by Lee Carlon
“It’s not that,” Obdurin said. “Please hear me out, when we are done, you will be free to leave. Neither Rhysin nor I will try to stop you.”
Vincent let the silence draw out, but finally, he conceded. He walked to the sliding glass door that opened onto the small private balcony and touched the glass. The door slid open, and Vincent stepped out onto the balcony. When he and Kilara had moved into this building, Vincent had been grateful they were on the south side, and Frake’s Peak was hidden from sight.
Obdurin followed him onto the balcony. Vincent detected hesitation in the old man. “Just say it.”
Obdurin nodded. “After Ardel, Tralit d’Arathan came to me.”
Vincent examined the Chosen. “You’re still hesitating.”
Obdurin looked back into the apartment, and Vincent followed his gaze. Gordon had entered the room. He cradled a small bundle in his arms. He approached the door so that Vincent could see the small baby wrapped in the bundle.
Vincent looked and shocked he asked, “Tralit’s?”
Obdurin nodded.
Vincent stepped back, so the balcony rail was at his back. “Let me guess, you’ve changed your mind and want me to kill it? Perhaps you think I’ll toss it from this balcony?”
Obdurin paled, and Gordon scowled.
Vincent softened his expression in the only apology he could manage and asked, “Why are you showing it to me?”
“His name is Maxian,” Obdurin said. “He’s named after one of Frake’s closest companions. A dragon who helped Frake build his empire. Maxian was a slave who—“
“I know the story,” Vincent said. “Answer my question.”
“I’m trying to,” Obdurin said. “It’s just that some answers require context so they can be understood as they are intended.”
“Say it,” Vincent demanded.
“You were there when I made my deal with Lord Marlan. You should know his wife gave birth to a baby girl one week ago. Maxian was born on the same day, as were nine other babies. All of them were born here at Frake’s Peak within one hour of each other. Within that hour they were bound to each other and then to me.”
Vincent didn’t need to hear any more. “No.”
He tried to step past Gordon, but Obdurin’s voice stopped him. “You know what he will become.”
Vincent faced Obdurin. “You should have killed me on the day you became Lord of Rhyne. I was grateful to you, but now I see I am just another plaything in your toy box. I’m no better than a bondsan,” Vincent gestured at Gordon and hated his own callousness even as he did it. “Why don’t you let people go?”
Obdurin was silent until he was sure Vincent was done. “Because letting people and things go doesn’t work. You’ve seen the world. You’ve seen what the Gods have done to it, to us. Letting things go is what got us here. I won’t let things go ever again. I want to reshape the world. I want to make it better.”
Rhysin’s heart glowed, and this time Vincent allowed himself to look at it. “For your God?”
“For my God’s people,” Obdurin replied, but there was something more in Obdurin’s eyes.
Vincent tried to decipher the look. He remembered that day in Turintar when Obdurin had almost allowed Warwick d’Ardel to kill him and take Rhysin’s heart.
Afterward, Obdurin had said something and Vincent repeated it now as a question. “We are all susceptible to the whims of the Gods?”
Obdurin’s eyes widened, and an unexpected smile broke his sour expression. “Yes. We are.”
Vincent looked at Rhysin’s heart again and thought, Is that it? Does he defy the Gods? Even the God he’s bound to? Is that even possible?
“You’re asking me to raise a monster?” Vincent said.
“I hope that by giving the responsibility to you he will never become a monster.”
Whatever had been in Obdurin’s eyes a moment before was gone, and Vincent wondered if he’d seen anything at all. Ridiculous, he told himself. He’d felt the pressure of Rhysin’s will. No man could resist that.
“Hand him to me, and I will drop him from this balcony. We can be sure.”
“You’re not a cruel man, Vincent.”
“You don’t know what I am.”
“I know you are not your father,” Obdurin said. “I know that you do not believe a man should be judged for the actions of his father. If you did, it would be easy to condemn us both and the child. We could jump together.”
Vincent glanced at Gordon and the bundle he held.
Obdurin said, “Tralit d’Arathan is what he was raised to be. We all choose who we are. Most of us without realizing we are making a choice, but it is a choice, and we are guided by our influences. I am asking you to be one of Maxian’s influences. Help him choose who he will be.”
“I could never raise a child to serve the Gods or be another man’s tool,” Vincent said, glancing at Gordon and wishing he could take back the slight to the old bondsan.
“Imagine if Tralit had been brought into the world with a meaningful purpose. To protect instead of destroy. To love instead of hate.”
“Tralit could never be anything except what he is.”
Obdurin shook his head slowly. “You don’t believe in fate any more than I do. We choose, and we act. There are limits, of course. We are what we are. Tralit would always be a powerful dragon, as, I think, this child will be, but what they choose to do with that is not set in stone or biology. I am asking you to help this child choose what he will be and what he will do with the power he has.”
Vincent felt himself being swayed. He wondered if Obdurin had known that Vincent would return to his old family home and that thoughts of his daughter, now gone for as long as she had been here, would leave him vulnerable to this request.
Vincent said, ”Too much.”
“How so?”
“To love instead of hate? You overplayed it. Hate is powerful. I hate Rhysin for trying to use my daughter against me when he wanted me to kill you. Without that hate, I might be his pawn now, and you’d be long dead. We should hate the Gods. They have done unspeakable things to us and this land. They are despicable. A child like this could be raised to hate them. If you give him to me, he will never serve you or your god.”
Rhysin’s heart flared briefly, and Obdurin winced in pain.
“What about the Dragon Lords, would you raise him to serve them?”
“No God or any other creature who would claim dominion over him,” Vincent said.
“I made a mistake. I never should have bound these children,” Obdurin said, but Vincent heard something in the Chosen’s tone that suggested the words weren’t for him, but a performance for Rhysin.
Obdurin nodded at Vincent then stepped back into the apartment and through the door into the corridor beyond.
Gordon held out the child and said, “There’s a car at the entrance to this building. It’s stocked with everything you’ll need. Take it and go far away and never come back.”
Hell’s Breath
Hell’s Breath is the sixth book in The Bastard Cadre series. It picks up Avril Ethanson’s story after I left him (and you, sorry about that) literally hanging.
Hell’s Breath will be published in the next couple of months. If you’d like me to let you know when new books are released, please visit www.bigepic.studio/notify.