Sky Warriors: Poleuthan's Thief (Sky Warriors Saga Book 1)

by Pendragon, Nicole

  “Because when Harfang placed a seal on our- my soul, that seal transferred over to you when you were born and it locked your powers away just like it did to me and Harfang’s memories.”

  “Because half your soul is in me,” Ange finished, understanding.

  He nodded regretfully to her words.

  “I see,” Ange breathed out quietly, her consciousness slipping away towards the temptation of sleep.

  “Angeline…I’m afraid you’re not out of danger just yet. You absorbed too much mana, and I can’t take it out of you without killing you,” he informed her sadly. “If we don’t complete the bond, it’ll kill you eventually.”

  “How…how much time?” she replied slowly.

  “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

  “Guess were just going to have to find out, aren’t we?” she jested, her eyes closing once more as she drifted off into sleep.

  She heard a disapproving and stubborn growl come from Showl as her consciousness faded.

  “I won’t let you, Angeline. I won’t let you…”

  “Who is Phoenix…? The name was…full of fear…” Ange muttered as she fell to darkness where red scales blister and burned with golden flames and a hellish roar called out her name.

  Chapter 11: Cat Eyes and Ale

  Ange blinked feeling disoriented, it took her a moment to determine where she was.

  Shafts of light peered through the wooden beams of the barn, lighting up the barn floor and the disarray of hay on the ground. Her face was pressed to something cool and hard, as she stared ahead she gazed at a pair of bright slit orange eyes.

  She blinked her eyes more forcefully and picked up her head, she stared at a creature she had seen a few times before in the streets of Cyridell, but it was often haggard and ugly.

  An owl-cat.

  This one had a luxurious beige-white coat, large round eyes set in a heart shape face with two tufted ears protruding from the top of its head. Its long silky wings pressed to its back had shades of gray among the feathers accompanies by tiny black flecks. A long thick tail that had feathers along its length in the shape of a bird’s tail flickered restlessly. It stood up and stretched on its toes, with white paws scratching the floor as it arched its back and fanned its tail open and flared its wings before tucking them back in and letting out a large yawn. Sharp white fangs and a bright pink tongue flashed in the warm light.

  Ange pushed herself up, wondering what she was laying on, something rolled off her. She gazed down confused at what seemed it be Showl’s gauntlet encased arm, as her eyes traveled upward she noticed his cape was once again covering her. She gasped and rolled away shocked as she met Showl’s face, she crouched startle and realize he was asleep.

  She gazed shock, surprised to see him absolutely undisturbed by her sudden movement. His face was peaceful and serene, he let out a quiet sigh and didn’t move.

  Ange flinched as something soft rubbed against her ungloved hand. She looked down at the owl-cat as it caressed itself against her fingers as if began to purr. She smiled, liking the cunning and manipulative manner it rubbed itself against her, feigning affection for the hope of food.

  “I’m glad to see you’re alright. Your dragon was up all night guarding you, he would growl like a tusk-dog at anyone who came even near the barn door.”

  She turned her gaze up to the barn yard door to see a tired, and guilty looking Richard. He wore a heavy leather apron and gloves.

  “I’m fine,” Ange reassured, returning her gaze to the feline and scratching it behind the ears. It purred louder. Ange tried to hide her surprise of the information.

  “I heard tales of dragons being volatile and irrational to the point of dangerous when unbound. I guess the stories are true. Also the part that they are extremely possessive and protective of their Dragonbounds,” he stated matter-a-fact.

  Ange didn’t respond, contemplating the information. She didn’t know what to make of it.

  “I see you’ve met the little frisky sheila, she’s quit the thief in our little town,” Richard snickered. “She likes you, that’s a surprise. She doesn’t like anyone, much less let anyone touch her.”

  “Really?” Ange asked surprised. “She’s seems friendly, not at all feral.”

  “Oh trust me, she’s actually a devil,” Richard insisted.

  The cat hissed at his words, raising her hackles.

  “And an intelligent one at that too.”

  Ange laughed quietly, trying not to disturb Showl if she could. She was touched and surprised by his devotion, she figured there was nothing wrong with returning some concern.

  “What’s her name?” Ange asked.

  “She doesn’t have one. No one owns her, we all just usually call her Thief. I call her Devil, probably why she hates me,” he chuckled.

  Ange watched as the feline trotted up to her lap and rested upon her lap and curled up purring.

  “You could give her a name,” Richard suggested leaning against the doorframe.

  She like the idea, giving another creature a name like she had been given one, but no names came into mind.

  “What could I possibly name her?” Ange asked baffled as she petted the owl-cat’s silky wings.

  “How about Felis?”

  Ange jerked up straight, surprised by the voice. Richard stiffened in the doorway and gazed warily past her. She turned her head to see Showl hoisted up on his right elbow, staring at her.

  “Felis?” Ange echoed.

  Showl smiled. “It means cat in the dragon tongue, but it can also mean thief,” he chuckled. “Fitting, don’t you think?”

  Ange smiled widely, feeling happier than she had for days. “It is fitting,” she agreed as she turned her attention to the cat. “Do you like it, Felis?”

  The cat meowed and curled its tail happily as it stretched its head toward her hand and pressed its ear to Ange’s fingers.

  “I like her,” Ange laughed as the cat licked her fingers, tickling them. “She is quit the manipulative little she-devil, isn’t she? No wonder she’s such a good thief.”

  “Fair beauty never hurts either,” Showl added with a smiled, as Ange looked to him, his eyes were focused on her, he didn’t so much as glance at the owl-cat.

  “I’m sure it doesn’t,” Ange agreed nervously as she looked away, feeling uncomfortable and suddenly very hot.

  “If you’re hungry, my mother has made breakfast and left it on the table,” Richard informed quietly as he turned away. “I have to get back to work, see you later Angeline.”

  “Ange,” she corrected. “Call me Ange.”

  He turned to look at her and smiled with a nod. “Ange then,” he agreed. “And you can call me Rich, if you like.”

  “I think I like Richy,” she teased.

  He smiled wider before turning away and walking out of sight.

  Despite his superior and childish behavior, there was something there that she liked. He was spirited, a rule breaker, and strong-willed. Just like her, it would be easy to be friends with him.

  “How are you feeling?” Showl asked as he pushed himself up and recovered his cape and brushed the hay off.

  “Perfect,” Ange replied as the owl-cat leapt off her lap and soared away towards a pile of nearby hay. A squeak was heard a moment later that fell silent as Felis picked up the mouse and ventured off tail high. Ange smiled and stood up, realizing that she was hungry.

  “After your armor is completed, we’ll head back to the mountains,” Showl promise as he walked up to her and snapped his cloak around his neck again on the horns of the dragon design on the back of his armor around the neck.

  Ange snapped her face to Showl. “The mountains?” She echoed in disbelief, then anger took her. “You promised we would go to Cyridell,” she snapped.

  “I know what I promised, and I will keep it, after you’ve completed the bond with me,” he stated sternly.

  Ange’s brows furrowed in anger. “I told you that I don’t want to, or are you
going to force me?” she implicated with a snarl, backing away from him.

  “No!” Showl snapped infuriated, his eyes began to glow with rage. “Were you not listening to a word I said last night? This,” he pocked her head with a finger, “is not a permanent fix. The next headache could kill you.”

  “I don’t care,” Ange hissed. “I will not complete the bond with you and go on some crazy outlandish crusade to save the world. In my opinion, it deserves to burn.”

  “You do realize you would burn with it, correct?” Showl hissed.

  Ange’s arms trembled with fury, before she knew it, she was yelling. “Those people out there don’t deserve my help!” she spat. “I will not save people who left me out on the streets to die, who kicked me, beat me, scorned me for no apparent reason, and went out of their ways to make me feel hated, miserable, unwanted, and helpless.”

  The rage on Showl’s face vanished, in its place, sorrow, guilt, and pity filled his eyes. “You can change that, Angeline,” he whispered. “You can be better than them.”

  “I don’t want to be better than them!” Ange roared. “Those actions, those people, made me what I am today, and I will not change that for anyone, not for you and not for Daren!” she choked as his name passed her lips, angry tears began to run down her face. “I will not,” she sobbed stubbornly.

  “Angeline…” Showl whispered, reaching for her face with the bare fingers of his ungloved arm.

  “Don’t touch me!” Ange admonished slapping his hand away. “I don’t need your pity and I don’t want it,” she hissed venomously before turning away.

  Before she turned, it broke her heart to see the void of pain that filled Showl’s golden eyes and she didn’t know why it bothered her so much to see him so miserable.

  ***

  “Ha! Another pint for me,” Ange laughed exuberated as she pulled the coins towards her with a single swipe.

  The rugged thirty something year old man across the table from her groaned as the other men around the table laughed and exchanged bets.

  “You’re good girl, I’ll give you that,” the man said as he rubbed the scar under his right eye and scratched his black beard. “Another pint for the little lady!” he called out to the bartender who had been watching the game.

  Ange smiled pleased and sat back and waited for her next pint, this would be her seventh. Angry after her argument with Showl she had eaten in the blacksmiths house, stolen a dagger from his store and swiped Showl of his coin purse without him even noticing and left without telling anyone.

  She had been in the local tavern since then, bought herself a drink and noticed a game between a soldier and the rugged man who looked like an adventurer or bandit of some sort. He had been boasting how no one in the town could have a hope of beating him. Ange had watched him cheat, pull card inconspicuously, and tuck others away. She had smiled at the contest and taken up the challenge, betting coins and drinks. Soon it had attracted attention and all the men in the bar had rallied around them.

  She loved card games, she had often joined in games with the other guild members of the Black Owls, and no one could beat her except Vera. Daren would have had a decent chance if he had actually cheated like everyone else. But he always insisted on playing fair even if she didn’t.

  The bartender came by and placed by her another pint of ale and gave her a wink before leaving. At first it had tasted foul and still didn’t quit sit well with her tongue, but she loved the warmth it burned into her throat and stomach and the hyped up spirit it gave her.

  “Another round,” the man insisted with a grin. “I have a good feeling this time.”

  Ange smiled in return and pushed the rest of her cards back to him.

  “All our cards,” the man smiled knowingly as he pulled out five cards from his sleeve and place them on the pile to mix. The other men laughed and oohed at the number of cards he had sneaked.

  Ange smiled smugly, in the last game she had become brazen and boldly tucked more cards away without the others noticing, she twisted her wrists and pulled out five card from each sleeve with a flash and a wicked grin.

  The men gasped and whistled as her challenger gawked at her wide-eyed before smiling in admiration.

  “Did I say you were good?” he asked rhetorically. “I think I meant to say you’re wickedly good. Where did a girl like you pick up these kind of skills?”

  Ange smiled and laughed feeling very much at home. “I played every week with the worse band of misfits you could imagine,” she replied as she placed down the cards.

  “Really?” he replied interested. “I beat a Silver Weasel once in Cyridell and earned his full pouch of a hundred squrions, then he tried to mug me in the back alley, he failed at that too,” he snickered as he mixed the cards.

  “Silver Weasels are not the best Cyridell has to offer of its underground criminals,” Ange replied leaning forward on the table and taking a swig of her ale.

  “I bet not,” the man agreed. “You seem to know of them a bit.”

  “A bit,” Ange admitted, not drunk enough to give anything away.

  “Make your wagers, boys,” the man said as he parted the cards.

  The men started laughing and tallying up against each other, Ange felt confident and pleased as she heard more of the men bet on her than her opponent. At first they had laughed at her challenge, but they had soon been impressed by her deceptive skills, it never hurt to bat her eyes while she was at it to gain favor. She knew how men worked, they were all the same, willing to be taken for a girl who played coy and helpless. She had learned quickly how to manipulate and get what she wanted from men by watching her idol, Vera. It still surprised her how easily they were fooled by a pretty face and shy voice.

  “Ten squrions?” Ange suggested as pulled out the coins and set them on the middle of the table.

  The man smiled challengingly and placed ten squrions from his purse. “Ten squrions,” he agreed.

  Ange hadn’t counted how many coins Showl’s purse had begun with, but she had kept track of her profit. She had won forty-five squrions thus far, only losing fifteen to the man in an earlier game. She was starting to enjoy the thrill of gambling with money, the Black Owls usually gambled with spoils or contracts and sometimes money. But she never had enough to join in on those games.

  As the cards passed, she lamented the loss of her home and thought back on Cyridell, wondering how she was going to sneak away from Showl. It was obvious Showl was not going to take her back anytime soon…

  She lost the first round but quickly won the second and third and allowed the fourth round to slide in the man’s favor in hopes that he would get more confident and higher the wager. She was acutely aware of the man watching her every move, waiting to catch her cheating. She smiled in a friendly manner as she unbuttoned the top of her shirt to allow her tattoo-like birthmark to show, and gave him a devious wink, this time around, her hand was particularly lucky and she didn’t feel the need to sneak any cards. By the last round, forty squrions were the prize at the center of the table plus an alleged enchanted ruby on his part and a sapphire that she had found in Showl’s purse.

  “You sure you want to go through with this, little lady? My hand is very good,” he offered with a friendly warning.

  Ange smiled coyly and met his brown eyes, reading them carefully, just at the edge of his iris she could see a single card, a dragon king and the edge of an ace.

  She smiled confidently and folded the cards to her chest.

  “Oh, I am quite sure,” she purred. “I have a good hand too.”

  The man grinned widely and placed his cards down, facing up. “Then I must apologize for your loss, little lady.”

  The men awed and laughed as his cards, two dragon kings and an ace. The others groaned in defeat as they started exchanging their bets and the rugged man started to reach for the treasure.

  “Not so fast,” Ange cooed undeterred.

  All eyes turned to her confused as they paused, slowly and dr
amatically she placed each of her cards on the table, one by one, she reveal three aces. The men hollered in utter disbelief and excitement as the rugged man gazed at her wide-eyed in shock.

  The rugged man grinned widely. “Why little lady, you sure can play!” he laughed and slapped his leg with a hand as he sat back. “How many cards did you sneak this time?”

  She smiled sweetly and revealed her arms by pulling up each sleeve.

  “None,” she stated pleased as she showed off her arms for inspection.

  The men whistled in admiration and exchanged bets.

  “Damn,” the rugged man chuckled. “I was so sure I had you this time, and you didn’t even swipe one card. Impressive. As I suspected, you were leading me on,” he laughed heartily. “I feel like a complete fool, I would love to keep playing but I fear I can’t afford to lose any more coins to you, little lady.”

  Ange smiled and laughed along as she swiped the coins and gems into her purse and tucked it away.

  “It is getting late,” she admitted bubbly.

  “Another drink before you leave?” he suggested.

  “Perhaps-” she cut short as a ringing pain began to echo in her left ear, she flinched and pressed her hand to her forehead.

  “Little lady?” the man asked concerned as he stared at her.

  “Perhaps another time,” Ange forced out with a crude smile.

  The pain seared across to the other side of her head and she moaned as the pain intensified, her head started to feel hot and clammy, her vision blurred.

  All the figures around them started lopping together, doubles and triples of all the men danced in her vision, their babbling began to echo like thunder in her ears. She shoved away the chair and ran past the men that yelled in protest as she bolted for the door, she almost tripped twice on the legs of a chair and stool that stood in her way as she constantly miscalculated which object was the true one in her eyes.

  When she reached the door she shoved it aside and stumbled out into the cold night air, at first a wave of relief engulfed her as the cool air touched her skin, then the pain doubled and nearly knocked her off feet. She screamed out in pain as she doubled over and wobbly began to make her way back down the street towards the blacksmith’s home. Every step felt like fire was licking across her skin and underneath it.