Outcast (The Blue Dragon's Geas)

by Matthynssens, Cheryl

  Alador nodded once. He did not stop and thank the healer. He did not utter a word. He just turned and ran for the village proper. He didn’t have much trouble finding Mesiande’s mother, Elandel, as she was usually one of those involved in the bread making of such feasts. He weaved amongst the women towards where Mesiande’s mother was laughing with a few other adult women. She stopped laughing the moment she saw Alador’s face and the intent manner he had moving amongst the boards and the women.

  When Alador reached her, he whispered in Elandel’s ear. “Mesiande is at the mage healer’s. She has been badly hurt." He placed a consoling hand on either of her arms. “She needs you." He whispered urgently. He did not mention how she was hurt. He felt it was not his place to tell her.

  Elandel’s concerned expression turned to one of fear and horror. She squeezed one of his hands, and when Alador let go, she turned to hurry off. Mesiande had been her only small one. She gathered up her skirts and hurried off in the direction of the mage healer’s.

  Alador stood for a long time. He looked around slowly at those milling about him...All around him there was laughter and the murmur of shared secrets. True joy filled the village at the coming of the biggest ritual they shared. It was a joy that Alador did not share. All his life, he had been bullied and taunted by one. Now that he was old enough to defend himself, Trelmar was now targeting those that Alador loved. The world seemed to spin about him. The noise of the village, the cascade of emotion and the smell of baking were a kaleidoscope of senses combating with what he wanted most. He stood there trembling, hands and jaw tightly clenched. A movement caught his attention and his eyes caught a familiar form entering the alehouse. His eyesight snapped the image towards him showing his nemesis laughing with his friends as he entered the doorway. Alador finally moved with purpose, but it was not just anger in his step, it was the movement of a predator.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alador strode through the village with single minded purpose. His anger was so apparent that a couple of villagers stepped out of his path. He no longer cared about consequences or getting banished. He had one desire, and that was to beat Trelmar senseless. He had blackmailed Mesiande with Alador’s secret. Trelmar would attempt to deflect the seriousness of what he had done with Alador’s secret. There was absolutely no reason for him to stay his hand any longer. The worst that could come from beating the middlin unconscious was banishment anyway. This rationalization of what he was about to do filled his head as he crossed the ground to the alehouse. He did not even acknowledge those that waved as he approached. He entered the inn taking only a second to let his eyes adjust. Trelmar and his little band were at the bar, and his friends were about him like he was some triumphant warrior. Alador’s eyes locked with Trelmar’s as he turned and caught sight of Alador glaring at him by the door.

  Trelmar pointed him out to his friends with a smirk. “Well if it isn’t our blossoming little hero." He voice oozed with derision and arrogance.

  The adults in the room looked at the bar for Trelmar’s tone was one of offense and brought immediate adult attention. The bar fell silent as those about realized something was very amiss. Alador did not break stride until he was nose to nose with Trelmar. He grabbed a handful of Trelmar’s shirt, his anger giving him the strength to jerk the stockier man to him. “Give me one reason why I should not kill you right here, right now." Alador hissed slowly so only those closest to them could hear. Alador could hear the scraping of chairs in the sudden silence of the alehouse.

  Trelmar hid the flash of fear that had showed for a moment when Alador had grabbed him. Trelmar slowly sneered “Ahhhhh, is the little magling jealous?" He looked at his friends in amusement and then looked back at Alador with a slight pout. “Are you upset that I was first? That I was the one she squirmed beneath, crying out in pleasure?" He hissed back, his tone one of mocking. “She tasted...ever...so sweet." Trelmar licked his finger to make his point directly in Alador’s face. Trelmar’s friends all laughed nervously, but their eyes were moving between the two.

  Alador punched him. He reared back with everything he had and punched him as hard as he could. Trelmar landed back against the bar and slid down it. Trelmar’s four friends tried to jump in to contain Alador as adults in the room also rose to intervene. Trelmar rolled up holding his bleeding nose. Despite the shouts of the adults for them to stop, none of the middlins seemed to have any intentions of listening. Seeing that his friends had Alador held between them, Trelmar moved forward and punched Alador in the gut. Alador doubled up as much as the containing hands would allow. Rage filled his Alador’s eyes as he growled with a feral ferocity. He launched himself at Trelmar breaking free of the hands that contained him.

  Adults tried to get their hands on the two fighting men, and Trelmar’s friends were shouting encouragements to the middlin and getting in the way of the adults trying to contain the situation. Alador had Trelmar with his back against the bar as the two took wild swings at one another. Trelmar was faring the worst and was clearly the one attempting to defend himself. Trelmar in an attempt to break free from the bar, launched himself at Alador, and they both landed on a table that broke beneath the force of their fall and combined weight. People were shouting at them both to stop.

  Both men came up now in the center of the room. There was an audible gasp by those about as Trelmar pulled a knife from his belt and lunged at Alador. It was the gasp that warned him, but even so, Alador barely jumped back in time. The knife sliced through his shirt and left a razor of red across his midsection. Panic now filled the room for this had gone from a brawl to a life or death situation. Some adults started clearing the alehouse, and Trelmar’s friends were pushed out the door. Alador was unarmed and clearly at a disadvantage. It was now his turn to back pedal. Trelmar was slicing wildly, and Alador had been forced to keep retreating. The adults were no longer trying to grab a hold of either of the men. Although, the shouts for them to stop had not diminished.

  As much as he had wanted to kill Trelmar, he had intended to do it with his bare hands and so had not brought in a weapon. Trelmar lunged again, his eyes filled with hate. Alador twisted to the side, barely getting his arm from harm’s way. As Trelmar passed him, Alador caught the hand and with one hand on the arm shoved down, and the hand that caught the Trelmar’s hand around the knife pushed up hard and fast, the snap of the wrist audible. Trelmar cried out in agony. Alador twisted and jerked Trelmar to him and over his leg. Both men tumbled to the ground the knife caught between them. The blade sank deep into Trelmar’s stomach as they hit the ground, still half held in Trelmar’s hand. Alador twisted it, the wrist grinding in the process. Trelmar’s look of disbelief as he looked down at the knife protruding from his stomach was met with a growl of satisfaction by Alador. Their eyes met as Alador hissed. “Who is laughing now?”

  Alador felt a hand grab his shoulder, and he was swung around. Before he could defend himself or even speak, he saw a large blur. Dorien, intent on stopping further harm, laid his own brother out cold. The big blacksmith landed a solid punch to the side of Alador’s head. The last thing he remembered as he hit the floor was his brother’s large boot landing in the middle of his chest. His breath left him as the room spun into darkness.

  Alador’s first realization was a strange buzzing in his head. His second was that he could not move his hands or feet. He panicked when he found that he could not move. He tried to open his eyes, but only one would open, the other throbbed, and he could only guess it was swollen shut. Opening one eye, he realized he was bound and on the floor. The buzzing turned out to be figures talking beyond his view. The only thing in his line of sight was a broken table. He slowly remembered what had happened. He had landed on that table. The noises gradually changed from buzzing, to murmurs and then finally cleared to speech. He could hear his brother speaking to someone beyond his view of broken wood.

  Dorien sounded frustrated as he spoke adamantly. “I tell you, I spoke to Elandel, Mesiande’s mother. Trelmar forc
ed himself upon her. We all know Alador has been close to the girl since they were small ones. His outrage was understandable and may I point out that he is not the one who pulled a knife!" Dorien was hotly trying to defend Alador.

  “There is a council of elders for a reason. If every villager took justice into their own hands, there would be chaos. There are laws for a reason. This is a prime example of such a purpose. This conflict was unnecessary, and Trelmar would have no defense when Mesiande or her family placed their accusation." Elder Velkar’s voice was firm and calm.

  “I understand that. I am just asking that the situation be taken into consideration." Dorien pleaded. Dorien sounded frantic. He had never heard his brother sound frantic.

  Alador managed to shift his head and winced for it felt as if it weighed a great deal and movement made it throb. He could see Henrick leaning against the bar arms folded. He looked amused at best. Dorien was close by, facing a half circle of elders. He really couldn’t make out who all was there as his vision was still somewhat blurred. He could make out the form of Velkar, Luciesa, and Meradeth. Despite the blurring of his eyesight, the postures of the elders were not ones of amusement.

  “We will bring it before the entire council. Trelmar’s actions will be judged against him. The best I can offer you, Dorien, is that I will allow one elder to speak for Alador on this matter." Velkar waved a hand over to where Alador was laying. Velkar did not sound optimistic.

  “Thank you, Elder. It is all that I can ask." Dorien sighed with defeat as he bowed low.

  “Dorien, if Trelmar dies, there will be no mitigation." Luciesa warned. Her tone was firm and unyielding.

  Dorien came up and inhaled sharply. “Mistress, please. Surely mitigation in that Alador was defending himself from a knife and what Trelmar had done to the one he held in regard?" Dorien took a step towards her pleading. “Please, I ask only that a proper hearing be held even in the event of Trelmar’s death.”

  “First, your brother is an adult, and as such knows that he has no right of physical correction upon a middlin." Luciesa counted off her fingers. Her tone was a matter of fact and held no mercy. “Second, your brother ignored multiple commands from elder and adult alike to stop. Lastly, your brother clearly had the upper hand in this fight and could have disarmed Trelmar, but he chose to turn that knife on the middlin." She looked up at his brother and now that Alador’s vision was clearer, he could tell her vote would be to see him hang.

  Dorien had winced even from where Alador lay at each count upon the elder’s fingers. “Yes Elder." Dorien’s murmur held defeat. His head dropped as the full weight of what Alador was facing was laid out.

  Meradeth placed a hand on Dorien’s shoulder. “I will speak for him." She promised softly. “It is the least that I can do. I understand the passions your brother holds, and how hard it would have been to contain such fear and anger.”

  Alador decided that lying very still was in his best interest right now. He could not remember the last time a Daezun had been killed in anger, but he knew that his situation was perilous at best. Despite the threat of death, he was hoping that Trelmar died, then the dung of a korpen would not harm anyone ever again. His anger surged again, and he fought to contain the roaring that built up within him. He shifted slightly, and Henrick’s eyes moved to him. Why did the mage look so amused? He would have expected his father to be quite disappointed in him.

  “I understand, and I thank you. I can only pray to the gods that the boy lives to face his own justice." Dorien answered, Dorien’s own anger edged his tone as he responded to Meradeth.

  Meradeth nodded. “Take your brother home. I will check on Mesiande while the rest see to Trelmar’s family." She squeezed Dorien’s arm one last time before following them out.

  As the elders turned and left, Dorien turned towards Alador. Alador swiftly shut his eye. Dorien moved to Alador and the big blacksmith bent over and hauled Alador up by his wrists and tossed him over his shoulder. Alador winced as he landed upon his brother’s shoulder. The pain across his abdomen only second to the pounding in his head from being upside down. Alador did not fuss or even let on he was awake. He didn’t want to face the elders with his head pounding as it was.

  Given the bouncing he was getting on his brother’s shoulder, he opened his one eye and saw the booted feet of his father. The village was unusually quiet for the day before the ritual. He could smell cooking food, but the usually bright murmur was hushed. Alador did not look left or right, not wanting to see the look on anyone’s face that they may pass.

  “You realize the boy is awake, don’t you?" Henrick asked with an amused tone.

  “Don’t really care right now." Dorien growled angrily. His only sign he cared was the slight adjustment of Alador upon his shoulder.

  Alador groaned. He had only seen his brother angry once, and it had not been a pleasant sight. The fact that it had been Dorien that had hit him was not lost on him. He was sure he was in for a sound beating or tongue lashing, possibly both. “Dorien, I am so sorry…” he began.

  “Shut up, Alador. I really do not want to hear a word you have to say right now." Dorien’s snarl of rage made Alador wince.

  Alador was willing to bet on both now. He groaned in pain as his brother shifted him again. His father’s soft chuckle did not nothing to improve the situation. It caught him again, why was his father so amused?

  When they entered the house, Alador found himself dumped without any regard on the rug before the fireplace. He cried out in pain as his head hit the floor, the rug doing little to soften his landing. Dorien began pacing in the small living room. It was not really a very big room so actually the large man was only taking a couple steps and pivoting. His father was leaning against the door jam.

  Alador slowly forced himself up with a moan of pain. “Please, untie me. I am not going to attack anyone else." He offered weakly. “I swear I will sit still and quiet.”

  “I can’t you blasted fool." Dorien turned to glare at him, his face was red with anger. “Till we hear if Trelmar will live, you are under confinement. I hardly got permission to take you here in case this is your last day of breath so that you may spend it with your family." Dorien voice dropped down as he said the last and then he stopped talking and just stood there staring. Alador jumped when he suddenly yelled at him. “You are an idiot! You know that? A damned idiot! The council would have seen the boy hanged. You just had to take matters into your own hands." Dorien slammed his fist into the wall leaving a very large hole. Dorien looked at the hole and then just laid his forehead upon the wall. “Great, one more thing to fix." He murmured miserably.

  Alador stared at his brother. “I am sorry, Dorien. I am truly sorry." Alador managed to more moan out then say. “I never thought he would pull a knife." He should have though. He should have realized that because it had been Trelmar who had pulled the knife in the river. He groaned at his own lack of foresight.

  Dorien looked between Alador and Henrick. He eventually settled his gaze back on Alador. “Tell him! Tell your father. He is the only one that can save your ass right now." Dorien knelt down. “Tell him or I will!" Dorien’s demand brooked no argument in this matter. He turned Alador to face Henrick.

  Henrick raised a brow. “Tell me what?" He did not move from where he leaned upon the jam between the kitchen and the parlor. His expression seemed to know despite his question.

  Alador looked at Dorien with large eyes. Dorien smacked him alongside the back of his head. “Tell him now!”

  “I...have...I have magic." Alador managed to croak out. The smack to the head had rocketed through his head like the ripple in a pond. His heart was pounding as he ventured a look up to his father.

  Henrick finally looked interested. He uncrossed his arms and came over to the chair near Alador. He sat down and leaned forward. “Tell me Alador. What kind of magic have you found yourself possessing?" Henrick is tone was curious and yet almost as if he already knew. His eyes searched the battered young man’s fac
e.

  “Well...I...can umm sight a bow from a long distance as if it were near. It is like the target jumps t-towards me." Alador answered. He searched his pounding head for what else. “And, water. I can heat up water." He answered. “I think that is it." He whispered. “Oh, and if I am in the water it does not hurt." He added the last as an afterthought. His words were slightly mumbled as the pain in his head was worse, having sat up, and then from Dorien having smacked him.

  “Interesting. A blue dragon’s stone then. I wonder…" Henrick sat back one arm crossed while the other tapped his chin. He stared at Alador for a long while, making Alador uncomfortable. “Do you have dreams? Dreams like you are the dragon?" He finally asked, leaning back forward once more.

  Something seemed to shout through his head, causing his headache to worsen. Do not tell him! The voice was male, and it was commanding. His vision swam, and he moaned in pain in response. He swallowed hard suddenly nauseous. When he realized that Henrick was still waiting for an answer, he looked up.

  “N-no? Why?" He eyed his father cautiously. Why did he not trust his father? Why did the voice not want him to trust his father? He corrected himself silently.

  Dorien was watching them both carefully. Seeing the look on Alador’s face, he went and fetched a bucket and sat it near Alador as the two men talked.

  “Just something I heard once about stones so large possessing memories." Henrick answered thoughtfully. “Too bad. Now, that, would have been fascinating to explore." Henrick shrugged nonchalantly. Despite his dismissal of the question, his gaze made Alador shift again uncomfortably.

  Just then both Alador and Mesiande’s mothers burst through the door. A mass of maternal concern and as they glanced about, he felt like trapped prey. Alador groaned as his mother descended on him. She tipped his chin up gently and frowned when he moaned. “Well that Trelmar lad did a number on you that is for sure." She tsked softly. “We will need to clean that up and get some ointment on that.”