open it,” Catanya insisted.

  “I don’t have the key,” Stubert stuttered. “It can only be opened from the inside.”

  “Really? So the prisoners can free themselves?” Catanya pushed her knife into his cheek. “Open it now!”

  “The guard… inside… has the key.” Stubert’s drunken eyes were rolling about. Catanya hoped to the Gods he would not pass out. She buried her foot into the guard’s wounded heel, making him drop to the ground. His face contorted in pain but his eyes had regained their focus.

  “Call the guard to the gate now.”

  “He will not hear us, lady. He’ll be down in the dungeons.”

  Catanya grunted in frustration. She was so close. There had to be way through the gate. Leaving Stubert to nurse his wounded leg, she held the thick bars of the gate and pulled. Nothing happened—not so much as a rattle. The gate was impenetrable without a key.

  Catanya peered through the gate and down the dimly lit flight of steps. She looked at the lamps that disappeared into darkness then whispered a spell. It was the same one her sister Hannah shared with Magnus when last she saw her. “Fara mi parina.” All the lamps flared for a moment, allowing Catanya to see to the bottom of the stairwell. In a few moments, they faded again. She looked then at the lamp closest to the gate. It appeared to be within arm’s reach.

  Catanya grabbed Stubert’s collar, forcing him to stand. She pulled him over to the gate. “Stay here and don’t move,” she commanded. Catanya pushed her arm between the iron bars of the gate and stretched her hand toward the nearest lamp. She was less than a finger width short of reaching it. Damn. Turning to Stubert, she saw his eyelids were getting droopy. “Stubert!” she said sharply. His eyebrows lifted, but his eyes remained unfocussed. Catanya slapped him and his eyes widened again. “I need you to get that lamp for me.” Stubert looked up, straining to focus on where Catanya was pointing. He used the gate to pull himself upright. Catanya put her knife to his throat again. “Reach through and get it for me.”

  Stubert nodded and reached through the bars. He took a hold of the thick candle and pulled it off the sconce on which it sat. The melted wax dripped over his hand.

  “It’s hot!” Stubert complained.

  “Be quiet,” Catanya said through gritted teeth. She looked about but there was no one around. Stubert pulled the candle through the bars of the gate and Catanya took it from him. She placed the still-burning candle on the gate, using her hands to mould the hot wax around the lock, careful to keep it alight. Taking three steps back, she whispered a second, more powerful spell—“Exploda fara gin mara.” The candle exploded, splattering hot wax over Stubert who was still holding himself upright against the gate. It also buckled the right side of the gate, destroying the lock. The door swung outward slightly on its squeaky hinges. Catanya smiled.

  “What’s going on here?” A loud voice boomed from behind Catanya. She spun about, drawing her lance. Two guards stood motionless, looking from Catanya to Stubert, who was rolling about, plucking wax off his burnt face and hands. The guards drew their longswords.

  Catanya threw a knife at one of them, spearing his heart. He fell to his knees. His companion came at Catanya who turned and ran through the open gate to the landing at the top of the stairs. The guard followed and came through the gate with his sword swinging. Catanya shifted quickly to avoid his blow and ignited her lance. She thrust it toward the guard and speared him in the armpit. His good arm still free, the guard swung his blade about and down at Catanya. She caught the blow with her lance then drove her knee between the guard’s legs. He buckled over and Catanya swung her lance across his head. The guard fell forward and Catanya helped with a kick, sending him tumbling down the stairs where he impaled himself on his sword as he hit the hard ground at the bottom.

  Catanya took a breath and ran back out the gate and over to the dead guard. She retrieved her knife, sheathed her weapons and dragged the guard’s body over to the gate. It was slow going, but she did not want to leave a trail of bodies for other guards to follow, knowing it was likely to be the way she would return. She looked to Stubert, hoping to garner his assistance, but he was sitting with his back to a wall, pulling wax from the backs of his hands.

  Finally, Catanya had the guard at the gate. With a final heave she pulled him through to the top of the stairs where she pushed him over to join his colleague at the bottom. Catanya then grabbed Stubert. He struggled up once again, more willing than before, his face marked with burn marks and mounting fear. Catanya closed the gate behind them then marched Stubert down the stairs. It was slow going with an injured, drunk man dragging her down, but she needed him to show her the way.

  “How far to the dungeons?”

  Stubert did not answer, but stumbled onward down one corridor after the other, favouring his better leg. He finally came to a narrow archway off to one side of the corridor. “Through here,” Stubert said.

  Catanya looked at him. “What will I find through there?”

  “Another corridor leading to the prison cages—six of them. Balgur is in the sixth cage.”

  “How many guards?”

  “No more than one at this hour.” Stubert sniffed and looked away.

  Catanya was certain he was lying. She pushed Stubert through the archway and followed close behind, drawing a knife and holding it ready.

  Suddenly, Stubert stopped and his body jolted. “Keep moving,” Catanya said, but Stubert stood still. He then began to fall back and Catanya caught him. Holding him up, she looked over his shoulder and saw an arrow protruding from his chest. Further down the poorly lit corridor, Catanya could see four guards looking at her. One had a crossbow aimed at her head. The other three had swords drawn. The swordsmen each held a flaming torch. Catanya held Stubert’s body in front of her as a shield and whispered her now favourite spell once again—“Exploda fara gin mara!”

  BREAK OUT

  In the dead of night, Magnus’s eyes popped open as he heard the sound of keys connecting with the lock in his prison cage. His attention was drawn to the slow, delicate way the lock was being turned. Someone is sneaking up on me…

  Magnus remained motionless, feigning sleep. He considered how he’d aggravated the guards earlier that day. Anyone of them could want me dead.

  The cage door opened with the slightest of groans from the rusty hinges—not at all like the usual grinding clunk that came when the door was thrown open against its steel stop.

  Magnus readied
himself to pounce when the soft touch of a hand on his right shoulder startled him. He turned quickly, scrabbling backward on all fours from the stranger before him, cloaked in a dark robe. Magnus squinted in the darkness. The hooded stranger knelt down and drew the hood from their face.

  “Magnus?”

  The voice was a thing of beauty to him—all at once familiar, yet impossible. “Catanya?”

  “Yes, it’s me… it’s me, Magnus,” the voice whispered. She moved closer to him, placing a hand over his. Magnus saw before him the face of the woman he loved.

  “Impossible!” Magnus exclaimed. She looked familiar yet so different. Her face was more chiselled, her hair was different and she bore the marking of an Irucantî across her bald scalp. With the speed of a cat, Catanya leapt at Magnus and embraced him in a desperate hug. She clung to him as if she never intended to let go. Magnus’s heart melted with familiar emotions. All bitterness, fear and hatred were gone. He wrapped his arms tightly around Catanya. Her body felt so different. In place of her familiar gentleness was a hard, lean body that seemed to be that of another.

  Magnus pulled her away and stared into her eyes. “Catanya!”

  “Come Magnus,” she whispered. “Let us leave this place.” She pulled Magnus by the hand toward the cage door. As quick as a flash she led him out of the dungeon and along a dark narrow passage where they stepped over the bodies of the four guards who were posted to protect him. They all had severe burns.

  “Did you do this?” Magnus could not believe was he was seeing.

  “I tried to reason with them… actually that’s a lie… I never tried to reason with them. Come!” She pulled Magnus further down the passage and came across another body. Magnus recognised the young guard. His face was burnt and his foot badly injured. But Magnus could see it was the arrow protruding from his chest that killed him.

  They kept moving but a little further on, Magnus stopped. “Wait.”

  “What is it?” Catanya turned to him. A lamp illuminated her face. Magnus drew a breath at the sight of her, as she did at seeing him.

  “You look so different,” Magnus said.

  “You have no idea what I’ve been through since we last saw one another. Looking at you though, I’m guessing you’ve been through worse. What happened to you?” She rubbed her hands along his upper arms that had nearly doubled in size since last she saw him. Then she stopped as she considered herself and blushed. Catanya turned away, but Magnus pulled her back to him and kissed her. For a moment they embraced one another, until Catanya pulled back.

  “We must go,” she said, trying in vain to hide a smile.

  “I can’t,” Magnus confessed. “My fate is bound to others. If I leave, they will be executed.” With every fibre of his being he wanted to flee with her and leave the nightmare behind. But he couldn’t.

  Catanya considered Magnus and then paced the corridor before turning back to him. “It is true then? You have bonded with a dragon?”

  Magnus was dumbfounded. How in all of Allumbreve could she know that? Catanya held her wrist up to Magnus’s face, showing him the leather bracelet.

  “You left this with Breona. She died in the company of the dragon youngling.”

  “She did.” Magnus felt a fool for leaving the bracelet. “She died protecting the dragon. She died protecting me—they both did.” Magnus buried his face in his hands, fighting back emotions. It was the first he had talked of the ordeal to anyone.

  “The dragon youngling chose you Magnus. Do you know what that means?” Catanya shook Magnus by the shoulders.

  “Tell me. Tell me what it means? What am I to do?”

  “You are the Electus. You hold the power of fire. It is you who will change the world. ‘And your progeny shall forever inherit the power of the realm of fire’… It is written in the Murata.”

  Magnus shook his head. “I don’t know what the Murata is, Catanya. And I don’t know what all this means. All I know is this—if I leave, Sarah will die. As will my father and Ganister.”

  “They are here?”

  “Sarah is. My father and Ganister are elsewhere, being watched by Delvion. But all of their lives hang in the balance. I am to fight in the arena at dawn and the outcome determines whether we all live or die.”

  Catanya paced the corridor once again. “How did this happen?” she asked. Magnus shook his head—he was at a loss for words. The two of them remained silent for a moment. Magnus thought of how to best deal with their predicament.

  “I cannot go Catanya. This battle is something I started. I must finish it.” He could see how frustrated she was. There was a strength to her presence that Magnus had never seen before. She was an entirely different person now—no longer the girl in the white dress daring to cross the river to pick irises. She was a dragon priest, a Ferustir, breaking into dungeons beneath the most formidable place in Allumbreve with more certainty than he had ever seen in her.

  “I heard the guards talking. You’re to fight Delvion’s men?” Catanya asked.

  “Aye.”

  “You know he’ll send his best? Or worse—himself!”

  “Aye. I do,” Magnus sighed. He did not know how to resolve the situation further. But then he had a thought—“If I show you where Sarah is, do you think you can get her out?”

  “I could. But what then?”

  “When I win in the arena tomorrow, Delvion promises to make purchase of me. No doubt he will want to meet me in person. Then I shall kill him and free my father and Ganister.” Catanya raised her eyebrows. She went to speak but no words came out.

  “It’s the only way,” Magnus concluded.

  “Alright then,” Catanya agreed. “Show me where Sarah is, I will get her to safety and I will meet you beyond the southern gates of the city, tomorrow night. No later.”

  Magnus ran with Catanya close behind, twisting through the dark and musty corridors that led to Sarah’s small, isolated cell. Along the way they passed many doors to similar cells.

  “Are there prisoners in every cell?” Catanya asked.

  “I believe so.”

  Magnus ran as fast as he could with Catanya right behind him. He was surprised at her agility. As they approached the final corner, they heard the echoes of guards’ boots striking stone. Magnus clenched his fists tightly as before. In moments the familiar heat charged through them and they ignited. He clasped his hands then separated them producing a ball of fire that he held aloft in his left hand. As the guards rounded the corner, Magnus flung it at them. The flames struck one of the two guards, slamming his body against the wall.

  Catanya leapt across the wall to Magnus’s left. He watched as she drew a strange weapon that released a loud cracking sound with an explosion of light. Holding the long, lethal lance, she quickly dispensed of the other guard. She turned to face Magnus, her weapon still holding its blaze. They looked one another over, breathing heavily from their efforts.

  “Amazing!” Catanya said.

  “I’ll say!” Magnus replied. Smiling, he pointed to a door. “This is Sarah’s cell.”

  Catanya nodded. “Go now, Magnus. Before you’re discovered missing. They won’t think you killed the guards if you’re locked in that cage.”

  Magnus placed a hand upon her temple, feeling her markings. She took his hand and placed it over her heart. “Nothing has changed here.”

  ESCAPE

  The steel bolt securing Sarah’s prison door glided into the granite wall and Catanya pulled the door open. Sarah was sleeping against the wall on the hard stone floor to the right side of the room.

  “Sarah?” Catanya watched the curly haired woman turn and sit. She squinted trying to focus her tired eyes. Catanya spoke gently—“Come, it is time to leave.” She helped Sarah stand up and together they made for the door. Once free of the cell and under the lamp in the corridor, Sarah stopped and peered at Catanya’s face.

  ‘I know you.”

  “Aye—you do,” Catanya whispered, hurrying to the next prison cell along
on the opposite side of the corridor. She slid its bolt free also and took one step into the dark room before whispering the spell—“Boe’l fara gin parshin-ar”. A small but intense ball of light ignited and floated at the centre of the room, momentarily blinding the thin, malnourished man who resided within. His sight returning, he looked at Catanya with wearisome eyes that lit up as though he’d found an old friend.

  “Ferustir! Dragon warrior!” he exclaimed. “Do my eyes deceive me?”

  “They do not. Come quickly.”

  As soon as the man stumbled out of his cell Catanya gave him orders. “Open the door opposite this one and free them as I have you. Have them do the same to the next door and so forth. Then keep behind me.”

  “Aye!” the man beamed a toothless smile and did as told. Within a few minutes, Catanya was leading seventeen prisoners through the complication of tunnels deep below Ba’rrat. All the while she had a firm grip on Sarah’s arm, directing her forward.

  “Priest, I am able to support myself,” Sarah insisted.

  “You do not leave my side. Not while I live,” Catanya asserted, re-strengthening her grip on Sarah’s arm.

  “For what reason do I warrant precedence?” Sarah asked.

  “Because I promised Magnus—I will free you tonight.”

  Sarah smiled as she ran, looking at Catanya. “Aye. I know now… you are Catanya. You have given Magnus reason to live all these months. I see now his love is well placed.”

  Catanya held fast to her emotions as she directed her entourage along corridors and up twisting stairways. Fifteen minutes after leaving Sarah’s prison cell they passed the two dead guards at the bottom of the final set of stairs and climbed to the gate she had broken through less than an hour before. Catanya looked out to the street beyond, finding it empty.

  “Keep to the shadows,” she instructed. They moved in single file out of reach of the moonlight beneath the eaves of the buildings that lined the streets. Halfway to Ba’rrat’s southern gate they entered a courtyard. At its centre was a guardhouse where one sleeping guard presided over an armoury rack that housed a collection of swords and shields. Catanya threw a single knife, dispensing with the guard, and the prisoners made their acquaintance with the weapons.