“Secretly, he came back and convinced many of the teachers at the school where I was captive, that if they bound their lives to his, they would live forever, on the one condition that they would serve him without deviation. The Seer, who knew his life to be short, was one of many who accepted that agreement. I did not accept Vilheim’s offer.
“Over time, the Seer found out on his own how to create the tainted blood, and though it granted the desired effect of long life, the power that it granted to Vilheim was missing. That troubled the Seer, but it did not deter him. The tainted blood flowed to our school and was distributed amongst the Seer’s chosen followers who themselves betrayed Vilheim by aligning with the Seer. The Seer hoped that the lack of supply would weaken Vilheim and eventually kill him. When Vilheim never appeared to kill the Seer, the Seer assumed that his plan was working.
“Before the fire at the capital, most of the teachers who swore allegiance to Vilheim and to the Seer, were killed, either by me, or one of my students via decapitation or evisceration. The Seer somehow escaped in the mêlée and as you stated and is probably on his way here. Vilheim is too weak to kill me but could come after the Seer. If and when that occurs, the Seer will strive to keep me close to his side. If you wish to kill the Seer, then that is your choice to make.”
“Then you are his body guard,” Maerek said, holding the bowl of soup close this mouth, “a protection against the only thing that the Seer believes can kill him.” Maerek upended the bowl and drained it. “But you were captive to him before he turned against Vilheim. What leverage did he have over you to keep you there?”
“He made a blood promise to me that if I protected him from his enemies, whomever they might be, he would not hunt my descendants or those directly mated into the Keep.”
“Blood promise… I’m not familiar with the term.”
“It is a Tessíran ritual where a knife or sword is dragged across palms of both parties, and an accord is struck, and hands are shaken. If either fails to keep up their agreement, their life is forfeit. If even one of my children is harmed in some small way, and it is by cause in a remote connection to him, I will be able, honor bound even, to kill him. And if he dies because some dragon takes off his head, I am freed of my agreement to him. He is an arrogant fool.”
Maerek thought this over as he set the bowl and wooden spoon on the creaky floor boards next to the bed. A few seagulls called to each other just outside his window as the night-sea breeze rolled into his room. In the few seconds it took to lower the bowl to the floor and sit back up, Maerek realized that she was rather indifferent toward the Seer. She didn’t care if he lived or died, which to him, was strange. The man had led an all-out assault against his race and could still be killing and wiping out entire keeps. The thought sent his blood boiling.
Mearto, as a fellow dragon, knew this, she understood it, but only cared for her direct line, a selfish dragon, not necessarily an admirable trait, but perhaps one out of survival. And it was then that Maerek realized there was something, or someone else she feared more than the Seer or Vilheim, as to why she would want to protect only her line and not the rest of the specie. There was more to the story than what he was being told.
“There are a few things you aren’t telling me. The other student who helped in killing those that sided with the Seer, he was no dragon, and I take it he survived. You would have mentioned his death if it were so. To place that amount of trust in one student to side with you against other teachers means that he was very powerful. Who was he and why did he side with you?”
Mearto shuffled slightly, side to side and quickly folded her arms and then looked out to the window. Her braided hair swung over her shoulder and she began to stroke it with both hands. She didn’t speak for a long while. She closed her eyes and smelled the sea. She started to flare her own scent, but Maerek countered with his, flaring it and blocking out the drowsy feeling.
“Answer me,” he said smoothly, calmly. “I need to know what is going on.”
“That is another long story,” she said finally and slowly, her eyes reflecting joy one instant, and terrible fear the next. She smiled and then stared at the ground. She didn’t look up as she spoke. “To be short, he terrifies me. My former student, Erith, he is different than other humans. He is disinterested in politics, or other people for that matter, and sought refuge in the library when it was still around. He doesn’t care about promoting himself or wanting to be seen as someone great in the eyes of others. If he spent his whole life not being noticed by anyone, even an occasional greeting or salute, he would be content.
“The only thing Erith ever cared about was knowledge, and power, but never for influence. He never cared to overtake anything or kill anyone. He never harmed anyone, or threatened anyone, complained, or was disgruntled about anything. He simply wanted to know more about our craft and be stronger in it. To me, from my perspective, and with what I knew, I passed him off as an academic and strictly that alone. He never presented a passion for anything more than the confines of the school.
“That was why I trusted him. Erith perceived that I was going to do something out of the ordinary. I was nervous, anxious even, and it showed through during one of our lessons. When he asked what was wrong, it struck me as odd because it was the first time I recalled him being concerned about another individual. I asked for his trust, and he gave it, and I told him of my plan to kill the other teachers and the Seer. He agreed. It wasn’t because of hate, or vengeance for any type of long suffered mistreatment, or even for the sake of right and wrong.”
“Erith got something out of it,” Maerek interrupted, “and if it wasn’t for self-fulfillment, then why did he help you?”
“He wanted the teachers dead, including the Seer. All of them, except me. Again, it wasn’t out of revenge or spite, or any other emotion of that kind. He told me that he simply needed them removed.”
“But why?” Maerek asked, though not to Mearto. He was staring down at the floor now, resting his head in his hands, his arms propped up on his knees.
“He must have perceived them as a threat to his plan. I couldn’t figure that part out,” Mearto said. She walked toward Maerek and sat next to him on the bed.
“You said he was an academic. Did you supervise his studies? Or did you know what it was that he read?”
“I recommended the usual readings that I give to all my students, and a few selected texts, but there was nothing that I would consider alarming within those pages. He was a speed reader though, and reading was a passion of his. There were hundreds of books that he could easily have read in minutes being in the library alone.” Mearto wrapped her hands around the back of her neck and stared at the floor again. She paled slightly and blinked furiously. “Our library was one of knowledge and within the texts we collected over the years, there was nothing I would consider dark, or alarming. All of that kind of knowledge was only passed verbally from one Head Teacher to the next. Still, there are thousands of things he could have learned and a thousand-thousand of things he could be planning with what he might know.”
“Where is Erith now?”
“He was nearly killed during the attack on the teachers, and after our success, he proceeded to burn down the capital. I watched, horrified, as he slaughtered hundreds of people, poor people, rich people, merchants, tradesmen, guards, children, women, slaves. There was no laughter, no smile of pleasure, no anger, no sadness. Erith appeared apathetic to it all. To him, it was simply an action, as simple and thoughtless as breathing. I tried to stop him but there were many who needed my help, who were dying, and thousands more would die if the fire wasn’t put out.”
“He knew you would help the people and not follow him,” Maerek said to himself, making a mental note of the fact.
“Yes. I screamed at him, asked him why he was doing this. ‘To bring back my father’, was his reply. After that, I lost track of him. I have no idea where he is. Just that Erith...”
“Erith what exactly?” Maere
k asked after a long pause. Mearto was staring blankly at the floor.
“It’s just that he, he… what’s the word I’m looking for? He was created, I suppose, by what I presumed to be the Faye. He was never born, as it were, and had no father or mother. I raised him, and that makes me a mother of some kind, but not the maternal sort. There was only one other person I could think of that would have the power to create a human child. I didn’t think of it then, but I realize now that Vilheim must have been his ‘father’”
Maerek stood up straight and looked at Mearto, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“You don’t think he meant Vilheim? He already exists! I saw him, talked to him, felt of his presence.” Mearto paused, stood and then looked at Maerek, her eyes wide with concern.
“Tell me about how you met him.”
Maerek told her about his flight in the desert, his meeting of Vilheim, the lack of a heartbeat, the vision that was shared, and then his sudden disappearance and the fact that he wanted the Seer dead, his head to be collected by one of his servants.
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Mearto whispered. “As I understand it, the only reason he is alive is because his life is connected to the Seer’s. That binding spell isn’t just for the Seer’s benefit. If Vilheim is weakened to the point of death, the death of the Seer will mean his own end. He has lived long past his time, and death reaches for him.”
“Unless he has tied another to him,” Maerek said cautiously. “This servant, you don’t think it is your old student.”
“I can’t be sure. It is possible that Vilheim could bind his life to another, or one of his own creations. Even if Vilheim has another servant, that isn’t the main problem. My former student wants to bring Vilheim back to his former strength. If what you saw was truly how Vilheim is, and it wasn’t some trick on your mind, then Vilheim will need a new body if he is to be ‘brought back’ as it were. Channeling of that nature requires lots of physical strength and endurance. The pressure alone would kill any Conduit, human Conduit, that is.”
“That means that he will either be coming for you, or he has discovered how to taint the blood and survive it.” Maerek stood and slammed his fist into his hand.
“Maerek...” Mearto spoke softly and walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “If I am correct, in that my former student wants to create a new body for Vilheim, then my former student is going to require more blood than what one dragon alone has to offer, and much more than what has been spilt already. He can’t afford any for himself.”
“What is his plan then?”
Mearto paced the floor and then stopped as she saw her reflection in the mirror. She brushed a few unruly hair strands back behind her human ears and then shook her head.
“He would need another Forced Conduit of our species. He knows that I will not do it willingly and he knows that he is not strong enough in his craft to compel me to do so. If it came to a fight, he is well aware that I could kill him. His only other option is to find a dragon and convince him or her to go through that grueling process of becoming a Forced Conduit and aid him in giving Vilheim a new body.” Maerek nodded in understanding.
“And considering that your former student hid so much of his character from you, you are convinced that he is skilled and intelligent enough to do so.” Mearto nodded and closed her eyes. Maerek took a deep breath and asked very softly, “I need to know. You said that you could kill him, but do you have the strength to do what is required, or allow what is required when he comes?”
“I don’t know,” Mearto said, almost in a whisper, her voice faltering. “I raised him from when he was an infant. He was my family, all that I had. Now I have to break that tie. Mentally, I understand that he needs to be stopped, that he needs to... needs to be killed for our race’s preservation.”
“He is not one of us,” said Maerek reassuringly. “He wants to kill us and many more like us if we do nothing.” Mearto nodded again and wiped her eyes. “I can be strong for you. I can do what you cannot.” Mearto looked up and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was blotchy from the rest of the tears she was fighting back. She smiled at Maerek in the reflection and turned.
“We will see,” she said, a slight tone of pessimism in her voice. “For now, get dressed and get downstairs. Your shift starts soon.” Maerek nodded, went to the wardrobe, removed his shirt and put on the black shirt Mearto gave him. She was looking herself in the mirror again, staring blankly into her own reflection as she stroked her braid. In those few seconds, Maerek deduced what was really troubling her, what it was that she was too afraid to admit, and what it was she really wanted in her own life.
Erith could convince a dragon to align with him, but after the damage the Seer had done to the Keeps, if the survivors were as wise as Moving Mountain, they would have fled to the Northern Wilderness and gone further into hiding. It would be very difficult to for Erith to find one. If he did find a Keep, most of the inhabitants would kill him, or try killing him rather than listen to him. If Erith was as smart at Mearto made him out to be, he wouldn’t waste his time on such a gamble. Instead, he would search for a dragon that was isolated and out in the open, a dragon that wouldn’t kill him even after knowing of his plan. He or she would have to be a dragon that he could be in constant communication with and manipulate him or her into agreeing to his plan.
Mearto was the only dragon that fit those characteristics because she might not have the courage or will to kill him. Maerek would have the will to kill him, but considering Erith was a Conduit, the encounter might prove to be more challenging and dangerous. Erith, as well as the Seer, needed to be ended.
Another option was for Erith to wait until there was a hatchling and attempt to either capture it, or as it grew, befriend it as it wandered from the Keep and tried to blend in with the other adolescent human children. That hatchling would be Mearto’s, if she were to ever decide to take a mate and start her own keep.
That was what terrified her, what she was too afraid to admit it, and why she was stern against not needing rescuing. She didn’t want to be in love, she didn’t want to be mated to preserve the species. All of that would lead only to heartache until Erith was destroyed. The larger and more menacing threat to her future was Erith.
Mearto looked up at Maerek just as he opened the door and headed out. They made eye contact. Maerek breathed as if he was about to speak but said nothing and let out a sigh as he shut the door. It was a sigh of understanding, of pity, of worry, of love, of concern and every other emotion that he felt toward her.
“I love her,” Maerek thought as he walked down the hall and toward the staircase. “She just isn’t ready to hear that yet, not now, not until this is over.” Maerek paused again when he reached the bottom of the stairs at the kitchen and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension that had risen from the conversation with Mearto.
There was a steady hum of talk and laughter in the tavern, mixed with the slurping, chewing, swallowing, gulping, guzzling, up ending, and general noises of eating. The owner, who was at the opposite side of the kitchen, stood over a simmering pot of soup, stirring it with a large wooden ladle. He looked over at Maerek and then back at the soup.
“They’ll be a few drunks out there tonight, what with the amount of merchant ships we have in the port this evenin’.” He dunked the ladle into the soup and pulled it back up to his nose. He sniffed it twice, poured it back into the pot and reached for some spices that were in a cabinet above the stove. “We ain’t thrown no one out for bein’ drunk, but if’n they get to be a touch mean, or disorderly to the help, you go right ahead and toss ‘em. The regulars know my rules and might eve’ lend a hand if needed. Keep near the doors to keep out any who are already drunk. One batch of trouble and the whole place will clear out faster than rats in a fire.”
“Yes, sir,” Maerek said softly, and then walked out into the tavern.
CHAPTER 21
Sailors drank, laughed, attempte
d singing, and tried on three separate occasions to settle some long-lasting disputes. There had already been two fights, each only between two people, and both times Maerek tried to break up the fight and send one of them out the door, the other would try to drag Maerek into it. Both times one of the regular customers was able to step in and help Maerek keep the brawlers in the streets.
The last disagreement of the evening was between four sailors, who by their smell, had only had one or two mugs of beer, and were in a heated dispute. None of them were drunk, just arguing. Maerek didn’t pay attention much to what the argument was about, but one man punched another. Maerek stepped in and grabbed the man who had struck the first blow by the collar of his shirt and twisted his arm behind his back. He was obviously surprised by Maerek’s strength and quickly submitted.
“Alright, alright I’m going, I’m going,” he said, wincing and jumping as Maerek pushed him toward the door. His friend placed a hand on Maerek’s shoulder.
“Lay off ‘im eh? It’s just business between ol’ pals ain’t it, Reech?” He looked down at the man had been knocked to the floor and was wiping blood away from his mouth.
“Yea’, business,” Reech said. Maerek saw the flash of metal before it could do any damage. Reech had come up with a knife from inside his boot. Maerek tackled Reech, slamming him into the bar and dislodging the knife. In a flash, Maerek grabbed the knife and stabbed it into the table and picked up Reech by his jacket with one arm and stood him on his feet. Reech’s counterpart stared at Maerek, frozen, his eyes wide with fear and his hand halfway into his jacket.
A Dragon's Betrayal Page 24