Meradeth drew up and turned to place a hand on the woman’s chest. “For the last time Anlicie, shut up! If Alador had not killed your son, it would be him in that noose. You would have lost your son either way. Go home!" Maredeth’s command echoed firmly.
One of Anlicie’s friends took her by the arm and led her sobbing away. Meradeth turned back and met Alador’s terrified gaze. She gave a reassuring nod before turning her gaze back to Velkar.
Velkar turned to Alador. “You are hereby banished. The name Alador no longer exists to the people. Your name will be erased from the records." He met Alador’s eyes. “Be grateful you have been mage born this day." Then as if to make his point, he slowly turned his back to Alador facing neither him nor his father.
Slowly one by one, the village turned their back to him. Many took a long moment to turn. Alador’s wide eyes scanned the crowd as one by one they all turned away. Gregor was by Sofie. He turned Alador’s sister away, holding her as she sobbed but not before he gave Alador a firm nod of support. His mother was one of the last to turn and even then Dorien had to turn her around. His mother sank to the ground at Dorien’s feet sobbing. Dorien’s eyes met Alador’s and he mouthed the words ‘I promise’ slowly. Alador swallowed hard, his heart felt as if it were being ripped out of his chest as Dorien turned. He was alone now. He had no one but Henrick.
Henrick strode to Alador and cut him down. “Come along lad. Time for us to go." Henrick did not seem moved by the events about him. Despite that, his words were soft as he sliced the rest of Alador’s bonds. Alador had never seen Henrick with a weapon so the glittering knife with its jeweled handle caught his eyes. Henrick slide the knife back into his boot and then grabbed Alador by the arm.
Alador numbly allowed Henrick to pull him through the crowd, the villagers' backs remained to him. This was worse than being banished. If he wanted to write to Dorien, it would have to be in secret. As far at the village was concerned, he was dead. His family would be required to honor that. He did not say anything as Henrick pulled him roughly into his mother’s home.
“We do not have time for self-pity and regret Alador. Gather all that you want that is personal. Tentret and Sofie have already loaded a wagon for us with other supplies. If you want your chest of slips, you will need to get it now." Henrick’s tone was not tender. It was not understanding. It was just commanding. “You have less than half the hour. I expect that the boy’s friends and family will wish some further justice, and it is not wise for us to tarrying long enough for them to form a plan." With that said, Henrick strode from the room leaving Alador standing numbly in the center.
Alador stood, unmoving, in the center of the room. He glanced at the table. So many meals had been eaten, some with scolding and most with laughter. His eyes traveled over his mother’s kitchen. She was the master of this domain, and suddenly he wished for her cooking for it really had seemed to make things better. His eyes moved to Sofie’s sewing. He wondered if she and Gregor would really be housemates. Lastly, his eyes strayed to Tentret’s drawings. The small one with the flower holding his gaze as tears slowly fell down his cheeks. This was home. It had always been home. He just had never realized it.
Alador did not move till the murmur of angry voices reached his ear. Henrick’s words of additional justice rang in his ears. He hurried up to his room and gathered some personal items. He shoved them in a rucksack and looked about hurriedly. He did not have much. He scooped up his bow and quiver along with the sack of supplies for fletching. He ran down the stairs and to the small room in which the chest was hidden. He opened it, struggling with the lock, and removed as many slips as the ruck bag had left to carry. It took a bit to relock it as his hands were shaking so badly, and tears in his eyes made it difficult to see.
He hurried back into the central room and placed the keys upon the table. He hastily scrawled a note on the back of one of his brother’s drawings leaving instructions to take care of each other with the remaining slips and to look out for Mesiande. He stood up, took one last look around. He suddenly rushed to the drawing of the small one and took it down. He rolled it up as he hurried out the door.
Henrick had the cart waiting for him. He was beckoning Alador to get in, and a crowd was forming off in the distance. Alador could see the forms of Meradeth, Velkar, Tentret, and Dorien standing between the crowd and the path to the house. Alador hopped in and turned around to watch the crowd as Henrick slapped the reins on the korpens’ backs.
His eyes filled with tears once more at the chaos left in his wake. He had finally found his place. He had finally felt like he belonged. Trelmar had been right, he would never have her. The bastard had taken it all from him. He had lost his family, lost his Mesiande, his home and his village. All he knew and loved was here in this place with these people. Trelmar had found a way to torment Alador even in his death. Everything was gone! He was headed to a place where he would be truly nothing, nothing but an outcast.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cheryl Matthynssens is a mother of four and a grandmother of three. She graduated from Western Washington University as an English Education Major with a minor in Psychology. She later went back and received certification as a Chemical Dependency Counselor.
Combined with a love of helping others has remained a strong passion for all things fantasy. An avid reader, rpg player, and as her family calls her, a computer nerd, she has never given up her writing or desire to share her art with others. In addition to this novel series, she has published one Children’s Book: How the Dragon’s Got Their Colors. She will also soon be releasing: Not an Egg?!
Cheryl also has a blog and website. You can contact her through those sites at dragonsgeas.blogspot.com or dragonsgeas.com
Outcast (The Blue Dragon's Geas) Page 21
