One Cannot Deny a Blood Oath with a Dragon

by T P Sheehan

  He took a deep breath, opened his eyes and observed the sight before him. A crowd had formed, including many Quagmen, who were dumfounded at having witnessed the spectacle. Also present were Austagia, Jael, and two other priests who sat upon dragons. All were silent, staring at Magnus. His body pulsated with shimmers of amber and orange light that spiralled about his body. Threads of heat coursed through him like acid through his veins, working to heal him of the damage caused by his unusual altercation with Joffren. Even Catanya stood wide-eyed at the marvel before her.

  Magnus felt Färgd’s presence at the perimeter of his mind and realised the dragon had witnessed the experience for himself. “Now you know the truth, Färgd of the Fire Realm.”

  Several long minutes passed and Magnus felt the heat subside—its job done. He turned to Färgd and knelt, bowing his head before the great fire dragon.

  “You are indeed the chosen one, Magnus of J’esmagd,” Färgd declared.

  A GATHERING

  With a loud beating of wings, the Couldradt fire dragons converged at the eastern wall to see what all the commotion was about. Each dragon was paired with a priest and they all bore the scars of battle. All of the dragons had blood stained teeth and talons, chipped scales and gnawed underbellies courtesy of the brawling fights with wyverns. Some of the priests bore wounds, yet none were fatal and certainly not as serious as Joffren’s injuries.

  There were twelve dragons in total, including Färgd. Some perched upon the city wall, others on rooftops, sending tiles skittering to the ground below. A smaller, sprightly dragon landed in the Quadrangle. It sniffed at Magnus just as Färgd had. Alarm came to its fiery eyes and it recoiled, turning to Färgd for explanation.

  With such a large number of dragons in attendance, the Quagmen fled toward the southern city gates. Only one dragon pursued them, making sure of their departure. The rest were far more interested in Magnus.

  Magnus stood his ground. Catanya was quick to come to his side followed closely by Austagia and Jael. Eamon gave his attention to Joffren. He cast spells upon him to hold what health remained in good stead until he was better able to devote himself to healing his former Semsarian. He then joined Magnus and the others.

  Magnus looked at his companions. The day had been long and arduous. Throughout it, the four of them had stood staunch with him and survived. The next few moments however, were vital. Magnus guessed they knew this, too.

  Eamon made polite suggestions to Färgd about how to explain matters to the other dragons. Magnus was careful not to intervene. He thought it best to let those more familiar to Färgd do the talking. Färgd however, was not at all indecisive and was quick to share what he had learned about Magnus.

  “The Electus has been chosen.” The dragon’s thoughts rolled forth like a clap of thunder. His words brought absolute silence among those in attendance. He directed his next words to the priests. “Who among you disputes this? Who claims a right to this power over that chosen by my kin?”

  There was no objection voiced among the priests or the dragons. One by one, the dragons made their way into the open space of the quadrangle and examined Magnus. They looked him over and sniffed him. Magnus felt each of their minds cautiously touching his own.

  “Remain open,” Eamon advised Magnus. “Let them see who you are. Reserve nothing of yourself. They seek the truth.”

  Magnus swallowed hard with a parched tongue. His breath trembled and he searched for the comfort of Catanya’s hand. Knowingly she took it, clasping it firmly with her own. The dragons became aware of their shared intimacy and examined her as well. Magnus could feel Catanya’s mind open to the dragons, which gave him confidence to do the same. The powerful minds of the dragons explored his thoughts and learned his story just as Färgd had done before them. It was unnerving to have such powerful creatures delve into his mind. He felt like a baby being passed between the hands of great warriors, each careful in their caress yet capable of destroying him at any moment.

  Magnus could also sense the minds of the priests, dancing apprehensively at the periphery of his consciousness. Aside from Austagia and Jael, each of them seemed to be in conflict, struggling to accept Magnus as the chosen one. Austagia intervened, giving gospel to assure them that the right choice had been made in Magnus. Some of the priests seemed to listen whilst others withdrew. Magnus knew it would be some time before he could trust them all.

  Färgd had more to say but directed it to the other dragons. They each withdrew from Magnus’s mind as smoothly as they entered it and turned their attention to Färgd. All but one, that is. For Brue stayed within Magnus’s mind, lingering on his memories and thoughts of Thioci. After a while, he too withdrew, but kept his gaze on Magnus for some time before turning his attention to Färgd.

  Eamon seemed most pleased with the proceedings. “A dragon protects its kin above all others, Magnus. You are now their kin. And in time, the Irucantî will come to respect you as they have sworn to.”

  Magnus remained sceptical. He recalled the priest named Demi who tried to kill Catanya, and Joffren’s determination to kill him. Even with the full support of the dragons he would not rest easily in the company of priests.

  In the absence of the High Priests and lack of knowledge as to how their allegiance would sway, Austagia took command of the order. He sent four of the priests and their dragons to the southern gate to support the one dragon already there. They would assess the situation and, if possible, bring the battle to a close. Five dragons kept counsel with Färgd while Brue set off with three priests to ensure no Quagmen or city residents remained in hiding in the northern part of the city. Catanya asked Austagia if it was wise to send Brue alone with that many priests, what with their questionable loyalty. Austagia however, believed Brue to be the most adept of all dragons present to deal with any resistance that may arise.

  Joffren was in a poor state of health. Eamon and Jael administered several healing potions and cast many more spells to keep him from declining further.

  Magnus’s journey had come to an impasse in many ways. There were a lot of issues that remained unsettled. He knew some things would take time to resolve such as facing the Quag army in the Fire Realm and finding his mother. He had mixed feelings toward Lucas and a huge sense of guilt about him. What if I were attacked by the wyvern and treated by the Uydfer healers whilst Lucas went on to Guame? He knew their places had been decided by nothing more than chance, yet he recalled Xavier’s words about Lucas—“He strives for the approval of others. A corruptible quality where loyalties can shift.”

  Magnus wondered—would I have been immune to Delvion’s manipulations? But then he thought of Ganister dying in the arena and all compassion vanished.

  Magnus decided he needed space and time to clear his mind and think about what he should do next. He excused himself from the company he was in. Catanya offered to come with him. He thanked her and explained he just needed to take time for himself.

  Magnus walked back down the alleyway he and Catanya had sprinted along only a short while ago. Halfway along it, he happened upon the bodies of three Quag warriors. This is why Eamon took longer to get to the Quadrangle. So much for being slow…

  Magnus stared at the men’s bodies that lay awkwardly across the alleyway. A vision of Ganister came to him again. He drew Lucas’s sword, examining Ganister’s fine craftsmanship. Magnus recalled his father’s words when he handed the sword back to him“Perhaps you may have the chance to return it to him and find common ground.” He sheathed the sword again, aware of the burden of its weight.

  Magnus continued down the alleyway until he came to the door on his left—the door to the dwelling Eamon had taken him and Catanya into, where they hid from Joffren.

  Joffren…

  Magnus opened the door and entered the room, closing the door behind him.

  I nearly killed him…

  A chill ran from the nape of his neck down his spine and the hairs on his arms stood on end. He stood in the centre of the room, wai
ting for the sensation to pass, expecting a charge of heat to follow as it usually did. But none came for he was not injured. He appreciated having some sense of feeling that was not manipulated by his dragon blood.

  In the darkness of the room, he allowed the silence to wash over him. Magnus sat on the ground, his back to the wall—a habit that had grown on him after the countless hours locked in cage number six. He placed Lucas’s sword beside him and removed the armour he had worn since his battle in the arena, laying it beside him also. Magnus felt the cool stone soothe his back as he used to in the dungeon. He allowed the thoughts and confusions of the day to fade away into the darkness.

  Magnus slept.

  BRUE

  Dreams washed through Magnus’s mind, giving voice to calamities he was entirely responsible for, or so they told him. He dreamed of Lucas. Magnus tried to explain that he did not abandon him in the Uydferlands and that he longed to return to him. Lucas stared back in silence. The more Magnus tried to reason with him, the more his face receded back into the darkness of his hooded robe until his eyes were cloaked in shadow. Eventually, Magnus could not see him at all. He shouted after him, “Lucas! Lucas!” But there was no reply. Nothing. In a moment he was gone. Jael appeared in his place.

  Magnus looked around again for Lucas.

  “Lucas?”

  Nothing. There was Jael again. He turned again but Jael was right there, in his face.

  “Do you know where Lucas is?”

  He repeated the question several times but Jael did not respond. Her face was closer to his now. He tried to look past her, but she always moved into his line of sight. Eventually he looked at her. Then he forgot about Lucas as he was drawn to her dark, mysterious eyes. As before, they were sultry and alluring.

  “Come.” Jael knew what he wanted. Magnus knew she did. “Let’s go Magnus. You do not need this. I can show you everything you need to know.”

  Magnus looked away for a moment. There was something… something he was meant to do, or know. She was even closer to him now.

  “Come.” She placed her hands on his chest. He felt that feeling again—lightness and tingling through his chest. It was invigorating. But she was standing too close to him. He looked around, trying to remember what it was he needed to do. Jael grew impatient and her eyes sharpened. Magnus was drawn to them again, scared he had offended her in some way.

  He was about to speak when Jael’s body jerked violently and a look of dismay came to her face. She opened her mouth as if to speak. A thin trail of blood ran from her mouth down her chin and she paused for a moment before falling to the ground, dead. Behind her stood her assailant upon a field of pure white snow, holding a white sword smeared with red blood. The blood then turned to vapour, rising from the blade and dissipating into the air. Magnus looked at Jael’s assailant, dressed in a noble azure robe that fell elegantly to the ground over grey, pointed boots. Her blonde hair flowed to her waist and she stood motionless, flanked with a legion of warriors. They were the Rhydermere of the Ice Realm and she was their leader.

  She was his mother.

  Magnus sat up, startled by the dream and a repetitive pounding. He turned to the door of the dark room and saw daylight streaking through splinters in the wood.

  Thump.

  The door gave a little and more light pierced through. Magnus leapt to his feet in an instant, sword drawn and ready just as the door exploded inward, sending daggers of wood hurtling across the room. He shielded himself from the debris.

  Through the open doorway came the massive maw of a dragon. A deep burbling sound rose from its belly, then it roared, shaking the room violently. It drew a second breath and Magnus guessed what would follow. He turned his back to the dragon and a jet of flames exploded through him. The flames lashed over him and his body seemed to burn from the inside out. It was a burn like he had never before experienced—like he had been dropped into a vat of molten iron.

  When the flames subsided, Magnus fell to his knees, his pants all but disintegrated but his flesh and the fleu-steel sword unharmed. He caught his breath and spun about, looking at the dragon. He did not want to give it the chance of a second coming and so he came at it, thrusting his sword hilt-deep into its pointed nose. The beast screamed. Magnus recognised the dragon.

  “Brue!”

  Magnus held fast to his sword as Brue pulled away, backing out of the doorway. In his place, three Irucantî ran into the room—the same three who had left with Brue earlier. Magnus opened his mind, trying to get a read on their thoughts but they were quick to block him from any mental intrusion.

  The room hung thick with the sulphurous fumes and smoke from Brue’s attack and the wooden beams overhead were on fire. The priests ignited their lances—the glowing engravings within them throwing shards of light through the smokey room. It made anticipating the priests’ attack easier in the gloom and afforded Magnus a slight advantage.

  Magnus cut deep across the ankle of one priest, severing the bone, and did the same to the fingers of another, making him drop his weapon.

  Magnus knew that no injury short of death would stop any of them and one against three would soon wear him down—perhaps only for a short time, but long enough for one of them to kill him. And kill him they certainly would. Magnus doubted his capacity to heal would help him here, for surely a severed head or limb, or impaled heart, would not heal. Magnus needed to finish this quickly.

  He lunged backward as the third priest sprung off a wall, placing himself behind Magnus. As he did, the wall creaked and the hardwood beams overhead shifted, sending dust and charred wood to the floor. Magnus glanced upward at a thick beam that had turned to charcoal from dragon fire—it had cracked through at its centre. It won’t take much for the roof to come down. He recalled his escape from his burning home back in the J’esmagdlands and the ceiling that nearly caved in on him. The same could happen here…

  Magnus saw an opportunity. He waited until he was positioned in the middle of the three priests—a vulnerable position, but necessary. As two of them came at him with their lances, Magnus back-flipped and severed the brittle beam with his sword. He landed beyond the third priest at the door and dove for the exit as the roof crashed down behind him.

  Once clear of the door he turned to see that the roof had collapsed entirely. The doorway was still intact and one of the priests lunged free of the room, covered in debris. He coughed and stumbled and took a moment to recover but it was too late. Magnus came at him hard and fast, slashing at the Ferustir’s neck, chest and abdomen—skilfully finding the weak points in his armour. The priest was soon dead. He waited a moment for the other priests to come through the doorway. None did.

  Magnus headed back up the alleyway.

  “Finally,” he said to himself in a resolute manner. “I know what I need to do to end this.”

  JOFFREN

  Joffren was a broken man. Catanya knew his chances of recovering were slim at best. His body and mind had suffered inexplicable damage with the assault Magnus had made upon him.

  “You know, Catanya, things could have turned out a lot worse than this,” Eamon said as he knelt beside Joffren.

  “I know,” Catanya said. Still, it did little to appease her seeing her teacher and companion of the last six months close to death. Eamon had been diligent with his attention to Joffren. Catanya could see he left no stone unturned in doing what he could to heal the priest. Jael stayed with Eamon, following his instruction to the letter.

  “Eamon is good,” Jael said to Catanya. “His skills as a healer are very good.” Coming from Jael, who was a good healer herself, these words gave Catanya confidence.

  After Joffren’s battle with Magnus, Catanya listened to Magnus explain how Joffren’s mind revealed his loyalty to her as his Semsarian. She tried to find comfort in this knowledge but still, she needed to know—Did Joffren know about Demi’s attempt on my life?

  “We’ve done all we can for now,” Eamon explained. He stood and placed a hand on Catanya’s
shoulder. “Time will tell,” he smiled. “What I should do now is find Brue.” He peered out of the open door of the small house they had appropriated near the eastern wall. “He was to return here before now, so that we could leave and seek Marsala. She is a healer, among other things. Joffren will have a greater chance of survival with her.” Eamon excused himself and walked outside leaving Jael and Catanya to tend to Joffren.

  Jael looked Catanya over inquisitively. Catanya sensed that she had questions for her—questions about Magnus. She pretended not to notice Jael’s enquiring eyes. What was it she said to Magnus? “There’s so much you will learn from us.” But it was not so much the words as the way she looked at him that caught Catanya’s attention.

  “Where do you intend to go from here, Semsame?” Jael asked.

  Catanya stared at Jael without saying anything for a moment before answering. “I want my old life back. The further away from the Romghold I am, the better.”

  Jael fell silent. She tried to get Joffren to sip some tea from a small pot she was holding. “That would be a shame—after all you’ve been through. After all your training.”

  “If you had been through what I had, would you go back?” Catanya tried to keep the bitterness from her tongue, but it tainted her words nonetheless.

  “I’ve been through plenty, Semsame.” Jael smiled weakly and Catanya felt shamed. She still knew nothing of the ordeal Jael had been through in the six months she was missing in Froughton Forest. Catanya looked at Jael. Her scars were healing well, but she dared not assume her mind had recovered. “But things have changed now,” Jael continued. “The priesthood will no longer be what it was. We have the High Priests of our order to deal with, then…” Jael’s voice trailed off with her thoughts.

  “Then, what?” Catanya asked.