Outcast (The Blue Dragon's Geas)

by Matthynssens, Cheryl

  “Odd day to fix yar steps." Gregor’s light hearted tone held the warmth and life that endeared him to Alador.

  Alador nodded, not turning to look at his friend. “Umm yes. Sofie has been after me forever to put this up. With no duties assigned. I thought I would see to it." He managed to say pounding in another nail. He turned to look at his friend.

  “By the gods, Alador, for her or for yah?" Gregor peered at his friend’s battered face. He searched Alador’s face with a surprised look. He staggered back putting his hands over his eyes. “Spare me, Krona." He mocked as if he needed protected by the gods, so gruesome was the sight of Alador’s face.

  “Well the story is...for me." Alador sat down on the steps rather dejected. He looked up at Gregor. His point more than clear.

  “What was it this time?" Gregor moved to sit the step below him, angled so he could see his friend. “Yah look like a korpen stepped on yar face." His teasing settling somewhat although he was still not quite looking at Alador and his hand up as if hiding his eyes.

  “He tried to kiss Mesi." Alador admitted. He looked at his friend. “I know she probably could have handled it, but I just got so angry. I nearly killed him, Gregor." He looked down at his worn boots. He rubbed the back of his hand absently.

  Gregor looked at him in disbelief. “And Mesi didn’t kill him herself?

  Alador looked down at his own bruised knuckles with a sheepish grin. “I didn’t exactly give her time.

  “No one would miss him." Gregor spat out. “I wonder what story his mother will tell. He dare not say he was fighting yah for it might come out as to why. He knows he can’t be kissing on middlins, especially ones not wanting to be kissed. While yah would be in trouble, it is clear he would be, as well. I think this is one incident that no one will want brought to the light of day." Gregor looked up at him, his gaze reassuring.

  Alador looked at him and nodded. “I am lucky, in that, I was not the one to draw a knife. And once Trelmar was in trouble, I am sure many would come forward." Both men sat quietly for a bit.

  Gregor suddenly grinned. “So yah fell down the stairs, I am going to have so much fun with this one.”

  Alador attempted to push him back off the stairs with his foot. Just as Gregor grabbed it and a tussle was about to ensue, Alador’s mother stepped out with her hands on her hips.

  “Gregor! I do not need a whole new set of stairs but, by the gods, if you break that outer rail you will be rebuilding and seeing a nice even set to go with it!" She glared at Gregor and Alador with a look that only a scolding mother could have. She turned and stomped back into the kitchen.

  “How does she do that?" Murmured Gregor, his voice low enough for only Alador to hear... “We hadn’t even made any noise yet.”

  “Sofie says she has a friend in a sprite. She has a complete tale of how this sprite watches out for maman when her back is turned. Some days…" Alador grinned at his friend. “Some days I believe her." They both laughed heartily.

  “Let me help." Gregor offered. The next hour the two of them worked diligently on building the second rail against the house. Unlike many of the houses, it had not originally been designed to expand up. An indoor stair had not been built as it would have taken from vital space inside. It gave the house a misshapen appearance, but it was no more colorful in its design than any other house on the circles. When it was done, Sofie appeared and brought them both a mug of mulled prickleberry juice. Gregor made a big act out of taking the cup slowly from Sofie, and she giggled as their fingers touched.

  “That. Is. My. Sister." Alador looked at his friend pointedly.

  Gregor’s eyes were locked with Sofie’s. “Yes, and a fine sister yah have too." Gregor’s eyes slowly raked over Sofie.

  Alador rolled his eyes. “Off with you Sofie, Gregor is a horrid flirt and will only break your heart." He took his own mug from her as she had served Gregor first...Sofie giggled as Alador placed a hand on her shoulder and attempted to turn her towards the house.

  Sofie complied but watched Gregor over her shoulder. She was so intent on watching him and grinning when he winked that she ran into the door jamb by the kitchen. She flushed with color before she ducked back into the house.

  Gregor chuckled softly at the girl’s response. “Hard to believe she comes from the same mother as yah.”

  “Cad." Alador said before taking a long drink.

  “Mother hen." Gregor fired right back. “I heard she was going to the circle. She is not a small one. In fact, she has a lot of curves in the right places." Gregor’s free hand mimicked Sofie’s curves.

  Alador snorted juice out through his nose and coughed to clear his lungs. “… My sister! Remember? And you are not due into the circle for another year." Alador reminded him, still gasping for air somewhat.

  “I can wait a year." Gregor teased looking at Alador with a wicked grin. “That there would be just fine for the waiting.”

  Alador could feel something protective rising up. His face flushed red, and he glared at Gregor. “Stop, just...stop." He growled out.

  Gregor put his hands out. One mug hand still holding his mug of mulled juice. “All right, all right." His movements intended to placate. “I mean no disrespect Al. I thought maybe to consider asking her to housemate in time.”

  Alador stared at him in concerned disbelief. “My sister?" He couldn’t imagine his best friend and his sister like him and the elder. It just seemed, well, wrong. His nose scrunched as this picture hit him and he shook his head to free it.

  “You do not think I am good enough for yar sister?" Gregor’s eyes narrowed. He was usually easy going but Gregor had this thing about being good enough that would bring his temper to the surface quickly.

  It was Alador’s turn to placate. “No, it is not that. I just can’t imagine her, well you know. With my best friend." He shuddered at the thought of Gregor and his sister doing the things that he had with Meradeth. “I am sorry Gregor. It is my sister, and you and I both know you have stolen more than a couple of kisses.”

  “I was just teasing Al. I would never steal a kiss from yar sister." Gregor nodded and appeared somewhat placated. “Now if she was offering…" At Alador’s growl, Gregor put back out his hands. “Okay, Okay I will stop." Gregor could not help the mischief that danced in his eyes. “Oh, speaking of… yah know." Gregor suddenly grins and turns to face Alador fully. “Yah going to tell me what happened? I wanted to ask yah yesterday, but yah disappeared." Gregor paused considering. “And well, the ale was free." Gregor eyes sparkled with merriment as Alador winced at the word free and Gregor took a long drink as if to emphasize the point.

  Alador sighed. He still needed to go settle that debt. He looked at Gregor for a long moment. He wanted to tell his best friend of the night he had spent. He wanted to tell him everything about the ritual. But, his brothers had protected the secret of the passageway and the contents of the ritual hut. He did not see how he could do less. Finally, he answered as he looked at Gregor with a bit of regret. “I am sorry. I cannot.”

  “Oh fine. Take the whole, ‘I am an adult now stance.’" Gregor fired back, but his tone was teasing and he took a sip of his juice. “I will get it out of yah." Gregor promised. “Eventually.”

  “Any other secret...most likely. Not this one." Alador looked at his friend with certainty. Gregor needed to have the same experience he had and he had no intentions of spoiling it with his perception of the ritual. He would treasure that night forever. It had seemed almost magical in its intensity and sensation. He downed his glass and went to take Gregor’s when a somber chime began to strike slowly. “We better wash up and get over there.”

  Gregor, distracted from grilling Alador for details by the chime, nodded. “I will meet yah there." He hurried off to change out of his field clothing.

  Alador took the two mugs in and looked at his sister. She was doing the dishes and looked up to take the mugs. Her face colored when he glared at her. “Best get changed." He reminded her softly. He would ta
lk to her another day on the subject of his best friend. He headed upstairs to change into a fresh shirt and the new boots.

  The funeral was a solemn occasion. The drums pounded out a slow cadence as the six bodies were brought from where they had been prepared to where the six pyres awaited. Alador has been assigned to the second body, so had watched as the other four followed. Each body was carefully laid upon the pyre. The openings they were slid along were then filled in with branches so the fire would burn evenly. It was a warm day, and the flies buzzed about the bodies despite efforts to use herbs and liniments to repel them. It was as if life was drawn from death, and it seemed somehow fitting in the light of how they had died. The slow rhythm of the drum and the sobbing of close kin were the only sounds in the still late afternoon. It was as if even nature had stilled for the importance of the events unfolding.

  Once all six bodies were properly upon the pyres, and the branches laid, one of those assigned to attend at each pyre placed sacks of incense upon the branches. It would cover some of the smell and also help the fire burn hotter. Alador had been assigned this task, and he placed eight such sacks around the pyre before him. Then, he and those who had also carried walked back out to the circle that was forming about the six pyres. The drum still beat out its slow pounding cadence. Sweat ran down Alador’s neck from the effort of moving the body, and the heat. A fly bit at where the sweat pooled at his collar bone, and he swatted it absently.

  As if called by the drums, family and close friends moved to each pyre one by one. They laid in amongst the branches the items that they carried. Alador watched, tearing up at the thought of so much loss. Family and close friends would lay favored possessions of the dead, or gifts for the afterlife so that when they walked with the gods, they would not do so empty handed. It had been a tradition passed down amongst the people as far back as anyone knew. Such possessions were not gained easily and so to give them up in death was a personal sacrifice to the gods as well as a honoring of the deceased. Death had not yet come close to Alador, and he was glad for it. The pain on the faces of those who mourned was palpable in the air. All the while, the drum beat slowly.

  He felt something touch his arm and looked down to see Mesiande’s sad face looking up at him. Her eyes glistened with tears, and she just held his arm with both her hands and looked out at the pyres. The fires would not be lit till the last item was laid and the sun rested upon the far hill. It was slowly going down. It was hot in the sun, but no one complained, the heat was easing slightly. . Although many mopped their brow with sleeve and apron, no one would leave the circle till the fires burned down slightly. He placed a hand over Mesiande’s and squeezed it. There was no needs for words between them. It was a simple act of comfort. He was glad she was there.

  At last the sun touched the hilltop and the last person moved back into the circle. The flies still swarmed and bit and the drum beat on. A brand was brought from some other fire and one by one the incense bags were lit. The sound of the crackling wood and the acrid smoke mixed with the lulling smell of sweet flowers filled the air. He watched the fire burn and squeezed Mesiande’s hand even tighter. It would kill him to lose her. It would rip the very heart out of his chest, and he could not imagine how he would live after. He suddenly felt very protective and wanted to pull her close but did not dare. He did reach down and smooth some damp hair that curled before her eye. He gently tucked it back, and when their eyes met, there was a slight smile.

  They stood drawing comfort from one another as the sun began to slip behind the hill. The fires raged loudly now, and the smell of burning flesh could not be ignored. A song began to rise, and the voices slowly united and melded. The song coursed with the slow, mournful beat of the drums. Alador and Mesiande joined in. His deep tenor melding with her soft tones in a melody that was drilled into their very hearts.

  Though Dethera walks amongst us,

  and those we love are lost.

  Let us not forget the oaths,

  for great has been the cost.

  Hamaseic holds back the storms

  that we may honor the dead.

  Reistare has blessed the crops

  that we may pass the bread.

  And as the sun is lowering,

  Oessyn’s task is done.

  They wait for Krona’s blessing,

  through fire each is won.

  For each Dethera is waiting,

  to escort onto their home.

  Amongst the gods their walking,

  their souls no longer to roam.

  And though the people are singing,

  the dragons echo in kind.

  Niat is softly shining,

  a calling of heart and mind.

  We are the people of Dragons,

  we serve the gods alone.

  Through trials and battles woven,

  our hearts are coming home.

  We are the people of Dragons,

  we serve the gods alone.

  Through trials and battles woven,

  our hearts are coming home.

  As the song trailed off, the drums ceased. The sound of the last note fell away slowly. As if answering to the song, much as the great wolves that howled in the night, a strange call filled the far off hills. The dragons echoed the song with their own long, mournful calls. Although no words were spoken in that echoing cry, it was if the heart of every Daezun, living or dead, was lifted up to the gods.

  Chapter Twelve

  Life settled into a happy rhythm for Alador as they headed for the height of summer. Being an adult meant he had a say in when he worked and, to some extent, what tasks. He took his duty to protect the small ones very seriously. He had taken the habit of going out of the village on all trips. A small one close, to middlin age, was sent to fetch him whenever a group was going out of the safety of the circles. When he was not actively guarding, he was working on laying the foundation of the house he was building for himself and Mesiande. Unlike the usual mishmash of rooms, he had borrowed paper from Tentret and had sketched out the design he wanted. The stairs would rise from the middle of the living room to the upper floor that would contain four bedrooms. The downstairs had a cooking area with room for a long table, an area for daily living and tasks and a large bedroom for himself and Mesiande. Tentret had teased him about not being very inventive as the building was square. More than one argument had erupted in the evening over the lack of imagination in Alador’s design. Dorien had just smiled at both Tentret and Alador, and said it would change over time. Houses grew just like families.

  Alador was working hard to anticipate needs so this would not happen. He could imagine evenings of laughter around the table. He wanted several small ones. He loved children. This must have been a change from his night with the elder or perhaps when he suddenly had fought the dragon for them. But since then, he found himself teaching and taking the time for the small ones he watched over. He and Meradeth would often take the youngest ones that were old enough to leave the elder’s circle and take them to a small pool to play at the water’s edge. He had waded in with more than one to teach them to swim.

  The mating ritual was now upon them, and he already had the foundations laid. He had been using his time off of his duties to take a korpen down to the woods downriver to cut trees. A korpen could drag back two fair trees. Alador did not have the skill to make the planks for the walls, but he had the slips to see it done. He was pleased with the quality of the boards but then an abundance of slips tended to guarantee one the best efforts. Gregor had been hanging about and helping him. He had teased Alador more than once that he needed to remember his friends. So often in the evening, he would stop with Gregor at the alehouse to remember him properly, or at least how Gregor saw as proper. Gregor’s help had been critical, for he knew how to set the walls and supporting poles.

  Mesiande would stop by now and give suggestions to the two men. As both were working in the hot sun without their shirts, she was often joined by more than one middlin girl who was cl
ose to Mesiande’s age. Then they would all leave off in a small giggling circle. Alador would have given much to know the content of those conversations as the girls were often glancing back. He got little out of Gregor during these visits as Gregor although appearing to work was more flexing his muscles and involved in antics to bring about more giggles.

  When the sun would begin to set, he would often meet Mesiande down at the rapids. The noise of the water falling over the rocks would hide their voices. They would sit and talk until the darkness would begin to creep around them, then he would walk her to the boundary where they both could see the outermost circle of houses that composed the village... While he would occasionally steal a kiss, it was not as frequent as he knew Mesiande was seeking. He often found himself in positions where she had maneuvered her lips close to his. He would oblige her when there was not a chance of someone coming soon or when he felt a deep sense of control. At other times, he was afraid he would not be able to stop at mere kisses. He wanted her so badly, and her touch was more intoxicating than the strongest drink at the alehouse. He knew there were others that had not waited, but Alador wanted to do things the way they should be done. He did not want to risk returning to the state of an outcast so close when everything he wanted was just within reach.

  There had been no additional signs of the red dragon. There were many theories as to why he had attacked, but no one knew for sure. The crops were all coming up well, and even the spring birth of new korpen had been relatively fruitful. Usually one or two korpen were lost each year and as far as he knew, this year none had fallen. The village as a whole was recovering from the dragon’s attack. All the burned buildings were repaired, and much of the scorched ground had started a patch of regrowth or been covered with fresh dirt.