Bloodmines: Cheryl Matthynssens

by Cheryl Matthynssens

  Bile rose in Alador’s throat as he realized his plans went beyond just freeing the dragons from bloodmining: an idea, a purpose that had seemed noble whenever he had thought of it. He was planning coldly to end the lives of men and women, some of whom he had trained with in the Blackguard.

  “You have gone pale, boy, and your heart rate is up,” Keensight observed. “Don’t you have the stomach for it?”

  Alador did not even want to think about how the dragon could sense that. “It is one thing to think of a noble goal and another to realize the steps that must be taken to reach it,” Alador murmured. “It bothers me to know that I must kill my own kind to free yours.”

  “If it did not, I think I might have a need to kill you here before we start. War is harsh, Alador, and comes with a high cost: not only to the men who fight such wars, but to those who command them as well. A man that can send a group into battle knowing they will die and do so without conscience is headed for certain death, or on his way to a brutal dictatorship.” Keensight’s tone was slow and teaching; it held no censor. “A true leader sends that order with true regret for the men he will lose; but even in the face of his grief, he sends the order anyway.”

  “And if he cannot give the order?” Alador looked up at the dragon. His way of sharing things was oddly familiar. Maybe it came from spending too much time with Henrick.

  “Then he is not a leader that men will follow long,” the dragon answered coolly with a smile - which was eerie, as it looked far more like the precursor to a snarl. It was unsettling to see so many teeth.

  Alador nodded. “I will need time to arrange things so that I have the people I need in place.”

  “I will as well. I will have to pick carefully those that will fight by my side and not end the mortals that aid us.” They both fell silent.

  Alador mulled over their conversation before moving on to the next point he needed to discuss. “I have a question for you...” Alador picked at his leathers as he tried to decide how best to ask it.

  “Only one…?” Keensight sounded bemused and Alador swore that the dragon was trying not to laugh. The magnificent beast hauled himself up to sit on his haunches.

  “Well, one to focus on at the moment,” Alador corrected. “Have you ever seen a black dragon in a bloodmine?”

  Keensight raised his head as he considered the question. “No. No, I’ve never seen a black fledgling.”

  “A friend of mine suggested that the Black Flight - and maybe even the Goddess Dethara - are in league with those running the mines. He went on to suggest that the Black Flight is providing information on where to find other flights’ eggs.” He looked up from his leathers to the dragon, and his eyes grew wide with alarm.

  Keensight was rising onto all fours, his eye narrowed into mere slits. Every spine on the dragon’s back had risen. His wings had expanded as much as the space around him allowed, and they twitched with the fury in his tone. “If this turns out to be true… they will ALL die! I will help hunt down any and every dragon involved in such a heinous betrayal of our sacred heritage,” he bellowed. Fire spat in short bursts from his mouth as rage overtook reason.

  Alador’s hands sprang to his ears as he stared at the furious beast. He shrank back into the shaking throne, afraid the rocks peppering him were just the beginnings of a cave-in. He watched in horror as the dragon’s tail hit the wall, dislodging even more of the ceiling.

  Alador shouted out. “You are causing a cave-in! Calm down!!” Dirt and rocks rained down from the ceiling, a large boulder rolling past his chair. It seemed likely that Keensight would bury them both…

  …but seeming to hear him, Keensight drew in his wings and tail. Only when the dragon had calmed somewhat, and the dust had settled, did Alador dare to speak again. “I only brought it up because you might not want to tell any black dragons what we are about.” Alador eyed the clearly still angry dragon.

  “I had never… I should have…" Keensight snarled, barely able to finish his own thoughts. “If it is true, it changes everything…” The dragon’s nostrils flared and smoke billowed from them.

  “Please don’t roast the bearer of bad news.” Alador was feebly trying to pour a little humor on an inflammable situation. However, the dragon must have taken him seriously, for it plopped down into the pile of treasure, sending stones and slips rattling everywhere.

  “My apologies.” Despite the attempt to remain calm, Keensight’s rage was snarled out in his words. “It is just that I know of one of the Black Flight who knew where my mate nested. If he betrayed her to the egg-hunters, I will kill him. I will make his death so slow and so painful that he will regret ever being hatched.” Keensight’s anger rumbled the pile.

  “I know how it is to be betrayed by those you trust. If this is true, I'm very sorry.” Alador was honestly sharing a familiar pain. The two fell into silence.

  Alador was unsure of how much time had passed. He did not press the dragon, and he was considering their exchange as well. So far, it was going very well, all things considered. Well, discounting the fact that his words had almost ended in a collapse of the dragon’s cave.

  It was better than he had dared to hope: Henrick had made it sound like this would be an impossible task. He kept an eye on the angered dragon, watching his tail flick angrily back and forth, sweeping jewels and medure in its wake.

  Suddenly Keensight lifted his great head, startling Alador out of his own deep reverie. “I must leave for a short time. There is an area against the east wall partway down the flight of stairs I told you about. Henrick makes himself at home there.” He slithered his incredible bulk off the pile, starting a treasure-slide as he headed for the entrance. “I doubt he will object to your making use of it. When I return, I will bring a meal.” Keensight called back as his tail was disappearing: “Do not touch my bed.”

  Alador eyed the enormous pile of treasure Despite its size, he suspected that Keensight would know if a single jeweled cup went missing. He slowly pried his aching body from the chair, realizing he could use some water and a nap. The exhausted young mage made his way to the wall of the cavern that the dragon had indicated, and sure enough, there was a flight of rickety wooden stairs fixed precariously to the jagged, glistening rock…

  Taking a flickering torch from a sconce on the wall, he made his way down the treacherously slippy stairs, and came to a small area recessed into the rock, just where Keensight had said. It had obviously been kitted out for human comfort: there was a bed, a desk and a small bookshelf, though the books appeared mildewed and untouched for some time.

  He could see a small pool of water in a hollowed rock a little farther down, fed by the spray of the falls. Carefully he descended the rest of the stairs and moved over to the small pool. Eyeing his hands, he pulled off the shredded gloves, wincing as some cuts were reopened by the removal of the leather caked in dried blood.

  He bathed them carefully, then called on his magic to form strips of linen. He frowned at the strangeness of magic while carefully bandaged his hands: it was odd that he could make it rain, call lightning, create linen, and yet he could not heal his own wounds.

  He made his way back up to the ledge and fell onto the bed. The covers were just out of reach of the spray of the falls, but still had drawn moisture from the damp surroundings. He dried the blankets with a simple cantrip, and then pulled the rough blankets over himself. Alador had no idea how long Keensight would be gone. He had left angry and with an obvious purpose. Alador was unsure if mentioning the absence of black fledglings was to his advantage or not. However, if Jon’s suspicions were true, then any black dragon was a danger to their plans.

  He really was exhausted. Taking into account the many days in a sickbed, and the climbing of that cliff face… Alador snorted with frustration: a cliff he had not even had to climb. He could not help wondering if Henrick had left that small detail out on purpose. He made note to punch his father when next he saw him. The warmth of the covers, the lulling sound of falling water a
nd exhaustion finally combined and Alador fell asleep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Alador was uncertain how long he had slept by the time that he heard the dragon return, the noise of his movements carrying over the sound of the waterfall. He stretched and groaned as every muscle in his body seemed to protest such simple movement. Pulling himself out of the bed, Alador formed a bit of light in his hand to illuminate what the torch, long burnt out, no longer did. There was no light coming through the water, indicating it was still night outside the cave.

  Making his way up the fragile stairs carefully, he tread lightly so as to not make a sound, as he was not certain what mood the dragon would be in when he made it to the top. He realized, as he made it to the top, that it was unlikely he was sneaking up on the beast.

  Carefully, he peered into the cavern, searching the large room. Keensight was once more nestled on the top of his mound. A table had been set by the throne and a steaming carcass of prang was draped across it. He could tell that the dragon had not bothered to skin it before he cooked it. The mage shook his head with a bit of a grin. At least the dragon was trying to be hospitable.

  He moved across the cavern floor feeling the eyes of Keensight follow him as he made for the table. “Thank you for dinner,” Alador politely said.

  “You're welcome, I know your kind prefers kills for food dressed out, but with these…” Keensight held up the huge talons, “Skinning them really isn’t that easy. I was able to remove its insides. I like that part best anyway.”

  Smiling at the words of the dragon, Alador pulled his knife from his boot and used it to pull away the skin. He then carved off a healthy piece of meat. It was still too hot to eat, so he set it aside on the table to cool. The smell of scorched hair was mingled with the roasted meat, dampening the appeal somewhat.

  “I hope you have regained your temper?” He watched the dragon and attempted to hold no sarcasm in his tone. He flopped down in the throne, still eying the dragon with a bit of concern.

  “It was a fact that I should have seen myself,” Keensight growled. “That a mortal had to show me the obvious is irritating at best.” He shifted with that irritation and a bowl rolled free of the pile then spun at Alador’s feet, the slow wobbling stop drawing the mage’s eye.

  “Yes, well I would guess that even the purest of dragons are not perfect,” Alador offered almost absently, watching the jeweled bowl come to a stop. He looked up as Keensight raised his head and slapped his right paw onto the pile making Alador flinch.

  “I would not go that far,” Keensight protested.

  Alador cocked his head and for a moment, he was sure that he had just hurt the dragon’s feelings. “Let me rephrase, you were probably too close to the problem to observe such a fluid detail. I’m sure the fledglings in the mine are changed often,” Alador offered, so as to soothe the ego of the arrogant beast. Keensight let out a low growl, and Alador realized that he had just picked at the grieving wound of the dragon. The only reason that the fledglings would have changed was that they were unable to offer viable blood any longer.

  “Yes, yes, that is likely it. I was too close to it to see.” Keensight grabbed at the morsel of balm, but his voice held the pain of the reminder. Silence rose between them as Alador was attempting to eat the hot meat and Keensight was absorbing their conversation.

  After a long while, the dragon sniffed and his long neck stretched toward the table where the prang rested. “You going to eat that?” Keensight eyed the prang hungrily as his tongue snaked out as if to taste the very air emanating from it.

  Alador had not found Keensight’s way of cleaning and cooking the prang very palatable, so waved towards the steaming carcass. “I’ve carved off a piece more than enough for me, so if you wish the rest, by all means, it’s yours.” He did not have to offer twice.

  It was rather ominous to see a large dragon lunge in your direction, even if it was for the steaming meat at your side. It felt as if he had barely uttered the words before Keensight was gulping down the prang, and he was being pelted with scattering medure. When the dragon was done eating, he settled backwards into his pile to watch Alador. Alador felt as if the dragon was following every morsel to his mouth as he picked at his own steaming piece.

  “Why are you still here?” the dragon asked gruffly.

  “You told me to stay downstairs, remember?” Alador grinned at the dragon mischievously before speaking a bit more seriously. “I was unsure if we were done. Times and such were not arranged,” Alador pointed out. He took another bite, having to work at chewing and keeping the burnt hair-flavored meat down.

  “How much time will you need to prepare your part?” Keensight asked, clearly considering the matter.

  “I was thinking we would move at the first full moon following the showing of early spring flowers,” Alador suggested.

  “Easy enough to mark,” the dragon nodded in approval. “Then it is settled. You may finish your dinner then return to Henrick.”

  “You know that Henrick awaits me?” Alador looked a bit surprised.

  “That mortal builds a big enough fire for any dragon to find,” Keensight harrumphed, and smoke swirled up from his nostrils.

  “Well, he does dislike being uncomfortable.” Alador grinned. He toyed with his meat, knowing he had one other matter to address. He was not sure if the idea was brilliance or stupid and he took a deep nervous breath. “However, our business is not quite done.”

  “It is not?” Keensight tipped his head left and right.

  “There is still the matter of compensation to Smallbrook,” Alador stated casually as he ate from his cut. He very deliberately did not look up at Keensight.

  Keensight let out a snort of smoke and soot. “You are not serious?” Keensight sounded totally taken aback.

  “I am.” Alador stated with a full mouth and paused to finish chewing. “The High Minister of Lerdenia seeks to push the Daezun into starvation through me. I’ll need to capitulate to his demands to buy time to find a way to truly unseat him.” Alador took a deep breath and continued. “Given this, I think the best way you could make amends for damage done in anger is to either part with a bit of your bed, or you could help make sure villages under his onslaught have meat.”

  Keensight looked around at his precious pile and back to Alador. “Your insolence and disrespect are boundless,” he growled, and Alador was sure that strange grimace on the dragon’s face was a pout.

  Alador looked up at him. “How have I been disrespectful? I have offered alternatives for the damage done.” Alador held out both his hands, palms up as if weighing matters. “I have offered my own life and the lives of many who revere dragonkind to free your young.” Alador stood up and moved to the edge of the massive mound.

  “I would think a simple request to repair the damage you did to an innocent village is very respectful.” He turned his back on the dragon bravely, despite the pounding of his heart and moved to the back of the throne, partly to have something to hold to still his shaking hands, and partly to put something between him and the agitated dragon whose tail was twitching much like a cat about to pounce on a field mouse.

  Keensight glared at him for the longest time. Alador leaned against the throne, his heart was racing so loudly that he was sure that Keensight was more than aware of his apprehension and fear.

  “Are you sure you are not part dragon?” the dragon finally hissed.

  “Is that possible?” Alador asked curiously, his fingers white from clenching the throne.

  “No! But you bargain as one, and you are as arrogant as one,” Keensight blustered. “You are just like your sire.”

  Alador’s eyes went cold and hard as he made eye contact with the dragon, cold rage flooded through him. “I am nothing like my father,” he said slowly.

  Keensight snorted with amusement, “Denying a truth doesn't make it false. You are just like him. Calculating, brash,” Keensight paused and pointed a talon at Alador, “and I bet you have that same damn temper
.”

  Alador worked to rein in said temper before he proved the dragon right. “He lies,” Alador argued simply, as if this was a defense. He held the dragon’s gaze. The dragon’s eyes held amusement and Alador’s still held indignation.

  “So do you,” Keensight pointed out. “Otherwise, you will never get your half of your plan in place, and you would not cave into the demands of the High Minister to buy time.”

  Alador stared angrily at the dragon as he moved around the throne to the pile. Totally forgetting Henrick’s warning to hold his tongue, he snarled up to the looming head above him. “Henrick didn’t tell me I was part of some breeding plan.” The mage spat out with disdain “He used magic against my mother to ensure he was in Daezun furs.”

  The dragon shook its great head. “You are a fool to think that you are exempt from the very crimes you press upon your father. You just told me that you will cast spells against your own people for a greater cause.” Alador was so close to the dragon’s maw that he could see a remnant of a prang hoof stuck within the dragon’s teeth. “Sometimes the means are justified in the great scheme of things, boy.” Keensight lowered his head as he spoke, the snort of amusement from Keensight’s nostrils sent Alador’s unkempt hair backwards.

  “Don’t call me boy,” Alador snarled. He did not like Keensight’s words. He didn’t want to admit he was doing the very things that he was mad at Henrick for doing, and Keensight was not the first to point out that he was acting just like his father. Alador rubbed his jaw absently, remembering Sordith’s solid blow.

  “I will quit calling you boy when you quit speaking as one, not discounting the fact that I have lived many of your lifetimes.” Keensight raised his head up, peering down at the angered youth.

  “You…” The dragon moved over Alador as he had the prang before gulping it down. His words were terse and cold, “want me to trust you, trust many dragons to this cause, and yet you speak like a fledgling who has been denied his favorite toy.” Keensight did not move further as he countered Alador’s rants “It does not gain much faith on my part to hear you hold a grudge against a man who, at least as long as I have known him, watched over you with true care.”