Quest Of The Dragon Tamer (Book 1)

by Cole Pain

  “What gave me away?”

  Ramie grabbed Nigel’s hand and held it up between them. Three bands, made of gold, silver, and bronze, were intertwined on his little finger. “The ring you gave Sherri was missing from her hand. Druids don’t wear jewelry, Nigel. Druids wouldn’t have taken it from her.”

  Tears filled Nigel’s eyes at the reference to the promise. He nodded and blinked them back. “They killed them because of me.” Nigel’s voice held so much anguish Ramie almost reached out to him, but held his ground. The crazed look passed through Nigel’s eyes once again. When it subsided all that was left was hate.

  “Why?”

  Ramie could almost feel Nigel’s rage filtering through the air. It frightened him. His brother had always been quick to love. Now he was bound by hate.

  Nigel motioned Ramie inside the house. He pulled a wooden jug from a shelf and poured two cups of wine. Ramie accepted one and went to stand by the fire. He almost felt as if he were dreaming the entire encounter, but just as he thought he would wake his brother’s voice cut through the silence.

  “Please sit. I’m sorry I have only one chair, I just – ”

  “Never expected visitors.” Ramie turned to meet his brother’s piercing gaze. “No, thank you. I’ve been in the saddle all day. I prefer to stand.”

  Nigel sat in silence. Blame and guilt stole into Nigel’s eyes. At first Ramie thought Nigel was thinking about his vocation, but then he realized Nigel was thinking about Megglan and Sherri. Nigel blamed himself for their deaths.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Nigel.”

  Nigel stiffened. “You can’t say that. You don’t know what happened. You weren’t there.”

  “I know enough to say it wasn’t your fault. You knew the Druids might come when you discovered you could … move things. They did and you resisted. They killed Megglan and Sherri. You killed them. Simple.”

  Nigel discovered he had the calling power at the height of the Druid terror. Ramie and Nigel knew the Druids would come and try to change Nigel forever. They had been terrified. Everyone with the telekinesis ability was a threat to the Druids, no matter your political affiliation.

  Nigel rocked back in the chair. His hair fell over him like a mane. Nigel was like their mother in every way: tall, slender, with thick brown hair and blue eyes. Ramie had their father’s features: shorter, stockier, and darker. He had envied Nigel growing up, his stature and looks, but now Ramie was glad he was like his father, both in body and in mind. Ramie knew castle life had been hard on Nigel. Nigel was a free spirit, one who desired neither wealth nor title. Nigel would have preferred to be a knight for a king, not a king himself. Ramie was stable, a rock, like their father, and although he didn’t necessarily desire rule, it was who he was.

  When Nigel began to speak his voice was so soft, Ramie had to step closer to hear.

  “It was a beautiful spring day and we decided to go to the far side of the lake to be alone. You were training for the upcoming sword competition. You almost skipped it to join us. Thank the Maker you didn’t.

  “Three Druids appeared as soon as we rode into the forest. Meg’s horse reared and she was thrown. I ran to her, Sherri following. Meg had hit her head on a large stone but was unharmed. Then they entered my mind. Without even asking or speaking they entered it!” Nigel pounded the arm of the chair.

  Ramie tensed, reliving the terror as if it were happening again. He sensed the pain his brother felt; he saw Druids standing as impassive as stone; he felt the sun on his back; he smelled the girls’ fear.

  “I fought so hard. It hurt, Rye. It felt like my mind was about to rupture. I remember falling to my knees, barely able to stand, throwing all my efforts into pushing them out.

  “Suddenly, the pressure became bearable and I looked up to find Sherri and Megglan beside the Druids. They had tried to stop them.” Nigel’s voice was soft as his brow knit with pain. “They had no weapons. They were only imploring the Druids to wait. But the Druids stabbed them. Without hesitation, the Druids stabbed them.”

  Nigel’s chest heaved with the memory, and his muscles rippled as if he were in combat. Ramie held his breath.

  “I was filled with such rage when they tried to enter me again I blocked them somehow. I ran to the one holding Meg. I don’t remember what I did to him but he fell in death.

  “With only two Druids I knew I had a chance. I knocked the second one down and stabbed him with my dagger. The third one, well, he was the one I butchered.

  “I dressed him in my clothes and I took his. I knew I could never go back. They would come for me again. They would kill others I loved until I let them have my mind. They would kill you, kill father.”

  Nigel drained his glass before he continued. “I would never be able to rule with the threat of the Druids, and if I left you would be safe. I decided to let the Druids, let everyone believe me dead and disappear. I’ve never used the calling power again and somehow I have literally blocked it away behind a door of my own making.”

  “Then why the isolation? Why not live where people are?”

  Nigel looked at Ramie for a long time without replying. Although Ramie knew the answer, he wanted to hear it from Nigel.

  “Because I’m hunted.”

  “You’re the Black Knight, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Nigel observed Ramie with deathly calm eyes, devoid of emotion or feeling. They were the Black Knight’s eyes. The Black Knight was the sword of justice. The Druids were the violators of justice.

  Ramie knew Nigel thought his little brother wouldn’t understand. Nigel was wrong.

  Near the end of the Black Knight’s ride, the Drek, the Druid leader, had placed a price on the Knight’s head. The reward for the Black Knight would purchase kingdoms. The reward for accurate information could support an entire family for ten lifetimes.

  “Do you remember a man warning you there was a price on your head?”

  “Yes, he came right before I went into hiding.”

  “I sent him.”

  Nigel studied Ramie before breaking out into a boyish grin, prior tenseness forgotten. Ramie smiled back, feeling better than he had in years.

  “Why didn’t he tell me it was you?”

  “The messenger didn’t know who had given him the message. The Druids would have retaliated against Yor if they suspected I warned you. When you went into hiding I thought it was in this area. You always talked about wanting to see these mountains. I’ve wanted to come for years.”

  “But?” Nigel asked, rising to his feet.

  “I waited for you to send word Nigel, to me, your only brother, that you were alive!” Ramie paused, forcing himself to calm. “When nothing ever came, I thought … ”

  “Thought what?”

  Ramie’s eyes were hard as they held his brother’s gaze. “That you wanted to forget your life, everything about it, me included. That hurt me more than you know, Nigel. When someone sends a message like that I don’t go after them.”

  Nigel looked away and heaved a sigh. “I wanted to send word but I didn’t want to endanger you or your family. If anyone discovered my identity you would have had the entire clan of Druids fighting against Oldan. You know that.”

  Ramie shook his head. He had been waiting for this for fifteen years. “But you’ve changed, Nigel. No one would suspect you if you came back, except those who knew you well, and I could let them go, send them to another city to work. At least you would be with those who love you.”

  In response, Nigel slowly raised his left hand. In his palm was a brand: a hollow circle with two horned spikes curving up and inward from the top. It was the mark of evil and hatred. Ramie remembered the story. The last Druid remaining on the mainland managed to brand the Black Knight, ensuring all who saw him would know the truth. The brand looked wicked, like it had been done just yesterday.

  Nigel raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think this would go unnoticed, do you?”

  “Gloves, Nigel, you could we
ar gloves.”

  “And if the king wanted me to go for a swim, what then? Do I wear my gloves in the water?”

  It was an exaggeration on Nigel’s part, but Ramie knew what he meant. Sooner or later someone would suspect him, see the brand, and connect the story. No matter how much the Black Knight was admired, even loved, not many could refuse the money the Druids offered.

  “So why did you come if you decided not to find me?” Nigel asked with a slight hint of annoyance.

  “A man I care a great deal about is in trouble.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “The Druids will hunt him.”

  Hatred filled Nigel’s eyes once again, but after a brief time the hate faded into scorn. “The Druids haven’t set foot on the mainland since I rode, and they won’t until I’ve been found.” Nigel turned to pour himself another chalice of wine. “They won’t come again for many years.”

  “Magic has been reborn, Nigel.”

  The Black Knight stopped in mid-stance, wooden carafe poised over his chalice. After a few breaths, he proceeded to pour. “I suspected as much.”

  “You have it, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but I won’t use it, just like I won’t use the power of the Druids.”

  “This man has to use it, and he also has the power of the Druids.” Ramie paused to watch an array of emotions flicker across Nigel’s tan features: hatred, revenge, and curiosity. But also one Ramie hoped to see, and it dominated the others: a strong desire to help all those hunted by the Druid clan. Ramie sat on the hearth and began to relay what he knew of magic’s rebirth.

  “They’ll come for him. They won’t allow someone as powerful as Ren to walk free. The Druids have always considered themselves superior to the normal man. They won’t like magic’s rebirth, and they’ll interfere. Ren will be the first they seek, and he’s the only one who can stop Ista.”

  Nigel remained silent for a long time. Ramie rose and circled the room, inspecting each carving. They were replicas of the things Nigel held dear: his horse, the Yor castle, trees, waterfalls, but most were of Ramie, Meg, and Sherri. Nigel had never given up on him. He had given up on Nigel. All these years he had been bitter because Nigel had never sent word to him. How could he have been so selfish? He could have sent word to Nigel just the same.

  When he found his voice it came out a harsh whisper. He didn’t like to admit he was wrong. “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I’ve hurt you. Forgive me.”

  “Don’t regret the past, Rye. Let’s hope for a better future.”

  Ramie smiled. Nigel smiled back.

  “I must go. I have to make Port Bynni before anyone on my ship suspects. I can’t trust anyone.”

  “Do you have the Quy?”

  Nigel’s question took Ramie by surprise. “Of course not,” he lied. “You are the free spirit, not I.”

  Nigel studied him only briefly before turning to a closet and pulling out a thin cloak. “I’ll walk you to the main path,” he said, draping the cloak over his bare shoulders. Nigel hesitated, the light of the fire softening his features. When Nigel turned back, Ramie saw the brother he had lost over fifteen years ago. “I’ve missed you, Rye.”

  Ramie drew an unsteady breath. “And I you, more than you know.”

  When they walked out of the house a large black horse grazed near Mortar, not an ounce of color donning his sleek coat: the Black Knight’s horse. He was loose, not bound by chain or rope. Ramie would have thought the horse would be wild by now, for it had been years since the Black Knight’s last ride, but Nigel had always had a way with animals.

  Ramie untied Mortar and they walked in silence, each just content the other was there. They had been close growing up, even though they were as different as two brothers could be. But they learned from each other, and in an odd way each found strength in the other’s differences. Ramie let his anger drain until only a rueful peace remained. Nigel was his brother. And Nigel was alive. Nothing else mattered.

  Nigel led him around the rock face. A few clouds had rolled in, allowing scant light to filter through, making the path dangerous to unfamiliar eyes. Nigel pointed out dips, rocks and sharp turns until they came to the second trail leading to the boulder.

  Although the path was easy, they slowed even more, each not wanting to say goodbye.

  “Will you help him?” Ramie finally asked.

  “I’ll think on it.”

  Ramie nodded, content with the answer. “That’s all I ask.”

  When they reached the boulder Nigel turned, concern in his eyes. “Continue south, away from the city. There’s a tributary that runs into the Divi. A ship leaves tomorrow at dawn. This time of year the river is swift and will reach Port Bynni by midday.”

  Ramie nodded, not willing to trust his voice.

  Nigel leaned forward and embraced him. “Take care, little brother.”

  “Come home, Nigel. I’ll find a way to hide your identity.”

  Nigel laughed. “That’s Rye, always thinking large.”

  Nigel gave a little bow before he turned and ran into the night, thin cloak billowing behind him. Ramie shivered in the cold, wondering how his brother didn’t go mad in the isolation.

  Ramie waited until Nigel had disappeared from sight before he looked up at the moons and calculated the time. He had to hurry. If he didn’t make the ship, he would never make the city at high sun. He led Mortar to the main path, mounted, and whispered a sharp command.

  Mortar jumped into motion. Ramie held on, trusting Mortar’s instincts to guide him safely down the mountain. But on this ride his mind was far from clear. He thought of the Druids claiming Ren and killing Nigel. He vowed that if they did so he would personally annihilate the entire Druid race.

  - - -

  Nigel didn’t hurry back. Instead he sought strength in the mountain and allowed the chill air to sort his thoughts. There were so many emotions stirring inside him it was impossible to place them all. When Ramie had first appeared he had been so overjoyed he had lost all sense of who he had become. Ramie brought memories of love and laughter, of childish pranks and dreams, of things he had left long ago. The Druids had destroyed everything he had and everything he was. He hadn’t told Ramie the entire story. He hadn’t told Ramie how Meg had suffered.

  Meg had been beautiful, with silk-fine brown hair, eyes as black as pearls and a heart like none other. All Meg had to do was look at you and you couldn’t resist her request. But she had been as beautiful on the inside as the outside. She never demanded anything, was full of laughter and love. No, he didn’t want Rye to know how she had cried for him to run away and hide. He didn’t want Rye to know when Meg’s eyes found her belly, where her guts were spilling, she had tried to put them back, murmuring she would be all right, that he should leave her and run so the Druids could never harm him. He didn’t want Rye to know how Meg had died in his arms, so slowly.

  Meg, the girl who had the whole family attend the burial of a cricket she had accidentally killed when she was five; the girl who never forgot to give her brothers a kiss before she went to bed; the girl who would sit for a degree of the sun just to watch a flower open; the girl who deserved every happiness, had died in terror and anguish, worrying about him.

  And Sherri, she had become Megglan’s best friend that summer. Sherri’s father held one of the lesser holdings in Yor, but had managed to save enough to pay the price for her to train in all manners of court. Nigel had quickly fallen in love with her, and she him.

  Sherri was pure as Meg, and although not as strikingly beautiful, Sherri possessed the one trait Nigel always found attractive in women – determination. Sherri would bite her lip in concentration when she studied. If she didn’t master something one day she would stay up all night and have it mastered the next. Even his father was impressed with her, and little impressed their father. Jarek Augustus could do anything.

  He had watched Sherri for weeks without speaking to her. He hadn’t known how to approach her. All
the men at the castle spoke of her fiery will and her eyes, her green eyes. They were as bright as the morning’s grass. When she looked at him he always seemed to lose his voice. Then it happened. One day he was jogging to a nearby stream, hurrying to take a dip before the weekly dance. She was running from the water, in a hurry to dry her hair before she prepared for the night’s festivities. They had collided. He had innocently reached out to catch her, but as soon as they touched time seemed to stop. He could still see her, wet blonde hair clinging to her skin, eyelashes damp from her swim, lips parting when she recognized the man holding her.

  They hadn’t attended the dance that night.

  Nigel toyed with the ring he wore on his little finger. He had given it to her the morning before the Druids came, vowing to love her always. Then her life was taken from him. He hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye. The Druids had her blood on their hands. The age-old hatred whirled inside him like a gale, desperate for release.

  His emotions always spun out of control when he thought of the Druids. What gave them the right to say who could have special abilities and who couldn’t? What gave them the right to act like gods and rid the world of what they found unworthy? His hate for them ran as deep as the ocean and as high as the mountains. He would shed no tear if the Maker annihilated every single one of them.

  Nigel forced his mind to clear. He hadn’t wanted to become what he had become, but the Druids had left him no choice. Without the Black Knight the Druids would have taken over the Lands, closing out what they would when they wanted, demanding people bow to them as the supreme race. They would have brought the Dark Ages again. Magic didn’t need to be present to have tyranny, only greed.

  He felt no regret for his actions, but he did feel sorrow. He had killed many Druids, but none of their deaths would bring back Sherri or Meg.

  Over the years he had dreamed of returning to Yor, but he knew his return would bring destruction on his brother and the kingdom. Eventually someone would see the brand and recognize his face. Then he would be taken to the Druids, dead or alive, for the reward.