Lyric's Curse (Dragonblood Sagas Book 1)

by Wideman, Robyn

  Lyric feinted a low attack, the Baron fell for the fake, lower his shield to the ground to stop the likely attack. Before the Baron could adjust, Lyric reversed course and the end of his staff slammed into the Baron’s chest, once again knocking the man to the ground. Lyric had scored a second knockdown.

  The Baron had been defeated by a low born bastard!

  The crowd yelled in excitement. There were a large number of men and women from Middale in the crowd and despite the reservations many had about Lyric, they all favored the boy over the old noble. Lyric win was well received by the crowd.

  After the noble born judges announced Lyric as victorious he stayed to watch the coming fights. Lyric had a couple hours to wait as the large number of combatants were churned through. The first day would be fight after fight. The tournament was a double loss format. Any fighter that lost two matches was done. After the first two days were done, it would become single loss and any previous losses or wins would no longer matter. Lyric wanted to watch as many fights as possible and the fighters in this arena were the ones he would likely face in the first two days. Later he’d face fighters that were fighting in the main arena or the other smaller one. As the squire announced the next fight, Blair found Lyric.

  “Well done, Lyric. Your first victory. How do you feel?”

  Lyric thought about his teacher’s question. How did he feel? “I feel good,” said Lyric. “Baron Burke was not a challenge at all. I had not entertained the idea before that I’d have more skill than one of my opponents.”

  Blair laughed, “I’m almost offended. You doubt my skills as a teacher? Or those of Sir Blair? You’ve had two exceptionally skilled trainers. Some of our talents had to rub off despite your best efforts to make us look bad.”

  Despite the way Blair said it, Lyric knew Blair was proud of him and his first victory. “Well, I certainly owe any success I have to you and Sir Robert.”

  “Don’t let your easy win against Baron Burke cloud your judgment,” warned Blair. “There are many less skilled competitors like him here, but all of those will fall quickly. The level of competition you will face will quickly get more difficult. By end of day tomorrow, you won’t be facing old men and young untrained farmers. But even if you lose sooner than that, know we are proud of you, Lyric. No one can take away the fact that you’ve become skilled enough to defeat a noble born warrior like Baron Burke who has seen many battles.”

  “Thank you for everything, Blair. Now stop distracting me from watching my future foes,” said Lyric with a grin.

  “Come on, Lyric, if you haven’t seen the mistakes these two have been making, then I’ve failed you as a teacher.”

  Lyric smiled and laughed. “The tall one drops his left shoulder before he attacks. The other man is very stiff. He likely hurt his leg in training and is faking health. The tall one just can’t see it.”

  Blair slapped Lyric on the back. “Don’t forget the way his eyes wander. He is easily distracted. You’ve learned well, Lyric. Now I’m going to go get an ale and watch the main arena. I’ll come back before your next bout. Keep watching these men. I’ll scout the rest for you.”

  …

  Lyric’s next match was against a young man, and true to Blair’s words, the man looked like a farmer. An old sword and worn leather armor marked the man as being one of Lyric’s fellow lowborn competitors.

  While Baron Burke had been old and slow, the farmer was young strong and fast. The man was bigger, stronger and as fast as Lyric. The physical advantage surely belonged to the big farmer. However, Lyric quickly discerned that the man had little skill with his sword. His attacks were sloppy and came from poor angles. The farmer relied on speed and power.

  Lyric blocked the big man’s attacks. They came much quicker than the Baron’s and had plenty of power behind them, but Lyric was not worried. Again, Blair had proven to be correct. The farmer was no match for Lyric.

  56

  “ARE THE MEN IN POSITION?” asked Omar Hussein as he huddled behind the trees outside of Oakenreach estate.

  “Yes, Brother Omar, we are ready. As soon as our spy gives the signal we will attack.”

  Omar nodded, this attack had been a long time coming. The woman, Shayla Finch had escaped their grasps once because of her sellsword, she would not escape again. Nor would her man, the dangerous Braylon Gaines. Oakenreach estates had a strong set of outer walls and a sturdy main gate, but there were several weak points along the wall that were only visible to one guard. Their spy, one of the servants was to take out a guard and signal them, giving them an access point without being seen. Once they were noticed, they would already be in the estate and the advantage of surprise and superior numbers would win the day.

  The night was dark, moonless, and cloudy. The only sources of light were the torches along the estate walls. The light from the torches flickered and danced against the walls of the high outer fence and the ground in front. The walls were bright where the light hit but beyond the wall the area was dark. A perfect night for an attack. As long as they were silent they could walk to within ten feet of the wall without leaving the cover of night. The only weak point of the plan was having to rely on the servant to lead them through the estate. From the reports of their spies, Omar knew the basic layout of the estates and which rooms to hit first, but until they were actually there to see it they could only learn so much.

  Omar’s thoughts were interrupted by three small flashes from a turret on the outer wall. The servant had completed his task and taken out the guard. They could now attack! Omar turned to the men behind him, over forty armed brothers, “Remember, take Shayla Gaines alive if possible, but no matter what the cost to us, Braylon Gaines must die. Our fallen brothers must be avenged!”

  …

  Shayla woke to the sounds of battle, cries of agony and the crashing of steel on shield. Shayla quickly went to her bedroom wardrobe and dressed in her war clothing. Heavy mage robes that held potions and powders for fighting and healing. She then headed to the great room, from there she would be able to learn what was going on. But Shayla knew in her heart what was happening, the Brotherhood was coming to finish what they’d started. They wanted to kill her.

  …

  Braylon Gaines had been standing in the kitchen talking to the cook when he heard the first guard cry out. Braylon turned to the cook, “Better get your biggest knives out. You’re going to have to carve up a few men tonight.”

  The cook snorted. “Knives? Not I, this cook only uses an axe for carving up unwelcome guests.”

  “Grab your axe and whatever other weapons you have available and head to the great room. Organize the servants and any house guests and arm them to defend themselves.”

  Instead of heading towards the sounds of conflict, Braylon moved quickly towards his room. It was only a few doors down from the kitchen and contained his heavy gear. If they were under attack it was likely the Sacred blood brotherhood looking to retake Shayla. The brotherhood would have large numbers and since the sounds of battle were coming from inside the yard, they had obviously been able to sneak in over the wall. Braylon would have many enemies to defeat this night and would need his armor. Entering his room, Braylon quickly put on his armor. From his weapons rack Braylon took a heavy bow and a quiver of arrows. He hooked the quiver to the front of his belt alongside of his hip. Beside the fact that most of the conflict was going to be at close range, there was still no weapon as effective as a bow when it came to taking out multiple enemies. Alongside his sword sheath, he placed a long dagger. In the back of his belt, Braylon placed a half dozen throwing knives. Over his back, he strapped a war axe. With all his weapons ready, Braylon left his room and headed towards the outer doors. He would look for Shayla soon, but until he knew the size of the enemy force and how the estate guards fared, there was no point, she would be safer in her room or the great room for now.

  When Braylon got to the main doors inside the house, the brotherhood were just pushing their way in. Two of the estate gu
ards were alive and fighting, two more bodies were on the floor with several Brotherhood bodies. Braylon wasted no time, He fired his bow three times as fast as he could. Years of training allowed Braylon to loose the three arrows in less than two seconds. He struck the first two attackers in the chest, but the third turned and the arrow went harmlessly over his shoulder.

  The attacker yell at his companions behind him, “There he is, get him!” More men piled through the entrance and attacked. Braylon stood his ground, firing arrow after arrow. Men dropped constantly, but as the bodies fell the horde made its way closer and closer to Braylon. Eventually, Braylon was forced to drop his bow, despite the fact he was slaying many of the attackers, they had killed the guards and were now starting to surround him. Pulling out his sword and dagger, Braylon prepared himself. The odds were not looking good.

  …

  As staff and visitors poured into the great hall, Shayla started to think about the attack, since the attackers were already past the high outer walls, the estates main defenses were gone. Now if the guards failed to stop them, they would all fall. Sitting in the great hall waiting for the enemy was not the answer. She needed to gather those who could fight and head to the house entrance. Shayla turned to the cook and a guard who had been in his quarters asleep when the attack started. “Other than you two, how many more can hold their own in a fight?”

  “Every man and woman here can hold a weapon and we all will fight,” said the cook emphatically.

  Shayla looked around, everyone in the room had a grim look of determination on their faces. Her father’s people were loyal; it was important to remember. “Okay, lets head to the entrance. We cannot defeat a large attack by sitting here, the entrance is a main pinch point, from there we can defend ourselves.” Or we will all die, thought Shayla, but she kept those pessimistic thoughts to herself.

  Shayla felt physically ill, her very blood felt like it was on fire. Instead of butterflies in her stomach, there were wasps, stinging her over and over. Shayla almost fell when the pain hit her, but she braced herself against a wall.

  The cook noticed Shayla’s pain. “Are you okay, Lady Lamar?”

  “Yes,” she grunted, “let’s get to the entrance before it’s too late.” She would worry about the pain later. Perhaps the Sacred blood had poisoned her the way they had her father. Whatever it was, Shayla forced the pain out her mind and started towards the entrance. They needed to stop the attack!

  As Shayla entered the large corridor that lead to the entrance door, she saw the cook and the other servants joining Braylon who was surrounded by attackers. Bodies filled the corridor, filled with arrows the bodies, a testament that Braylon had held back the attackers long enough for the others to arrive.

  Another attack of pain struck Shayla, she screamed and fell to her knees. Now her hands felt like they were on fire.

  As Shayla screamed, Braylon turned to see what caused the awful scream. As he turned, a member of the Sacred Blood Brotherhood threw an axe that struck him in the head.

  Shayla saw the axe strike Braylon and drop him. The agony of seeing Braylon fall filled her mind but then she exploded in anger. The Brotherhood had tortured her, killed her father and were now trying to kill her true love.

  The physical pain that she had been feeling for the last few minutes intensified. It felt like her blood was about to burst into flames. In fact, her hands were turning red. Something clicked in Shayla’s mind, the pain was not from a Brotherhood poison. It was truly her own blood. This could only be one thing. Dragons had finally returned and she was absorbing the powers of a dragon.

  Shayla focused on her hands and she willed them to get even hotter. Flames shot out of her hands. A fire dragon was the source of her powers! Shayla stood up and focused her attention on the attackers who were making their way towards her. She raised her hands and willed flames to shoot out and encompass them in flames. Shayla then walked through the room firing flames at each attack she saw. The staff and remaining guards stood back in awe as Shayla put the enemy to flame.

  The cook had the good sense to realize that when Shayla was done the enemy would be defeated but then they would have problems with burning walls. He yelled to the other servants “Everyone back to the kitchen, get buckets of water from the barrel and bring them here, quickly now!”

  Shayla was making her way outside, as she scorched and burned alive every attacker she found she had a certain clarity of mind despite the deep rage she felt. The triggering of dragonblood had given her dragon magic, but it also amplified her own feelings. Her rage was like nothing she had felt before. She wanted to kill, kill them all!

  …

  Back outside the walls of Oakenreach, the members of the brotherhood who’d survived the failed attack were gathering to regroup and reassess. “They’re all dead. We lost almost half by that Braylon bastard, but she killed the rest,” said Cullen.

  “I know. I saw her too. She’s gained the powers of dragons now.”

  “How do we kill her now?”

  “If she’s got dragon powers, trying to attack her with simple soldiers and warriors won’t work. We’ll have to come up with a new plan. However, now that she has dragon powers, we have a bigger problem.”

  “We have a bigger problem than an angry mage that hurls massive balls of fire from her hands?”

  “Yes, Cullen, in order for her to have dragon powers, she needed to be near a dragon.”

  Cullen paused and absorbed what Omar was saying. Dread filled the man. “We’re too late. Dragons have returned. What do we do now?”

  “We retreat. We head to Castle Pornoux. All we can do now is start preparing dragon weapons.”

  The men slinked off into the night, the attack on Oakenreach had been an expensive one, both in cost of lives and their spies within the Finch family estate. Now the Sacred Blood Brotherhood would need to prepare for the new threat. Dragons had finally returned to the world.

  57

  FROM HIS BACK, LYRIC LOOKED UP AT HIS OPPONENT. The shock of getting knocked down had Lyric reeling. His opponent a lanky young man with two short swords for weapons fought in a way Lyric had never seen before. Nothing Blair or Sir Robert had taught him had him prepared for such an opponent. After the first two relatively easy fights against the older Baron and the untrained farmer, Lyric was now fighting a young well-trained warrior who fought in a way Lyric had never seen before.

  Out of the crowd, Lyric could hear Blair yelling at him. “Are you going to sit there all day or are you going to get up and fight?”

  As Lyric slowly got up and returned to the start position, he yelled back at Blair, “He’s kicking my ass! I’ve never seen anyone fight like this before.”

  “Quit watching him dance and fight back. Make adjustments, you’re moving slower than a turtle stuck in seaweed. Keep your distance!”

  Keep your distance, easier said than done, thought Lyric. Lyric had been standing at a distance and had attacked with a two handed low swing. The strange warrior had not blocked the attack, instead he jumped into the air and did a complete flip in the air, he then tumbled into a somersault. He ended the maneuver beside Lyric’s feet, with his blade behind Lyric’s knees. A hard pull ended with Lyric on his back looking up.

  Lyric took a long and deep breath. He needed to calm down. He needed to think! Blair was right, despite the fancy maneuvers, the reason Lyric had been downed was the fact he let the man get too close. Staff users were trained to use footwork and distance to their advantage. Lyric had failed at the first lesson of a staff user. He’d failed to control the distance.

  Standing ready at his mark, Lyric waited for the squire to wave his flag and signal the restart of the fight. Lyric would need to be very wary now, he was behind five to nothing and another knockdown would cost him the bout.

  As the flag was waved to signal the resuming of the match, Lyric focused on his opponent. The man moved quickly, there was no doubt. Yet it wasn’t the speed that created difficulties. It was the way the man
moved. He danced and pranced. A simple step to the left was a spin, a jab moved his whole body. Even when he wasn’t attacking, the man was moving rhythmically left to right like a dancing snake. Lyric decided that no matter what, he’d keep his distance. At least until he found a weakness to exploit. Right now, the strange fighting technique was too new to him to know how to react. Lyric would take his time. Score single points when the opportunity arose and avoid the prospect of another knockdown as much as possible.

  The man sprung forward in another dancing attack, a sword swung low and then with a twist of his body, the man’s foot was flying towards Lyric’s head.

  Lyric ducked and stepped back, he immediately took a large step to the side. The move paid off as the man followed up the first head kick with a second spinning kick to where Lyric’s head would have been had he not taken a sidestep.

  Okay, thought Lyric, just keep moving. Lyric was starting to realize that the man’s attacks were based on deception and surprise. The odd seeming dancing and flipping around was used to paralyze an opponent, much like a snake might move rhythmically side to side before striking. Lyric tested his theory by attacking his opponent with a series of quick jabs and short swings of his staff. The man danced and juked but still ended up blocking Lyric’s more dangerous attacks with traditional sword blocks. Lyric pressed further, speeding up his attacks until he was moving as fast as he ever had. The man blocked each attempt until he misstepped while back peddling. An exposed root from a nearby tree had caught his heel sending him off-balance. Lyric used the moment to send his staff into the man’s chest for a solid blow. Lyric was able to follow up the blow to the chest with a glancing strike to the head before his opponent could recover. Lyric has scored two points!

  The man flipped backwards to create space. Lyric stepped backwards. He knew the advantage he’d gained from the attack was gone. He’d keep his distance and try to score another point when the opportunity arose again.