Dragon Kindred_And The Gyr Worshipers

by Marshall Drews

  It was protection, of course, from the things that are known yet too powerful to overcome.

  Chapter eight

  Venneith had left the fort to retrieve his horse, Astregra, alongside Amyth who waited just beyond the walls of the fort, quite miffed by the bigotry of the gate’s men. For now he followed, despite insisting he could gather Astregra and Benphal himself and return the mare to the knight. Venneith had reasoned that Astregra was a timid, if not a stubborn mare, and that it’s always best if Venneith handles her himself.

  While they walked through the small town, Nerr sat perched on Venneith’s shoulder like an obedient little dragon, blinded from anything that might excite or frighten him. Without his sight he was left to listen and smell intently as they traveled about. There was nothing that would compel the dragon to suddenly leap, for the smells were often lacking of any substance while the sounds, although diverse, where quite boring and equally as uninteresting as the smells themselves.

  Yet, as Nerr shifted his weight as Venneith rounded a corner, his nose picked up on something. Lifting his snout into the air he began to sniff more intently about in an effort to remember what exactly it was, and when Venneith briefly stopped did Nerr remember exactly, or who exactly it was.

  “I see my brother has taught your little dragon some manners,” a softer voice spoke. “Already he knows how to stay, but I’m guessing that’s more to do with blinding him than anything else.” Yes, it was her, the feeder and giver of great tasting food. Already Nerr began easing himself down, the knight taking care not to miss a hold in his blinded state, before at once leaping from Venneith and landing very roughly before her. “I think I spoke too soon,” she said with a gleeful laugh, seeing Nerr take such an interest in her. “You’ll have to teach this little one a bit better now, won’t you?”

  Opening his mouth, Nerr called out for food, making rather strange squeaking noises that came off as a very low-toned duck call. Often his head would flick when she spoke, leaving him to shuffle ever closer until he was sure she stood right before him. Then Nerr would rear up and attempt to crawl up the lady before being picked up instead. Cradling the dragon in her arms, she began to softly rub the Nerr’s belly and chest, earning her a content rumble, almost a purr, as Nerr’s head lolled backwards.

  As Venneith approached she gave him a smile, saying, “It’s easy to see your dragon is a very affectionate beast. While discipline can teach your dragon to obey, affection can make the dragon quite the loyal friend indeed.” As Venneith approached in his heavy armor she tilted her head and added, “But you don’t look like the type that gives much affection, are you? Already he calls back to me and all I ever did was feed him. What does that say about you when you’ve kept him since the very beginning when all that he knew was what was immediately in front of him?”

  “I believe the dragon will call to me when danger arises,” the knight answered, resting a hand on the blinded little dragon she held so close. “You think he’d call to you instead? A brittle young fawn of a girl over a wolf of a man such as myself. No disrespect, but I highly doubt it.” Carefully wrapping both hands round Nerr, he pulled away, salvaging the dragon from her grip. “Come now, Amyth, I have a duty to uphold.”

  As Venneith began making his way with Nerr perched safely away, he paused for a moment when she said, “Look me in the eyes, Venneith.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You have a duty, an oath to uphold as a knight to brave danger and slay when needed. You’re a killer, and unafraid to admit that long ago you lost your innocence. Nerr isn’t like you, at least not yet. He’s still just…just a baby dragon, in all honesty. He doesn’t know life, nor does he truly understand death and what it means to survive.”

  Venneith had been listening, but could already guess where she was going or what she was after. “No,” Venneith said, raising his hand. “I don’t need my future read to me as I don’t believe in fate, only decisions.”

  “What about the safety and security of Nerr?” she then asked. “How do you know he’ll come out of wherever you go unharmed and alive? How do you know he’ll live past his first few years in the slightest?” She looked to the knight, again attempting to penetrate past his visor, glimpse his face and see his eyes, but no emotion bleed through. He was simply an armored statue where the only lively thing was the dragon that made claim attop it, but Venneith couldn’t be all lifeless, for if it were true Nerr surely would’ve been slain. She knew better, as much as the knight would deny anyone would. “If you care for your friend and wish to see him grow into something more then soften yourself and show me your eyes.”

  She looked again to the Armor Burnt Knight, waiting for an answer, a verbal cue, only to receive none. Venneith’s answer was very clear only when he lifted his hand, placing it below his visor before slowly raising it. As Venneith did this, she tried to look past his hand to sneak a glimpse at his face, the face of Venneith the knight fire and fury. The knight many said wielded death in both hands and whose spirit was that of embers and torment. Yet when she looked, all that Venneith would reveal were his eyes between the fingers of his gauntlets.

  Nothing was left to reveal, and the small patches of skin she could see were far too shadowed to get a clear view of whether his skin bore hair, scars, paint, wrinkles, burns. The only thing that seemed to show, of course, where his eyes.

  With a sigh, she cut herself short of her curiosity and did what she said she’d do and as Venneith watched, she appeared to call upon Roughen, standing as casually as ever. Arms folded, legs together and head tilted, with a gaze that never faltered. For a short moment Venneith felt himself to be pierced by her as she saw into him, what became set in the past and what lay ahead. She gazed before her demeanor grew melancholy as she nodded, taking a deep, easy breath.

  “Your dragon will live,” she finally said, leaving Venneith to lower his visor, concealing his face entirely. “At least until you set him free and have him depart.”

  As Nerr patiently rested, he became frightened when Venneith, his protector, spoke in a cruel tone, almost hissing as he did so, saying, “Silence.” This in teun caused the dragon to involuntary snarl at whatever Venneith may have perceived as a threat. “Tell me no more and be quiet. Amyth,” he then addressed, stepping past the seer, waving his follower forward. “Let’s ready the horses, I won’t waste any more time.”

  Amyth obliged, yet when he went in to apologize to the woman for the knight she seemed to want nothing of him. Instead, before he got a word off, she raised a hand and said, “Don’t bother.” Her face seemed to be rather annoyed. He wondered whether her annoyance was sparked by the knight’s rudeness or his own Narrovinnian presence, or a combination of the two. Marching past Amyth, she explained in a low, angry tone, “I must speak to my brother.”

  And so she marched westbound, down the path headed for the fort itself. The fort where she knew Trent to be as he stood before two infantrymen, one of which began to speak to him.

  “Marrin isn’t the place to go wandering all dandy-like as if it were some happy wonderland of drunken men and promiscuous woman, no! Here things will kill you, tear you limb from limb and use your bones for pickings. Everything; from the wolves to the bears, coldbloods and warmbloods, arachnids and arthropods all see you as nothing more than a meatbag, a…juicy delight ready to be sucked dry, leaving them drunk with the flesh and blood of man and mortality. With all these dangers it is precisely why we have been assigned specifically for this mission to search and retrieve the lost agent, as well as destroy or capture these juvenile thieves.”

  “This ain’t the beach of Agrenal, nor is it the island of Amorphous,” Maven cackled along as Joshein gave his best effort in deterring the falconer. “You’re speaking to a kid that’s lived here since he was a young boy. I’m sure he’d know the dangers are far less than how you present them to be.”

  “That may be so,” Joshien muttered, before looking back to Trent with a calculating, almost judgmental gaze. “Falco
ner Trent, are you sure you can handle yourself out there with the things that I have mentioned?” He looked to the man hardly considered more than a boy as he donned a grin, sure that his words would’ve had some effect on the younger soul.

  Trent only stood there, adorned in nothing more than his common wear with the only article of armor being the leather wrist wrap he wore upon his right arm. “You think I’m a tourist?” Trent challenged, finding it slightly humorous how a soldier, who was more of a stranger to this land, would try and frighten him with tales of creatures and beasts as if he was some awestruck little child. “Your friend there said it better than I could. I’ve lived here, yes. I’ve seen the land develop and become destroyed. Villages appear and disappear over the course of a week. If anything I am perfectly within my element. The true question is, are you?”

  With arms folded, Trent stood there confident, with Varrult circling above, while Maven chuckled at Joshein for having just been talked down to. “Heh, you might wanna quit where you’re at, friend. I don’t fancy seeing you make a fool of yourself.”

  “At least we know we’re not dealing with some kid,” he muttered back, before glancing west down the path to the city. A spark of interest struck the man when he spied an interesting dame approaching and he patted his friend’s back saying, “Look alive and masculine, a woman approaches.”

  “You don’t say?” Joshien said as he straightened his armor and adjusted his helmet. “Best not to look too imposing, yes?”

  As the two soldiers fastened and readied themselves rather childishly, Trent looked but was much less enthused than the other two. Before him marched a woman whose face contorted in frustration and annoyance, and when she got within shouting distance she pointed directly at Trent like a spear aimed for the heart and scowled. “Trent Turk!”

  The two soldiers’ gazes shifted from the fair lady to the falconer, whose posture and confidence already began to crumble like a mighty stone wall bombarded by artillery. “Kuri, I-I…wait!” Varrult had seen her advance and sensed her anger and that she might harm his master, so instinctively he screeched in an attempt to deter the woman but all at once the mighty gyrfalcon was quieted with one quick gesture.

  “Quiet you!” Kuri barked, snapping her thumb, index and middle finger together. This only left the two soldiers to look on in amusement as she proceeded to bicker at her brother. “Who Do You Think You Are, Planning To Run Off Like This Without Telling Me!?”

  “I-I…please just—”

  “No. You know very well anything out there can kill you and Lythre knows your little sanctuary is still vulnerable.” By now her initial rage had burnt off and her tone now became that of a more caring, worrisome person that longed for the wellbeing of her brother. “What if you died and I had no idea where you’d gone? What would I do then?”

  Trent was at a loss for words. There wasn’t anything he could particularly argue that would have put into perspective the justness of leaving without a word. The irrefutable truth was he didn’t want to be denied in leaving or told he couldn’t make his own decision and go his own way. He didn’t want to be told he’s too young and too dumb. That the things out there could kill him and if he traveled anywhere without her, disaster would surely strike, if not death itself.

  In all honesty, she was right, as much as he hated to admit it to himself, but he still wanted this and he attempted to argue, to speak, but again he was cut off. “Don’t talk,” she spoke much more softly, now catching Trent off guard as she raised her hand and rested it against his head. “Look me in the eyes, one last time.”

  This wasn’t anything new or anything unlike her, yet rather strange. She’d hadn’t often been one to use her insightfulness on Trent, and he had remembered why as she had previously explained how seeing the death of him would be too much, and looking into him occasionally one year in advance was all she could bear. Yet she stopped that when he neared adulthood, knowing soon he’d be enlisted into the armies of Carthol where perhaps a year was just far too much time to peer into safely without the knowledge of loss, an unavoidable one at that.

  Yet, as Trent gazed back, that intense piercing feeling came and went nearly instantly. She had finished and she once again gazed down like she did with so many others before telling them of their fortune, albeit modified if she feared the client might find it unfavorable; death or otherwise. She wouldn’t lie, at least he hoped not, as she often was very straightforward when it came to dealing with him personally.

  “Kuri?” Trent asked, looking to her.

  She only nodded before saying simply, “You’ll live, Trent.” She then embraced him, hugging tighter than usual before releasing him at once.

  Trent should’ve been grateful, but at first he was more stunned then anything else. His sister, this hard-assed loved one of his, finally putting down the reins and letting him make his own decision for once? No further bickering? No arguing that seniority equates to wisdom and thus knowing more in general?

  No, this was a shock for Trent at first, but a victory second as he at first skeptically questioned, “Wait, I can leave? Really?” before spewing his thanks and hugging her one last time prior to receiving any confirmation other than a subtle nod.

  After a short moment passed over their embrace, she broke away, resting a hand on his shoulder as she pointed with the other at both Trent and Varrult. “Now you listen, just because I have said you’ll live doesn’t—”

  “I know, I know,” he said hastily with enthusiasm. “Doesn’t mean I can fool around and search out danger in whatever form it may come.”

  “Exactly,” she nodded. “Stay close to the those soldiers, be in the watchful eyes of the knight and do your best to be undeterred from the favorable path ahead.”

  “I will, I promise,” he assured. However, just as he began thinking, her permission was all well and good but perhaps she didn’t understand this journey may not even take more than a day. By all means this was a triumphant victory for the falconer, more freedom, more independence and the ability to make his own decision but he knew perhaps this whole scene of affection was a bit too dramatic.

  “Take care, Trent, and be safe,” she said, before she began to step away and venture back to the village.

  “Kuri,” Trent called after she’d walked a fair distance. “I’ll see you again! Real soon. I’ll be back, I promise!”

  As Trent watched she paused only to turn around. A smile fell upon her face and she waved back before saying, “Yes, Trent. Of course.”

  Trent didn’t think too much on this as he was too excited. He turned to his avian friend and said, “How ’bout that, Varrult? We get to leave and we ain’t sneaking about either.” Varrult only looked him dull-eyed as if he was severely uninterested, but Trent didn’t mind. That was just Varrult’s nature and he oddly adored it.

  Meanwhile, Joshien and Maven had found the little sibling bickering quite entertaining until it had ended. Still they grinned as they watched as Kuri ventured back to the village. Sticking out a hand, Maven stopped her briefly only to ask, “Wait, are we going to find our agent?”

  Again she paused to consider, before shaking her head in a manner that conflicted with her answer. “Sure,” was all she said before continuing on her way, past the knight and follower atop their horses, to disappear over the small mound the path lay beyond, leaving the two soldiers quite confounded.

  “That dame said, ‘sure’?”

  “Perhaps that means our agent will first find us,” Maven claimed, before patting Joshien against the chest to silently stand to attention for the Knight in Burnt Armor. Looking up, they presented themselves, finely dressed in armor, donning their scabbards against their waists as they gripped their shields in their hands.

  The day was pleasant apart from a storm that lashed out in the lands far west, but considering the winds the storm would long miss them. Other than that phenomenon, the celestial forecast seemed rather bright from late noon to the coming dusk.

  As they appr
oached, Trent couldn’t help but notice Nerr was nowhere to be immediately seen on Venneith’s person. Trent was sure he taught his student to always be developing his relationship in a free, open environment, but perhaps he needed a small reminder.

  “Excuse me, Venneith?” he addressed as he approached the knight, arms folded, looking as naturally professional as one could. “Your dragon? Where is he to be?”

  “Roaming,” the knight answered dismissively.

  “He’s over here, Venneith,” Amyth exclaimed as he peered over the rear end of Benphal to see the little dragon who seemingly appeared to be stalking the horse.

  However, it wasn’t the horse Nerr had eyes on. It was the timid creature, the leach that snared and bounced, seeming to taunt the dragon, daring the beast to come closer and catch it. It flicked and flung, it brushed against Nerr’s snout and he retaliated by swiping at it. Surely a slap would show the little thing but it had no effect. His attack just seemed to phase out as Benphal let out a subtle yip and took two steps forward.

  That didn’t deter Nerr; instead it was a challenge and this time the tried and true method would surely win out. With a sudden snarl, Nerr leapt out and latched onto the tail, clamping down as hard as his maw could allow, refusing to let go.

  In turn, as one could imagine, the poor horse roared out in fright, proceeding to lurch forward in a sprint, nearly throwing Amyth off his back. Nerr immediately lost his toothy grip on the equine thing rather easily, leaving him to tumble across the ground quite painfully. However Nerr regained his standing, looking rather fine and uninjured only to glance behind him to see the visor of Venneith, his protector, gazing back down at him as Astregra gazed wide-eyed at the little dragon and timidly backed away.