Lyric's Curse (Dragonblood Sagas Book 1)

by Wideman, Robyn

  “Nice clothes and perfume can make the most horrible men seem acceptable, your actions showed me who you were under your raggedy clothing. I owe you a great deal, Lyric.” Even when he’d been a smelly dirty stranger, it had not been hard to see Lyric had a good heart. After all, he’d saved her and asked nothing for it.

  “Nonsense,” said Lyric with a bright and friendly smile, “I don’t even know what overcame me to attack such a horrid man. Your beauty compelled me. Normally, I would’ve run the other way.”

  Sibylle eyed Lyric carefully. While his words could sound like false modesty or those of a horny young man trying to woo a pretty girl, she believed he was simply being honest. “You are a strange one. I shall have to keep an eye on you.”

  Lyric lowered his head.

  Sibylle could see that Lyric thought her comment was meant as an insult. Was he that foreign to compliments? “Tell me, Lyric. How did you get Blair to leave his bar? Rumor has it he’s been training you for a while now.”

  Glad that Sibylle was still talking to him, despite her insult, Lyric answered, “Azina convinced him to help me. I think she was tired of trying to train me herself. I was pretty hopeless when she first started.”

  “Well whatever she said to him must have worked. I was spying on you two, you’re pretty good with your staff now.”

  “You were spying on me?” asked Lyric in surprise.

  “Yep,” said Sibylle with a chuckle. “I happen to be pretty good with a staff myself. Perhaps we could train together one day.”

  “Oh, no! I could never train with a girl,” said a startled Lyric.

  Sibylle frowned, her brow furrowed and her blood boiled as she thought about another man saying she couldn’t fight simply because she was a woman! “What! You think you’re too good to train with me?”

  “No, not at all,” replied Lyric. “I think you’d beat me to a pulp and I’d be the laughing stock of Middale. I’m not very good yet, and it would be terribly embarrassing to be beaten up by a princess.”

  “That’s silly. Why should it matter that I’m a girl?” said Sibylle as she calmed down. Perhaps, Lyric wasn’t as bad as she’d been prepared to think.

  “You get many boys from the village offering to train with you?” asked Lyric.

  “No, I accidentally broke the nose of one boy and now no one will train with me. They all try to peek down my dress and kiss me, but no one will fight me,” admitted Sibylle.

  “I could never do those things,” said Lyric.

  Sibylle put her fists on her hips and gave Lyric a mock look of anger. “First you say you won’t train with me, now you say I’m too ugly to flirt with? I am going to be offended soon, Lyric.”

  Lyric raised his hands in protest, “I didn’t say that. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever met, besides Celine. I just couldn’t kiss a princess. I’m an orphan and a street rat, you are highborn.”

  Sibylle could see Lyric getting worried that he had offended her, she sought to ease his worry, “Relax, Lyric, I’m just teasing you. Although you may have to tell me more about this girl Celine who you think is more beautiful than me. However, first we must come to an agreement. If we are going to be friends, you simply must stop calling me a princess. I’m hardly even a lady, according to my father. Besides, I don’t have enough royal blood to ever be a princess. About a hundred and six people would have to die before I could be considered for the throne, and lord knows a revolt would happen before that came to be.”

  Lyric’s eyes opened wide in surprise. “You want to be my friend?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? Have you already forgotten the fact you saved my life?”

  “No, well kind of, I just didn’t know a prince— royal would be friends with someone like me.”

  “Would you ever steal from me?” asked Sibylle.

  “Heavens no!” said Lyric.

  “Would you ever do anything to harm me?”

  Lyric shook his head profusely, “Never!”

  “Will you promise to be honest with me and tell me what you’re thinking, no matter the fact that I’m a silly highborn?”

  Lyric wasn’t so sure about that one, she was after all highborn. He really couldn’t say what he was thinking all the time, could he? “Well …”

  “Promise me!”

  “Okay, I promise,” said Lyric. “But you can’t get me in trouble. I’ve seen what happens to people who are honest to highborns.”

  “It’s a deal. There now we are officially friends,” said Sibylle with a smile.

  Lyric smiled back at the pretty highborn girl who was now his friend. He’d never had a real friend before he moved to Middale. Now he had two, Celine and Sibylle.

  “I’ve got to head back to Redfall before Robert comes looking for me. Don’t want him thinking you’re some bandit trying to take advantage of me.”

  Lyric’s eyes went big. He had seen Robert Godefrey. The knight scared him. “Please don’t let that happen.”

  Sibylle laughed. Lyric was a nice fellow but he was such a nervous nelly. “Don’t worry. Robert Godefrey wouldn’t harm a friend of mine.” Unless he had too, thought Sibylle, but she’d better not say that in front of Lyric, he would likely recant on his declaration of friendship if he thought Robert might hurt him.

  30

  THE STING OF THE WHIP AS IT STRUCK her back made Shayla flinch in pain.

  “Armando is a genius with whip,” declared Ewan Hussain. “He can do this all day without breaking your skin. Yet the instant I ask, his whip can break your skin and let the bleeding begin.”

  Shayla tried not to cry out in agony each time the whip struck her, but often her body failed her and she would instinctively cry out. For days, Ewan had slapped and punched her while questioning her. Today was her first session with Armando using the whip on her. Shayla dreaded the idea of how many days of this she faced before they moved onto something worse.

  “Now tell me about the rings,” said Ewan.

  “I don’t know anything about any rings,” said Shayla. Every day Ewan and his men questioned her. Every day the questions always came back to the same things. What did she know about the coming of dragons and did she have a ring that would give her ultimate control over a dragon?

  “As you say,” said Ewan. “What about this society of dragons? Who does your father meet with?”

  Armando’s whip cracked again and the wicked tip sought out fresh skin to strike. This time it was along her side, the tender skin under her arm. Shayla grunted and stomped her foot, trying to block out the pain. “What society? I don’t know about any society. I hardly ever see my father. He travels all over the world. I don’t know who he meets.”

  Ewan rose from his chair in front of Shayla and walked up to her. He smiled and gently caressed her face. “Why do you insist on lying? This doesn’t have to be painful. We can end this at any time. Just tell us the truth and we’ll give you a merciful ending.”

  Shayla lifted her face so that she was staring into Ewan’s hard and hateful eyes. “I wish I knew what you were talking about.” Shayla had no intentions of giving up her father’s secrets or those of his friends. Her resolve came as a bit of a shock to Shayla. If someone had asked her before if she cared enough about her father to resist torture she would’ve scoffed and swore he was not worth one drop of her blood. Now she had lost much more than a single drop of blood and had endured more pain than she ever imagined, yet her resolve had hardened, not softened. If Shayla was going to die for being dragonblood, she would show them what it meant to be dragonblood.

  As Armando’s whip struck her again, Shayla focused her mind on the one thing that gave her purpose, the one thing that helped to block out the pain. Shayla planned her revenge against the Sacred Blood Brotherhood.

  31

  FRUSTRATED BY HIS FAILURE TO FIND Shayla’s bastard brother, Braylon was in a foul mood as he returned to Riversend. The journey had been a waste of time. Neither he nor Salus could find the boy.

  “Braylon, yo
u’ve been gone too long,” said Warren, Riversend’s blacksmith, as Braylon passed him on the street.

  “Warren,” said Braylon, returning the blacksmith’s greeting. As a sellsword, Braylon was often visiting the blacksmith for repairs to his armor or weapons. “How goes things in Riversend?”

  “Dark times, my friend, dark times,” answered Warren. “Strangers everywhere asking all sorts of questions, and that poor lass from Oakenreach disappearing.”

  “You don’t mean Lady Shayla Finch, do you?” asked Braylon with concern.

  “Yes, Lady Finch has been missing for weeks now. She came to buy supplies one day and never made it home. Likely disappeared in the forest is what most are saying.”

  Braylon swore under his breath. Townsfolk were always claiming mysterious creatures and devils lived in the dark forest, but often bandits and wild creatures were the real culprits. But bandits wouldn’t likely make Shayla disappear. “These strangers you speak of, tell me about them,” said Braylon.

  “Dangerous looking fellows, not staying in town anywhere, but they ask all sorts of questions, about dragons and mages. Come to think of it, they asked a lot of questions about Layton Finch.”

  At the mention of dragons, Braylon knew exactly who the men were. If anyone wanted Shayla to disappear it was the Sacred Blood Brotherhood. What were they doing here and now? Had they killed Shayla or were they holding her somewhere? Braylon needed more answers than the friendly blacksmith would be able to give. “Good seeing you, Warren. I’ll be by your shop sometime to discuss a new sword.”

  Warren laughed, “You’ve been talking about a new sword for years now. You’re too cheap to pay for quality steel. You’ll just end up having me grind a new edge on that old iron you use.”

  Braylon faked a smile, “Perhaps it’s time for change, Warren.” With a wave of his hand, Braylon left the blacksmith and headed to the stables.

  One of the stable boys greeted him as he arrived.

  “A horse, your fastest,” said Braylon in reply. He had no time to waste. He needed to get to Oakenreach and find out what Layton Finch knew of his daughter’s disappearance. Braylon threw the stable boy a coin and waited as the boy rushed off to fetch a mount.

  If Shayla were still alive, the Sacred Blood Brotherhood would have her close by, torturing her for information.

  Taking the horse from the eager stable boy, Braylon raced towards Oakenreach. There was no time to lose.

  …

  “Take me to Layton Finch,” said Braylon as he arrived at Oakenreach and was greeted by a servant at the stables.

  “My lord is not well, I’m afraid he’s not receiving visitors,” said the servant.

  Braylon grabbed his sword and pulled it partly out of its sheath, showing the blade to the servant. “Take me to Layton Finch or I’ll cut out your tongue.”

  “It’s okay, Thomas, I know this man. Take him to Master Finch,” said Demetrius, one of the guards who served the Finch family.

  The servant grumbled something under his breath and then turned and entered the main house, Braylon followed.

  Layton Finch was in his bed, covered in blankets. He looked feeble and his skin was a sickly gray color. He didn’t have much time left before he left this world for the next.

  “Master Finch, tell me what you know of your daughter’s disappearance,” said Braylon with no introduction. Pleasantries would have to wait.

  “Braylon Gaines, I’ve been waiting for you. I don’t know what it is my daughter sees in you, but she trusts you. Find her and prove her correct. All we have found is the spot in the forest where she might’ve been captured. Demetrius can fill you in.”

  Braylon was surprised Master Finch knew about him and Shayla. What else the old man knew would have to be a conversation for another time, if he lived long enough to see his daughter again.

  Layton Finch reached out and grabbed Braylon’s arm. His firm grip surprised Braylon. “I’ve failed my daughter many times, Braylon. She grew up without a father and when I was here, I was consumed by my work. Don’t let her become like her father. Make her take time for the other things. Make her enjoy life for what it is.” Layton paused to gather his breath, his grip weakened. “I’ve kept from Shayla the knowledge she seeks. I didn’t believe her worthy of such power, but better her than those Sacred Blood Bastards. When you find her, take her to my library. Tell her to humor an old man.” Layton collapsed, too weak to talk anymore.

  Braylon left the old man to sleep and went back outside and searched out Demetrius. “Tell me about her kidnapping,” he asked.

  Demetrius grabbed a stick and started drawing a map in the dirt. She made it almost all the way through the forest. We found her tracks. She loved to race her horses through the forest and we could follow the tracks until she slowed down. She stopped at a wagon. From the looks of it, someone changes a wheel out, probably a trick to get Shayla to stop. From there, the wagon trail goes about twenty feet before completely disappearing. Shayla’s horse came home without a rider. From the tracks we could tell that Shayla never left that wagon.”

  “Anything else?” asked Braylon.

  “We’ve had men searching for weeks. No one has seen her.”

  “What of the strangers asking questions?”

  “We’re pretty sure they’re Sacred Blood, but they were careful. They didn’t leave trails and we haven’t been able to find them. I only have so many men, and to keep Oakenreach safe, I’ve been keeping a majority of the men here. It’s hampered the search effort but what choice did I have?”

  Braylon nodded. If the Sacred Blood had Shayla, letting them take Oakenreach would be like slitting her throat. “You did right. As long as Layton is alive, there is a chance Shayla is as well.”

  “You’d better hurry then. Layton doesn’t have long. I’ve had a fresh horse saddled for you,” said Demetrius.

  “Thank you,” said Braylon as he climbed back into the saddle. “Have a fire going in Shayla’s quarters and a fresh bath drawn for her return.”

  Demetrius’ eyebrows perked up in mild surprise. He knew Braylon well enough to know that the man didn’t make idle boasts. “You positive about that?”

  “Not completely,” admitted Braylon. “She may already be dead, but if she’s alive, I’ll likely have her back by nightfall.”

  Before Demetrius could reply, Braylon was gone. Demetrius stood there watching as Braylon galloped off. What had his men missed?

  32

  AS BRAYLON RODE TOWARDS THE WOODS, he started a mental search. Where Demetrius and his men had failed was in their logic. They had conducted their search as if Shayla was simply missing. She wasn’t passed out in a ditch somewhere, she was kidnapped. Thus, the key to finding her was finding her kidnappers. The likelihood that the mysterious strangers around town were indeed the Sacred Blood Brotherhood and responsible for kidnapping Shayla made finding them relatively easy if one narrowed down the possibilities.

  The Brotherhood didn’t have local men, so they wouldn’t be hiding among villagers or farms. They might have banded together with the local bandits who roamed the woods where Shayla had disappeared, or they were hiding somewhere where no one would travel. While Demetrius and his men were locals, they spent the vast majority of their time around Oakenreach Estates. They didn’t know the countryside outside that area well enough to know the best hiding spots. Braylon knew them all.

  Entering the forest at a gallop, Braylon headed to the first place on his list to search. There was a group of small-time thieves and bandits living in the woods surrounding Riversend and they had a hideout. Braylon slowed his mount down as he veered off the main path and headed towards the bandit hideout.

  The bandits were a surly lot, petty thieves and drunks. They would tax travelers for the right to walk through their woods. If a traveler showed a sword and an attitude, they often ran off. They were also known to steal chickens and the odd piglet from local farms. The group was more of a nuisance than anything else. However, they had a goo
d hideout, which was a possible place that Shayla could be hidden. Braylon needed to check first before he moved on to other possible locations.

  As Braylon entered the small collection of shanties and lean-to’s that appeared empty at first glance, he knew they were watching him. Braylon dismounted and walked into the middle of the bandit camp. He spoke loudly, “Strangers have been seen around Riversend, I’m looking for them.”

  A tall gangly man appeared from behind a tree. “They aren’t here,” said the man as he nervously eyed Braylon.

  “Have you seen them?” asked Braylon.

  “We’ve seen them in the village, but they don’t come into the woods anymore.”

  “Did anyone see them take Lady Finch?” asked Braylon.

  “No, but they were in the woods scouting the woods that day. We don’t know where they took her,” said the bandit. “I know who you are, sir. We don’t want any trouble with you. I wouldn’t spit on any of the villagers, let alone try to keep them from drowning, but I’m not lying to you.”

  Braylon smiled at the bandit. “If you don’t want any trouble with me, then kindly tell the man in the tree behind me to lower his bow. I won’t ask twice.”

  “Jerron, lower your bow, damn it to hell's fire. This man will kill all of us if we try fighting him.” The bandit raised his hands to show his peaceful intentions. “You’ll have to excuse Jerron’s bad manners. He’s new to the area. Doesn’t know a friendly visit when he sees one.”

  Braylon didn’t have time to teach Jerron manners so he ignored the bandit. “How far from your hideout would I have to travel before I was likely to find where the strangers are staying?”

  The bandit scratched his neck as he pondered the question. “They’re not anywhere between here and Riversend. Nor are they in any of the ruins east towards the river. My bet would be north towards the edge of the forest where it goes into the swamps. Perhaps one of the old farms.”