Lyric shook his head, “You’re a crazy one, Sibylle Lamar, but I do wish you luck. It’s way better if you win the tournament. That way you can marry yourself!”
Sibylle laughed, “I doubt the king would be convinced to let me marry myself. It would make having royal children rather challenging. I can only hope that winning allows me time to find a suitable husband on my own terms and with a better timeline in which to do it.”
“So with you in the tournament, I don’t have to worry anymore? I can withdraw?”
“No! What if I were caught? Besides, I placed several rather icky nobles in your division. You must defeat them. It’s vital that you make it to the last day. Even if I win the tournament, I still need you to win as many bouts as possible. You still may need to win if I’m caught.”
“Damn,” said Lyric. “I was almost able to go home. I’m not cut out for this fighter life.”
“Did Sir Chestmire hurt you?” asked Sibylle, suddenly concerned that Lyric was injured.
“No,” admitted Lyric, “but he certainly whipped me good. He danced and twirled and flipped through the air like a bird. It was terrifying!”
Sibylle laughed. “I saw the score sheet, Lyric. He defeated you 10-7 on knockdowns. You did much better than you’re suggesting.”
“It was still terrifying,” insisted Lyric.
“Whatever. Just beat him next time, even if he terrifies you.”
“I’d have to fight him again?” asked Lyric.
“Not during the double elimination portion of the fighting, but you are still in the same division. If you both keep winning, you’d meet early on the last day.”
“These tournament rules are very confusing,” said Lyric.
“They are supposed to be,” said Sibylle. “The more confusing the rules, the more I can bend them to make it easier for you and I to get to the finals.”
“Damn you’re a sneaky one. I’d hate to be your enemy,” said Lyric. He paused for a moment before continuing. “If you and I are to get the easy fights, who’s supposed to get the hard fights?”
“Talon Horne. He’s the best fighter here, and an arrogant prick!” said Sibylle with venom. “I’ve made sure he fights every top fighter here!”
“I thought Sir Hawkins was supposed to be a top fighter?”
Sibylle chuckled. “Normally he is. However, Sir Hawkins is a bit of a man whore and takes his womanizing more serious than his fighting. I arranged for Sir Hawkins to have a very long night last night. I’m surprised he lasted as long as he did.”
Lyric shook his head. He hadn’t imagined Sibylle being so devious.
“Don’t shake your head at me, Lyric Finch! Just because I’m a noble lady doesn’t mean I can’t use a man’s desires against him. In fact, it’s a noble woman’s finest weapon. You men all think with your loins. It’s far better that I allow Sir Hawkins to feast on the local flowers instead of seducing him myself.”
Lyric threw his hands up in defeat, “I didn’t say anything! I just have never heard you talk so.”
“Well, I am a woman, just because I’m a noble doesn’t mean I don’t think of such things.”
“I know you’re a woman. You’re a very beautiful woman, but I hadn’t thought of you that way before.”
“That’s because you only have eyes for Celine. And I don’t blame you. She’s a wild vixen and as pretty as they come. You’ve got a good one, Lyric. If you win I promise that I’ll find a way for you to stay together.”
“Make it to the final and I won’t have to worry about that. If you and I fight you will win,” said Lyric. However, he left out the thought they were both thinking. If Sibylle could somehow win the tournament it would solve all their problems.
“That is my plan, but we can’t rely on that happening. I will likely have to face Talon Horne to reach the final. You may yet need to win to rescue me from this stupid situation.”
Lyric wasn’t ready to discuss what would happen if he did win the tournament, so he decided that it was time for him to get back to his own arena and prepare for his next fight. “I should be going. It’s almost time for my next match.”
“Not a word of what you saw in this tent, to anyone!” said Sibylle.
“I swear,” said Lyric. He wanted nothing to do with her secret and would gladly keep it to himself. He had no idea how she’d keep everyone from finding out. The tournament still had two more days of fighting!
58
APOPHIS FLEW TO THE HIGHEST MOUNTAINS on the northwestern edge of Droll Isle. The high mountain range was far from any human village or city. The steep and jagged mountains with shallow valleys between were too rugged to habitat, making them perfect for dragons. With her were the three younglings and two mid-sized dragons, Rythin and Bryma, two mid-aged brown dragons who she knew she could trust. Rythin and Bryma were to be her messengers. They would fly back and forth between the various dragon locations making sure all went well.
Apophis remembered the mountains from her childhood. The mountain they would call home had a heavy limestone core, filled with caves and tunnels. The caves and tunnels would be their new homes.
“Set the younglings to cleaning caves. When everyone is settled, take them fishing along the north coast. Head far out enough that you won’t encounter any human ships,” Apophis said to Rythin and Bryma. Once the others had been assigned tasks, Apophis started flying away from the mountain. It was time for her to start scouting Droll for herself. She’d need to know as much about the humans as possible in the days ahead, and knowing where their settlements were located was a good place to start. It would also give the humans warning of their arrival. It was time the humans knew that they were not alone on Droll. Dragons had returned to their old home.
…
Lyric’s first day of tournament was finished after he defeated an older sellsword, Thomas Yorn. Yorn had already lost a fight to another sellsword and had been limping noticeably before the contest. Lyric took full advantage of the other man’s misfortune and attacked the man’s footwork repeatedly. The 10-1 final score wasn’t even as close as it looked on paper. Thomas Yorn would have been an easy win, even if he’d been fully healthy.
To Lyric’s surprise and delight, Azina, Valeria and Celine were all in the stands for the fight. Once his battle was over, Lyric joined them at the edge of the arena.
“By the gods, Lyric, I owe Blair a drink or two. You almost looked like a warrior out there today,” said Azina.
Lyric smiled, “Careful Azina, that almost sounded like a compliment.”
Azina smirked, “It might have been, but don’t be expecting it to become a regular occurrence.”
“You did marvelous,” said Valeria.
“Yes, you did pretty good. You smacked him with your big stick,” said Celine, her voice dripping with sexual innuendo.
Lyric shook his head, it was wise to get into word games with Celine, he’d only end up losing. “Thank you. I’m glad you noticed my big stick.” Despite knowing it was not wise, Lyric couldn’t help himself.
Azina snorted. “I’m heading home. I’ve no desire to talk about young Lyric’s stick. Best of luck tomorrow, Lyric.” Azina paused for a moment, “You didn’t have any weird emotions today did you? Any episodes like when you got angry at that buffoon Thomas?”
“No, unless you count being scared out of my tree as unusual.”
“No, I’d say that’s pretty normal for you. Okay, I’m leaving now.”
“I’d better make sure she gets home safe,” said Valeria with a wink.
As the two old witches made their way home, Celine spoke. “I talked to some of the boys. Robert has been here all day. He says you’ve done rather well.”
“I did okay, but losing to Sir Chestmire will make things difficult. I’ll have to win all my matches from now on, but it went much better than I thought it would. I didn’t embarrass myself. Why was Azina asking about my emotions?”
“One of the traders who buys from Valeria came from Winport tod
ay. The sailors there are talking about dragon sightings. She’s convinced your anger and the way you handled Thomas have something to do with dragons.”
Lyric thought about it. The way he’d gotten mad, and been able to get Thomas to break his hand on Lyric’s head had been unusual, but he’d felt normal at the time. Just angrier than he’d ever felt before. Lyric shrugged, “I honestly can’t tell you if that had anything to do with dragons or not. I just did what came to my mind.”
“Well if dragons are truly back we’ll know soon enough. Hopefully you don’t turn into one, or grow wings.”
“Could I grow wings? That would be incredible,” said Lyric.
“It might be. The ancient scrolls talk of physical transformation among some dragonblood. But the degree is varying. There doesn’t seem to be any hard rules about what happens to dragonblood.”
“Too bad. Wings sounded fun.”
“Enough about wings. Let’s get something to eat. I want to know about your tournament. What happens tomorrow?”
“I have food at my tent, we could eat there,” said Lyric.
“Oh, luring me to your warrior’s den with offers of food and stories? How sneaky.”
“I learned from the best,” said Lyric.
“Watch it mister fancy pants warrior, I’ll brain you if you get too cheeky.”
Lyric smiled as he pulled Celine’s hand into his own and lead her to the tent. The tent was large and held a small but comfortable bed along with a mannequin for his armor and a small table. During the day, Lord Lamar’s servants went around to all the warrior’s tents and offered them food and water. During the evening, the offer of water turned to wine and ale. Lyric didn’t want to be hungover during the tournament, but he’d asked for extra food. He’d not been able to eat all day do to nerves, but now he was starving. On the table were a large assortment of meats and cheeses with a loaf of fresh bread. Lyric wondered if Sibylle had spoken to the servants as all his favorites were present.
Celine grabbed a chunk of bread and fell onto his bed, “So who do you fight tomorrow?”
“My first fight will be against a man named Sir Edgard Poinna. He’s some sort of distant cousin to the king. After that, it depends on who wins and who loses. Blair figures that it’s most likely a sellsword from Winport that I’ll fight, but I’m not sure. After that, I have no idea.”
“Sir Edgard Poinna. Sounds pretentious to me, and royal family member. You’d best not injure the man. Just tap him on the butt a few times with your big stick.” Celine winked at Lyric and then took a big bite of her bread. As she chewed her mouthful, she kept talking. “Isn’t that what the royals like? A young boy with a big stick?”
Lyric laughed. “A royal hears you talking like that and you’ll end up with your head on one end of the Isle and your body on the other. Remember, these tents are thin, and who knows who’s in the next one.”
Celine chuckled softly, “You’d save me… but this time you may be right, perhaps it’s best to speak in softer tones. Many of the nobles will be in foul moods today with so many lowborn fighters earning victories.”
After taking a few moments to eat, Lyric joined Celine on his bed. He cuddled up to the fiery young woman who’d stolen his heart and whispered in her ear. “Will you stay the night?”
His advances were met with deafening defeat. Celine properly punched him in the gut. The gentle blow surprised Lyric.
“I most certainly will not. You’ve had a long day and you have more long and even more challenging days ahead. You need your sleep.”
“I need the warm embrace of a loving woman, the cold hard steel of my opponents has hardened my heart and only you can save it.”
“Nice try, Mister. The only warm embrace you’ll be getting tonight is from your blanket. Sibylle has graciously offered me a bed in her house this evening. I’ll come early and wake you with a kiss if you behave now.”
Lyric groaned, “Oh how you women conspire, yer a cruel mistress to leave me so.”
Celine slapped his thigh as she got up from the bed. “Don’t you forget it. Now get some sleep!”
Lyric smiled as Celine slipped out of his tent. In truth, he was very tired and a little sore. But he didn’t want Celine feeling that she was far from his mind. As much as he would’ve enjoyed her company, he was grateful to not share his bed this evening. He truly needed his sleep.
As Lyric drifted off to sleep, a flock of dragons flew far overhead, making their way to the northwestern mountains that would be their homes. The flight brought a particular dragon within reach of Lyric, and triggered a reaction within his body. One that would change him forever. In the dark of night, deep into his sleep, Lyric was reborn. Lyric was now truly becoming dragonblood.
59
THE SOFT YET PLESANT SCENT OF CELINE WOKE Lyric. He smiled to himself as he listened to her sneaking into his tent. As she had promised, she was coming to wake him with a kiss. A reward for virtuous sleep.
Lyric lay still, keeping his eyes closed while he waited for his love to sneak her way towards his bed. He could hear her heart pounding and the noise of fellow warriors waking in the background. Lyric focused his mind on Celine, he could practically see her as she tiptoed up to the bed and slowly lowered her lips to press them against his own. The cool touch of her lips, not yet warm from the morning sun, felt good. She tasted of honey and berries.
“Good morning,” she said as her lips left his own.
Eyes still closed, Lyric smiled. “A very good morning.”
“How long have you been awake?” asked Celine as she realized her kiss had not brought him to life, only his tongue.
“I sensed you just outside the tent. I recognized your scent, it was a pleasant way to be woken.”
Celine was surprised. Often she snuck up on Lyric in the morning in Valeria’s barn loft, or during his post bathing naked sun tanning naps. Never had he so easily woken. Lyric was not a light sleeper. “Really?” she asked.
Lyric opened his eyes and gazed up at Celine.
As soon as Lyric opened his eyes, Celine knew what had happened. Lyric had always had unique and beautiful eyes. His iris’ purple with darker flecks of color were unique and marked him as different. In a land where his skin and hair marked his as foreign, his eyes further distinguished him. However, this morning his eyes were different. His eyes normally a light violet or dark purple depending on the light were as bright as she’d ever seen them, unnaturally bright. His eyes almost glowed, they were so bright. “Lyric, do you feel different this morning?” she asked.
…
From the look in Celine’s face, Lyric something was amiss. Yet he felt fine. “I feel excellent. Why do you ask?”
“Because you’re different, take a moment and truly think about it. Do you feel different?”
Lyric could feel Celine’s pulse quicken, her breath gently pressed against his skin. His senses were indeed heightened this morning. It was not a significant change, but a subtle one. One he might not have noticed had Celine not pressed him to think out it. “My senses are a bit heightened this morning.”
“I think your dragonblood is taking effect. Your eyes are different this morning. They are unnaturally bright.”
“They are?” asked Lyric. “Do they look strange?”
“They look beautiful, like gems sparkling in the sun, but different. Imagine how bright Arria’s eyes are.
Lyric could picture Arria, she had as bright as blue eyes of anyone he’d ever seen. “Okay,” he said.
“Yours are easily twice as bright now. Even here in your tent with no light of the sun on them they shine. And the color is more intense. The purple is deeper and brighter all at the same time. I believe your dragonblood change has started.”
“What should I do?” asked Lyric.
“Keep doing what you were already doing. Try and win the tournament. Nothing changes. But I’d recommend keeping your helmet on in public during the tournament. Enough of the warriors keep theirs on that no one would no
tice. Eventually, everyone will know, but the longer you keep it a secret, the better.”
“I wonder what else has changed beside my eyes and my senses?” pondered Lyric “It that all that will change or has it just begun?”
“That is a question my aunts and I have pondered much. The ancient scrolls don’t say much about the process of becoming a dragonblood. Whether it happens all at once or gradually. I suspect gradually, but truth be told, we have no clue. Only time will tell what other differences occur.”
“Why now? Of all the times to have dragons return, they have to pick this stinking tournament!” moaned Lyric.
“I told you before, this tournament was always part of your destiny as are dragons. It makes perfect sense to me that they’d occur at the same time.”
“That’s because you’re a witch!” said Lyric.
“And a damn fine one at that!” replied Celine. “Now get your lazy arse up, it’s time to put your armor on and go face Sir Eddy Point.”
“Sir Edgard Poinna,” said Lyric as he corrected Celine.
“Whatever, just beat his royal arse!” said Celine as she held up his armor.
Lyric rose from the bed and with Celine’s assistance, quickly dawned his armor and helmet. Staff in hand he left the tent to meet his latest foe.
…
As Lyric stood at his mark, waiting for the squire to wave the flag signaling the beginning of the match, he studied his opponent, Sir Edgard Poinna, distance cousin to the king. A gangly tall man, Sir Poinna had blood shot eyes and reeked of ale. It was apparent to Lyric that his opponent was one of the many nobles who came to the tournaments strictly for the comradery and festivities that surrounded the events. Sir Poinna didn’t expect to win the tournament. So while Lyric had been sound asleep, Sir Poinna had been reveling and drinking to the wee hours.
At the waving of the flag, Lyric darted at his opponent, coming with a flurry of attacks at full speed. Lyric figured that the hungover lord would be slow reacting during the early moments of the fight. Lyric guessed correctly as one of his swings went unblocked into the gangly lord’s stomach. The royal fighter fell to the ground. Lyric had scored a quick knockdown.
Lyric's Curse (Dragonblood Sagas Book 1) Page 27