“Really?” Ange asked surprised.
He nodded with all due seriousness.
“That must not have pleased many of the dragons,” Ange observed mildly.
Showl nodded. “It has become a great misfortune for our race, and it may as well become our undoing as any other, even if the ten Draconis Rexes and Regina decided to work together in an attempt to reproduce.”
Ange growled slightly, her face reddening with heat as anger boiled in her stomach, she coughed in attempt to regain control of her composure. She was surprised that hearing Showl talking about mating so casually angered her.
She decided to change the subject abruptly to take her mind off her confusing thoughts, she walked after Gregor feeling more confident. To her surprise the new room she entered led out to a courtyard with a forge and smelter. Gregor was already lighting the forge to life with a simple glare as the coals caught on fire without a catalyst or tools, it was magic at work even if nothing was seen, not even a spark.
“Can the armor be black?” she asked curiously, absorbed by the floating scales as he set to light the smelter as well.
“No…” he replied awkwardly. “Showl’s scales are white after all, as a result, Dragon Armor is always the shade of the dragon’s hide it’s made from.”
Ange nodded in understanding, she had suspected as much when Showl proved Daren’s words about dragons being unable to change the color of their eyes or hair.
“That reminds me…Gregor, do you by chance have anything she can wear for the moment? Her armor is damaged and I was hoping you could repair it,” Showl asked coming up behind her and quickly glancing at her in concern. She avoided his eyes and focused on the smithy instead, she still felt uncomfortable under his stare and she wasn’t sure she would ever become accustomed to it.
Gregor blinked thoughtfully. “I might have something,” he replied. “Allow me to check,” he left for what looked like a storage room to the far side of the house, the fires of the smelter and forge now glowed as bright as the sol crystal lanterns but brightened the room like a late sunset.
“Is something the matter?” Showl asked worriedly as the man left.
“Nothing. Everything’s fine,” Ange brushed off casually.
He scowled annoyed, obviously not believing her calm answer.
Ange pursed her lips in thought. “Actually…Something does feel wrong,” she admitted before her voice entered a whisper. “Is Gregor always this nervous? They seem…afraid.”
Showl frowned pensively. “He wasn’t so when I last visited, but that was nearly twenty years ago. Many aspects of his character could have changed during that time. Humans are not as set to a specific personality or way of thinking as a dragon is.”
“Just how old are you?” Ange asked exasperated.
He smirked humorously. “Three hundred and twenty-one.”
Ange gaped in shock. She just simply couldn’t figure out the numbers and understand how he could possibly be that old, even if the legends claimed that dragons were blessed with longevity. It was hard to believe she had left the world of mundane.
“That’s impossible!” she protested before she could articulate a more intelligent response.
Showl snickered quietly. “Dragon,” he reminded teasingly.
“I know that,” Ange rebuked with good humor. “I just didn’t expect you to be that old.”
Showl smiled whilst raising an eyebrow. “That is young for a dragon, for your information, little thief.”
“Young?” Ange echoed. “How old do you dragons live then?” she asked interested.
His face relaxed to a more serious composure, though a smile still tugged at his lips as he replied. “It seems that the Rexes and Regina live indifferently, none of us have ever died because of old age. The lesser dragons, depending on how close their bloodlines are to the Draconis Concilium, live an average of three thousand years up to ten thousand years. Some dragons even learned how to cheat death with magic and remain young.”
“So you had many ancient dragons?” Ange asked surprised and thrilled by the information.
“There were plenty of the old but enough of the young as well. The problem with magic is that they never found a way to stop the mind from aging and deteriorating, sure the body remained young and vital but the mind grew old and slowed indifferently, coaxing the dragon into an endless sleep,” Showl replied with a distant glaze in his eyes, his voice grew deeper. “The dragons that eventually fell asleep rotted slowly away as the magic that was keeping them young unraveled itself in their sleep state. Dragon’s found like this were usually killed so that their suffering wouldn’t be prolonged.”
“…Did none of these dragons find a way to stop the mind from aging? How come the ten of you were so special?” Ange asked bemused
“We still have not truly found an answer to that very question to this day,” Showl answered with a sigh. “A few of the elder dragons managed to successfully transfer their minds into special jewels, rare sol crystals that we called ‘Aeterna Vas’ or Eternal Vessel in your tongue. Usually these were used to store knowledge, memories, or powerful magic. The downfall of using this method though was that the dragon’s conscious or soul continued to endure but in a deep sleep, their mind became stagnated as well, in theory the dragon’s mind no longer aged nor could it learn new information. One elder dragon did manage to overcome this problem apparently, his mind would sleep but would awaken at the touch of another living being and he would still be able to learn new information at the cost of forgetting other information.”
“That…makes no sense,” Ange admitted a bit confused. “I don’t see how that is even possible.”
Gregor strode back from the room at that moment, caring a few items in his hands before Ange could inquire more on the subject. Showl’s light mood was gone as fast as it had come as his face took a more firm appearance and Ange guessed the conversation was done for the moment.
“I found a small light leather cuirass, looks about her size…some cloth pants and a simple brown cape and a pair of good leather boots,” he showed them uncertainly. The brown material look at bit dusty as he displayed them near the firelight.
Ange peered at the cuirass carefully and noticed it looked old but unused, probably made a significant amount of years ago. A simple long-sleeved shirt accompanied it. As she touched the leather it felt hard under her fingertips. She frowned uncertain.
“Just the clothes will be fine, Gregor. Thank you,” Showl replied taking the clothes and the boots before placing them on a small stone table near them. “Do you think you will be able to repair her armor?” He pointed to Ange.
The blacksmiths eyes trailed to her as she shoved back the damaged cape to reveal the damage done to one of the arm sleeve. His eyes lingered on the emblem at the center of her chest, his eyes widening in shock.
“The…Black Owls,” he whispered surprised and a bit nervously. “You’re a thief?” he asked, his voice suddenly untrusting and even more uneasy as he met her eyes.
Ange was about to reply, angered by the distaste that curved his lips when Showl cut in.
“That is not important, Gregor. Can you fix the armor or not?” Showl asked with fierceness in his voice that hinted that the subject should not be explored further.
Gregor scowled as he grumbled under his voice and instead fixed his eyes on the damaged armor.
“May I inspect it closer?” he asked with force politeness as he extended a large hand out to Ange.
She scowled, disliking the idea of letting the man touch her armor after his sudden change in attitude. She snarled under her breath as she snapped the cloak off and yanked the black leather off and handed it to Gregor. She felt suddenly vulnerable and exposed.
She straightened up shocked as something warm mantled over her shoulder. She touched the silky cape and smiled thankfully as she glanced up at Showl, he gave her a small smile and nod in return and turned his gaze back to Gregor as she handed him her armor.
&
nbsp; He took it without further rudeness and examined it for about a minute, brushing his fingers over the damage carefully.
“It can be fixed,” he grunted. “But this armor is of fine make, expensive materials I don’t have and of unquestionable quality. If I fixed it, even with the correct materials, it would look misshapen. Only the original maker could restore this to its original state,” he stated honestly as he handed the black leather back to Ange. “The cape is beyond repair though. It would be an absolute waste of material compared to making an entirely new one.”
Ange took back at the damaged cuirass and brushed her fingers gently over the insignia, feeling homesick and anxious as she thought of Vera before hugging it to her chest and looking to Showl.
Showl nodded to Gregor before scooping up the tattered cape from the floor as he directed his questioning yellow eyes to Ange. “Do you wish to keep it or do you prefer that Gregor disposes of it?”
Ange sighed, feeling her shoulders sag slightly. “It’s of no use or value anymore, I might as well get rid of it.”
“Are you certain?” Showl asked concerned as he detected the sad note in her voice, his eyes scrutinizing her for the truth.
She nodded, feeling choked as she pulled Showl’s cloak around her more tightly. As she gazed down, she grimaced at how a good portion of the cape laid on the floor around her feet, another testament to her height.
“Is it true that the Black Owls are no more?” Gregor asked curiously as he took the tattered cape from Showl, his voice sounded hopeful.
Ange snarled angrily, remembering Daren’s role and Gregor’s implication, her voice came out harsh and rough like she was trying to hold back a cry, she had never felt so pathetic. “The Black Owls will always exist so long as one of us remains alive to hold out its legacy.”
“So it is true, they are no more,” he replied satisfied and sounding overjoyed. “Best news I’ve had all day. Now I don’t have to worry about paying tributes and bending to petty criminals.”
Ange roared in outrage as she lunged for the man, intending to punch him across the jaw. She stumbled and she met Showl’s arm in resistance. Before she could snarl in protest and regain her bearings, Showl had already marched the short distance between them and Gregor. His hand ensnared the blacksmiths clothes as he pulled the large man off the ground and to his face.
In the background a woman screamed in fear, her cry was ignored. Ange’s eyes were locked on Showl.
“I did not come here to cause trouble,” he snarled, his fangs making an appearance in his mouth, his voice grew deeper and threatening. “But if you continue harassing her, I will teach you proper respect! Now leave the subject to rest, or you will suffer my retribution. Am I understood?”
Gregor nodded vigorously, his eyes were bloodshot and large white circles in his face. His lips drawn in, his skin was pale as sweat beaded his forehead, his entire frame trembled.
Showl let him go suddenly, the man stumbled back and hit his forge before regaining his balance. He swallowed thickly and straightened his shirt with fumbling fingers.
“F-F-Forgive me,” he stuttered anxiously. “I was not trying to cause conflict, it’s just…”
Showl growled deeply in his throat, a warning.
The blacksmith swallowed again and fell silent.
Ange gazed on a Showl, utterly shocked by his actions.
“Father! What’s going on? Mother is in a hysteria and…oh-”
Ange turned back surprised as she gazed back out to the main room, there stood a young man probably as tall as Showl, well-formed physique, tousled black hair and wide blue eyes as he stood frozen, scrutinizing the scene. Ange pulled Showl’s cloak closer and gazed at the man who was obviously in his early twenties.
“Son, go back to your mother. Tell her everything is fine,” Gregor ordered, his voice still a bit shaken.
The man ignored his father’s words and walked into the room confidently with a wide smile and bright eyes full of excitement.
“A dragon,” he whispered. “I am correct, aren’t I?” he directed his eager question to Showl.
Ange stared at the young man in surprise, didn’t he feel the oppressing, choking, threatening might that Showl had been releasing into the air only moments ago? He seemed utterly oblivious to the cold air Showl seemed to be excreting, the obvious tension in the room, and the fear his father was trying to hide.
Showl nodded slightly to him, his eyes still cold and still as if he was trying to keep himself under control.
“How did you know he was a dragon?” Ange asked, curious for the young man’s answer and to stop him from approaching Showl, who seemed dangerous at the moment. By his behavior, she could guess this was the first dragon he had ever encountered.
The man’s eyes snapped to her. She froze under the bright blue gaze, their seemed to be power there, she was sure she could somehow feel it. He smiled at her, his lips were perfectly shaped as was the rest of his face, as if it had been chiseled from stone to perfection by an artisan.
“And you’re his Dragonbound,” he whispered absolutely sure as he extended his hand out to her. “Sorry, my name is Richard. A pleasure to meet you.”
Ange took his hand baffled. “How…how did you know what I was?”
He shook her hand vigorously before letting it go as he enthusiastically replied, not seeming to mind that she hadn’t returned the greeting.
“I’m sorry,” he laughed thrilled. “It’s just that I’ve always wanted to meet a one of the dragons and their Dragonbounds since my father told me about them when I was a child. You see, I could sense the raw energy within you two,” he answered with a grin. “That’s how I knew what you were.”
Ange gawked bewildered. “You can do that?”
He nodded pleased, his eyes narrowed as he stared at her, she swallowed nervously and leaned back. He stared at her for a minute or two, as if inspecting. “Though your mana is deeply buried, I can feel it, but it’s locked away. I can’t tell that it’s powerful though, you have a lot of it. Fascinating. Are you under some kind of spell that’s suppressing your powers? It must be very powerful,” he asked curiously as he inspected her with elated eyes. “Oh! And what element do you control? How is it like to be bound to a dragon? How old are you anyways? You look fairly young…though I hear humans stay young when bound to a dragon. Is that your case?”
Ange stared at him, feeling confused and baffled. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that she could use magic, even though Showl had mentioned it several times.
“Well…I…” she began uncomfortable, Richards eyes stayed glued to her, unblinking.
“Richard! Stop bothering our guest with your constant questioning,” Gregor snapped. He turned to Showl, his voice apologetic as he frowned. “Forgive my son’s…overactive zeal, sir. He can be a bit insufferably at times.”
“Father!” Richard moaned in protest as he took a step back from Ange. She let out a sigh of relief. “Do you really have to embarrass me? I am standing right here.”
“You are the one embarrassing me!” Gregor snapped. “Acting like a fool who just discovered he has a nose!”
“A nose. Really?” Richard repeated lamely.
Ange choked down a giggle, though she didn’t quite succeed.
Gregor’s once pale skin swelled red with anger as he glanced momentarily at Ange before he fixed his glare on his son.
“Just do what I told you!” he spat crossly.
Richard sighed exasperated. “Come on father! This is the perfect chance to ply the craft you’ve been teaching me all these years. They have come for armor, right? Plus, it’s the perfect chance to study beings of magic like myself,” he insisted.
Ange stopped laughing and stared at Richard, surprised. Another mage?
Gregor sighed, pinching his temples as he shook his head in defeat. “Very well, I do need the help anyways,” he allowed reluctantly.
Richard grinned widely, he turned back to Ange. “Shall we get started then?”
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Chapter 10: Memories of an Aeterna Vas
After what seemed like hours of embarrassing requests to stand still and straight for measurements, Ange was finally free of the hot room where the forge burned, Showl’s scrupulous gaze, and Richards overwhelming optimism. She had felt choked, uncomfortable, and uneasy. Thankfully, Showl had asked for a place for them to rest, the small barn in the back was empty of animals but plenty of hay littered the floor. Showl had remained behind to help with the forging of the armor.
Ange now laid in the hay, looking over her old armor and thinking of Vera and the Black Owls. Her thoughts strained towards Daren, then to the other members of the Black Owls, while she idly wondered how Vera got the suit to fit her proportions without asking her to stand for measurements with a metal coil engraved with numbers. Thinking of her mentor and Daren proved only to upset her more.
She let out a sigh, resigning to allow her thoughts travel more pleasant avenues of thought. Reluctantly she placed down her damaged armor, along with her boots and gloves, into the pack Showl had given her when she went to change into the clothes Gregor had provided. They were simple and slightly less rough than the ones she had left behind in the sewers. Oddly, she missed the scarf Daren had given her on her last birthday. Beautiful light blue silk with a white dragon embroidered into it. She had decided to wear it only on special occasions, since she didn’t want it to get damaged. Daren had after all, bought it with money he had earned, not stolen. She hope to reclaim it soon, despite Daren’s betrayal and her fear that the hideout might have been destroyed.
Quietly she contemplated what she would do when she arrived to Cyridell. Intense hatred roiled within her as she thought of her once best friend. More than she wanted to choke him, she wanted to know why he had betrayed them. She knew the excuse would be pathetic to her, yet she wanted to believe Daren had not betrayed them lightly. She didn’t know why and she wasn’t sure she even wanted to know. She strayed between the idea of listening and giving him an opportunity to explain himself or shoving a dagger into his guts.
Sky Warriors: Poleuthan's Thief (Sky Warriors Saga Book 1) Page 13
