“I’m afraid that is not an option either. I fear that Shayla Finch has ambitions and designs on power that would not benefit from having a new heir showing up. No, I bear bare gifts from Layton and I possess a certain degree of knowledge that might be of value, but my intent is to simply offer help make sure the boy has a chance to fulfill his destiny.” Salus reached under his robe to a hidden pocket and pulled out a small but full sack and placed it if front of Lyric. “I’m afraid your inheritance is rather meager in comparison to the hardship you’ve had to endure, but it is still a substantial amount in of itself.
Lyric opened the sack and peeked inside. His eyes went wide in surprise. The sack, slightly bigger than one of his fists, was full of gold coins and gems.
“Every trip that your father went on, he would take a percentage of his earnings and hide them. You might have been abandoned and left to survive on your own, but you were never forgotten. The orphanage was supposed to be a safe and reasonably comfortable place for you to grow up. If your father had known the conditions there, he would have made different arrangements. I know that the decision to send you to the orphanage after your mother’s death weight heavy on Layton’s heart, but he did what he had to do.”
Lyric slid the sack to Azina so she could see its contents.
Azina looked inside the sack. “Well, it’s not love nor affection. But there are worse things a father could send his long lost son. You’re a wealthy man now, Lyric, as long as you don’t act the fool with your coin.”
Lyric couldn’t believe his ears. If he hadn’t seen the coins and gems with his own eyes, he’d have thought the whole thing a prank. His father, someone he had never met, had left him a great sum of money. Lyric found it hard to breathe as he sat there thinking about the mages words.
“Blair bring the boy a mug of ale, he’s going to hyperventilate soon. He needs something to calm his nerves. Hell, so do I.”
Valeria left her position behind the mage and sat down at the table, “I’d take a mug as well, Blair. This is news that deserves a celebratory cheer.” Valeria smiled at Lyric, “It’s about time you had some good fortune.”
Lyric shook his head and smiled brightly, “I’ve had good fortune since the day Azina rescued me. I treasure you, Azina and Celine more than I do any coins and gems.”
“So that’s why my niece is so taken with you. You’ve developed a silver tongue. Blair, you damned rotten drunken bugger, you were to teach the boy self-defense, not how to bring an old woman to tears,” said Azina.
“Even a rotten fool like me knows understanding women is an important part of self-defense for a young man, but I cannot take credit for the boy having a silver tongue. I fail at finding words to please the ears of women.”
“I can attest to that,” said Valeria before taking a sip of her ail.
Blair blushed at her telling comment.
“Well he didn’t inherit if from his father,” said Salus. Layton Finch was many things, but sentimental or silver tongues never applied to him.”
“Lyric’s not silver tongued, he just has a big heart and says what he means. That is why Celine fancies him.”
Now it was Lyric’s turn to blush. The compliments were not something he was used to hearing.
“Have you done any training of the boy?” asked Salus.
“He’s currently being schooled in combat. I’ve tried to teach him magic but the boy has no talent for it.”
“Of course he doesn’t. When he was a baby he was fed broggins bark potion,” said Salus.
Lyric turned to Azina, “I don’t understand. Why would I be fed bobbins bark?”
“Broggins bark potion,” corrected Azina. “It dampens magic. If a mage or witch drinks enough of it, they lose their ability to do magic. Given to a young child, it inhibits the development of magic. Even the son of a strong and powerful mage would show no magical ability after drinking broggins bark potion. That explains why you are so completely useless when it comes to magic.”
“Layton Finch and your mother agreed that you would be safer without magic. People like the Brotherhood wouldn’t notice a non-magic user as easily. It was decided that it was the safest course of action.”
“Actually a pretty smart way to help hide him,” admitted Azina. “Most dragonblood are known to have strong magical abilities. That you didn’t surprised me.”
“So now I’ll never have magic?” asked Lyric, disappointed and somewhat relieved by the thought.
“The broggins bark potion wouldn’t affect dragon magic, and the effects of broggins bark are reversible. And when it comes to potions like that, I believe your friends might already be familiar with what is needed,” said Salus.
Azina nodded, “We know of the potions. But we’ll have to be careful about using them. Magic that has been repressed for such a long time can be somewhat chaotic in nature. And since you are dragonblood you might have a fairly strong magical energy once the effects of the poison are removed. We will have to be careful about making sure you regain your powers slowly just to be on the safe side. Small doses of the remedy of the course of a few months would be wise.”
Lyric’s head was spinning with all the new things going on. His father was dying or dead, he had a sister who might want him dead, he was now wealthy and possibly was going to have magic soon. What an afternoon! he thought to himself.
49
SWEAT BEADED AND FELL FROM HIS BROW as Lyric stood with his hands on his head and focused on taking deep breaths. Today’s training had been exhausting. First Sir Robert had insisted that Lyric and Sibylle run a makeshift obstacle course he’d designed around the grounds of Redfall. They had spent the morning running, climbing walls, crawling under old trees, and leaping over others. Once they were beaten and tired from that, they began sparring, and not between each other. Instead, both Sir Robert and Blair took turns beating on both Lyric and Sibylle. Both Sir Robert and Blair proved to be much too skilled for their young students, however Sibylle did manage to score points against both her teachers and Lyric managed not to have his head bashed in or get too badly bruised despite the fact neither of the trainers held back.
“Well, I’m sure it must be a testament to a pair of fine instructors, but I do believe these two are actually improving,” said Blair to Sir Robert.
“I would agree. Sibylle could almost pass for a warrior now, and Lyric could probably defeat a drunken half-blind warrior with a broken arm or leg. There is hope for them yet it appears. Come let’s go inside and have a goblet of wine or two. This standing out in the blazing sun business is for young and foolish warriors.”
Lyric grinned as Blair and Robert walked away. He turned to Sibylle, “I must be improving, the last time Sir Robert described a worthy competitor for me it was a blind old woman on her death bed wielding a heavy ladle.”
Sibylle laughed at the familiar description, “He told me a very similar description at one time as well. If you’re lucky one day he’ll upgrade your talents to ‘Not worth the snot of a proper soldier but good enough to beat a bandit or two’ he likes to exaggerate his insults, but it makes his compliments worth more when you get one.”
“I don’t mind, He’s a very good instructor. He’s far older than Blair, yet he moves like a young man.”
“Father tells me that when Robert was a young man he was a sight to behold in battle. Fast, fierce and always perfect in his techniques,” said Sibylle. We are truly being trained by two of the best warriors in all of the kingdom, and when it comes to using a staff, the two very best.”
“Good, cause if I’m to win this tournament, I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
“Don’t worry about the tournament. I’d rather not think of it at all. I enjoy training with you, Lyric. When the tournament comes, enjoy it, do the best you can and that will be enough. Do not pressure yourself into thinking the only acceptable outcome is a win. I’ll have made sure that you face some of the truly wretched fat and ugly royals that enter. That way you can save
me from a truly horrid future,” said Sibylle with a chuckle. As they grew closer to the tournament she had become more comfortable jesting about her uncertain future. As her Aunt Izzy reminded her often it was better to smile and enjoy the present then to frown and fret over a future one could not control.
“I’ll do my best,” said Lyric. “In the meantime, I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Oh, what do you need?” asked Sibylle.
“First I need to tell you about yesterday. I have news of my father.”
“What? You’ve been here all day and this is the first time you’ve said anything.”
“We were too busy running around Sir Robert’s crazy course and then training. This is the first chance I’ve had to breathe all day let alone have a conversation.”
Sibylle shrugged and grinned, “Yes that is true. So how did you get information on your father? Tell me everything!”
“A mage came to Middale looking for me. Yesterday, we went to Blair’s Inn and confronted him. He was sent by my father to find me. My father is also a mage and he’s dying, possibly already dead. But he wanted to find me and see that I was looked after.”
“He abandons you in an awful orphanage and waits until he’s dying to contact you? That’s sad,” said Sibylle. “How do you feel about knowing more about your father?”
“Well, it is complicated, can you keep a secret?” asked Lyric as he glanced around to see if anyone was in sight.
Sibylle punched Lyric in the arm, hard. “What kind of question is that?”
“Okay, this might seem weird but wait before you hit me again,” said Lyric as he undid the drawstrings of his pants. He could see Sibylle’s brow furrow in concern but she said nothing as he pulled his pants down. Lyric carefully covered his manhood with one hand as he exposed the dragon mark.
“Is that a tattoo?”
“No,” said Lyric as he pulled his pants back up. It’s the mark of the dragon.”
“The mark of the dragon? Are you telling me you’re dragonblood? I’ve read about such things,” exclaimed Sibylle.
“Yes, that is part of why I was left at the orphanage after my mother died. So that I’d be safe against those who hate dragons.”
“Wow, so what favor do you need? Do you need protection or an introduction with the king?”
“No, I need help with what to wear to the Festiva.”
“What? You just told me you are dragonblood and a mysterious mage showed up to tell you about your father, and you’re worried about what to wear to Festiva? You must have gotten too much sun today. Your brain is not working.”
“My brain is fine. Being dragonblood is something I learned when Azina first took me in. I’ve had months to think about it, and for me, it is a lot like the tournament is for you.”
Sibylle frowned, “I don’t understand.”
“Well, your future is going to be determined by the tournament. You can only wait for that to happen to know your future. It is the same with me. I am dragonblood, soon dragons are supposed to return to these lands. When that happens, I will change. I don’t know how or what will happen to me but it will happen regardless. I can train with you and Azina, prepare to defend myself against those who hate me just because I’m somehow connected to dragons, but I too don’t know what will happen.”
Sibylle nodded in understanding, Lyric was right, their situations were fairly similar on a certain level. “I can understand that. So why the question about Festiva.”
“Salus, the mage who we talked to. Gave me a whole bunch of coins. My father was a merchant mage, and saved a lot of money for me to have. The Festiva is important to Celine. She wants the people of Middale to like me. At least her friends anyways. There are people that hate me because I’m different but I want to fit in. I don’t want people to see me as a dirty little foreigner not to be trusted.”
“Right, we do need the right clothing then. You can’t go wearing fancy clothes just because you have money now. That would make the normal villagers see you as one of us royals. Wealthy snobs would dislike you as an impostor if you suddenly started acting wealthy. And you have to look good enough that Celine’s girlfriends will be jealous that she snagged such a good looking guy. You were right to come to me, Lyric. It’s going to take a lot of work to get you looking good and we only have a few days.”
Lyric shook his head, “Thanks for the kind words.”
Sibylle laughed and did her best Sir Robert impersonation. “Well, you might be worthy of dancing with a half blind old woman to far into the wine to notice who is accompanying her.”
Lyric groaned, “You’re too good at that.”
Sibylle fell over in laughter. “Don’t worry, We’ll find you a nice simple set of clothing that actually fits you. Our biggest concern is your hair.”
“My hair?” asked Lyric. “What’s wrong with my hair?”
“You are as shaggy as a sheep dog. We need to chop enough off that someone can see your eyes.”
Lyric shook his head like a dog, his hair did flop around a bit and fell into his eyes. He would normally just brush it behind his ears. “I suppose it’s a little long.”
“Come on, let’s go inside. Aunt Izzy has scissors and has impeccable fashion sense. We’ll gather her assistance in our quest to make you presentable.”
…
“Well what do you think Lyric?” asked Aunt Lizzy. She had just finished cutting his hair.
Lyric looked in the mirror. He had always tried to hide his white streak of hair by flipping more hair over it. The long hair also had done a good job of hiding his unique eyes. Lyric felt self-conscious as he looked in the mirror. The hair cut that Izzy had given him was very short and hid neither his eyes nor his white streak of hair. He ran his hand through his hair, playing with the white streak.
“I know you’ve been hiding your eyes and hair, Lyric but that was a mistake. You have beautiful eyes. They are like amethysts or sapphires; you should never hide them. As for the white streak. This is an island of gingers. Weird blends of hair color are normal, ours are just varieties of red. So black hair, white, black and white hair its all the same. Just be thankful your white streak doesn’t go down the middle of your hair or you’d be hearing how your mom bedded a skunk.”
Lyric looked at Lizzy in shock. The proper highborn lady had just made a sexual joke about a skunk. Not something he had expected. He started to laugh at the disturbing idea. “That’s just strange. But I suppose there is something to be thankful for. That I don’t look like a skunk.”
“You do look good, Lyric. Now you just need some decent clothing.”
“What’s wrong with my clothing?” protested Lyric, “I wash them every other day now.”
“I’m sure they’re the cleanest they’ve ever been but they still are too small for you and are so thread bare that I think the last bit of dirt is the only thing holding them together.”
“Don’t worry Lyric, you’ll like having new clothes. I promise.”
Lyric looked down at his old clothing with skepticism. How could new clothes be better? His clothing was comfortable and he never had new ones.
“Go see Miss Abby Mills. She’ll know exactly what you need for the Festiva,” said Izzy.
…
After leaving Redfall, Lyric headed into Middale and to the merchant shop ran by Miss Mills.
“Can I help you?” asked Miss Mills as Lyric waited at her counter. She looked at Lyric with a questioning look as if she thought he might be in the wrong place.
“Yes, I need some new clothing,” said Lyric. “Sibylle and Izzy Lamar recommended you.”
At the mention of the Lamar family, Miss Mills smiled and her body language changed quickly. “They did? That is wonderful. What can I help you with? From the looks of what you’re wearing, it’s been a while since you’ve had new clothing.”
Lyric blushed, his clothing hadn’t been new when he’d stolen it, and now they were much too small. He could no longer deny that he was in need of new
apparel. “Yes, I need some new clothing. Most importantly I need something I can wear to Festiva. Izzy Lamar suggested that I mention a young traveler you outfitted last summer.”
“Ah, yes. I recall that young man. A merchant from Partha. Similar build to yourself. Darker skin, I think the colors would have to be different, but the same cut would work nicely. Perhaps a touch tighter in the arms. That young gentlemen wasn’t quite as trim and lean as yourself.”
Misses Mills’ words meant nothing to Lyric, he had no clue about colors or cut, but she certainly seemed to know her business.
…
When Lyric walked into the house, Valeria and Azina did a double take. Gone was the crippled, raggedy looking street rat Azina had first rescued. In his place was a dashing and exotic looking young man. “Well, look at what we have here. New clothes, new haircut yet the boy was too stupid to buy boots. Valeria I think the boy is hopeless. We’re wasting our time here.:
Lyric smiled, he knew that was as close to as a compliment as he could expect from the old witch. “Actually I have two pairs of boots being made. The merchant had none my size in stock, but she promised the leather smith would have them ready tomorrow afternoon. I also have a fancy outfit for Festiva.”
“Nothing too flashy I hope,” said Valeria.
“No,” said Lyric.
Celine walked in just as Lyric spoke.
“No what?” asked Celine. “And what happened to you? Did you get mugged? It looks like someone stole your hair and your good pair of rags.”
“Why does everyone hate my old clothes so much?” asked Lyric. “Miss Mills wouldn’t even let me keep my old clothing. She insisted on burning them. She wouldn’t sell me anything until I agreed to let her have my old outfit. I was saying no, my new clothes for Festiva are not too flashy.”
“You got the new haircut and new clothes just for Festiva?” asked Celine.
Lyric could tell that Celine approved by the way she asked, he smiled and nodded. “Yes, I thought it might help to make a good impression on your friends.”
Lyric's Curse (Dragonblood Sagas Book 1) Page 20