“Yes, my love, I’m afraid that has always been the case.” Celine kissed Lyric fiercely. She may well lose Lyric in days to marriage. However, right now, right here, he was hers. His love belonged only to her. She would give herself to him now, her heart and body, and worry about the future when it came.
Emotions filled Lyric as Celine kissed and caressed him. He returned her movements with his own, letting all thoughts of the future and dragonblood fade into the background. His feelings for Celine filled his mind. His heart raced as he accepted her passionate embrace. Lyric was of the same mind as Celine in this. He’d live in this moment, love Celine while he could. Hold her now while he was hers alone. Deal with the responsibilities of being dragonblood later, live this moment as Lyric a simple man in love.
54
KEMOTH DOVE UNDER LEOMARIS, nipping at his heels. The young gold-red dragon kicked out with his feet trying to hit the purple-black dragon away. But Kemoth was too quick and easily avoided the bigger Leomaris.
“Damn you, Kemoth, I’ll rip your stinking wings right off,” snarled Leomaris.
“You have to catch me first, you golden turd!”
“Just you wait. One of these times I’ll catch you off guard!” Leomaris snapped his jaws, trying to catch the purple-black wing in his mouth.
The smaller dragon spun in the air, avoiding the attempted strike and retaliated by smacking the gold-red in the head with his tail.
Leomaris shook his head after the heavy blow. He growled and flapped his wings harder, determined to strike down the other dragon.
As Leomaris chased Kemoth, a voice rang out from the cliffs above. “What are you too fish breath fools doing?”
“What does it look like?” growled Leomaris. “I’m thinning the herd, this weak little purple-black is too small to make the journey. I’m killing him.”
“It looks like you’re doing a fine job of it. He’s hit you three times in the last minute and you’ve not come close to catching him.”
“I’m playing with my food; the fool thinks he has a chance now. All the better for when I do catch the demon,” said Leomaris.
Ovalia shook her scaled head. “Would you two baboons stop horsing around for one minute.”
“That’s hurtful, Ovalia, you don’t even know what a baboon looks like. How can we be baboons?” asked Kemoth as he and Leomaris landed together beside Ovalia. She’d interrupted their play time.
“Apophis says baboons are the ugly dumb cousin of humans. You two are the ugly dumb cousins to a dragon.”
“Kemoth, I think we were just insulted!” said Leomaris.
“I think you may be right, Leomaris.”
“Perhaps instead of trying to rip each other’s wings off, we should find a more appropriate target.”
“Don’t even think about it, Baboon breath. I’ll tell Nelarth who put fish in his cave.”
“You are an evil dragon, Ovalia!” said Kemoth in disgust.
“Yes, that is not friendly at all. Why are you bothering us anyways?” asked Leomaris.
“Apophis is summoning all the dragons together. You two need to come, now.”
“Why didn’t you say that in the first place?” asked Kemoth.
“What would be the fun in that?” asked Ovalia as she flew away.
Leomaris turned and looked at Kemoth with a bewildered look. “That female is crazy.”
Kemoth shook his head. Leomaris wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. “Come on, maybe we’re finally leaving”
…
Apophis sat on a large boulder, and waited for the other dragons to assemble. The last two were the younglings Kemoth and Leomaris. She gave them a withering look. “Now that we’re all here. It’s time to discuss leaving this Isle and heading back to our traditional homes.”
A roar of approval met Apophis’s words. The dragons had been waiting for centuries to return to the land they had once called home. Most of the dragons were not old enough to have been alive when the move happened, but all had heard the stories.
“First,” continued Apophis, “I want you all to understand that you have a choice. Some have decided to stay. They like it here and with the majority leaving will find foods stocks easily replenished. However, those who choose to accompany us must abide by the rules. Anyone who fails to follow these rules will be punished with banishment or death.”
A murmur of rumbling could be heard. Dragons killing another dragon was an unthinkable act, and to have death declared a punishment seemed extremely harsh to many of the dragons.
“Silence!” barked Brendoth, the large blue-white dragon who was Apophis’ second in command.
When the crowd of dragons stopped whispering and talking, Apophis continued. “Reintegrating into the world will be difficult. Our scouts have returned and in the long years we’ve been gone humans have multiplied and love have settlements in traditional dragon territories. Other areas that humans haven’t made it too are still occupied by other animals that can be dangerous to dragons. Trolls, vraber, orcs, bears and giants still occupy the lands. However, the humans are by far the biggest obstacle to our return.” Apophis paused for a second to look at the older dragons like Nelarth and his followers. “Humans are not to be harmed.”
Another rumble of discontent went through the crowd, mostly from the older dragons.
Again Brendoth barked the order to remain quiet.
“If a human attacks you, flee. If you are trapped and have no choice, you may wound a human, but under no circumstances shall a human die without my consent.”
“We’ve waited for centuries to regain what is rightly ours and now you’d have us run and fly away like fools?” cried out Sudrien, the black-red, one of the oldest dragons on the island. Sudrien had been a youngling during the dragon wars and had dreamed of revenge for centuries.
Apophis stood tall on the boulder, flapping out her mighty wings. The display reminded the dragons that she was the most powerful dragon and to cross her was a foolish idea. “I don’t care what you find foolish, Sudrien. The fact remains, to kill a human will be punished, severely. I’ve not waited here for centuries to go back into another war. We’ll make every effort to live in peace with the humans. If they force the issue, we’ll fight. But not until I say so. Is that clear?” Apophis glared at Sudrien.
Sudrien lowered his head in a sign of submission. “As you say, My Queen.”
“The scouts have found plenty of mountain ranges and coastal areas that aren’t heavily populated by humans. The majority of you will be heading to those areas. I’ve selected a few younglings that will accompany myself to Droll Isle. The rest of you know who your group leaders are. You’ll obey their orders. Are there any questions?”
“I suppose you’ll be telling us what we can eat, too?” asked Rugarth, brown-blue, another of Nelarth’s companions.
“Besides humans, and any livestock belonging to humans, you may eat what you like. For the younglings, I’d recommend sticking to fish and fowl until you’ve grown some. Older dragons may hunt at will, but don’t create unbalance in the local systems.”
“That’s fair,” said Ohen, brown-red.
“Any other questions?” asked Apophis. When no one said anything, she continued. “Then let’s return to the world. We’ve spent far too long waiting for this moment. Remember the rules, but enjoy our return to the world. You all have permission to follow your group leaders now.”
A roar of approval rang out from the dragons. They were finally heading back to the world!
The group leaders, mostly selected of older dragons, had split the majority of the group into small sections, mostly based on colors and compatibility. The older dragons would head inland; younger dragons were mostly heading to coastal areas where they’d continue eating mainly fish. The smaller breeds of dragons tended to enjoy company and stayed in larger packs, these were the more colorful dragons such as the blues, reds and the other rare bright colors. The bigger dragons, the golds, blacks, and whites, p
referred solitude and would travel in much smaller groups and have their own hunting grounds. The browns and tan dragons were medium sized and often were sorted by scale tinge. The red tinge dragons were fire breathers and preferred different climates than those with blue tinge.
The organizing of young and old dragons into sections had been a difficult task and it had been with great deliberation that Apophis chose three younglings to join her on Droll Island. As the section leaders organized their dragons, three younglings were told to report to Apophis.
…
Kemoth looked at Leomaris and Ovalia. “Do you think we’re in trouble for being late?”
“It’s her fault,” said Leomaris. “I’m going to be so ticked if we are told we have to stay here.”
“Don’t be stupid, Leomaris. Apophis already said only dragons who are banished or chose to stay will be remaining. We won’t be banished for being late,” said Ovalia.
“Shh, here she comes,” said Leomaris as Apophis approached.
Apophis looked down at the three younglings, “I’ve chosen you three to accompany me to Droll Isle.”
Leomaris looked up in surprise. He’d been sure they were in trouble for being late. “You mean were not in trouble?”
“For being late, yes you are in trouble. You’ll be scrubbing my wings for a week as punishment. But no, that is not why I’ve assembled you. The three of you are going to accompany me. You’ll be learning about humans and eventually one day, one of you will take a leadership role. Hopefully, before that ever happens you learn to avoid being tardy.”
Kemoth looked at Ovalia and Leomaris. It was easy to see why they were chosen. Leomaris was one of the few young golds. Golds tended to have personalities that suited leadership positions. In the history of dragons, more golds had been leader than any other color. Ovalia was a brown-blue, a medium sized dragon when fully grown, and not known for anything particularly special, but Ovalia was the smartest youngling by far. She was a natural choice. Why he was there, Kemoth was not sure. Kemoth was a purple dragon. Exceptionally rare, and considered by many of the older dragons to be a freak of nature, not worthy of life. Kemoth was a small youngling, not as small as the blues or red’s but nowhere near as big as a gold or black.
“Now, unless you three have a strong desire to stay here, I suggest we leave,” said Apophis as she spread her wings and started to fly.
“Oh ya!” said Leomaris as he jumped up to follow Apophis.
Kemoth looked over at Ovalia, she was looking at him curiously. Kemoth shrugged his wings, “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t know why he picked me.”
“I didn’t say anything,” replied Ovalia. “Besides, I think I know what Apophis is thinking. Now come on, it’s time to see the world!” Ovalia grinned and leapt into the air.
Kemoth shook his head and spoke to himself. “Well, I’m glad someone knows what Apophis was thinking.” Kemoth took one last look at the Isle. Already some of the dragons who were remaining were moving into the caves of dragons that were leaving. Kemoth could understand why some chose to stay. The island was safe and had plenty of food, it was also the only home they’d ever known. However, Kemoth was much too curious about the world to want to stay. With a powerful flap of his wings, Kemoth raced off to join his fellow dragons, heading to Droll Isle.
55
THE GROUNDS OF REDFALL HAD BEEN TRANSFORMED. Thousands of people filled stands and waited for the Lord Lamar and King Gramalt to announce the beginning of the tournament.
Lyric looked around him. Hundreds of would be warriors, mercenaries and nobles stood together if front of the crowd. Men from all over the Isle had arrived in Redfall looking to seek their opportunity to win this prestigious opportunity. Some of the nobles Lyric recognized by their armor. Blair and Sir Robert had told him which nobles were the most dangerous fighters. Other warriors were dangerous for not being known, their fighting qualities not witnessed.
Standing in his new armor, Lyric looked more like a noble than a lowborn bastard son of a whore and a mage, but once the tournament begun, it mattered not. Here on the field of battle bloodlines and heritage meant nothing. Skill, luck and a will to win were what mattered. Here Lyric was on equal footing with every man beside him. Something he never would have imagined those long months ago when he was a crippled little boy half beaten to death by a crowd of highborn boys and rescued by Azina. Now he was a young man, healthy and well-trained with weapons and armor to match those of any man beside him. Yet the odds were still long, but still the thrill of the moment sent shivers down Lyric’s spine.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, Noble souls and kindly guests from Middale, I am Lord Lamar and it is my pleasure to introduce King Gramalt,” said Lord Lamar as he addressed the crowd.
“Thank you, Lord Lamar,” said King Gramalt. “It is the duty of nobles such as Lord Lamar to provide sons and daughters to further the royal bloodlines and join together the people of the kingdom of Droll. Lord Lamar has a beautiful young daughter that is now of a marrying age. However, Lord Lamar couldn’t find a suitable match. This tournament will allow the gods to do what a man could not. The winner of this tournament will take the hand of Sibylle Lamar as his prize. Surely, such a beauty has never before been available for any man to win. Sadly, I have to withdraw my own entrance into the tournament. My wife threatened to kill me in my sleep.” The crowd laughed at the king’s jest before he continued his royal proclamation of the tournament start. “Now, before man and gods, may a truly worthy man be claimed victor. I King Gramalt, ruler of Droll declare this tournament begun.”
The crowd roared in approval at the king’s words. Noble and lowborn alike would revel in the competition. Tournaments were the favorite source of entertainment on the Isle. Rare were big open style tournaments like this where any single man could enter. Rarer still were tournaments with such a prize waiting at the end. This tournament would be historic.
Since there were so many men involved in the tournament, the grounds had been split into three fighting areas. The main grounds where the King and the nobles watched and two lesser fighting pits, that were still swallowed by cheering men and women. Lyric was sent to one of the smaller pits for his first fight.
As Sibylle had said, Baron Burke stood across the arena. Lyric had never seen the man before, but his protruding belly, squished into armor, and his ample amounts of ear hair, more than then number on top of his head, along with a particularly bulbous nose marked the man as the despised noble. Lyric focused on the man. He imagined sweet young Sibylle being forced to marry such an old man, one known to be lecherous and unkind. The noisy and boisterous crowd faded into the background. If nothing else, Lyric would make sure Sibylle didn’t have to worry about this old goat.
A squire waved a flag signaling the beginning of the match. Baron Burke raised his sword and shield, yelling at the crowd and then Lyric.
Lyric ignored the taunt and started to step towards the Baron. This was his first test of his skills and he would not let his opponent gain an advantage through simple taunts and goading. Lyric had faced far too many sharp tongued boys over the years to be offended or tricked by any words this old goat could speak.
Baron Burke moved with purpose. He had heard about this boy, Lyric. The olive skinned hero, who had been befriended by young Sibylle. The Baron intended to end the fight fast. No bastard foreign blood boy from Winport would have real skills in battle. The baron moved fast, bashing with his shield and swinging his sword. Yet each attack met air. The boy was fast. The Baron kept moving forward, determined to force a mistake.
Lyric blocked and moved as Blair and Sir Robert had taught him. The Baron was much stronger than Sibylle, and even Blair or Sir Robert, but the man was slow. Compared to Sibylle or Sir Robert, the man moved like he was stuck in sand. Each attack telegraphed well before it came close to Lyric. To the crowd, Baron Burke seemed to be taking the fight to his younger opponent. But anyone who was a student of warfare could see that the older fighter was in serious t
rouble. Lyric continued to back up, letting his opponent set the pace of the fight. Each attack was blocked and Lyric used his technically sound footwork to keep his distance. Months of daily training had made the moves second nature. Now, against a lesser opponent like the Baron, Lyric could see the value of having skills teachers and sparring partners.
The Baron, his initial flurry of attacks done, was starting to tire. Instead of slowing down to regain his breath he pressed on. Surely the boy would make a mistake soon. Luck and fast feet would only get the bastard so far. Then the unthinkable happened to the Baron. His staff struck the Baron in the chest, and then, as the Baron was rocked back, the other end of the staff whipped behind the Baron’s knees, bringing him crashing to the ground. Lyric had scored first.
The tournament rules were simple. Each fight was watched by three judges. If two of the three judges witnessed a vital blow, one to the head or torso, and raised a flag at the same time, a point was scored. A knockdown was worth five points. First one to score two knockdowns or a total of ten points won. Drawing blood or injuring an opponent had no effect on scoring. The battles were supposed to be friendly and based on skill, but often in the heat of the moment things went awry. Lyric had scored a knockdown and now led the Baron five to zero.
The Baron rose and the match resumed. This time the Baron came in slow. The knockdown had taken the wind out of his body and he was now wary. Yet Lyric took a new approach. This time, Lyric was the aggressor. Lyric moved swiftly, attacking the Baron from different angles. Lyric continually kept the Baron off balance, attacking and then circling to the side so the older man had to keep adjusting his defenses. Lyric had several opportunities to score single hits against the Baron, but he sensed that the Baron was weakening and by the way the Baron’s shoulder kept dropping indicated Lyric would be able to soon score another knockdown.
Lyric's Curse (Dragonblood Sagas Book 1) Page 24
