Ice Dragon Tales

by Hurri Cosmo

  The crest was of a shield with an image of an attacking panther in the upper right quarter and one of a soaring hawk in the lower left quarter. The panther represented strength and endurance while the hawk represented agility and intelligence. There was little color, so the most striking of ornamentation were the eyes. Large embedded diamonds, an odd bluish purple, flashed and sparkled, giving the impression of actual life in the images. The diamonds were only available here in the kingdom, taken from a secret mine, known only to royalty, deep in the bowels of the castle. It was the trademark of the King of Claymoor Doom and one of the main reasons the castle was built on this land.

  In the other two quadrants were flags. In the upper left-hand side was a bluish purple flag depicting the name of the kingdom, Claymoor Doom, written in ancient Kitin, the language of the nymphs that supposedly still occupied the thick, nearly unexplored forests north of the kingdom. Aric was certain the only people left who knew such a detail were his family. It was a piece of lore that was no longer even remembered in songs. That was fine with Aric. He liked to have truth surround him, things that were real and tangible--not myths and folklore. Although he would definitely use its power for good if the opportunity presented itself. The other flag was a more modern version. All of the flags that adorned the castle today were duplicates of it. Gold and uncomplicated in its design, it was simply an ornate "T" for Tamusi, in a thick circle, and the name "Claymoor Doom" written beneath it, all in that same bluish green tone.

  Amazingly, the gold that had been laid into the deep crevices of the crest was still intact and bright after the many generations of kings who had sat on that throne. The throne was raised up on a platform, accessible by four ornate tile steps that wrapped around three sides, each step bearing an ancient saying of valor and authority.

  Find the courage to ask questions, so you fully understand, and to speak clearly, so you are fully understood. Assume nothing.

  No matter the situation or the job needing to be done, in every single instance, do, be, and give your very best.

  Understand the power of the spoken and the written word. Let it always be truth.

  Be immune to the opinions and actions of others

  The words were not positioned for visitors to that room to see and read. They were actually on the top of each stair and turned to be read by whoever sat on the throne. Aric remembered asking his father once why it was. Shouldn't the words be also readable to all who visited the king? Shouldn't they also be made to know these truths? But his father wisely told him whoever sat in the throne had a greater responsibility to not abuse their authority. His father told him when, someday, Aric became king, every time he sat in that great chair, he should recite each line and remember how easily absolute power corrupts. He was to always remember his place was to serve his people and not for his people to serve him. His role was to lead by respecting all life, liberties, opinions, and needs, and not to rule by fear and intimidation.

  Aric couldn't help but think that though Joron was not a king and had never before today read those words, he was a prime example of how those words were at the very least, close to great truth. The wise words of the steps to the throne, if truly followed every day, would make a good king and, Joron proved, an even better man.

  But those words were not going to help Diagus today.

  "I have no problem with it, especially when that king enters my castle uninvited." Aric shifted in the uncomfortable seat, the words of the steps glaring at him. "Why are you here, Amar? And why have you amassed your army outside of my front gates? Are you looking to provoke a war? I assure you, you will lose."

  "I've come to collect my brother and I wanted to make sure I had no trouble doing it."

  Aric laughed heartily. "I do not deny your brother is here but are you telling me your pathetic army has any hope at all of taking him from this castle? Like I said, you will lose!"

  "Release him to me! If you do not, I assure you there will be trouble."

  Once again, Aric chuckled. "Do you think I hold him prisoner? While it is not altogether untrue at the moment, Prince Joron Amar belongs to me now, of his own choosing. He traded his own freedom for that of his sister's and I accepted the deal. He is mine. So take your men and get off my land."

  "What? He has no right to make a contract like that, as you well know. The only one who can negotiate unions of the royal family is the king. Whatever agreement you made with him, short of possibly anything to do with the Ice Dragon, is null and void. It will not stand. Now where is he?"

  "The deal will stand, Amar. He belongs to me and we have already consummated the union."

  "Consummated? You mean... You bastard! You had no right to take his virginity."

  Though Aric had guessed this about the King of Blade Rain, it was still a blow to him to actually have proof of it standing right in front of him. He was once again thankful Joron managed to escape Blade Rain castle and fall into his protection prior to ever being violated, and he couldn't help the rush of anger that hit as hard as a fist to his stomach.

  "Why, Amar, because you wanted his virginity? Don't look so shocked. I am well aware of your perverted thoughts toward your own brother."

  * * * *

  "Half brother. You will pay for this, Tamusi. Damn you to hell! Joron had no right to negotiate anything, and you have no right to him at all. I will still take him home with me no matter how much you dirtied him and produce my sister, per our original agreement. Now where is he?"

  So his little brother was talking, huh? He needed to finally make him realize he had no freedom beyond what he, the King of Blade Rain, dictated for him. He was thankful at that moment he had come up with the second plan and had put it into motion before entering this hall. It was now obvious Aric Tamusi had no intentions of giving Joron up willingly, even with the promise of his intended bride. With the fever he had approached obtaining her, to have him so casually toss her aside was disconcerting. Something wasn't right.

  He would definitely need to confine his brother for more than the two reasons he had originally planned. One, being Diagus's total and absolute carnal obsession, and two, the kingdom's need to possess the right to negotiate passage through Ice Dragon Pass. But protecting his idiot brother from Tamusi would now be a third and more immediate concern.

  "My secrets and things that I hold dear and precious hide themselves well within these walls. You will never find him, even if I allowed you free access, which, of course, I will not. You will leave, Amar. You will leave my castle and my lands, along with your undisciplined, so-called soldiers who have accompanied you. If you are ever to return, it will be by my invitation only or you will be met with sword and bow at the border. Do you understand?"

  Holds dear and precious? It had been only a number of days. How could there be that kind of commitment? But it told him emphatically he had been exactly right to go with plan two.

  Diagus put a look of defeat on his face, but only for effect. He had already won the battle. He had given the servant boy enough time. Now the only thing left to do was to walk out and away and let the day fall the way he had planned it would. He was playing with fire and that he would eventually get burned with his arrogance and impertinence was imminent, but it would be well worth it when he finally took Joron to his bed. He had a difficult time not smiling. But he would have to answer that rhetorical question or it would be too obvious.

  "Asshole! Bastard! I will retrieve my brother. You can't hold him forever." Actually, you egotistical son-of-a-bitch, you can't hold him at all!

  Aric smiled and waved the man off. "Go home, Amar. Be king to your people. After what they have endured from your father over the past twenty years, you could do no worse. I...I hope you do better by them."

  Inwardly Diagus smiled, still feigning his defeat in front of this vain man. Aric had fallen for his subterfuge. But of course, he would. He was a king who knew only grand causes and important campaigns. Diagus counted on Aric's high status and attitude and used it again
st him. By the time he would figure out what happened, Diagus would be a day and perhaps more on his way back to Blade Rain with Joron under his complete power. Diagus's only real regret in this was he would not be able to make Joron truly his until they arrived back to Castle Blade Rain. He could not take the risk of time on the journey. Once they were on solid safe ground and behind his own battlement walls, he would shackle Joron in an obscure part of the castle, one that only he and a few trusted servants would be aware of. Yes, even Diagus had well-kept secrets. Maybe the castle of Blade Rain was not the size and stature of Claymoor Doom, but it too could hide many truths and sins and guard them just as well.

  With a look of dejection, Diagus pulled away from his captors. He gave a long stare of what he hoped was rage to Tamusi, and when he thought the pause was enough, turned on his heel and walked toward those heavy double doors. Once through them--his heart beating wildly--once through them, he would be on his way to see that beautiful and perfect face of his dear brother. Did he care Joron was no longer a virgin? No. Diagus would have preferred he was, but it was not an issue. The fire in his belly only raged higher when he thought of how close he was now to that very act. And this time no one would stop him.

  He held those thoughts under iron fist because it would do him no good to celebrate his victory at the moment. Though it would change nothing if he did throw his head back and laugh, he still wanted to make sure the time between his departure and Tamusi's actual discovery of the plot was as vast and wide as possible. Very soon one of the Claymoor servants would bring word of unrest in the name of the Cetin gang in Claymoor Doom's northern villages and good King Aric would personally see to it things were settled in a timely, kingly fashion. Diagus had made sure of the fact he would.

  * * * *

  Aric watched as Diagus left, his heart higher. To think Aric thought for one second Diagus was any kind of opponent of any worth at all made him want to laugh.

  Suddenly Joron's pleading face snapped into his mind's eye, begging his own release for the one and only desire to help the people of Blade Rain. Aric unexpectedly felt drained and powerless in front of those amazing eyes, even when they were only in his mind. Joron had touched off something in him he had never felt before. He had often known compassion and felt compelled to help those in honest need, but this feeling was different. He was too aware of how helping the people in Joron's place, in Joron's presence, would make Joron feel about him, and for some strange reason, he desperately wanted that. He wanted Joron to think he was a good and right king, not only to his own people, but to any in need. He wanted Joron to look at him with eyes of gratitude and awe and great love. In short, he wanted to be his hero.

  Aric won this encounter with Diagus, although bigger ones loomed on the horizon. Diagus was a fool, of that he was always sure, but to give up this easily was not something that fit in his demeanor. There was another game he was playing. Aric narrowed his eyes after those massive doors closed behind Diagus's retreat, trying in vain to figure out what that game was. In the meantime, he would protect his most prized possession by any and all means possible and now worried he had left that escape artist far too long. The measures he had put in place were flimsy in a trusting castle too long peaceful. For the first time in a long time, he thought about the fact a kingdom not used to conflict and war often times fell into laziness and stupidity.

  It was these thoughts that were interrupted by a winded servant who almost fell into the room, barely having the strength to push those solid doors open enough to come through. He was being pulled back by the guards who were supposed to keep the entrance secure and Aric thought briefly to himself even his own safety was now at risk, due to the out of practice status they were obviously all in. But Aric pushed those thoughts aside for a moment as he saw the look of anguish and fear on the face of the servant who fought the two large men to gain access to the room.

  "Enough." Aric's voice boomed. "Get off the floor, man, and tell me why you are so anxious to speak to me."

  BOOK 2: THE SERVANT KING

  Chapter 1

  The sound of the clashing swords was deafening in the narrow alley as King Aric continued to gain on his opponent. He jabbed and dodged, slashed and defended. The leader of the notorious Cetin Gang was no match for Aric, and the arrogant asshole finally understood it, as he fell farther back. The look on his face was one of imminent defeat. A final, sudden charge from the king had the Cetin leader's sword out of his hand and clattering to the ground out of reach. Then Aric had his own blade up against the man's throat, the man up against a brick wall.

  "Are you done?" Aric ground out through his teeth, breathing hard into the other man's face.

  The Cetin leader, also breathing heavily, laughed. "What? You're not going to kill me?"

  "I should. You killed my comrade and good friend and for nothing more than a couple of pieces of silver. Why should you live?"

  "Then do it. Slit my throat!"

  For a moment Aric held his place, pushing the Cetin leader to the wall. Slowly, he smiled. "No. I have a better idea. I think instead you can rot in my dungeons." He pulled off the man and sheathed his sword. "I don't feel like dirtying my sword on your filthy blood."

  Besides, it was time to go back.

  The ride to Eden Downs, the finding and rounding up of the gang, and now facing the trip back, was taking a whole lot longer than Aric had expected. But he couldn't believe his luck in being able to finally put the gang behind the thick, solid doors of his dungeon. He shackled the leader's leg himself, taking great pleasure in seeing the fear written on the captive's face.

  And not only had no one been killed today, no one was even injured.

  But now, facing the ride back, the euphoria he had felt when he first learned of the gang's proximity had turned into pure and utter exhaustion.

  He smiled.

  He reveled in the reason for his fatigue. It was due to his long sessions of lovemaking to a young prince who blew all reason and will out the window, not to mention self-control. He couldn't wait to be back beside that warm body and sink his tongue into any and all openings. He shivered imagining it--the way Joron felt, the way he tasted, all of it. The young man was magic, simply magic, and Joron was his.

  Now he had the notorious Cetin gang in his clutches, too. Life simply didn't get any better than this.

  But suddenly a dark cloud overtook his musings as he remembered Diagus's intent. How dare the fool waltz up to Claymoor Doom's front gates with his pathetic little army and demand Joron be returned to him? Fortunately, from the reports he received right before he left in pursuit of the Cetins, he had been told the new Blade Rain king had left the castle alone. He still shuddered to think Diagus had fully intended to take Joron away from him.

  It was true, however, only the king had the right to barter the freedom of any of his royals. It was one unwritten law that was a known fact among the royal houses. It kept order when lust for power and lands would bring chaos. But it had to do with wealth and status, too. It wouldn't have been a big deal if riches had been what the Amar bastard was after. Aric could play to that tune any day, all day. But King Diagus wanted Joron. He also made it clear it wasn't over. But it didn't matter. He would protect Joron now, with his very life. No one would take Joron from him. No one. Not even the spoiled brat Amar.

  Aric wished he had made sure Joron received a message he would be gone for a day or so, but time had not permitted it. When he was told the Cetin Gang was in Eden Downs, he had to run. He sent instructions to give Joron anything he wanted, insisting he had to stay in the private quarters of the castle. The doors to that part of the castle were to remain locked and guarded and no one--absolutely no one--was allowed in, and Joron was most definitely not allowed out. He was sure his orders were followed, but suddenly there was a vague feeling of doubt, as if he'd been double crossed somehow. He thought back and realized he did have nearly everyone, if not all, of his most trusted men with him. He was not going to rob them of this incred
ible moment of capturing the Cetin Gang, just as he himself had wanted to be present. But how could that matter? His servants were his servants. They would follow his orders.

  Right?

  Why did he doubt it suddenly? Could it be everyone who even knew those orders was with him on this journey?

  He was very glad he was within a couple hours ride now of the castle. He had to admit the day before had been strange. It had started with his nightmare of that night, the night his wife had died. Seeing Abydell once again throwing her ring at him and racing out into the storm, remembering yet again that scream as she plummeted to her sure death off the high cliffs of Norferry Mire and into the ocean. The dream left him weak and breathless. Then the very new King Diagus's disturbing visit, confirming his lust for his own brother and his intent on taking his brother back...

  Aric had learned directly from Joron of not only his brother's sick obsession but also of the pending intent on Joron's very life, having had the ownership of the Ice Dragon Pass given to him by decree of his father, the dead king. Only Joron's death would reverse that act. Aric was not surprised Joron was sought out to be brought back. But the speed in which the new king moved to do it was disconcerting. Then the sudden sighting and capture of this elusive gang, something that in the past he had never been able to do... Things had been odd, off somehow.

  Yes, the uneasiness had settled into his bones. Another point of contention--Diagus's surrender. He simply gave up too easily, left too fast. For the first time, Aric thought about this slowly. Could it have been planned? Why? What good would that have done? Except...except to put Aric off guard. For what purpose? Amar had left, and he'd left alone. He had been assured of it. So what purpose would it serve to put him off guard?

  Again he considered the nearly too easy capture of the Cetin Gang. Never had he been able to even get close to them before. Usually by the time he received word of where they were and they were able to arrive to that location, the gang was long gone. Time and time again, they had either just missed them or were actually days behind. This time was completely different. It was as if word reached the castle about the same time the gang reached Eden Downs. Was that possible?