The Blackguard (Book 2)

by Cheryl Matthynssens

  Alador pushed his plate away, having eaten his fill. “I assure you, Uncle, my lack of diligence will be the last thing you need to worry about.”

  They spent the rest of that morning speaking on several topics before a servant guided Alador back to Henrick’s house. He didn’t go in right away, however, choosing to sit on the steps and look out at the horizon for a while. Alador didn’t mind terribly much that it was raining, and the house offered a little shelter. Luthian had seemed willing to answer most of what Alador asked, but he had the sense that his uncle was biding his time. There was something Luthian wanted from Alador, as much as Alador wanted something from his uncle. It had been a dance that his uncle had been playing all his life, and one Alador had to learn fast. He was fairly sure he’d managed to escape without revealing how he really felt about this place, his uncle or these people.

  Alador frowned at his own thoughts and shook his head. He could not judge the Lerdenians by these upper tiers. He suspected that the farmers and miners were not much different from his own people. It was not fair to judge an entire populace by the actions of the privileged – Henrick had made that point, yet Alador knew this as surely as he knew the back of his hand. No half-breed could grow up without a keen awareness that too many people passed judgment without really knowing someone. People judged by what they knew and experienced. They judged by what they’d been told. If all they had was what they’d been told, with no means or initiative to question, then it became fact.

  Alador finally rose to his feet. He had things to tell Henrick. He was going to trust him with everything; he’d either die or have an ally. Either way, he was the only one Alador knew that knew a dragon, and Alador had to talk to a dragon. He hoped they could talk. In his dreams, Alador always understood them, so he was fairly certain that they could. He knocked on the door. The same man who’d been there when Alador woke up yesterday opened the door after only a short pause.

  “Ah, Master Henrick has been expecting you. Come, come! Let us get you next to a dry fire.” The man hurriedly led Alador through the house. It was so much smaller than the High Minister’s, but to Alador, it still felt far too big. Why did one man need so much space? It seemed like Lerdenians spent their slips just to show that they had them to spend.

  Henrick was waiting for him in the library. Luthian’s room had been full of books, but Henrick’s library went beyond even that. Shelves and specially-made cupboards for scrolls lined the walls from floor to ceiling. The rich, warm wood was a perfect frame to the vast array of leather-bound tomes. Alador stared wide-eyed, as he looked around. Books were a rare treasure amongst the Daezun; to see shelves of them so high that there was a ladder to reach the higher shelves made Alador’s heart pound with excitement. He’d held maybe three real books his entire life. He slowly turned in a circle, staring in amazement. In contrast to the rest of the house, this room was rich in warm tones and was clearly where Henrick spent most of his time.

  “It is good to see you in one piece.” Henrick put his pipe down and moved over to Alador, clasping him on both arms. He looked over Alador, first left, then right. “Don’t seem too much worse for wear.” He smiled down at Alador as if they hadn’t parted with harsh words only last night.

  “I survived. How much time do we have before I need to report to the compound of the Blackguard?” Alador grinned back, but his tone held urgency. He didn’t have time to waste on Henrick’s humorous antics.

  “About an hour or so. Are you in that much of a hurry to find yourself in the clutches of a taskmaster? You realize that this will be no easy training. Luthian sees to it that they are better trained than even the Homeguard.” Henrick frowned as he spoke of his brother and eyed Alador suspiciously as he slowly let him go.

  Alador considered how to approach this. He’d been sharing more and more with his father, but he had decided to give him his full trust. If he couldn’t trust Henrick, he was going to fail anyway; he had nothing to lose. “No, we need to talk. Can we sit?” Alador looked over at the fire. Though it was summer, the rain storm made for cooler weather, and he liked the warmth of a fire. Henrick always seemed to be close to one.

  “Of course, of course. You are wet.” Henrick led Alador to the fire and settled into a leather-covered chair. “What is amiss, my dear boy?”

  Alador, on the other hand, moved to the fireplace and placed his hands on the mantle, looking down at the dancing flames. “I think I know what my geas is,” he said softly, staring into the fire.

  There was a long silence from the man at his side. “Dare I ask?” Henrick’s tone was gentle, and the usual humorous or sarcastic edge had dropped. He reached over and poured a drink from a decanter on the small table between them. Alador could hear the soft sounds of the stopper.

  “I saw what they do to the dragons in the bloodmine. I was there with the blue dragon when he could not stop his friend from trying to rescue his egg. I have been very protective of small ones since I found the stone. I need to find a way to stop the bloodmines. They torture the dragons chained there. They take their eggs and treat them as animals for slaughter, not as the noble beasts they are, and definitely not as the icons of the gods they were intended to be.” Alador turned and looked at his father and there was true pain in his voice and eyes. “I know this is what I am meant to do. I have to save the fledglings.”

  Henrick had been half way to taking a drink, but his glass just hovered there, his eyes large as he looked at Alador. “Tell me, do you know the dragon’s name?” He was staring at Alador as he slowly rose to his feet.

  “Why would their names matter?” Alador asked. His father’s reaction had him puzzled.

  “Humor me. They… You know both their names?” Henrick stood up and joined him next to the fire.

  “Yes. The blue dragon is named Renamaum, and the red one is Keensight. I think that might be just a nickname though…it doesn’t seem like a very regal name,” Alador mused in afterthought. He jumped when his father’s glass hit the floor and shattered. “Are you all right?” he asked, moving to clean up the glass.

  Henrick waved him off. “The servants will get it,” he muttered. “Tell me your vision. Please, tell me all of it.” Henrick placed a hand on Alador’s arm, stepping over the shattered glass. “I will see if I can help confirm if that is your geas.”

  Henrick’s response still confused Alador, but he did as requested, sharing the vision with as much detail as he could recall. He even shared the thoughts of the dragon he’d felt combined into. After he finished, Henrick remained silent for a long time. Finally, Alador moved to him and touched the hand that still clutched his own arm with concern. “Father?” Henrick looked at him, tears in his eyes. Alador stared at him in confusion – he’d never seen his father have tears over anything. “What’s wrong?”

  “The red dragon you saw is the same one that decided I did not need to be eaten. The one I told you of on our trip here. He…” Henrick took a deep breath and turned away from Alador to return to his chair. “He told me a similar version of this tale. If it helps at all, he did manage to free his son. He waited until they went to bring him out of the cave and, with the help of some flight mates, was able to snatch him from them. It was not without additional loss of both fledglings and flight mates.” Henrick sank into a chair and took a deep breath. “You are most likely right. This is probably your geas. It seems like the type of noble thing one would impress at death. If your dragon was there, he likely feared for his own eggs and fledglings.”

  Alador nodded. He had already figured this much out as he had pieced together all the differing visions since he had harvested the stone. “Father, what is a dragonsworn? It was in one of the dreams and I feel somehow that it is important.”

  “A dragonsworn is a mortal who has been given the powers of all the flights. There has only been two known in history; it is rare for the dragons to agree on one who is worthy enough to possess such magic. All the flights must believe that the mortal is of a good heart and has the be
st interests of both mortals and dragons in mind. Let us be honest Alador, such men are rare, if they ever even really existed.” Henrick moved away carefully from the glass and indicated that Alador should sit down. He seemed to be regaining his composure.

  “The blue dragon was going to find one. He wanted to find such a man…but he never got to see it done. It’s sad. I think all the isle needs such a man – maybe he could end the feud between the Daezun and the Lerdenians.” Alador sank into his own chair. Henrick must have been very attached to this dragon of his; that it turned out to be Keensight was a little worrisome. “I think it was Keensight who attacked the village.” Alador looked over at Henrick. “If it was, why would he do that? Do you know?”

  “I do not. I suspect it had to do with the blue dragon. Despite their differences, Keensight told me that he and Renamaum were close. If the Daezun had unearthed his friend and he knew where he’d fallen, it is possible he sought to punish them for that desecration.” Henrick sighed. “My dragon friend is rather impulsive.”

  “I shot your friend.” Alador swallowed hard. “I shot him because the blue dragon told me where to shoot.”

  “Yes, a rather unfortunate issue there. My son shot my best friend.” Henrick smirked a bit at that. “Even stranger that his good friend told you how to repel him. Perhaps you are more than under geas.” Henrick mused. “Yes, maybe you are much more.”

  Alador let out an exasperated sigh. “More? I have enough to worry about. What more could there possibly be?” Alador put his hands out, gesturing. “I just now came to terms with the fact I have to save a bunch of highly-guarded dragons and find a way to stop bloodmining altogether. Don’t you think that’s enough?” Alador put his face in his hands as if to wipe the burden from his mind.

  “Yes, perhaps you are right. Perhaps one thing at a time. Regardless of what could or couldn’t be, you have to answer a geas. It will not let you do otherwise.” Henrick nodded slowly, coming to terms with what Alador had shared.

  “Yes, but now I have a bigger problem.” Alador rubbed his face with both of his hands in a bit of angst at the complexity of all this.

  “A bigger problem than a geas? What could be a bigger problem?” Henrick looked at Alador with surprise.

  “I can’t do this without help. I need you and, well, I’d thought to ask one other to help me but that seems unlikely now. I’m not sure how to get this done.” Alador let out his breath in another sigh and stared into the fire, watching it flicker and then surge up almost prophetically.

  “Whose help do you need and why is it a problem?” Henrick asked, puzzled. “I mean I understand needing my help. It would give me great pleasure to see Luthian’s face when he realizes his nephew has destroyed his most profitable endeavor.”

  “I need Keensight’s advice, and...” Alador looked at his father evenly. “I shot him in the throat.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Aorun stood at the window looking out to the balcony and watched the rain slowly taper off. The harbor was nearly entirely obscured by a foggy haze, and he could barely see the ships. He’d been trying to assuage the intense hatred he continued to feel about the bastard nephew, but even treating the wench in his bed harshly last night had done nothing to calm him. He was still focused on the fact that a half-breed was being afforded privileges that Aorun had to kill to obtain, privileges he’d fought for every inch of the way. Mostly likely, the bastard would have privileges that Aorun never would if the boy were left unchecked. His hatred for all Daezun focused on this new foe, as if everything he hated about the Daezun were rolled up in that little panzet.

  He’d spent the morning culling through the sources he had access to so he could determine what leverage he could use. He now knew that the man’s name was Alador, son of Henrick and some Daezun woman from Smallbrook. The man had only recently passed his testing and knew little of the ways of magic. He had arrived in Silverport only two days ago and knew nothing of the city’s ways. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was something. The most important thing Aorun had learned was that the half-breed was headed into the Blackguard.

  Aorun had two men in the blackguard. He’d sent for whichever one could attend him first, though he had directions for them both. In the Blackguard, the training was intense, and the punishment for error was often severe. It wouldn’t be a large matter to see some accident arranged.

  There was a knock at the door, but Aorun didn’t turn from the window. “Come!” he directed firmly.

  The door opened and Owen sauntered in, not bothering to close it. “I think you will have to go to the High Minister’s house yourself if you want that woman,” he drawled out, plopping down on a chair in front of Aorun’s desk and kicking his muddied feet up on the fine red surface.

  Aorun didn’t turn from the harbor, but his answer was one of disbelief. “Surely the chamberlain did not deny my request after all that he owes me? Unless…” Aorun finally turned. “Is she in Luthian’s bed?” It would figure, the man had discerning tastes.

  Owen laid his hands behind his head, closing his eyes as he spoke. “Nope! Seems he gave the wench to some relative of his…a nephew or something.” The rain off Owen’s cloak dripped onto Aorun’s floor, creating a growing pool on the fine tile.

  Aorun flooded with rage. Luthian only had one nephew. He’d given the woman Aorun wanted for his own to the bastard whelp. He walked over and, without any warning, kicked the chair Owen was lazing in, tipping it over backwards.

  Owen scrambled backwards before rolling up to his feet. “By the gods, what did you do that for?” he growled, his hand reflexively going for his weapon.

  “Draw it. I dare you,” Aorun snarled. “You are in the Trench Lord’s office, telling him news he does not wish to hear as if it is a mere misstep, and you are dripping on my floor and dirtying my desk.”

  A soft drawl from the door interrupted Aorun and Owen. “I hope you do not intend to waste a perfectly good man just because he was the bearer of bad news.” Sordith leaned against the door post. “I am not sure what that news was, but short of learning that Owen is sleeping with your mother and your sister, you both might want to stand down.” He smirked at the two. It was clear from his lack of concern that Owen had placed himself in similar situations in the past.

  “Stay out of this, Sordith!” Aorun wanted to kill someone right now, and right now Owen was who stood in front of him.

  “Afraid I can’t do that.” Sordith straightened up and put his hands out in a gesture of offering. “How about I drag him out of here and kick his arse for you while you meet with that guardsman you demanded?” he suggested evenly. Aorun’s eyes riveted to him, and anger seethed in those eyes with such intensity that Sordith dropped his lazy smile. The last man to draw that much anger out of Aorun had been left on a beetle hill. The flesh eating beetles had taken their time, and Sordith could think of a hundred more pleasing ways to die.

  “Yes, get him out of here and bring me that guard!” Aorun snarled. He went to the desk and plopped down angrily. He grabbed his flask, speaking as he uncapped it. “And later Owen, after I go to bed for the night, this floor gets mopped. By you! Disrespecting son of a…” Aorun drowned the rest of his words with his flask while Sordith ushered Owen swiftly out the door.

  The door opened only a few minutes later, and a Blackguard strode inside. He smacked his arm over his chest in salute to the Trench Lord. “You sent for me, sir?”

  Aorun would have liked the man if he weren’t soiled with Daezun blood. He was smart, used few words, and got the job done. He kept his ears and eyes open, so there was little going on within the High Minister’s elite force that he did not know. “Yes, Jayson. I have a job for you.” He indicated the man could sit but smiled when he didn’t move. There had been improvements in his man that living in the Blackguard had made almost second nature.

  “I am listening. I hope the usual slips are involved?” Jayson eyed the Aorun with calculation.

  Aorun could respect that. If he was g
oing to ask a man to kill someone, he’d best be willing to settle up. “Of course.” He smiled. “There is a new half-breed coming into the guard today. His name is Alador. Privileged bastard of the Guldalian line. I want his life to be hell. Should the opportunity arise where you can take him out and have it look like an accident, take it. I may decide to outright kill him soon enough, but for now I would rather not risk anyone’s placement. I do, however, want a full report of his allies and where he goes. I will be putting one of my lieutenants on him for his half days.”

  “Surely one new recruit is not cause for alarm, milord?” Jayson eyed the Trench Lord curiously.

  Aorun snarled at those words, causing the guard to take a step back reflexively. “First, do not question me! Second, do not underestimate him. The Guldalian line is renowned for their powerful mages. Lastly, I have my reasons that have nothing, absolutely nothing, to do with alarm.”

  “Yes, sir!” Jayson snapped at Aorun’s tone with a reflexive response. “Make the man’s life hell. Kill him if I can get away with it. Anything else?”

  Aorun thought for a long moment. “He will have a body servant. A beautiful one with emerald eyes. I want you to get close to her. Be her confidant if you can…Her protector and friend. Do not touch her. I plan to take her from the little dog; she is for me. However, I need to know her fears, her weaknesses and where she goes, as well. She will have her own half day when he is off on his. I want to know what she does with it. Perhaps offer to escort her on her errands and such.”

  Jayson smiled. “You are ordering me to spend time with a beautiful woman? I believe that is the best order you have ever given me.”

  Aorun looked at him pointedly. “Look, befriend, but do not touch,” he reaffirmed with a deadly tone.

  “Yes, milord.” Jayson’s face resumed its bland expression.

  Aorun stared at him for a long moment. He was pretty damned sure if the half-breed standing before him got a chance, he was going to touch. Perhaps the beautiful little whore would not be willing to share beyond her duties. He decided that, truthfully, he didn’t give a damn. “Any questions?”