"I guess it's only fair, since I polished two off before you even woke up!" Nord roared with laughter. "Although, I think I may have overdone it." He said, releasing a loud belch.
Amon jiggled the skin in his hands, then sighed. "In one sitting, you just drank what would have lasted me at least a week!" Amon complained sarcastically, "I have a feeling we're going to have to postpone leaving until you can walk straight."
"It's not all bad!" Nord exclaimed in a too loud voice, "At least now you can get good and drunk with me!" Nord roared with laughter, slapping his brother on the back.
Amon could help but think of all his responsibility and the pressures pushing at him from the other members of the council. He prepared to tear into his brother, rip him up one side and down the other for his irresponsibility. This reckless behavior that could ruin his son's birthday! Not to mention their standing in the eys of the council. Then he remembered who he was, where he had come from.
Amon had been wild as a youngling. The elders had feared he would be lost among the greater feral elves who lived in the deep wilderness far from Elvenhom. Nord was the one who had brought him to civilization. Nord was the one who had helped him to conquer his own wildness.
And here his elder brother sat before him, his first full day back among elven society, where everything was so structured and controlled. Five years along the borderlands with the orcs. You were bound to lose some polish. When Amon would have lectured and chided his brother in the past, instead he grabbed a skin of wine. They sat down to drink, converse, and enjoy each other’s company.
Amon watched as his lovely wife, Tyrosh, and his beautiful boy, Lovonian, came into the kitchen. They were talking quietly together, it sounded as though they had been searching for them awhile now. In his slightly drunken stupor it sounded funny, considering he and Nord hadn't moved for hours, so he let out a slight laugh.
He watched his beautiful wife transform into a demon for a moment right before his eyes. Her eyes that were usually green flashed a brilliant ruby red. Her coppery hair began to lift from her shoulders. Clumps of it started grouping together into thick tendrils. Those tendrils transformed into hissing snakes. She snorted a small fireball out of her nose leaving nothing but a smoke ring behind to show it had happened.
Amon attempted to warn his brother of their impending doom telepathically. But it seemed his brother had drunk his extra senses into fuzzy numbness.
"Well!" Tyrosh began in a way that Amon could tell was going to do nothing for those servants who said she was fiery. He watched as a curl of smoke escaped out the side of her mouth. Such were the dangers when you are the beloved of a dragon.
She continued, "I can't believe you two couldn't even wait to get on the way before getting drunk together! Today is supposed to be about you two taking Lovonian out to celebrate his sixteenth birthday. Not for you little boys to get drunk and swap stories of bar room brawls you turn into epic battles for the kingdom!" He loved the way her eyes seemed to light with murder when she was this angry. She was never more beautiful.
Nord, seeing Tyrosh locked in on his poor brother, sought a way out without coming into her cross hairs. While they normally got along fine, for some reason his first days back home Tyrosh always seemed to have it out for him. But after a couple days and some epic battles between the two lovers, she became the sweet loving creature that Nord had come to know as a sister in law. As he sneaked past Tyrosh, he grabbed Lov's hand, pushing him out the door in front of him.
The last thing Nord heard before ducking through the door was something along the lines of, "But, Honey, he's my brother and....."
Nord quit paying attention and used his hands to steady himself on the wall. He looked down at his nephew and gave a little chuckle, "I don't think we're going hunting today, my boy. Your dad and I stayed up way too late and drank way too much to be going anywhere for a while."
Lov smiled up at him, "That's okay, Uncle. I figured something like this would happen, just like the last time you were home." He smiled wickedly, flashing his sharp canines. "Besides, it’s more fun to play clap and seek when you're drunk!"
Nord laughed, "I taught you well, you little bugger! Use your enemies' weaknesses against him!"
Lov took off down the hall laughing, and said, "Then catch me if you can, oh Nurser of Hangovers!"
Chapter Four
Nord walked down the hallway, eyes blindfolded and arms outstretched so as to not bump into anything. "First clap!" He yelled, hearing a sharp clap from farther down the hall, there was only one door that far down, so Nord went into the room. He ran his hands along the wall, feeling the spines of books stretching from the floor to as high as he could reach. He could only assume he was in the library. "Second clap!" He called, hearing a clap from above and to his left. He felt around the room until he found some stairs that lead to an upper level. The tall elf walked around until he was standing about where he had heard the last clap and called, "Third clap."
It sounded from directly in front of him and he pulled his blindfold off to see a smiling Lov standing there. "You're too good at this game, Uncle."
"This calls for a celebration!" Nord whooped before taking a large pull from the skin.
Lov shook his head in almost the same manner his mother would have. "Who would believe you were one of the most powerful men in our army?"
Nord took on a look of hurt. "You wound me, sir! The reason I'm one of the most powerful officers in our army is precisely because of my drinking skills! Sometimes you just need to share a few rounds with your soldiers for morale."
Lov considered this carefully before asking, "What about Sanche who says that as an officer, one should remain aloof and project an air of confidence?"
Nord took another slow pull from the skin, considering what Sanche, one of the lead generals in the army and a mentor to Nord, had said. "A good point, Lov, a good point. And during a battle I would agree completely, but when you're off duty, relaxing, it's a good way to learn about your men. Find out who likes to gamble. Find out who whores around and gets the itch, so you know not to shake hands with them. And how to find the ones with hidden talents, like Half-breed Samuel who seems to know just how many beans are in those guessing jars. I've seen him wrong just once, and that's only because they used a filling, it wasn't all beans. The point is, I never would have learned about my men without drinking with them!"
Lov reached his hand out for the skin, knowing his uncle was more lenient in some aspects than his mother, alcohol being one of those things. "I've never been allowed to drink, Uncle. Mother is always saying she's afraid I'll turn into a lush like you."
Nord snorted, remembering when Lov had been just a babe. The tall elf wanted to give the little tyke a taste of their wine, and Tyrosh had squashed that firmly saying something similar. Nord shook his head, banishing the negative thought. He pulled the wine skin away, "Sorry, lad your mother would skin me like a hare if I were to let you have some."
Lov put on his sad eyes, hoping to coerce his Uncle into letting him try a drink. "Please, Uncle Nord? I promise not to tell!"
Nord felt himself wrap nicely around young Lov's pinky. He always did have a hard time telling the boy no. "Alright, but don't let your mother catch wind!" He handed the skin to Lov, and turned to go back down the stairs. He felt something slap against his leg and looked down. He was puzzled by what he saw. There hitting his hip was the wine skin. As realization of what that meant registered, he turned back to his young nephew, attempting to shout out "Wait!" But he turned just in time to watch Lov take a huge swallow from the spirits skin.
Lov felt the contents of it hit his mouth like liquid fire. He struggled to not spew it all over his uncle, but in the process felt some try to escape out his nose. He barely swallowed before urgently gasping in air in an attempt to put out the fire in his mouth.
He learned that it was a mistake. He felt the liquid fire run down his gullet and into his belly where it sat like molten magma.
Nord
stood at the top of the stairs, a look of disbelief on his face, before he lost it. He began to laugh uproariously, seeing his nephew jumping up and down, hooting and hollering like a dwarf on the war path.
"How can you drink that stuff?" Lov demanded, "It feels like fire!"
Nord slowly brought himself under control, taking deep breaths and fighting off his laughter. "Well," he started, finally getting himself together as he wiped a tear from his eye, "first of all, you tend to start with the weaker stuff, like this wine I meant to give you. Second, you don't usually try to drink the whole skin in one go."
Lov felt a little dizzy, so he shook his head. Unfortunately, that didn't help matters. The room slowly began to spin. He tried swinging his head in the opposite direction to counter it, but only succeeded in making everything spin the other way. The spin increased in speed.
Nord reached out and steadied his nephew, forcing him to sit on the stairs. "Don't worry, Lov. You'll get used to it in a moment." He sat next to his nephew, and pulled some bread and cheese from his pouch. "Here, eat this. It will help." Lov received half a loaf of travel bread and a generous hunk of cheese gratefully. The young half dragon gobbled it up almost as fast as it hit his hands.
"Damn," Nord said with a start, "I've seen men starved for days who wouldn't of been able to inhale all that like you did! Do they not feed you here or something?"
Lov smiled shyly, "Sorry, Mother says I have the appetite of my grandfather. Something about eating everything in the house in one go. It felt good though. I don't really get to fill up often. I mean, I'm not starved, but I always hunger for more. Not just food either, Uncle."
Nord had spent a handful of years hunting great Wyrms, on the other side of the world. They were the dragons that couldn't master their appetites. One thing he admired about Tyrosh was her ability to not give in to her dragonhunger. It appeared young Lov still had some lessons to learn. Now the tall elf felt a little guilty about sneaking his only nephew some of the spirits. "How are you feeling now?" Nord asked.
Lov thought for a moment. "I still feel like there's a fire in my gut, but at least the spinning stopped." He slowly stood up, and using the banister, made his way down the stairs. "Let's go find my parents."
Nord followed him down the stairs and out into the hallway. They passed back through the kitchens, looking for clues to their direction.
A young elf maid pressed large bowls of rice and vegetables into their hands. She all but forced them to sit down and eat while she found the mistress of the house.
A short time later, Tyrosh strode forcefully into the kitchen, the air around her all but crackling with lightning. Some of her hair was even standing up, forming long sweeping wings off her head.
Nord prepared himself for a barrage about the disorder he had caused in her house. The same kind of talk he always received after returning home from a long journey. It was how he knew she cared. If she were to ignore him, he'd fear for his life.
"I think I owe you an apology." Tyrosh said calmly, totally at odds with how she looked. Nord felt a chill up his spine. "As my husband pointed out, you are his brother, and you've been gone a long time. I suppose I should excuse some mannerisms while you get back to being comfortable."
Nord stood slowly and began to creep towards the closest exit. "Don't make any sudden moves, boy, but I suggest you run!" his uncle roared, sprinting out of the room.
Lov burst out in laughter, seeing the stunned look on his mother's face.
Nord hesitantly peeked his head in the door to see Tyrosh's reaction. At first her face turned beet red and later he would swear that smoke had come out of her ears, before she burst out laughing. She had pictured giving into her anger and exploding into a magical ball of fury. It seemed comical seeing Nord, ever brave and not afraid, grab a dragon by the tail.
Everything seemed okay, and Nord walked back to the table. "Sorry, Tyrosh, just trying to use a bit of humor."
She smiled at him, "It's okay, Nord. I know a lot of times I'm a stick in the mud, but it comes with the territory when you have to maintain such control. It's hard to surrender it when you've had so many friends lose themselves to a single vice." She hugged her son close, "That's why he's my treasure."
Lov blushed, his skin flushing until it was almost black, saying, "Stop it, Mom!"
"I'll try to keep that in mind, Tyrosh. Sometimes I can't help it though, the flighty nature of my father." Nord stretched for the ceiling, then relaxed in his chair.
"Speaking of fathers," she said, turning to Lov, "I'm sorry, Honey, but your father isn't going to be able to go tomorrow. Apparently there's a contingent of Titans headed to Elvenhom. The other members of the council have decided that they just can't survive even one damned day without the Wise there."
Now Nord understood why Tyrosh had been upset. All night, Amon had talked about the bow he had ordered from the master bow smith. It was made with new technology from Heart's central priesthood. Called a re-curve bow, it was said to shoot almost as far as one of the elven longbows with a third less pull, and only be half as tall. It would be a bit tall for Lov, but he would grow into it.
Lov nodded his head solemnly, "That's okay, Mom. He's responsible for more than just me. Even if I do wish I could be selfish with him."
"I'm glad you understand, my son." Amon said, carrying a wrapped package into the kitchen. "I was going to wait until tomorrow when we were out hunting to give this to you, but those plans were spoiled. I'll just have to give it to you now." He handed the gift to Lov, who unwrapped it carefully.
Amon had described the bow to Nord during the night, but none of his descriptions did it justice. It looked carved from marble of brown and black, the colors ranging from a sweet honey to a thick molasses. When Lov stood with it, it suited him. By size it was large, but Lov made it fit him.
Love shone from Lov's eyes, and by the overwhelming sense of love and thanks he sensed from his son, Amon knew he had chosen well.
An odd look passed across Lov's face and he carefully set the bow down. Motioning to Nord, he walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway.
"What's wrong?" Nord asked, shocked that his nephew had let the bow out of his sight.
"That fire in my belly isn't feeling so good." The young half-dragon said with urgency to his uncle.
And of course, for Nord's sake, Tyrosh had to choose this moment to follow her son. She walked through the door asking, "What's wrong, my little storm cloud?" right as Lov began to bring up the contents of his stomach.
It burned and sizzled as it set the wood of the floor on fire. Tyrosh's eyes flared and a burst of frosty air whipped by Nord, freezing the fire and the contents of her son's stomach. She stepped forward and broke a chunk of the ice off shoving it in her mouth. Her eyes flashed again and Nord felt coldness on his feet.
"You gave my son spirits!" She spat angrily, momentarily losing control of her temper causing her pupils to shape like a reptile's. "He is a young dragon, not ready yet to test his greed!" She screamed in fury. Nord felt the heat of a forge in her breath.
Amon hurried to save his brother from his wife's fiery breath and temper. "He meant nothing by it, Tyrosh. It's a wilder thing, from our not too distant past. He doesn't know what alcohol does to dragons."
Nord tried to move his feet and almost fell on his face. He had forgotten about the ice on them. "What does it do?" He asked, afraid he might have truly screwed up.
"It makes their hunger be felt more keenly. Brings it to the front of the mind." Amon told his brother his voice full of disappointment.
"I'm sorry, Tyrosh. I didn't know." Nord said innocently. "At least I'll be taking the boy away. He won't be at home to fall back on his creature comforts."
Tyrosh's eyes narrowed slightly, her nostrils flaring, but Nord took it as a good sign that no smoke escaped from her nose. "Just be careful with my baby. He's my dragon treasure, and if anything happens to him, I'll wear your skin like a shawl."
Nord swallowed the lump in his thr
oat as Lov stretched sleepily. Tyrosh and Amon smiled lovingly at their boy. Tyrosh gave Nord one last withering look before she walked out and around the tree, up to the next level where the family rooms were located. Nord gave his own head a shake, and began to put his mind to preparing for the hunting trip tomorrow.
Nord was thankful when the ice the locked him to the floor melted away. He went into the kitchen to prepare some satchels for Lov and himself, before heading to his room for some long deserved sleep.
The next morning Lov all but leapt from his bed, eager to be gone with his uncle. He wished his father was still coming, but decided that he wouldn't let anything spoil his mood. He grabbed his bow from his bedside, and caressed the silken string gently before pulling it back, as if about to loose an arrow. He slowly released the pressure until the string was in it's natural position.
He pulled an oilcloth out and began to lovingly rub down the marble pattern of his first bow. The wood felt as if it were singing to his touch. He thought back to how he and his father had poured over the diagrams for these bows from Heart.
Lov had loved the design from the start. A bow made to be as powerful as an elvish long bow with half the length. If the design worked, he had hoped to get one next year. Amon had thrown him off by giving it to him this year. The bow smith, Fandral, must have not just approved, but also loved the new designs. Lov was one of Elvenhom's best students at archery, and showed fine prospects as a marksman in the elven army. He wouldn't give one of the brightest pupils anything but the best.
As he caressed the wood with the oilcloth he thought, I should name you. He set the bow aside and went to his armoire.
He pulled out his old clothes, choosing dark rich browns and greens the color of pine needles. When dressed, he tiptoed out into the hall, bow in hand. Lov crept into his uncle's room, placing his gift on the wall next to the door, and stood above the unconscious elf.
Breath of the Titans: The False Titanbringer: Complete Trilogy Page 2
