The expedition back to the bones where he had dug his own bloodstone had come with much expectation, and passed with much disappointment. While numerous jewelry size stones had been found, nothing of great value had come from the second trip. It was as if all the dragon’s treasure had pooled in Alador’s stone. There were grumblings that Alador should share his largess. However, the find had been truly his alone, and so no one asked.
His visions had been quiet, as well. Occasionally he would dream of a vast cave on the edge of the sea. One had to swim a short distance under water to enter it. Inside was a bed of seaweed and gleaming metals. In the center was a pool of water. Often he would picture four eggs in this nest, nestled down inside the water. He could smell the salt of the sea. The comfort as he shifted on the bed of treasure and other soft matter. He would always wake up feeling warm and happy after this dream. It sometimes was difficult to fully awaken for the vision held so much detail. He could hear the water dripping down the stalactite and onto the cave floor. It was as if he were coming home. He was glad that the cave was only accessible under water. It meant the eggs were safe. He knew that Lerdenian’s often stole dragon eggs for the bloodstone mines. He couldn’t explain the intensity, but he knew that it was important that the eggs were safe.
Maybe this was fueled by the one night he had dreamed that the eggs had been taken by Lerdenians. The eggs had been taken to a bloodmine. Hatched there, they were fed by their handlers and tamed as pets. This thought had awakened him one morning. He had been angry and restless the rest of the day. The dragons that were raised in these ‘mines’ were staked out in his vision. They were well fed but not allowed any freedom, and their great wings were regularly clipped. Once a month, they were bled near to death, and then moved. One year later, the area would be dug and the bloodstones harvested. It was cruel, and he sometimes wondered why the dragons did not unite to stop it. A full flight of dragons could release their kin. Why did they leave their fledglings to grow up in a life of such misery?
Last night, he had awakened with that dream once more. He had felt the rage of the circling dragon as he looked down at the fettered dragons. He had shared his thoughts of how they were not true dragons for they knew not the hunt or the taste of the pools of magic. This had occupied his thoughts as he worked on his house for the evening. Tomorrow was the circle, and he was trying to think of anything but being chosen. He hammered furiously trying to pound the vision of last night or the upcoming ritual far from his thoughts. He about jumped out of his skin when a voice spoke.
“I thought one had to be an adult before they could establish a home and hearth?" The lazy tone both familiar and at the same time feared.
Alador spun about to see his father. He had hoped that he would not come, and the test could then be delayed. However, his father liked to attend the circle. So far, he had been the only child of such a visit to have been brought to term and raised to naming day. It always puzzled Alador how Henrick was always chosen given he was a full Lerdenian and a traveling enchanter by trade. Yet the entire village, even the elders, oddly accepted his father.
Alador bowed low to the mage. Despite his trepidation at his father’s appearance, he was still to be respected. “I was given leave to enter adulthood earlier." Alador lay down his hammer and picked up a towel to wipe his hands and face. The squared foundation and design of the lower floor house could be seen quite clearly.
Henrick’s eyes followed the lines of the simple squared structure. “I see. If my memory serves me correctly, only one who is found to have skills of great value or income are found worthy for such an honor. Which has happened?" His father moved to lean back against a pile of planks eyeing his son with casual curiosity. His father was dressed in simple black leather boots and pants. His red shirt in sharp contrast seemed fitting somehow. He had not remembered his father looking quite so dashing in the past. Most mages tended to have silks or robes. There was a time when his father had worn such, but the last few visits he had moved with much more confidence and his manner of dress had been casual.
Alador smiled. “It is a rather long story. If you like, I will wash up and then we can have a drink in the inn while I explain." Alador truly enjoyed his father’s visits. He was an intelligent man with a quick sense of humor. While he dreaded the testing that would occur this visit and what it might mean, he truly respected the man before him. His father had always brought him gifts, told great stories and coached him to try to bring forth the ability to touch the magic gifts that those of Lerdenian blood were oft as not attuned to learn. Up until he had found the bloodstone, he had hoped each time he could leave with his father. He had thought that surely life as a halfblooded mage would be better than a halfblooded farmer or miner.
“Yes, a drink would be quite welcome to remove the taste of dust from my mouth. I fear that the lexital seemed to insist on the dustiest of routes today." His father smiled at him, and Alador could not help but notice his father did not seem the least bit dusty. However, lexital were strange creatures that would allow a single rider, and they often found their way to dust bowls. These unique creatures had a strange curved beak with what seemed to be like the sail of a boat rising above both beak and eyes. Their neck was long and serpentine, moving side to side as they steered through the sky. Their eyes were red and rimmed in blue. Their wings were varying shades of blue with a ridge of red that seemed to arch out mid-feathers. This was especially noticeable in fight. There was a natural dip in this neck right before the body that could carry the rider. Daezun were usually too solid in stature for such a beast to be practical. Alador looked around for the lexital and smiled when he saw two middlins trying to tie it to a post, and it was not cooperating.
Alador nodded. “Let me clean up and change, and then I will join you there directly." He smiled at Henrick and then turned to put his things away. He could not help but feel his father’s eyes upon him for a long moment before he heard his bright response.
“Right then, I look forward to this tale of sudden prestige”
When Alador turned around, his father was gone. He smiled and hurried home to change. His father loved a good mead and wasn’t likely to turn down a chance to sit in the cool darkness of the inn. The day was definitely warm. His mother was not around to slow him with her fussing for once. He breathed a sigh of relief for if she got wind that Henrick was in the village then she would never let him go without a thousand words of questions and reminders. Or maybe she had heard and was even now cleaning up to greet him. Regardless of where she was, it allowed him to rejoin Henrick at the inn rather quickly.
His father already had a crowd about him. Elders loved it when his father came for he would tell tales of the lands and villages he visited. Perhaps it was one of the reasons he seemed not to generate the hate that most Lerdenians drew. His manner was so easy going, and he was so relaxed. He did not have the pretension of many of his kin, and Henrick’s ability to tell stories seemed more along the lines of one of the elders. He would pass on gossip and news from neighboring villages. Alador suspected that the bigger reason was that Henrick would always run the tab and a free drink in Smallbrook was never turned down. Alador had learned how much coin his father must spend when he had paid the tab the day he had bought drinks for everyone.
Alador stopped for a long moment. His father was a traveling enchanter by trade. It was a meager existence though boarding and room were often free. Yet he now knew how much coin his father spent when he visited. It did not add up. He pondered this conflict of fact with a frown. How did his father have so many slips? If he had slips, why did he work as a traveling enchanter? He was unable to puzzle this out and though it occupied his thoughts, he continued on to the tavern.
Alador was welcomed with greetings by all those gathered about his father. It was much more welcoming than normal, but then they were drinking his father’s slips. He often still felt himself reacting as an outsider when such attention was paid. It was getting easier on subtle matters, but suc
h a public outcry still made him a bit self-conscious. His father’s shrewd eyes were on him when he entered. They seemed to cut through the crowd to find his own gaze, and Alador shifted a bit uncomfortably. Sometimes it felt as if that gaze could see his most inner thoughts.
“Alador, lad, come join us. I have been hearing the most fanciful tales." Henrick toasted his son. “Shot a dragon did we? Ran it off?" Henrick’s eyes showed just a tiny bit of disbelief. “I can barely fathom it. Did you not tell me you could barely see a second target length? Certainly getting an arrow down a dragon’s maw is far more difficult. It is almost as if someone pointed that arrow for you to hear it told." Henrick’s tone although jovial had a strange edge to it. He leaned forward towards Alador. "Did someone tell you where to shoot, my boy?" Henrick rubbed his neck absently as he gazed at his son.
Alador rushed to answer, somewhat flustered. He had planned to sit over an ale and explain the changes since Henrick had last come to the village. It figured someone had beat him to his father with the tale. “I...but...I-It was just a lucky shot into the creature’s maw. I do not know what had stirred him up so considerably." Alador hoped his father would be deflected as the subject of dragons always seemed to draw Henrick’s attention. The mage had presented himself as a bit of an expert on the topic.
“Dragons have been causing more problems as of late. They seem to be more aggressive and irritated. Maybe they are more aware of their dwindling numbers then they are given credit. After all, such admirable creatures can hardly be blind to what is occurring to their race." Henrick admitted. There was a hardening of Henrick’s manner, and as if he realized it, he paused taking a drink from his tankard before continuing. “Perhaps it is part of their natural cycle. We still know little of them other than the properties of their blood.”
Henrick picked up on the elders’ discomfort in speaking of the bloodstone magic and changed the topic. “So, did I tell you about this ball my brother had? A bunch of peacocks, every one of them, bowing and scraping. Why this one man came, and I swear upon the gods, his hat was taller than a water bucket…" Alador breathed out a sigh of relief as the focus was once more off of him. He sat and laughed with the others and even helped tell a tale or two of his own. Gregor made a great showing of telling how he had to help Alador put up a rail against the house because Alador fell down the stairs, making sure to emphasize he was sober at the time. Alador took the good natured ribbing with a rolling of his eyes.
The inn soon bustled with village stories since the mage had last visited and Henrick brought gales of laughter in the way he could mimic some of the more affluent and arrogant Lerdenians. Eventually the talk turned to mining once more, and Alador’s huge find that had brought in more slips than any could remember. The volume diminished as Henrick did not speak but stared at his son for far too long a moment. Alador shifted uncomfortably under his father’s intense gaze.
Henrick’s gaze held, and the intensity of his look remained uncomfortable. “How large was this stone?" Although his voice was soft, it sounded as if it was a loud command resonating through his body.
Despite his intentions to play down the stone, Alador found himself answering. “It was enormous. About this size." He admitted to his father. He showed with his hands the large size of the jewel. He stared at his father, concerned at how easy the truth had left his lips.
“I do not know if I have heard of one larger, Alador. You must tell me. Was it normal in its appearance? Was it cracked in some way or different?" Alador found his eyes locked with his father’s, unable to look away.
He felt an urge to speak and a bit of panic as he did not want to tell him of the stone suddenly. “It was clear." He sighed with frustration at his inability to hold back the words. He was still not able to look away from his father.
“Clear?" Henrick leaned forward from where he sat to where Alador sat nearby. His eyes did not leave him. “Elders, if I could be as bold as to request, you would leave us for a time. I would speak with my son in private." The elders had not missed the exchange between the two, in fact, talk around them had died down.
Alador blinked in surprise when the elders simply nodded and picked up their tankards and wandered away in small clusters. “Is something amiss?" He asked with concern once they were at the table alone.
Henrick finally dropped his eyes from Alador. He looked about and then whispered words that Alador did not understand. A ring flared on his hand and then his gaze returned to his son. “Alador, do you know what happens when a mage takes up a bloodstone?”
Alador looked about in alarm for he could not hear anything but his father. No one seemed to be paying attention to them, but yet he could not hear them. Patrons’ mouthed moved, and others were milling about as if all were normal. Alador looked back to his father and shook his head no. “I have only seen them harvested." He felt his gaze catch again in his father’s eyes. He wanted to look away suddenly. His breath felt caught in his chest, and his heart began to pound. He had never felt fear when he sat with his father before, but he felt it now. Why was he suddenly so scared? That gaze held almost a predatory assessment. He knew that gaze. He had seen that look in the big marnex. They had that look right before they pounced upon a prang, their large claws ripping into tender flesh. Their fangs taking the throat in a single bite. He swallowed hard and tried to calm his breathing.
“Once the magic is drained, they are clear." Henrick whispered softly. His manner was grim and he stared at Alador as if weighing some great decision. He waited for his son to realize what he was saying, watching him intently.
Alador stared at him in confusion. His father's gaze still making him feel hunted. “You mean a mage had already emptied the stone before I found it. It is really worthless?" He shook his head in denial, grasping for any truth but the one that seemed to be looming before him. He panicked slightly at the thought of what the trader would say when he returned. His heart raced in his chest, and he wanted to run.
“No, Alador, I doubt a mage dug up the stone, drained it and put it back." Henrick grinned at his son. However, that smile did not go to his eyes. In fact, Henrick’s body was tense as he rubbed his throat.
Alador sat puzzled and then his eyes flew open in alarm. “Y-You think that...that...I drained it?" He whispered. He looked about. He felt a rush of even greater panic. His hands clenched at the meaning of his father’s words. Suddenly all the changes made sense. Every little thing flashed before his eyes. The water heating in the bathhouse, his sudden ability to see targets as if they were close and the dragon visions he kept having. He clenched and unclenched his hands trying to look away from his father. Trying to shove the fear coursing through him to some level he could manage.
He shook his head in denial. There had been a time when he would have gladly tested to be found with magic. It would have meant that he could have left the village and went with his father, no longer an outcast. But now, he had acceptance. Now he knew that Mesiande would accept him as a housemate. The last thing he wanted was to have to leave now. His house was already started. He had thought maybe he was coming into power. It had never occurred to him he had drained the stone.
“Did you?" The question was cold. It held an edge that made Alador quiver. Henrick slowly sat back. “Did you drain that stone, Alador? Have you finally come into your legacy, my son?" The word son held a cold contemptuous tone.
Alador wanted to run. He wanted to shout to the very ceiling that he was not a mage. “N-No!" He managed to stammer out. “I-I mean, I-I haven’t s-suddenly developed any skills or… or...attributes to suggest it." Alador lied to his father for the first time.
Henrick was quiet for a long moment. Then he leaned forward once more as if some decision had been made. His manner far less predatory and Alador was finally able to break that piercing gaze. He twisted a ring on his hand and picked up his tankard. “Why are you so concerned, my son? You used to beg me to test you when I would enter the village? Now you build a house and…" Henrick paused for
a moment. “Ah, it is a woman, is it not?" Henrick smiled when he realized that a woman must be involved. He watched Alador as he drank from his tankard.
The room seemed to swim before his gaze for a moment, and his stomach lurched as if he had suddenly been hit. The sounds of the room came crashing back around them. “H-Her name...well it is someone I grew up with, and we are going to be housemates when she comes of age." Alador whispered so no one else would hear. “I do not want a life without her." He felt the need to protect her from his father. He could not explain it, but the feeling was intense. “I have the means to offer a life to her now. I am more than the village half breed." Alador tapped the table with two fingers to make his point.
“Women come and go, Alador. Magic, ahhhh magic now that is a gift worth giving dedication." The mage sat back and sipped his tankard watching the boy. “I thought it was your dream to be the next great mage? To take your place on the tiers and show your true heritage as my son." Henrick watched him with a challenging smile.
“It is no longer mine, Father. Please, let us speak no more of this." Alador growled out the answer, his words tense. He could feel his anger and fear rising up. Alador suddenly wanted to wipe the smug grin off his father’s face. He clenched his fists, once more trying to drive down the strange feelings his father was stirring up.
Henrick put his boots up on the table as he leaned back. The odd predatory manner gone, and the lazy, spoiled mage once more sat before him. “I promise you, if you do not pass the tests, I will trouble you no further." Henrick took a sip and murmured softly. “Doubtful though." Although his body and manner spoke of relaxation, the sharp gaze was not missed.
Outcast (The Blue Dragon's Geas) Page 16
