“Ok Victor, that's enough Why's for the moment, let me answer them as they come so I don't lose track.” Shaylyn said seriously. “As to the first. You cannot show other kids, or even adults what you can do because you are not supposed to be able to do it. Most people do not learn most of the things you know before their mid or early teens, if they are gifted. As to why you are different and can do things that people three times your age cannot, it is because your blood heritage is stronger than most before you.” Forestalling the question she saw coming, she held up her hand to silence him before continuing. “The blood heritage is a term the dragons used. It is a gift from the parents and ancestors to their children. The blood heritage is made up of memories and other things that the ones before you knew. When the dragons took human form fully, and mated with the other races, it changed this heritage into something that the non-draconic races had not seen before. In humans, and half-elves it means that at a certain point in a persons life they may develop dreams, or feel a guiding force from inside that they don't know what it is. For others, the bond develops much stronger. When the Heritage of the blood manifests itself fully in some, they receive the full memories and in some cases some of the skills that their parents, and grand parents had. These tend to manifest themselves slowly over time. Most of those that receive these gifts do so at an age after their teen years, or in a time of great distress.”
Victor hadn't understood what she had meant then, but he realized now that she hadn't meant for him to understand it then. She had known that a point in his future he would need to know this information, and so she was giving it to him. Their conversation had gone on from their, but he knew that was the information he needed. Bringing his thoughts back into the present he looked up at the half-elf in front of him and saw Shaylyn for a moment before blinking.
Victor grinned. “You know, you're a very pretty woman.”
She laughed with what Victor might have described as a giggle if she wasn't a very capable warrior. “If you were eight or ten years old, I'd either punch you or kiss you for that comment. Depending on my mood. I'm going to take it from that look you had just a few moments ago, and the fact that you didn't ask me what it was that you have at least a basic knowledge of what the blood heritage is. A fact which is surprising to me because not many like to talk about it. Essentially though, it's a very strong bond by our blood that allows us to remember, and even experience in our dreams things that those who came before us did. I myself, trained with the knights as a dirge, and if you don't know what that is, you'll have to find someone else other than myself to explain it to you.”
“Three years ago I started having dreams about a silver dragon. Sometime later it was dreams of a copper one. Then, the dreams turned to people. After awhile I would hear suggestions like those that an instructor would give. About two years ago I got the urge to pick up a bow after one of those dreams. I found that I had become more skilled in its use than I had been previously. From there the memories and dreams increased in frequency and scope. One life after another. I found that most had taken up archery because of the blood heritage, and over time the skill had developed beyond that of many others. Thousands of years had given my family, on my Elven mothers side, dozens of lifetimes of experience. My father's side was not as strong in the memories as my mothers, and they were mostly farmers and soldiers from the memories I can dredge up. Out of the armies there is a small percentage of those of us who are so strong in the heritage. This squad, and some if not most of the higher ranked members of the armies are stronger in the blood heritage.”
“So, what's this have to do with everyone staring at me?” Victor didn't quite whine.
“Victor, you just removed the head of a Magnus Dracani. Not only did no one tell you it needed to be done, but there is only one way to do it. You preformed the task with a single minded determination, and skill that could only be developed after doing a job like that dozens of times. Nim is the only one with a good enough skill to do that job without making a huge mess, or ripping apart areas by hacking at them. I'm sure Nim won't say it, but you did that more skillfully than I think that he could.”
“Oh no, I'll say so. That was the best work I've ever seen.” A voice from behind them said.
“Your getting better at that Nim.” Victor said turning his head and grinning.
“I just have to remember to block your senses so that I can sneak up on you.” He said as he walked from the edge of the clearing a few feet away from where Victor and Elandria were sitting. “Though I didn't want to get any closer or I think you still would have known.” He sat down on the other side of Victor and grinned at him.
“Nim, I never thought I'd hear you admit someone was better than you at something.” Elandria chided.
“Ah, now I may be arrogant, egotistical, and supercilious, but what kind of man would I be if I couldn't show pride in the work of one that I've help train?” He laughed the hearty laugh that Victor liked hearing from his friend and mentor. The dry rasp of his Draconic heritage could be heard in that laugh, but for some reason it wasn't a malicious sound when made by Nim.
“Victor and I were just having a discussion about the blood heritage.” Elandria stated.
“Yes, I heard most of the conversation. I'm just glad that I didn't have to be the one to tell him. Of course, I didn't think it would show any signs of breaking through for a few more years yet.” Nim looked down at Victor with pride in his eyes. “Even with his exceptional nature.”
When the three of them returned to the camp sometime later Victor no longer felt like he didn't belong with these people. The small doubts he had were gone, and what replaced them was a sense of kinship. They made a campfire not too far away from the bodies of the Dracair. No scavengers would go near the dead predators for some time. It would take days for the Draconic smell to dissipate enough for most creatures to consider it just another dead animal.
*****
Year 3043 AGD
Month of Ragnós
Second Sixth Day
Continent of Terroval
Southwest of Stalwart
Blood Orc Encampment
“Here, bite down on this.” Ashur said putting a piece of rolled up cloth that he had ripped from his cloak and cleaned in the water that Dunnagan had purified this morning into Shawnrik's mouth.
“I ain't seen anyone in that much pain without havin' a big hole in them.” Dunnagan said looking down at his writhing companion. “What do ye' think is wrong wit' 'em?”
Ashur kneeled beside Shawnrik who lay on the stone slab that sat in the corner of the room to act as a bed for anyone wishing to avoid rats. “I don't know, can't you find out what's wrong?”
“I could lad, but that bit o' delvin' takes a bit more energy than purifying some water, if I was to use that much energy someone would be sure to feel it.”
“I don't think we have a choice at this point. If you don't give him some help whatever is making him writhe like this won't kill him before the pain.” Ashur's voice held a hint of fear that Dunnagan had never heard in the many years he had traveled with the man.
“Alright lad.” Dunnagan moved Ashur aside enough so that he could delve what was wrong with Shawnrik. Pricking his finger he drew the Dwarven rune of healing upon Shawnrik's forehead, and began feeding energy into the rune. He placed his hand on the young man's chest, and stood immobile over Shawnrik for what felt like an hour to Ashur, but he knew must have only have been a few minutes.
Ashur paced back and forth along the ten paces that their cell held. He heard a commotion through the outer door to their cell area, and knew that Dunnagan didn't have much more time before they were disturbed. He looked around for something to use as a weapon, but the only thing in the room was the bucket they used for water, and that was too big to reach between the bars.
Dunnagan began moving at the same moment that the door to the cell chamber opened loudly. Ashur recognized the man that entered as Tallion, their Dracair captor.
&
nbsp; “What are you doing in here?!” He asked in a harsh rasp. “I do not care if you use your magics to create food, or to gather and purify water to keep yourselves alive, but you had better explain yourselves, or you shall have an unpleasant evening. The only reason I do not shoot you now, is that I know you were not using it to communicate outside of these walls.”
Dunnagan turned away from Shawnrik wearily. “Sorry about that. The boy is sick, and I 'ad to know wha' tis wrong wit' him.”
“Well what's wrong?” Ashur and Tallion said at the same time, and then looked at each other as if they had threatened each other. After a moment of glaring at each other both of their heads turned back towards the Dwarf.
“Well, far as I can tell, he's going through puberty.” Forestalling the questions he saw coming he held up his hand. “'is body is growing at a rate which is na' supposed to happen. His metabolism has increased greatly, and everythin' in 'is body is workin' overtime. 'is blood is changing, and it probably feels like 'e is bein' ripped apart from within.”
Nodding Tallion looked at the young man with what Ashur though might be a sort of compassion. Finding it odd that a Dracair could feel compassion for anything he knew it must be serious. He went back beside Shawnrik and took the young man's hand. Hold it together Shawnrik.
“Do you know what this is Tallion?” Ashur said without looking away from Shawnrik.
“Yesss.” The man said in the hiss that Ashur was used to from the man by now. “It is heard of when those of a smaller race have mated with those of a larger. There comes an age when a change will occur, it can be anything from a growing of the muscles, to a full body growth. It appears your friend here has gotten the worst of it.”
“What happens ta the ones that go through this change?” Dunnagan asked regaining some of his strength after his link with Shawnrik.
The Dracair Assassin took an intake of breath that grated Ashur's ears. “From our experiences, it is about a one in five chance that he will survive. You may use your magics to comfort the boy, and should it come to pass make his exit easier. It could last some time. Feed him what you can, he will need the strength. I will bring some of the fruit we feed the ones going through the blood change. I do not know if it will work for a human, but you can be the judge of that.” He turned and walked towards the door, but turned and looked Dunnagan in the eyes. “If you try to use your magics to escape, or to contact allies, you will be killed on the spot. We will know.” With that he opened the door, and went out.
“Oh laddie.” Dunnagan said walking over to where Shawnrik lay. He edged in beside Ashur at the head of the slab. “I'm going to try to loosen some of his muscles, he is cramping all over. I'm also going to try to dull his nerves so he doesn't feel the pain as much.” Dunnagan began a series of prayers that were answered with more fervency than he was used to. “I don't think we are the only ones that want to see the boy make it through this.”
Ashur looked at his companion questioningly, but the Dwarf was too busy to reply even if he had noticed his friends look. You have to live Shawnrik, who is going to watch after Victor if you die? Besides, I've gotten too used to you being around. I don't like to see any of those I travel with die. Ragnós knows I've seen too many already. Keep fighting lad. We'll be right here beside you.
*****
What's going on? Shawnrik cried.
Shawnrik? Is that you?
Shawnrik knew that voice, but he couldn't place from where at the moment. His whole body felt numb. It's better than the pain. He thought, but couldn't remember what pain he meant.
What pain? Are you ok?
The voice asked again, but he couldn't pinpoint it. He knew that he trusted the voice, yet he couldn't call up the face behind it.
Tell me where you are. The voice said again in his head.
Who are you? Shawnrik asked the voice.
It's me, Victor. Where are you?
A flood of images flew through Shawnrik's mind. He knew Victor. He trusted the boy with his life. I can't recall. I remember being tired, and then the pain.
Pain? Are you being tortured. The voice of Victor asked.
Shawnrik shook his head, but realized that the voice probably couldn't see that. No, I don't think so. I can't remember. I know that I'm with two people. His memories weren't coming as fast as he was used to. Fearing that he was loosing himself he began to panic. Victor, I'm scared.
Are you with Ashur and Dunnagan? Victor's voice asked.
More images flowed into Shawnrik's head. As always Victor's presence brought out more in Shawnrik than he knew he had. Yes! We are… being held. I can't remember where. We were heading for a town, but something held us up.
Were you heading towards Stalwart, or had you gotten there already?
Yes, stalwart. That is where we were heading. I remember a girl. She… she got captured. Shawnrik was trying to recall by what, but he couldn't bring it forward. He felt a tinge of the pain that his memory recalled, and he felt himself being pulled away. Vic, it hurts.
Chapter 19
Executive Order
Year 3043 AGD
Month of Ragnós
Second Sixth Day
Continent of Terroval
Southwest of Asylum
Victor awoke with a start. Was I dreaming? He knew it was more of a dream, but he couldn't wrap his mind around the concept. I have to do something. Rolling out of his bedroll, Victor went across the camp to where Nim sat on watch.
“Nim, I have something I want to talk to you about.” Victor said cautiously.
“What is it Victor?” Nim asked, he had never seen Victor this unsure of himself. “Here, come sit down.”
Victor sat next to Nim, and figured out how to phrase what he would say next. Nim just sat their staring out at the land below. The sun was starting to light the sky, but it wasn't yet peaking over the far horizon. Victor knew that Nim would give him time to think about what he wanted to say. Think first, speak second. Nim had told him what seemed like a long time ago.
“I think… No, I know that Shawnrik, Ashur, and Dunnagan are in trouble.” Victor said cautiously. “I had a… dream, but it wasn't a dream.” He added quickly. “I talked to Shawnrik. He's in pain Nim. I don't know if Dunnagan and Ashur are, but I know he was. It was dulling his speech. He couldn't remember things. Nim, it takes a lot of pain for that to happen doesn't it?”
Nim's attention had turned to Victor. “You say you dreamed of Shawnrik?”
“It wasn't a dream.” Victor said defensively. “I couldn't see him. Everything was white, but I could hear him.”
“I don't think it was a dream Victor.” Nim said quickly.
“I told you it wasn't… you don't?” Victor looked cautiously at his mentor to see if he was being lied to, but couldn't detect it on his friends face.
“No, I don't. I have heard of this before. It's not common, but every once in awhile someone can develop a bond with people, and when they are in distress he can contact them on a different plane of thought.” Nim was in deep thought, and obviously considering what to do next.
“That sounds… ridiculous.” Victor said finally.
Nim laughed. “So does talking to your friend in your sleep Victor.”
Victor had to concede that point, so left his mind open to considering the prospect. “That means that Shawnrik is really in a lot of pain Nim. I think something was dulling the pain, but I don't think it works all that well.”
Nim knew what was probably occurring with Shawnrik, but he had been feeling uneasy for a while now, and all he needed was Victor's dream to tell him something wasn't right. “We should be back in camp two days from now. We can ask Zander if he will scry the location of our friends. I'll ask Bredwin if he will divine their location, but I don't think he would be strong enough to break through any interference we may encounter.”
As it happened, Nim was right. Bredwin had been able to discern that the three were in fact Southwest of Stalwart, but he couldn't pinpoint their exact locat
ion. For the last two days the Dwarf had been enjoying a rather pounding headache.
“I hate orc runes. They can't be like Dwarven runes, and just keep ya' out, they have ta go and make it hurt too.”
He had been complaining ever since they had asked him, but Victor knew that it was just to mask the fact that he had failed. No one out of this group liked to admit defeat. No one blamed Bredwin for his not being able to break through the barrier. It seemed all of them had met Ashur or Dunnagan at one time or another, and they knew that if someone was strong enough to capture them, than they were strong indeed.
As they reached the tents their squad had left for sleeping quarters Nim dropped his gear and motioned for Victor to do the same and then started off towards the command tents. Victor quickly followed on his heels, and caught up after a dozen paces. Nothing had changed in the last eleven days, but Victor felt different. Since their encounter with the Dracair scouting party Victor had become a more intricate part of the squad. Each member seemed to take the training they had been giving him to a new level. He was exhausted, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep again until he knew where Shawnrik was, or until his body gave out from being so drained of energy.
The guards were the same two that had been at the tents door last time he and Nim had gone in, and they both quickly saluted. Victor saw the smirk that came to Nim's face just then, but he didn't comment on it. He was too busy hoping that Zander had come back from his patrol before theirs had, and hadn't left again yet. When Nim opened the tent flap and they entered Victor let loose a sigh of relief that almost landed him on the floor as his body released all of the tension he had unknowingly been storing. Nim placed a hand onto Victor's shoulder to steady him.
Zander Halcyon stood at the right side of the giant table that was also a map. He looked up from the map and smiled, but his grin quickly slid from his face when he saw how tired Victor looked. Stewart Cantel stood as he had the last time, with his back towards the door, examining the map that showed all of the intel they had gathered thus-far. Victor had heard stories about Stewart Cantel over the last two weeks from Nim's squad. According to them there very good reasons that this small man was High Commander of the knights. From all that Victor had heard, he thought that if he threw his knife at the man's back he would be able to catch it without looking away from the map. Victor had seen some of the man's speed when he was under his tutelage for a short period of time, and even that little bit had been astounding. He may not have the brute strength that General Theromvore possessed, but his speed insured that he would be in and out of an enemy's defenses before they knew what was happening.
Victor Deus (Heritage of the Blood Book 1) Page 32