The Blackguard (Book 2)

by Cheryl Matthynssens

  Sordith was ready, holding a second knife before him. “I can’t let you kill my brother,” he snarled.

  “Your brother?” Fear shot through Aorun as he remembered the prophecy of his death. He glanced frantically from Sordith to Alador.

  “The sea shall rise up in a bond of betrayal and rip all that you have gained from your hand. From your blood, dragons will rise up free and hungry. Your death will unite brothers that shall one day seize the thrones of the Gods.”

  Aorun was not in the ocean though, so he could not die here. He reassured himself – he was not at sea. He smiled coldly, wrenched the dagger loose, and launched himself at Sordith. They both tumbled over a wine barrel.

  Aorun came up slashing with both weapons, intent on disarming the younger man. He had trained Sordith – he knew how he fought. “I should have known something was off about you,” Aorun hissed, slashing at Sordith’s midriff. “Always with that damn honor crap.”

  Sordith barely arched his stomach away in time to avoid Aorun’s slash, and he spun around with one leg, attempting to trip Aorun. He didn’t bother with conversation – he had one goal, it seemed, and that was to kill the Trench Lord.

  Aorun hit the ground, splashing as he came down hard. He barely rolled up and out of the way as Sordith tried to bring his dagger under his chin. The blade cut his jaw but missed its deadly mark. Aorun slashed out with his knife, catching Sordith across the arm, and he smiled with satisfaction at the curses that left Sordith’s mouth.

  Sordith launched himself at Aorun, and the two landed in water deep enough to cover them. For a moment, as salt water filled his mouth and eyes, Aorun was confused as to why water was even there. He rolled over onto Sordith, forcing the man’s face under the water with one hand, his knee on Sordith’s dagger hand. Only then did Aorun see the three buckets, filled to overflowing with seawater that spilled out onto the floor. Aorun’s eyes flashed up to Alador with true fear as he realized that those buckets were exactly where Alador was looking.

  Aorun reached down with the hand that had been holding Sordith underwater and grabbed a throwing knife from his belt, sending it hissing through the air toward the strung-up mage. The knife thudded home in Alador’s side, but the mage didn’t seem to notice.

  Aorun felt Sordith take advantage of his release beneath him, but it was too late by then to do anything – Sordith used his free hand to drive a second dagger into Aorun’s stomach. When Aorun moved his hands to try to wrench the dagger free, they rolled once more and Aorun found himself on the bottom, looking up at the wavering face of Sordith through a film of bloody sea water. No amount of thrashing could free him from Sordith’s grip, and Aorun’s last thought was one of confusion because all his life he had feared the sea, and he was going to drown indoors.

  Alador looked over to see Flame’s body crumble forward as it withered, but only for a brief moment; he flicked his gaze back to the buckets again once he was sure that Flame was no more. This time, when he fixated on the buckets of seawater, he reversed the spell to swell the water and just worked to fill the room. The lancing pain in his side only fueled the well of anger he was drawing from to keep the spell going.

  If Alador was going to die here, that bastard was going to die with him. He would fill this room till his last dying breath. He wasn’t aware of someone unlocking the shackles that bound his ankles – his gaze never left where the buckets sat beneath the water. He couldn’t see them anymore, but he still knew where they were.

  “Alador, stop! It’s over!” Sordith’s voice seemed far away.

  Alador didn’t believe anyone anymore. They all lied – all of them. Henrick had lied. Keelee had lied. Flame had lied. His uncle had lied. Sordith had lied; he hadn’t come like he’d promised, and Alador was going to die because of it. They had all lied. None of them could be trusted. Lerdenians all deserved to die. Hatred burst through Alador as tears fell from his eyes and saltwater burned into his wounds.

  Sordith grabbed Alador’s face, trying to get his attention. His eyes met Sordith’s, filled with all the hurt and betrayal he felt, then Alador closed them, not caring anymore. A part of his mind still focused on the spell that had taken on a life of its own.

  Alador let his thoughts shift slightly. Only Mesiande had not lied. She was pure and sweet. Alador could see her pulling back the bowstring, glancing back at him and laughing. Sitting by the river, the sun making her brown hair glisten with strands of gold as she smiled at him. Her warm body pressed against his as they sat by the river and talked. The way she would blow in his ear to make him miss a shot with his bow. The glances she gave him when they were mining, her laughter when she danced around the fire that day Alador had sold his bloodstone. Only this mattered – everything else was a lie. Alador felt the water, cold and final, lap at his chin. This was all that mattered: Mesiande had loved him.

  Finally, words sunk into his numbed madness, “Brother...please! I beg you...Stop!”

  Excerpt from

  The Bloodmine

  Book 3

  Alador’s lexital landed roughly beside his father’s. The flight had been exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. Fortunately, the lexital was a gentle one and more inclined to follow its mate. He had not had to have more than the few minutes of instruction. Alador unbuckled the saddle harness and slipped shakily to the ground eyeing the great bird with amazement. He held the reins in his hand petting the lexital as if thanking it for flying kindly.

  “A bit unnerving the first time, as I said.” Henrick spoke softly. He had learned not to startle Alador since his encounter with the Trench Lord. He came around wide to make sure Alador could see him.

  “Yes, a bit. However, I see why you like flying. The view was indescribable.” Alador was still caressing the lexital’s head, the bird was happily letting him loosen shafts on her crest’s pin feathers.

  Henrick smiled. “I do love the feel of the wind on my face. However, note that the higher you fly, the colder that wind.” Henrick held his hand out for the reins. “Here, let me tether them. They will not fly any closer to Keensight’s cave. The times I have tried, they have panicked every time.”

  Alador handed him the reins and stepped back from the bid. “So we walk from here?” He looked about. They were in Daezun land to judge by the terrain. It was the familiar rock and scrub brush he knew so well. To the east of him, hills rose up covered in rocks that seemed like the gods had just tossed them down randomly. Some were larger than a dragon.

  Henrick was tying the two birds to a larger bush with a solid base. “You walk from here.” He stated glancing over at Alador.

  “You are not coming?” Alador looked at him in surprise. “You said you would take me to him.”

  “I have brought you to him.” Henrick gestured up at the hills rising up beside them. “However, he said if I joined you at the cave he would finally eat me and this time I do not think he was playing.” Henrick looked at Alador. “You don’t have to do this. We are only an hour’s flight south of Smallbrook. We could fly up there and I could bring Mesiande to you and you can make things right.” Henrick offered. “I am not sure you are well enough for this, son.”

  “I told you not to call me that.” Alador glared at him, his response snarled in an almost feral manner.

  “I am not going to stop calling you son just because you have some fool idea that I lied to you. I will say it one more time. I have never lied to you.” Henrick sighed in defeat. “Maybe Keensight can knock some sense into that thick skull of yours.”

  “I know you used a spell on my mother.” Alador’s accusation seemed to be solely centered around this one statement.

  “I have never said I didn’t.” Henrick stated. “It doesn’t mean I don’t care for her or enjoy her company. It doesn’t mean I don’t give a damn what happens to the result of that union.” He glared back at Alador.

  “It was a use of dark magic, a magic may I remind you, that you said was a violation of all the rules of magic.” Alador gla
red at him.

  Henrick dropped his head in defeat. “I don’t want to fight with you when I may never see you again. Please. What is done is done. You exist because of that night. You should be grateful.”

  “Grateful that I am the result of a dark magic used in violation of a sacred trust from the dragons themselves. That might make the damn dragon eat me in itself.” Alador looked up at the hill. “Which way do I go?” He demanded.

  “Alador, a spell of glamour is not changing the will of another. It merely makes one a little more appealing. Your mother was free to choose as she wished. I did not compel her choice.” Henrick’s tone implored Alador to understand.

  “As you said, what is done is done. Which way do I go?” Alador repeated the question not looking at Henrick.

  Henrick watched his son for a long moment before turning to get a pack off his own lexital. “There is a path just across the stream near that large tree next to the cliff face. It will take you up the hills and into a hidden valley. Within that valley there is a stream. Follow the stream to its head and you will see the cave. The stream swells from the ground and out the door of Keensight’s cave.” Henrick brought him the pack. “It is about an hour’s hike to the valley. Maybe another hour to the cave.”

  Alador had been listening intently to Henrick’s instructions. He eyed the indicated tree as he took the pack. “Will you be here when I am done?”

  Henrick nodded. “I will wait here for three days. If you are not back by then, I will come looking.”

  Alador nodded and strode off, headed for the tree. He was determined to speak to Keensight now more than ever. He needed the dragon’s help and it was the only one that either he or Henrick knew how to find. He only hoped the dragon had not decided to take off for a couple of weeks. As he moved to part the brush, to head out of the small clearing they had landed in, he heard his father call after him.

  May the gods be with you and for once, watch that tongue of yours.” Henrick’s tone held true care and concern.

  Alador just smiled coldly as he moved on, not looking back. He was done watching his tongue. If those that crossed his path didn’t want to hear what he had to say, they had best not ask.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Cheryl Matthynssens is a mother of four and a grandmother of three. She graduated from Western Washington University as an English Education Major with a minor in Psychology. She later went back and received certification as a Chemical Dependency Counselor.

  Combined with a love of helping others has remained a strong passion for all things fantasy. An avid reader, RPG player, and as her family calls her, a computer nerd, Cheryl has never given up her writing or desire to share her art with others. Book one of this series, Outcast, was released in 2013. In addition to these novels, she has also published two Children’s Books: How the Dragon’s Got Their Colors and Not an Egg?! Now available in e-format, hard copy and audio. Once Upon a…Wait! Is due out later this year.

  Cheryl also has a blog and website. You can contact her through those sites at dragonsgeas.blogspot.com or dragonsgeas.com