Lyric calmly stood his ground, and blocked the attack. When her staff struck his own and careened off to one side, he pivoted and swung his elbow towards her head. An attack she ducked. He then swept his leg along the ground, trying to trip her.
Sibylle jumped over Lyric’s leg sweep and slammed one hand into his head, knocking him back. As Lyric landed on his ass, she thrust forward with her staff in a swift stabbing motion. The end of the staff crashed into Lyric’s chest, sending him the rest of the way to the ground.
“Good,” said Blair as he watched over his two pupils. “Excellent block and counter into the elbow, Lyric. But you over extended on your leg sweep without bringing your staff back into a position from which to block. You must use your body in conjunction with your weapon. They are not separate, and all your attacks must balance use of body and weapon. Sibylle, everything you did was good, except that in a true fight, you should have used a knee to attack instead of an arm thrust. Your legs can generate more powerful attacks and are less prone to injury than a hand. Only strike with your hands when necessary, use your knees and elbows when possible. That allows more control over your weapons.”
“A sentiment I agree with,” came a voice from behind Blair. Sir Robert Godefrey stood behind Blair holding a pair of chickens by the legs.
Blair turned to the man, “Sir Robert, I didn’t know you’d be joining us today.”
“Sibylle tells me the chickens I sent out with you aren’t keeping up with the boy’s appetite. I thought I’d bring a few more out and check on the lessons. Your assessment of their sparing is in line with my own. Let’s go give these foul smelling fowl a home and then share a drink of ale while we discuss how to further their training.”
Blair laughed and led Robert towards the chicken coop. “That sounds like an excellent idea.” Blair turned his head back towards Lyric and Sibylle, “You two can take break, and then spar some more.”
Lyric gladly found a tree offering some shade to sit under. Sibylle joined him, choosing the next tree over to sit against.
“Sibylle, do you attend the Festiva?” asked Lyric.
“Yes, I don’t attend all of them, but Father has said we shall be attending this one. Why do you ask?”
“Celine asked me to accompany her to the Festiva.”
Sibylle smiled, “That doesn’t surprise me. I see the way she watches you, and the way you look at her. What is the problem?”
“I’ve never been to a Festiva. Celine says many of the village people think badly of me because I’m different. She wants me to meet some of her friends and to be introduced to the villagers.”
Sibylle hadn’t thought of that. It made sense that some villagers would look badly upon Lyric. Anything different worried some people. Lyric with his olive skin and dark hair was as different as it got for small village goers who never left the interior of the island. That Lyric was a bastard born of a whore living with a family of witches would only compound the issue. The Vastel family was well received in Middale, their magical potions and salves sold to healers and villagers alike make them an important part of the village, yet many still held a certain distrust towards magic and those who possess it. Lyric was an outcast in Middale, and even though she knew and trusted him, she had done little to help him outgrow the villagers distrust. The Festiva would give her an opportunity to rectify that situation. “Going to the Festiva is an excellent idea, Lyric. You should go. I shall expect to see you there and shall save you a dance, if your girlfriend will allow it.”
Lyric blushed, “I’m not sure if she’s my girlfriend, but thank you.”
Sibylle smiled as she saw the color come into his face, Lyric was still so easy to tease. The smile disappeared as Sibylle thought about the tournament. How could Lyric be in the tournament if he had feelings for Celine! “Lyric, I’m a fool. You must withdraw from the tournament.”
“No,” said Lyric. “I gave you my word. Celine and I’ve talked about it. She knows I can’t go back on my word.”
Sibylle sighed, she knew that to some men like her father and Sir Robert, a man’s word was everything and they’d die before breaking a vow. She feared Lyric might be cut of the same cloth. “Lyric, but what if you win? You are becoming rather good. Enough so, I've come to believe placing my hopes on you isn't such a foolish endeavor. It’s not fair to hold you to that promise.”
“Sibylle, it doesn’t matter if you hold me to it or not. The choice to enter the tournament was mine. I made you a promise my word is all I have of value. What would that say about me if I went back on my word when it was no longer convenient. You’ve been a good friend to me. I wouldn’t have you married off to some donkey’s scrotum of a lord. Besides, we both know even with all the training I’ve done, it isn’t very likely that I’ll win the tournament. I have a better chance of growing wings and turning into a dragon then I do winning your tournament. However, at the very least, I can try defeat and some of the really hideous old options. No matter my feelings for Celine, I will do my best to win your tournament.”
Sibylle felt her stomach in turmoil, life was so complicated. “You are a wonderful friend, Lyric. I’m blessed to count you among my friends. Now let’s get back to sparring before the men come back out from their drinks and see us sitting in the shade still. They’ll have us running and doing those god awful squats as punishment.”
…
“Their training goes well,” said Sir Robert as he sat at the table beside Blair, Azina and Valeria.
“Yes, having Sibylle to spar with has proven to be a most effective tool. She is well trained. I have a hard time finding fault with any of her techniques,” admitted Blair.
“Yes, she and I have been training for years. If she were a boy and allowed to train full time she’d be the best warrior on the island by now.”
“She still might be the best warrior. Being a woman doesn’t exclude her from that title,” said Azina. “I do recall the northern solstice tournament has been won by a woman before.”
“Twice,” said Sir Robert. I do not say that being a woman holds her back. Being a royal born woman holds her back. The obligations of royalty for a young woman do not present the same opportunities for becoming a warrior they do for a man. It is regrettable but the way of our king so Lord Lamar has little choice in the matter.”
47
AFTER MONTHS OF SEARCHING WINPORT, Salus determined that they boy was gone. The most disturbing part of the search was not the disappearance of the boy, but the appearance of Shayla’s sellsword Braylon Gaines. Braylon thought he was being discreet but two men spending coin in search of one orphan didn’t go unnoticed.
After seeing the city scoured for weeks by the boys from the orphanage and the street rats seeking Braylon’s coin it was apparent that Lyric was no longer in the city. However, unlike Braylon, who returned to Partha after coming up short in his quest to find the boy, Salus stayed and continued searching. A false clue indicated Lyric might have left Winport for a city further down the coast of Droll, Vernon. However, it turned out the boy in question was not Lyric, but another bastard son of foreigner.
After the trip to Vernon, Salus returned to Winport and tried a different approach. He started asking about for anyone who went missing at the same time as Lyric. Eventually Salus was able to piece together enough clues to figure out that Azina had removed Lyric from Winport. That Azina, an old witch had taken notice of Lyric was alarming. Yet between a witch and Braylon, Salus was sure Lyric was safer with the witch. Salus couldn’t see any scenario where Shayla would be sending her sellsword out to find the boy for his own benefit. The more plausible story was she had decided Lyric was a threat to her future inheritance.
Salus didn’t know to what degree Layton Finch intended to include Lyric in his will, or if he even intended to. The purpose of finding the orphan boy was to have another dragonblood. Personally, Salus thought the idea that an orphan would have a better temperament than Layton Finch’s daughter absurd. However, Layton seemed convince
d that Shayla held intentions to grasp for power using her dragonblood. Salus would admit that Braylon Gaines following him here was a good indication that Layton’s fears were justified.
Gaining passage on a trader’s wagon, Salus made his way to Middale. The village was one of the Isles main trade corridors. If the boy had gone anywhere inland, it was likely that he came through Middale. Hopefully, someone would remember him or the witch.
Salus was glad to be out of Winport. The port city was muggy, and the thick vegetation of the swamps and forest around the city were ripe with bugs, snakes and spiders. On more than occasion Salus had woken from his bed at the inn to find something crawling over him. Middale was proving to be an improvement. The air seemed cleaner and the swampy lands were replaced with green fields and thinner forests. Once the wagon arrived in Middale Salus found a suitable place to stay and then began his search for Lyric. As with any good search for information Salus started with the pubs. Drinking establishments often were a wealth of information when someone had time to just sit and listen. In this case Salus would makes some discreet inquires to speed up the process.
“I’ll have a mug of your finest ale, Good Sir,” said Salus to the bartender. A muscular man with a bit of a belly protruding over his apron. From the look of his clothes the man had once had an even bigger belly.
“I don’t know about it being fine, but give this one a go and see if it tickles your tongue,” replied Blair.
Salus took a sip of the ale. The drink was cold, fruity with a hint of herbs and spices. Not the best ale he’d ever had, but a far cry from the worst, in fact Salus was somewhat surprised at the quality of the drink. He’d expected the ale would be like what he got in most village: barely adequate horse piss that burned your nostril hairs and gave you the runs the next morning. “A right tasty brew you have there,” said Salus.
Blair smiled, he enjoyed seeing the look on strangers faces the first time they tried his ale. Droll Isle, for all its wonders and magical history, produced some of the most terrible ale Blair had ever tasted. Blair had paid good money to travel to Cimarron and taste their ale. He spent even more time perfecting his own recipe.
“Do you get a fair number of travelers through this village?” asked Salus.
Blair wiped down the bar counter while he waited for the stranger to get to the point. “A fair number. Most roads to go through Middale.”
“I’m looking for someone,” said Salus.
“Aren’t we all,” replied Blair.
“The one I’m looking for, dark skin like you might find on Partha or one of the southern Isles. A boy, crippled and probably fairly disheveled, he’d be traveling with a witch.”
“A foreigner and a witch? What would that sort of pair be doing in Middale?” asked Blair.
“Likely passing through, I wouldn’t doubt it if they avoided coming into Middale. If you see anyone matching that description would you let me know. I’ll be staying next door for a while.” Salus put a coin on the counter.
Blair picked up the coin, “If I see a cripple and a witch you’ll be the first to know.”
…
After setting Lyric and Sibylle to sparring, Blair went into Valeria’s house. He needed to speak to the pair of witches in private. Entering, Blair sat down at Valeria’s table across from Azina. “I had an interesting visitor at the bar today.”
“Did you now? One of the royal jack asses on his way to Redfall for the tournament?” asked Azina.
“No, a mage asking questions. He’s looking for a cripple and a witch.”
“What did you tell him?” asked Valeria as she poured them all tea.
Blair accepted the tea and gave it a small sip before replying. “I told him that if I saw a cripple and a witch, he would be the first to know.”
“He’s going to find out soon enough. There are only so many witches in Droll and the fact two of us live here is know well enough,” said Valeria.
“I agree,” said Azina. “At least it is the mage that found us. The sellsword had a look to him I didn’t like.”
“There are two groups looking for Lyric? Why would a mage and a sellsword be looking for an orphan?”
“Because the boy’s father is a powerful mage and dragonblood,” replied Azina.
“Dragonblood? So are the rumors that dragons are returning true? I’ve heard whispering of it in the bar, but most laugh it off as old tales.”
“Old tales to be sure, but it doesn’t mean that they aren’t true,” said Valeria.
“And is Lyric dragonblood like his father?” asked Blair.
“He bears the mark of the dragon,” confirmed Azina.
“A skinny little orphan trained by a cantankerous old witch and a lowly barkeep is to be one of the most powerful men in the realm? The royals would have a fit if they heard of this.” Blair found it hard to think of Lyric as some sort of powerful being. The boy was to kind and sweet and rather timid for someone with the potential to hold so much power.
“And if any that serve the Sacred Blood Brotherhood knew about it Lyric would be dead. So don’t be mentioning this to anyone,” said Azina.
“What do you want to do about this mage asking questions?”
“He’s obviously isn’t going away any time soon. He’s been on Lyric’s trail for months now. Tomorrow, Valeria and I will bring Lyric to the Pig’s Ear Inn to have a pint of that piss you call ale. We’ll have a little chat with this mage while we are there.”
“You think that wise?” asked Valeria.
“I think I’d rather meet in public, at a place of our choosing while we are prepared. If he has ill intentions towards Lyric, I’d rather face him in Blair’s bar then our house. That way, Blair has to clean up the mess.”
Blair grunted at Azina’s comment about his cleaning up. “If a wizard and two witches start fighting in my bar, I’ll most likely have to build a new one. Let’s hope his intentions aren’t ill.”
48
LYRIC DIDN’T KNOW WHY HE WAS ACCOMPANYING Azina and Valeria to the village but he knew something was up. Both had strange markings painted onto their arms and were carrying pouches with magical supplies in them. It wouldn’t have surprised Lyric if they had said they were going to war.
When they walked into the Pig’s Ear Inn, Lyric was still in the dark to their intent. Blair with a nod of his head seemed to be pointing out a particular table to Azina. At the table sat an old man in travel robes drinking ale.
Azina sat down at the table beside the man and pointed Lyric towards the chair beside her. Valeria remained standing behind the stranger’s seat.
“You’re looking for us?” asked Azina. Her eyes focused on the man.
Lyric looked back and forth between Azina and the stranger. Lyric noted that while Azina had one hand on the table, she had the other hand sitting inside her pouch. She looked ready to jump up on a fraction of a second’s notice. The stranger, on the other hand, looked surprised and taken aback by the abrupt question.
The stranger looked at Azina and then turned and studied Lyric for a while, he then nodded. “Yes, I do believe I have been looking for you.”
“I’m not particularly fond of hearing that foreign mages are asking questions about me. What is your business with the boy?”
“I work for the boy’s father. My name is Salus.”
“Is the man looking for a family reunion? It’s a little late in the game to start playing daddy,” said Azina in a snarky tone.
“I’ve afraid it’s more than a little late for that. I fear that Layton Finch may already be dead. He was a sick man when I left him to find young Lyric. That was several months ago now. No, my purpose for seeking out Lyric has more to do with the future then trying to heal old wounds. I’ve come to make sure Lyric understands his destiny.”
“Don’t play coy, mage,” said Azina. “Say exactly what you mean. The only ears in here beyond ours belong to the bartender and I trust him with everything regarding Lyric.”
Salus looked at Bl
air, “I thought you didn’t know a cripple and a witch.”
Blair shrugged, “I know a few witches. However, I don’t know any cripples. Lyric moves better than most people.”
“I had a healer fix his leg. A leg damaged because of the hellhole you all left him in,” said Azina.
Salus looked at Lyric. “The choice to leave you in the orphanage was regrettable. I know that now after several visits. Poorly run and the children treated like dogs. I suspect some children treated even worse. But there was little choice. When you mother died, there was no one from her family to care for you and your father had a complicated situation where admitting he fathered another child would not have helped anyone. Your life would likely not lasted long had you been taken by Layton Finch. The orphanage was supposed to keep you safe and unknown to your father’s enemies.”
“So you left him in the orphanage to be beaten like a cur dog, isn’t that sweet.”
Salus looked at Azina coolly. “And how did you come to be involved with the boy so late in life?”
Azina had to admit that her own reasons for not rescuing Lyric from the orphanage and then life on the streets was much the same as why Layton Finch had done so. It was likely the safest place for him. With a grunt and a wave of her hand she dismissed the comment.
“So why has my father sent you here now?” asked Lyric. “What can you help me with?”
“I am beginning to suspect you may not need any help from me at all. However, your father sent me because the age of dragons is once again close to being upon us. As a dragonblood you will gain powers, possibly great powers, and will have the potential to bond with a dragon. That makes you an important person and a target for those who hate dragons. The Sacred Blood Brotherhood is alive and well. Its members are responsible for poisoning your father and killing many others.”
“They would kill me?” asked Lyric.
“If the Brotherhood knew about you they would most certainly kill you,” said Azina. “So are you planning to take Lyric back to his father’s estate?”
Lyric's Curse (Dragonblood Sagas Book 1) Page 19
