Shaking his head as the exchange Tristan pulled a blanket off of his bed and sat down in front of the fireplace on a plush rug and stared into the depths of the flames. To call this a strange day was something of an understatement. Emotionally drained, he let his mind wander freely. He still struggled to separate the nightmare from reality and he was having a very hard time of it. Remembering simple things like his surname for instance wasn’t improving his mood any. It seemed like just moments ago he feared the beating of a lifetime and now he was safe, whole and happy….despite his confusion.
He began to doze in front of the fire. Suddenly, his head snapped up when he heard voices coming from his fireplace. The recognizable booming tone of Kevin he could hear clearly, but there were three other voices he couldn’t quite make out. He tried to focus his mind, as his father had taught him, trying to tune out the crackling of the wood and soft breeze playing across the drapes of his windows. He reached out and focused his mind on the next room.
“…do you make of that Kevin?” His father asked.
“I don’t know, he seems to be physically fine, but he doesn’t seem able to remember his life.” Kevin replied.
“The trouble is though son,” His mother interjected. “He does remember a life. That’s why he’s not pushing and it’s important that we don’t push him too hard either.” She paused and took a steadying breath before continuing.
“The only life he can remember is that of a tortured child. He’s hurt, paranoid and fearful. He imagines that at any moment his tormentors will burst into the room and continue the abuse.”
“So what do you suggest we do m’Lady?” A strange male voice asked.
“I suggest we put him back into his real life. Let the memories come in their own time. Until that happens we need to remember that he’s going to be very defensive.” Explained his mother.
“I don’t think we should speak with him about that scroll Eurydice uncovered until he’s back to normal.” His father announced.
“He has a right to know Dion.” His mother chastised.
“How would you feel Annadora?” The King answered.
“He’ll find out everything in due time husband.” She answered calmly.
“Born into this world will be a son of a mighty King and Queen descended from dragon bloodlines. He will shake the foundations of man and bring forth an era when man and dragon will live together for the benefit of all.” His father recited before rolling up a rather noisy bit of parchment.
“It’s not something that we can keep from him for any length of time.” He admitted. “By now the rumors have spread among the staff. They all know the contents of that scroll; this house has been obsessed with his survival since the attack. Once word gets out to the ones who orchestrated that attack that he survived the attempt on his life, they’ll hunt him down like a deer.”
“I don’t know, I think the whole ordeal has the lad on the defensive already.” The strange male voice offered.
“Like with Euri?” Kevin asked with a chuckle.
“Exactly, did you see how protective he was of her?” His father answered. “They always had a strong bond, but that was unexpected.”
“He was due to leave this week anyway. Truth be known, he was ready over a year ago.” Spoke the strange voice again. “Kevin do you think you can take him with you at the end of the week.”
“Oh absolutely Gerald, he might not remember everything but I’m willing to bet his instincts are still intact. I’m willing to take him with me.” His brother answered.
Tristan’s excitement surged, he’d never been in a journey before and his brother seemed like the kind of patient teacher he’d never had before. Already he began to day dream about an adventure into a strange land he wasn’t familiar with. A pang of uncertainty grasped his heart briefly, unsure how they would travel. It was short lived though as his more stubborn instincts took over and he knew no matter how they traveled, it would be infinitely more enjoyable than being locked in the stuffy family station wagon.
“You think that border life is what he needs right now though son?” His mother asked with concern.
Border life? The young Prince’s heart raced again. He’d never been on much more of an adventure than he and his friends building forts in the deep snow of winter. Tristan tried to put his building excitement aside so he could continue to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“He needs to be out of this castle my love; he needs to start becoming a man. He’s not going to get any better brooding around the keep trying to force himself to remember.” His father said.
I think it’s time to get some rest Mykl.
His mothers’ half-hearted chastisement rang like a gong in his mind. He’d gotten sloppy eavesdropping on their conversation. Like a crack of lightning ripping apart the sky, he was forced out of their minds. He couldn’t hear anything coming down the chute of the chimney anymore either, not even the booming voice of his older brother.
She must have shut him out of the conversation and silenced those around her Tristan decided with a pang of regret. It was certainly disappointing, but at least he learnt a few things.
First and foremost on everyone’s mind was some sort of scroll or fortune. Those concerns were easily put aside though and he focused instead on his trip with his older brother. He was going to get out and have an adventure, the excitement made it hard to even close his eyes let alone fall asleep. For hours he sat up, daydreaming about forests and roads that he associated with palaces and the décor of his room. Much later, as the embers in the fireplace began to turn black; his fitful mind finally gave in to blissful rest.
Growing Pains
A week later found Tristan on horseback in the courtyard of his parents’ palace. Kevin wouldn’t leave until he was certain that Tristan was ready. What that meant was a mystery to Tristan though and he was becoming anxious to leave on his adventure. The plan was for he and his brother to make their way to Kenting, where Kevin was Duke and defender of Vallius’ western border with Terum.
The morning after he had eavesdropped on his family’s conversation he was quietly woken up by Carl and offered a glass of cold milk and a bowl of porridge. Shortly afterwards Kevin came to see if he was ready to begin his boot camp. Tristan rolled his eyes as he handed the bowl and emptied glass back to Carl, thanking him, and followed his brother through their father’s castle.
For the next few days his brother drilled him in swordplay, riding, strategy and tactics. He noted more than once that Tristan seemed to have become a quicker study since his attack. After twirling to the left inside his brothers extended parry Tristan slapped his brother on the backside with his wooden practice sword after only a few days of sword training.
“Where the hell did you learn that?” His brother asked after regaining his balance.
“Saw it in a movie once.” Tristan answered without hesitation.
“A mo-vie?” He asked.
“Oh, uh…sorry…it’s like theater.” The young Prince answered sheepishly.
After that incident Kevin’s sword drilling picked up in intensity and Tristan rarely went to sleep at night without a new welt. Every muscle was so sore he would gasp and then sigh as he settled into his feather stuffed mattress. More often than not, Eurydice would come visit him before she went to sleep, recounting her day and the gossip of the palace while she defeated him mercilessly in chess.
“You wouldn’t believe what Holly tried to do today Tristan.” She excitedly recounted.
Tonight Kevin had sent one of the servants to give Tristan a massage. The young man had blocked an overhead strike and his neck and shoulder had knotted up from the blow he should have deflected from a more powerful opponent. The female servant had arrived in his room and asked him to disrobe, which allowed his sister to have great laugh at his embarrassment. He’d been asked to lay on his stomach on a mat of leather on his floor. The servant had then mounted his back as Euri setup their nightly game in front of him.
“Who’s Holly?” Tristan grunted as the servant applied pressure to a particularly large knot in his neck.
“Oh, she’s the head cooks daughter.” She replied matter-of-factly. “Anyway, she’s been trying to get a little flower garden going on the eastern tower, do you know the one?”
Tristan gasped in pain as the knot released. He fought for his breath for a moment as pain shot down his arm.
“Yes, you took me up there a couple days ago didn’t you?” He answered with a groan of pain.
“No, no silly.” She giggled. “That was mothers’ garden on the southern tower. That’s the one that gets the most sun.”
As she continued to prattle on about Holly’s exploits in gardening adventure Tristan began to drift off to sleep.
The following morning, as he dressed for the day, his thoughts began to drift to his forthcoming adventure. Not the least of which was his building excitement. He was going to be spending months under the tutelage of his older brother whom he found a forgiving teacher with a sarcastic edge to his humor that Tristan found most compelling. Tristan’s unexpected tactics often earned him praise. He sensed on more than one occasion that these bouts of minor brilliance hadn’t occurred much before the assassination attempt had occurred.
Several times a day he overheard blacksmiths, soldiers and the palace staff comment on his change in demeanor and ease with which he picked things up. This led Tristan to his first long conversation with his father since he’d assumed the form of Father Downing inside the nightmare dream, as the young man had come to call it.
“Everyone keeps mentioning different things about me as though it surprises them, I don’t understand.” He said one night after his family had left the dinner table leaving the two of them in private conversation.
“I’ve never lied to you son, but I’ve not always told you everything either.” His father replied.
“I’m confused.” Tristan admitted.
“Before your attack, you were quite a handful.” He began with a grin. “You really didn’t listen to anyone except your mother and we’re convinced that’s only because she could see your thoughts.” His father chuckled.
The only life Tristan could still remember was that of a wretch; the object of humiliation and ill treatment by most everyone. In his real life he had been the tormentor, a spoiled bully of a King who treated most everyone with cruelty. Tristan felt incredible shame at the thought.
“Don’t feel bad son.” His father interrupted Tristan’s dark self-deprecation. “You were the middle child and we were often distracted with Kevin and then with Eurydice once she was born. You were largely left to your Dana to govern. You always were rather protective of your little sister though.” He said with a wink.
“The two of you used to share your thoughts when you were young. Until, of course, she discovered boys.” He continued. “More than one Keep lad ended up getting a thrashing from you Saturdays.”
“Wait…what happens Saturdays?” Tristan asked in confusion.
“All the apprentices get the day off and most of them are on sponsored lacrosse teams.” His father explained.
“What’s lacrosse?” Tristan asked.
“It’s just a sport you young men play.” His father replied dismissively.
“…and people get hurt?” He blurted.
“Well, over the last few years I agreed to let a committee of local business owners create a league with some more defined rules and referees, but yes…it’s a rather physical game.” He father replied. “Some are more physical than others.” He concluded, shooting Tristan a mock appraising look.
The young man’s face reddened in embarrassment, not only had he been mean spirited, but he was also a bully. Correctly reading his sons’ mood again, his father consoled him.
“Don’t feel bad Tristan. You really only got physical with the boys who toyed with your sisters affections.” His father soothed.
“Toyed…she’s eleven, father.” He chuckled.
“That’s almost marrying age, son.” He reminded him. “Soon I’ll have to find a husband for her and you’ll need to remember to keep your temper with him.” His father replied with a smirk.
“It’s a good thing I’m leaving at the end of the week then.” Tristan observed with a sarcastic grin.
They both laughed as Dion took another sip of wine. Over the past week Tristan had become accustomed to the drink. The first night he’d had a few glasses too many and had woken up the following morning with a terrible headache. Carl was kind, though Kevin took great pleasure in using Tristan’s current state as an excuse to refresh his riding skills.
Tristan discovered, even when hung-over, that he was a natural on horseback. His brother commented that he sat his mount better than he used to and seemed more at ease in the saddle than ever, which left the Prince contemplating just how different his experiences had made him in such a short time. Kevin took his moment of introspection to give him a brief history of the family line of horses.
His great-grandfather had arranged for the first horses to be brought into their kingdom from The Eastern Expanse. The Rhenish horses had thick powerful legs, a medium length strong neck and responded to knee pressure, which made them excellent cavalry mounts. The previous horse masters had bred in a few Palominos to give the breed longer legs and more stamina for long campaigns. One of the major Vallius exports now was their purebred mounts. Many cavalry troops and noblemen prized them both as war steeds and show horses. Or so it Kevin explained to him.
As Kevin and Tristan arrived at the royal stables, one of the horses in the corral came cantering over to the fence as they walked by the training area. The horse followed them along for a few paces until it chomped at the back of Tristan’s tunic and pulled him off balance, naying in protest.
“It seems as though someone missed you, little brother.” Kevin laughed.
The horse master came walking out of the stables wiping his hands with a rag and smiling from ear to ear. He was a short muscular man with flyaway straw colored hair and bright white teeth. He had a deep tan to his leathered skin and a comical mustache that grew down both sides of his mouth, continuing down a few inches on either side of his chin. He held out a callused hand to Tristan as they approached.
“Young Master Tristan, good to see you up and about, lad.” He said in a jovial voice as he shook Tristans hand in a firm grip that easily could have crushed the young Princes hand.
“Tristan, this is horsemaster Albert.” Kevin introduced.
“So the rumors are true? He’s lost his memories?” Albert blurted.
“Albert….” Kevin warned.
“He didn’t mean anything by it Kevin, its fine.” Tristan interrupted his brother. Most people had the same reaction to the young Prince and he was getting used to the shock and sometimes the relief people expressed.
“No Master Albert, I don’t remember you, I’m sorry.” He said.
“Apologies are unnecessary between you and I, lad. Your mare remembers you, as do I.” Albert said with a pat on the shoulder. “Would you care to take her for a ride?”
Tristan’s eyes lit up with excitement as he looked from the horsemaster to the mare that pawed anxiously inside the corral. Albert chuckled as he led the brothers through the gate. The three of them walked into the stables as the horse came running to the fence line. Tristan watched the mare closely, fascinated by her speed and agility. His eyes adjusted to the dimness of the stables as they entered and began to look around, feeling free to let his curiosity roam. Tristan noticed one empty stall with a beautifully designed leather saddle hanging from the support beam next to it. He walked over to the saddle to get a closer look as the other two men exchanged looks and followed him.
It was made entirely of leather, died black in the same fashion as the furniture in his room. The saddle was ornamental but yet seemed sturdy and highly functional. The buckles and metal trim of the saddle were silver colored metal that turned out to be heavy brass with silver plating as
Albert explained. The horsemaster brought the mare into the stable and it immediately cantered over to Tristan, nudging him with her nose.
The horse dipped his head slightly and Tristan felt the urge to scratch her between the eyes. He chuckled as he seemed to enjoy his attention. The horse had beautiful chestnut coat, which was broken up by small patches of white fur above each of her black hooves and a white star shaped patch of fur between her eyes.
“Pava is her name.” Albert said quietly. “Would you like me to saddle her?”
“No need.” Tristan replied as he walked over to a nearby wooden box built into the side of the stable wall. He reached in and felt around for the softest blanket he could find, along the side of the box he noticed a slim box built into the side with the initials ‘A.V.’ on it. He reached in and pulled out the softest blanket in the container. Hefting the blanket over his shoulder, he walked past a shocked Kevin and an amused Albert and put it on his horse. Strangely, Tristan knew where to retrieve the blanket and even stranger was that there was no hint of doubt in his mind of what he was doing. The same instinct that served him in sparing with his brother seemed to be helping everything he enjoyed. In that moment, Tristan decided that even if his memories had failed him, his instincts served him faithfully.
Next he grabbed the saddle off its post and placed it on top of the blanket; he flipped the stirrup over the saddle and pulled the cinch through the buckle. He tightened the cinch and noticed there was a slight fading four holes up. Behind him he could hear Albert chuckle. Not knowing why Tristan slapped the mare in the stomach lightly forcing her to exhale as he tightened up the cinch the four required holes. Smiling to himself he grabbed the reins and walked back towards his brother and the horsemaster.
“Care to go for a ride?” He asked with a self-satisfied smirk.
His brother smiled at him, shaking his head and laughing as he saddled his own horse.
Draconis' Bane Page 6
