by G. A. Aiken
That was where the fear came from, Celyn believed. The not knowing. Not knowing what these offspring could do. Even they didn’t know. At least not right away.
So Celyn did understand the fear, but not the hatred. He didn’t understand dragons who hated humans. Or humans who hated dragons. Or anyone who hated someone for being brought into this world without any say in the matter.
Then again, no one ever asked his opinion on anything. Except Rhiannon. But he always felt she did that simply to irritate Bercelak. She enjoyed irritating Bercelak.
“Lord Celyn?”
Celyn snorted. “Lolly, you of all beings know I am no lord.” He turned and walked back into the store. “If anything I’m as far from . . .”
Celyn stopped. Nodded at what he saw. “Perfect.”
“If you already had this, Dolt,” asked the Rider, standing beside a grinning Lolly, “then why must I put on other clothes?”
“To amuse me.”
“I loathe you more and more every day.”
Lolly quickly covered her mouth, turned her face away.
“Aye, I can tell,” Celyn agreed.
He walked around Elina. Aye. These clothes were perfect. Black leggings, a blue cotton shirt, and black leather boots that went over her knees. He had no need to pass her off as some grand lady, simply as a traveler. But he still wanted to make sure she could move on her horse and, more importantly, use her bow unobstructed by the sometimes-ridiculous clothes of humans.
“That fur and leather cape I picked out should do it, Lolly.”
Lolly put the cape around Elina’s shoulders. She fussed with it a bit before she was satisfied, stepping back beside Celyn and smiling. “You look wonderful,” she gushed.
Elina stared at the two of them, her mouth slightly open, her eyes drawn down in a distinct expression of disgust.
“I do not understand you people,” Elina finally admitted.
“That’s all right,” Celyn said. “I’m here to lead the way.”
“I would be better off with your travel-cow leading the way.”
“No need to get nasty.” Celyn took the bundle of extra clothes he’d chosen for Elina from Lolly, then kissed the shopgirl on the cheek. “As always, Lolly, thank you for your help.”
“Of course.”
Celyn gestured to the still open front door. “Ready?” he asked Elina.
“I have been ready for hour. You waste my time.”
“You need to learn to relax.”
“Shut up.”
Celyn managed to wait until Elina brushed past him before he grinned. And that’s when Lolly grabbed hold of his arm.
“Lolly?” Celyn prompted when she said nothing.
“Be careful on your travels, Celyn.” She glanced at the door as if she expected to see someone listening to their conversation. “Things are different out there.”
“What brought this on?”
“The questions you were asking me earlier . . . I’m fine with those questions. We’ve known each other a long time. But there are some . . .” She again glanced at the front door. “Just be careful. I always enjoy your company, dear Celyn.”
“And I yours.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek again. “And thank you, old friend.”
Elina hated her new clothes, but only because she liked them so much. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had clothes that she hadn’t sewn herself from animals she’d hunted down on her own, or clothes that hadn’t been handed down to her by her older sisters.
Torn between wanting to tear the clothes off and wanting never to take them off, Elina began walking toward the big gates at the entrance to the town.
The dragon easily caught up to her with his long legs. “That’s strange,” he said softly.
Elina stopped immediately. “If you have problem with these clothes, Dolt, you should not have bought them for me.”
The dragon frowned, his head tipping to the side. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing wrong with your clothes.”
“Then what was strange?”
“Lolly suddenly warning me about not asking too many questions while we’re traveling through the cities and towns on our route.”
Elina folded her arms over her chest. “By death, how much do you talk that even the shopgirls need to warn you to stop?”
The dragon glared at her. “I don’t talk that much, but I do ask questions. I listen to gossip.”
“If you need to believe that . . .”
“Are you done?”
“At the moment.”
“Anyway, I think we’ll need to be even more careful than I first thought.”
Elina started walking again, already bored by this conversation. “I am always careful.”
With two steps, the dragon was again by her side. “Even while welcoming your old friend death?”
“If you fear death, it will only come for you sooner. Why fear what is inevitable?”
“Every word you speak,” he announced, swinging his arm out, “like a ray of suns-shine!”
“At least I keep my words short, meaningful, and to point. Shopgirls do not tell me I need to keep quiet.”
“She did not tell me to keep quiet. Stop twisting this!”
“I twist nothing. I simply note.”
“Well, stop noting, and do me a favor.”
Elina stopped again and faced the dragon. “What favor?”
He glanced off, his lip curling in disgust. It lasted for several seconds before he finally said, “Just . . . if you notice I’m talking too much or someone seems particularly interested in what I’m asking about, let me know. That’s all. Just . . . have my back.”
“Have . . . back?”
“Have my back. Simply make sure that I don’t put me foot in it.”
“Foot?”
He rolled his eyes. “Gods, you’re literal. I mean make sure I don’t talk us into a bad situation.”
“Oh. Step on dick.”
His eyes widened. “Pardon?”
“When men do stupid thing . . . we say they step on dick.”
“That would imply an impressively sized dick.”
Elina smirked. “Rider women already took the balls, which makes the dick of men look that much longer.”
The dragon briefly closed his eyes, and he smiled. “Do you say that to the men of your tribes?”
She reached up to his wide shoulder and patted it. “We sew it on our pillows.”
Chuckling, Elina walked off, the dragon eventually catching up with her once more.
Chapter Fourteen
Brother Magnus, as he was known at the monastery of the Brotherhood of the Far Mountains, barely stifled a yawn of absolute and utter boredom. He hated this place. Always had. But he’d been dropped at the doorstep of the Brotherhood when he was barely two, and here was where he’d stayed.
It could have been worse, though. He could have been sold as slave labor to a farmer or a mine. At least with the Brotherhood, Magnus always had a full belly and a roof over his head. But at twenty-nine winters, he was beyond bored and it didn’t seem that anything would ever change that.
Magnus yawned again and wasn’t able to catch it in time. From across the study room, the Elder Brother glared at him, and with a nod, Magnus got up and walked out into the hallway. Perhaps some fresh air would help wake him up a bit . . . but he doubted it.
As he headed toward his cell, he heard a door open and watched one of the brothers slip out of a cell and head down the hall toward the back stairs.
Although the cowl of his robe hid his face, Magnus knew that brother. He should know him. He was closer to that brother than anyone else at the monastery.
Prince Talan of the Southlands, firstborn son of Queen Annwyl and Prince Fearghus, twin brother to Princess Talwyn and first cousin to Princess Rhianwen, and what Magnus liked to call “The Consummate Obtainer of Pussy.”
Glancing around and seeing that the halls were barren except for the pair of them, Magnus chased
after Talan, catching up with him as the royal made it to the back stairs.
“Talan?”
Talan stopped, his eyes briefly closing, but when he turned and saw Magnus standing there, he let out a relieved breath. “Oh, Magnus. It’s you.”
Magnus noted the bag slung over Talan’s shoulder. “Are you heading into town?”
Usually when they snuck out of the monastery together and headed into town for ale, food, and women, they left later, when it was easy to blend into the dark and shadows. But as bored as Magnus was today, he was willing to risk a lashing or two for leaving the grounds during the day. If they were caught. A big if. Over the years, Magnus and Talan had become very good at not being caught.
But Talan didn’t answer Magnus right away. Instead, he stared at him for a long moment, a frown on his face. Strange, since Talan rarely frowned. He was usually too busy smirking and mocking the other brothers under his breath to ever look serious . . . about anything.
Finally, after what felt like hours, Talan said, “I’m leaving, old friend.”
“Leaving?”
“I have to. My time here is up.”
It was strange how Magnus somehow knew, deep inside, that Talan was never meant to spend his entire life here with the Brotherhood. Talan played along. Practiced all the rituals. Studied diligently. Pretended to respect the Elder Brothers enough to keep from receiving any punishments or beatings. But Magnus knew his friend was not meant for this life. And not because he was a royal either. There was just something about Prince Talan of the Southlands that spoke of more important things than life in a monastery.
“I will miss you, though,” Talan admitted.
“But I’m coming with you.”
Magnus really hadn’t known those words were going to come out of his mouth until they did, but he knew as soon as he said them . . . he meant every one. He couldn’t stay with the Brotherhood. He couldn’t spend his life like this. He wasn’t meant to.
“I can’t ask you to—”
“You’re not asking. I’m telling. . . . I’m coming with you. We’re going together.”
Talan studied him a moment longer before he nodded. “You have two minutes to get what you—”
But Magnus didn’t wait for Talan to finish. He simply went back to his cell and grabbed his travel bag, his short sword, a few daggers, and whatever coin he had, and pulled his fur cloak over his monk robes. It took him less than a minute. That’s what his life at the monastery amounted to . . . less than a minute to pack up and leave forever.
He returned to Talan’s side and together they moved quietly but quickly down the back stairs and out the monastery’s back door. They headed through the forest that surrounded the property until they reached the grazing land where they kept the animals they used for food. They were near the stone wall that surrounded the monastery and was covered in protective powerful magicks when Talan suddenly veered off and carefully approached one of the massive bulls.
“Talan?”
Talan didn’t answer but silently waved Magnus off.
The bull watched Talan’s approach but didn’t run or attack. The monks had taught them how to handle animals, from small to large, no matter the temperament.
Once Talan stood by the bull, he drew his short sword, caught one of the bull’s horns and slammed the blade up into its neck.
The bull let out a cry of pain before dropping to the ground, its blood pouring out onto the snow-covered ground.
Talan knelt by the animal and placed his hand on its head. He prayed over the animal for a minute, stood, and then performed the same action again on two more bulls.
It seemed excessive to Magnus, performing sacrifices at this moment, but perhaps Talan was hoping to bless their journey.
Talan returned to Magnus’s side, wiping his blood-covered hands on his robes.
“You sure about this?” Talan asked Magnus. “You come with me past this stone wall . . . and there will be no turning back, my friend.”
“Then, gods, Talan, what are we waiting for?”
Talan grinned and they walked the rest of the way to the wall. Bending at the knees, Magnus launched himself to the top and over, Talan right by his side. One of the many skills their brothers had taught them over the years.
They landed and stood tall. Talan glanced at him and Magnus nodded. Then they faced the five men who’d clearly been waiting for them on the other side and stopped short. In one second, Magnus felt his bright and brilliant dream of leaving this place forever slip away. A dream, he knew, that would haunt him for the rest of his days.
“Father Robert,” Talan greeted. “Brother Oliver. Brother—”
“Where are you going, dear boy?” Father Robert asked. His voice soft and comforting but, as Magnus knew, his will made of iron.
“I have someplace to be, Father Robert.”
“That’s not possible, Brother Talan. You know that.” Father Robert gave a small smile. “Now you will come back with us. We have a place for you. Both of you. A place for you always.”
“You can’t force him to stay,” Magnus argued, even though he knew he, himself, was doomed to stay. Doomed because he was no one’s prince, no royal’s child. He was no one.
“We can and we will,” Father Robert lashed back. “Don’t make us.”
Magnus took a step to protect his only friend, his anger getting the better of him, but Talan quickly caught his arm and pulled him back to his side. Eyes locked on the monks, Talan reached into the pocket of his robes and quickly salted the earth in a circle around them.
The monks immediately backed up, their eyes desperately searching, while Father Robert pointed an accusing finger at Talan.
“What have you done, Abomination?”
“And there it is,” Talan announced. “The truth. How you think about me. All of me.”
Magnus jerked at the sound of something crashing into the wall behind them.
“You are an abomination against the gods,” Father Robert roared over the increasing sounds of crashing coming from the other side of that damn wall. “A demon of the earth. You do not deserve to live!”
“My mother would disagree with you. She adores me. I’m her little boy.”
“She is the bitch that spawned you. It is her sin that brought the Abominations to us.”
“Or yours, Father. Perhaps the sins of this world were so great that you brought us to you. And now you must pay for your sins. With blood.”
The wall burst outward, forcing Magnus to duck as chunks of stone flew. When he was able to look again, three bulls stood in the opening, eyes bright red, wounds still open so that he was able to see bone and sinew, their blood still oozing out of their big bodies.
Massive heads and horns turned toward Talan. With an easy gesture, the royal pointed at the five monks. “Kill them all.”
The bulls’ heads twisted in the other direction, and the monks stumbled back, raising their hands and quickly calling on protective forces to do battle.
The bulls charged and Talan ran. “Come on!” he called back to Magnus.
Taking off after his friend, Magnus glanced back to see that one bull was down, but the other two had already impaled one monk and stomped another into the ground.
Deciding not to look back again—it was too much—Magnus caught up with Talan, the two running toward a main road about three leagues away.
“You can raise the dead,” Magnus noted stupidly, unsure what else to say as they continued to run.
“I can raise some dead. Animals, mostly. Still a bit to go before I’ll be able to raise more complicated creatures.”
Magnus knew Talan meant humans and dragons. Creatures with souls and brains.
“Does that bother you?” Talan asked him after a few moments of nothing but their breathing and their booted feet running over snow-covered land.
“No,” Magnus answered, a little surprised by that. “It doesn’t. Just don’t do it to me.”
“You’re already alive. .
. . Why would I raise you?”
“I mean if I die.”
“What if I’m still in a fight and need you to back me up? Can I raise you then?”
Magnus stopped and Talan did as well. They faced each other.
“All right. You can do it then. But don’t let me hang around, pieces of me dropping off, body beginning to spoil.”
“I’ll have to wait then, won’t I?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve learned how to raise some dead . . . but not to actually put a time limit on how long they can be around.”
Magnus gestured with a thumb over his shoulders. “What about those bulls?”
“They could drop suddenly and turn to dust.”
“And if they don’t drop suddenly?”
“Then our dear brothers will have to chop them to bits, bury them in consecrated ground, and salt the earth around their graves.”
“You sure that’ll work?”
Talan frowned a bit, his gaze moving in the direction they’d just left. After a moment, he shrugged. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
With that, Talan charged off toward the main road. Magnus took one look back, briefly chewed his lip. He could still hear screaming and the sounds of magicks being used to combat the undead beasts.
Whether to go back to what he knew, or go forward . . . into the unknown?
“I’m sure,” Talan yelled at him, “the other Brothers will come to help at some point!”
Briefly closing his eyes, Magnus muttered, “He’s probably right.”
Then Magnus headed after his friend—and into the unknown.
Chapter Fifteen
At the edge of another town, Celyn and Elina dismounted their horses and slowly entered, slipping into the flow of foot traffic, so they looked like all the other travelers coming through.
This wasn’t the first town they’d been to since leaving Lolly’s shop, but it was the first one they’d decided to walk through. They had simply ridden through the others, Celyn feeling those towns were a little too close to Lolly’s shop for his comfort. And since they hadn’t seen anything very interesting anyway¸ it had seemed fine to just keep on riding.