36
AS THEY WALKED THROUGH THE WOODS and followed the trail of death and destruction, a pattern emerged. One man had killed all of their brothers and rescued the woman, Shayla Finch.
“I told you to send for me,” said Cullen Davies. “this disaster should never have taken place.”
Omar turned and cuffed his companion across the face, knocking him to the ground. He stood above his fallen companion and pointed a finger at him in warning. “Our members lay stain, do not dishonor their memories with your bravado again, Cullen. Do not forget who I lost here. If you are going to claim that you are a better man than my brother Ewan was then prove it now. Pull out your blade and cut me. For my brother was better with a sword than I. Surely, if you are such a warrior that you place yourself above him, you will have no difficult task cutting me.”
Cullen Davies lifted a hand in submission. “Forgive me, Brother Omar, I meant no disrespect towards your family. I only meant that if I were here with your brother, this surely wouldn’t have happened. My apologies.”
Omar’s icy stare, with his unnaturally dark eyes, focused on Cullen. The man was useful but often forgot his place in the hierarchy of the Brotherhood. His ambition was welcome, but a danger. “I’m sure that is what you meant. Just be warned, the next time thoughts like those enter your brain filter them before they hit your mouth. The next comment that I hear from you that sounds like a critique against my family’s leadership will be the last sound you make.”
Cullen lowered his head, not wanting to further provoke the volatile Omar Hussein. “Understood.”
“Get up. It seems my brother made a most unfortunate choice of location. This abandoned farm was not as forgotten as he thought. The man who did this knew where he was and how to attack without being seen.”
“Braylon Gaines,” said Cullen. “Our spies tell us it was he who returned the Finch bitch to her family estate.”
“Was he not to be killed before any attempts were made on the Finch family?”
“Yes, your brother Ewan organized an ambush for him, but the man disappeared. He left the continent and by the time we found out where he was headed it was too late to follow. Ewan decided that with Braylon gone it was time to strike. It’s unfortunate we had no notice of his return.”
“Where did the dragon bitches pet warrior go?” asked Omar.
“Droll Isle,” replied Cullen.
“A pity we were not able to follow him. Whatever his mission, it was surely dragon related.”
Omar and Cullen walked towards the farmhouse where his men waited. Omar had yet to see the body of his slain brother, Ewan.
“What do we do now?” asked Cullen.
“We finish what we should have done before. We kill Braylon Gaines.”
“And the dragonblood? What do we do with her?”
“If she is easily killed while we kill Braylon, then kill her as well. If not, we shall wait. Shayla Finch could still be of use to us yet. We still have our spies intact so we will know when Shayla starts showing signs of change. That will tell us of the return of dragons and the true beginning of the war.”
37
“HELLO, MY DEAR,” SAID LAYTON FINCH. “You look to be in almost as bad a shape as your decrepit old dad.
Shayla sat down on her father’s bed and held his hand. “It’s good to see you too, Father, I wondered if I would ever have this opportunity again.”
“What opportunity is that?” asked Layton before a coughing fit took over his body.
Shayla waited until her father’s cough settled down before continuing. “The opportunity to hold your hand. To say I love you, and to apologize for being such a rotten daughter.” During her captivity, Shayla had plenty of time to think over her life. She had thought she would die there in that old farm house and had taken stock of her life. What she had saw unsettled her. A spoilt brat abusing her position and plotting to become even more rich and powerful. Her quest to claim her birthright as a dragonblood came from her desire for power. With a ring to control her future bonded dragon she had imagined herself becoming a queen. Weeks of torture and isolation made her reflect on her desire for power. Shayla still wanted to bond with a dragon. She still wanted the magical powers that would come to her when dragons returned to the land, but she didn’t want to be queen. She wanted revenge! But first she wanted to make things right with a father she had long scorned for caring too much about the world and not enough about her.
Layton smiled, “Daughter, I would disagree with your being a rotten child, but I’m too old and too close to death to keep lying to you. I will say that I blame myself. I spent too many years traveling the world, working for merchants while I searched for knowledge of dragons. I wanted my life to have purpose. I wanted to know what our dragonblood meant. I yearned to know how I could help the world with the gifts we are to receive, but I failed. I couldn’t even find time to be a good father to you. I failed to admit I had a bastard son or to care for him. Two children with the mark of the dragon and I was too foolish to take the time to love and train them. Now I’m dying and will die before my precious dragons return to the land, and I must ask your forgiveness for being such a lousy father.”
Tears welled in Shayla’s eyes. “Look at us, Old Man, a dying father full of regret and a tortured daughter coming to realize her life was wasted and shallow. What a pair we make. Perhaps there is enough blame for both of us to share for what has happened to our lives.”
“There is still hope, Shayla, for you at least. Don’t live your life chasing power and ambition. And don’t spend it chasing dragons, I wasted my life chasing the shadows of knowledge about dragons, but the truth is dragons will come to us. They are drawn to us, that is why we have the mark. It was a curse placed upon our bloodlines so that people like the Sacred Blood Brotherhood could find and kill us. Live a good life, love that man of yours, Braylon. He’s a dangerous man with a history full of dark deeds, but his feelings for you are true. Don’t string him along as you search for power. Embrace his love and enjoy life. You should enjoy life, not waste it searching for power.”
“You don’t have to worry, Father, I’ve come to that conclusion all on my own. It only took weeks of daily torture and seclusion to get there, but I have. I no longer see a future Queen Shayla Finch, dragon queen. I see Lady Shayla Gaines.”
“You make an old man happy, daughter of mine, but you needn’t lie to a dying man. I see what else is in your eyes.”
“What is it that you think you see in these tear-filled eyes?”
“Behind the remorse and regret, behind the new found appreciation for life that makes me so happy, behind that all, I still see the fire, desire for power. You still yearn for the dragon magic that is coming your way.”
“This is true, Father, but that fire you see in my eyes, it’s not for power, it’s for what that power can bring.”
“What are you going to get with your power?” asked Layton.
“Revenge,” said Shayla.
Layton smiled, “You know, you truly are my child. I may be on my way to the next world, or the fiery depths of one of the seven hells depending on how the gods favor my life, but I’m not quite ready to forget and forgive what has happened to us at the hands of the Brotherhood. I too could use a little revenge. Let me tell you all I know of dragons so that when the time comes, you will be able to get revenge for the both of us.”
38
“WHAT IS YOUR FATHER GOING TO SAY when he finds out you’re training with Blair Hiron?” asked Robert. He’d sat down beside her at the kitchen table and sat silently while Sibylle ate her lunch, when she was almost done eating he’d asked the question, one he knew Sibylle dreaded answering.
“He’ll scowl and bark, but he will come to realize that part of me accepting the idea of an arranged marriage by way of tournament is my right to help someone prepare for the tournament. Lyric is my chosen champion.”
Robert sighed, Sibylle was correct. Lord Lamar wouldn’t be pleased by the news t
hat his daughter was helping to train the foreign boy, but he wouldn’t stand in the way of it. The fact that Lyric had saved Sibylle’s life gave the boy a certain cache with the lord. “Your chosen champion is a street rat so skinny, he would blow away in a strong wind. He is also afraid of his shadow, not to mention he is being trained by witches and a fat drunk.”
Sibylle tilted her chin in stubborn defiance. “Lyric is not a coward, he saved my life. He is a bit high-strung from being beaten on so often as a child, and he is not that skinny. He’s put on some weight since his arrival in Middale. And I dare you to say something to Azina’s face about her being a witch!”
Robert cracked a small smile at that thought, “No, I’d rather not test her magical powers. But I don’t hear you defending Blair Hiron and he is the most important one in the boy’s training.”
“You should be kinder to Blair; he speaks very highly of you. He told me that you would’ve won every tournament in the last twenty years if you had chosen to enter.”
Robert grumbled a bit, “Fifteen for sure, I’ve slowed down some these last few years, old bones move slow, but I might’ve won a few more. Not last year, all that rain would’ve done me in, my knees get all stiff after a heavy rain.” Robert appreciated that someone still understood the sacrifices of personal glory and ambition he had made when he chose to accept the position as Sibylle’s protector. “I suppose Blair isn’t that fat. He does have some skill, probably the only staff user in the kingdom who could give me a run for my coin in a contest.”
“And he is never drunk when he trains Lyric.”
“Why spend all this time and energy on a boy with little chance of winning?”
“Robert, you know I’ve avoided the idea of marriage for years now, hoping that things would change and I wouldn’t have to marry anyone. Well, now I have zero choices. I will be getting married and it will likely be some arrogant lord that I can’t stand. That is my fault. I should’ve listened to father and picked someone that I could stand. Now all I can do is hope and pray that someone decent wins. That or I can take a decent, kind and sensitive boy like Lyric and try to turn him into a fighter. It probably won’t work, but at least I’ll have tried and he is my choice. All I want is to make my own choice.”
Robert felt bad for Sibylle. He knew all too well about the heartbreak of arranged marriages. For he had been madly in love with Sibylle’s mother before her marriage to Lord Lamar. When they were married Robert’s heart had been broken. To stay close to Iris, Sibylle’s mother, Robert had accepted the position as Sibylle’s protector. When Iris had died part of Robert died. However, every day that he spent with Sibylle was a blessing. He could see so much of Iris in Sibylle, her kindness, her independent streak and her mule like stubbornness were so like her mother. Robert loved Sibylle as much as any father loved his daughter. He was proud to have helped raise her. He only wanted her to be happy. “No more training outside of Middale where anyone can see you. From now on, you and Lyric only train at Valeria’s house or here at Redfall. Twice a week, you two will train here with me. The other days will be spent at Valeria’s house.”
Sibylle jumped up from the table and hugged him profusely.
Robert was not used to being hugged. But if felt good. He stood there smiling while Sibylle mauled him.
“Thank you! Thank you so much, Robert. But what about father?”
“I’ll speak to your father. I’m sure that your earlier assessment of the scorn and barking were correct. It will be better if I tell him what the plan is. He’s more likely to go along with it if it comes from me. There will be doubt about your choice of champions. Lyric despite having saved you is still an olive-skinned boy in a land of freckles. Not to mention his poor upbringing. However, I’m sure he’ll accept your word on the boy’s character. You’ve always been a good judge of people.”
39
ROBERT GODEFREY WALKED INTO THE PIG’S Ear Inn and sat down at the bar. During his younger days, Robert had been a well-traveled warrior and had entered his fair share of drinking establishments. The Pig’s Ear Inn was not bad. High ceiling with thick rough oak construction, it made for a cool and comfortable place to sit on a warm sunny afternoon. A place where one could sit and socialize without much worry about getting a knife in the back. Not a claim every bar in the kingdom would attempt.
“Sir Robert, what can I get for you?” asked Blair as he made his way up the long, highly polished bar counter.
“Something wet, these old lips are a bit parched today.”
Blair put a mug of ale in front of Robert.
Robert took a sip. The drink was surprisingly cool. The ale was earthy and spicy. Not bad, not bad at all. Robert gave Blair an appraising look. “That is a fine drink.”
“Thank you. I bring ice down from the mountains, packed in sawdust, and keep my barrels cool. The ale itself is my own special brew. Well my own in that I stole the idea from a bar in Cimmaron and spent three years brewing different varieties until I got what I wanted.”
Robert raised his mug in a toast. “To Cimmaron ales and mountain ice.” He took a long and healthy drink of the refreshing and tasty liquor. “I must apologize, Blair, I’ve made some assumptions about you. I thought you were getting fat from being lazy. It turns out your getting fat from drinking rich ale.”
Blair laughed. “If only that were true. I save the good ale for customers. I only drink the cheap wine these days. Better profits in the ale. The getting fat part is true though. Too much standing around behind a bar-counter.”
“I understand you’ve been getting some exercise lately.” Robert’s cool gaze caught Blair’s eyes.
“Yes, I’ve been helping a friend learn how to hit people with a really big stick.”
“Everyone knows the secret to that. Make sure you have the bigger stick,” said Robert.
“True. But this lad is so skinny, I’m not sure if a big stick is enough.”
“He swung his staff hard enough to brake that bandits neck when Sibylle fell off the carriage.”
Blair absentmindedly wiped the counter as they chatted. He knew Robert wanted to say something, but he’d let the old knight say it on his own time. “I’m still a little surprised by that. Perhaps there is more to the boy than meets the eye. I will say he’s come a long way since he first arrived.”
“I hear the cooking is good in Valeria’s house. A little good food and some proper training can do wonders.”
“Yes, he’s certainly put a few pounds on since moving to Valeria’s. The first day I met him, I could count every one of his ribs. Now he looks less like a scarecrow. How much muscle he can put on will be interesting. With all the years of malnutrition, he might have issues.”
“I hear tell that he used to be a cripple?” asked Robert.
Blair nodded. “Yes, it seems the boys of Winport don’t like people who look different. No surprise there. They beat him often. Broke plenty of ribs and messed up his leg pretty bad. The orphan master didn’t set the foot properly. Azina had a healer re-break the ankle. Sometimes, he still moves with a bit of a hobble but that is just muscle reflex. He’s actually is pretty healthy now. He’s just….”
“Too damn skinny to be a warrior,” finished Robert.
“Exactly,” said Blair.
“Blair would you mind terribly if I participated in the training? Sibylle thinks highly of the lad and doesn’t have many options when it comes to choosing a champion for the tournament. Whether we like it or not, it seems her hopes rely on the boy.”
“Robert, we both know you know a hell of a lot more about war and fighting than I do. I’d gladly let you take over his training.”
“I don’t want to take over, I would like the boy to come out to Redfall twice a week. I’ll show him a few things and make sure he’s doing what you tell him correctly. Since Sibylle is also helping as a sparring partner, I’d like it if you only trained them at Valeria’s. It’s better if there is a certain degree of discretion involved.”
Blair
grinned. “That works nicely. I would have needed a new excuse to go visit Valeria if I wasn’t still training young Lyric.”
“Her cooking is that good? Perhaps I should come out and help.”
“Sir Robert, please don’t make me poison you. I’ve enough trouble convincing Valeria of my worth without having a handsome old knight lurking about.”
Robert laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m too old to be courting a wild woman like Valeria Vastel. That’s a young man’s game. I do still appreciate a good meal though.”
“Maybe you should come out then. I don’t fight anymore but I’d be honored to watch you training them.”
“Perhaps in a few months, once we have the boy up to some more advanced steps. For now, I won’t be showing him anything you don’t already know. I will simply be focusing on perfecting his basic forms that you teach him.”
“Anything in particular I should be focusing on. I’ve never taught anyone before.”
“Sibylle has informed me of your teaching style, and I’ve seen your fighting style. I was there when you won the winter solstice tournament. You have solid form, perhaps a bit loose, but excellent footwork. Keep doing what you’re doing. It wouldn’t hurt to encourage the boy to eat more. Take Valeria out a few chickens as a present. Have him eat a dozen eggs a day above his normal meals. He’s at a good age for packing on some muscle.”
Blair nodded. The fact that Robert had fault with his form was no surprise. That he complimented his footwork was a bit of a surprise and made Blair proud. Sir Robert Godefrey truly was the most magnificent fighter Blair had ever seen, and if he said you had good footwork that was a compliment of the first rate. Bringing Valeria a few laying chickens was also a very good idea. Some extra protein would help the boy build up some strength. Blair didn’t expect the boy to suddenly put on twenty pounds of muscle and become a strong warrior but they did have six months to build his body up to the point where it wasn’t a complete liability in combat. That was certainly a valid goal. “I’ll go see about those chickens in the morning.”
Lyric's Curse (Dragonblood Sagas Book 1) Page 15
