Sisera's Gift 2: Sacred Blood

by Robyn Wideman

  “I know it is not her fault,” Kai said. “But we need to do something about this so that seems like a good place to start.”

  Isabella leapt to her feet. “All of you are always against us. Everything is always our fault. And when it isn’t, you manage to find a way to blame us, anyway. I’m sick of it,” Isabella screamed and stormed out of the room.

  The group exchanged looks as the outburst took them all by surprise. Raven was the first to get up.

  “I’ll go after her,” she said as she made her way to the door.

  “No,” said Amelia. “Just leave her. She’s having a hard time right now, as you know. She just needs some space to calm down.”

  Raven nodded and found her seat again.

  Kai was still fuming. “I wasn’t blaming them,” he said defensively.

  “We know you weren’t,” said Amelia. “I just don’t understand her attitude lately. She used to be so proper and mature. Granted, she still can be those things, but it seems that she has developed a wild streak.”

  “It is the bond,” Oshri said. “She is taking on aspects of Sisera’s personality, as I am sure that Sisera is taking on aspects of hers.”

  “I think she is bored,” said Raven.

  “She needs more training,” Oshri said. “She needs to learn to control her emotions.”

  Adina turned and scowled at Oshri. “She is a teenage girl. What would you know about what she needs? I agree with Raven. She needs something to change. Everything must be so difficult for her right now.”

  “It is,” Raven said quietly.

  “Well what can we do? Oshri is our only source of information on dragonbloods. Gods know I have no experience with this. I want to help my daughter but I don’t know how,” said Amelia. “It is very frustrating.”

  “I may have a solution,” Oshri said.

  “I thought you said that you don’t know anything more,” Kai said dryly.

  “I don’t. But I think I know who does,” said the old wizard, downheartedly.

  “Who?” Amelia asked.

  “A witch. A group of witches, actually. They are an old coven. Sisters of Garron they are called.”

  “Do you know where to find them?” asked Kai.

  “Yes. I must travel to Droll.”

  “You cannot go alone,” said Amelia.

  “I will send a troop of Daxrah with him,” said Kai.

  “No. They would not like that,” said Oshri. “It must be a small group.”

  “All right then. I will go with him to make sure the old bugger gets back safely,” Kai said.

  “I will go too,” Adina said.

  Amelia looked at her inquisitively.

  Adina shrugged. “Rosalie is more than capable of taking care of the infirmary. There are some specimens on Droll that I would like to collect for the growing house. Besides, I need an adventure.”

  “So, unless there are any objections,” Amelia looked around the group but everyone just gave a nod. “Then we are in agreeance. Kai, Oshri, and Adina will travel to Droll.”

  “Perhaps I should go as well,” Raven said.

  “No, you need to stay here,” Kai said, looking at Rosalie out of the corner of his eye. “Someone must see to the defence of the Tower. Someone who can keep both Jaime and Sir Hamza in check.”

  “I agree,” Amelia said. “Make your preparations and leave as soon as possible. I must go find my daughter.”

  13

  When she was sad, or upset, Isabella’s favorite thing to do was wander the mystical halls of the Tower of Kings. The magic that lit the place was very comforting to her. She ran her hand down the wall as she walked slowly. She could feel the energy gently surging through the plaster.

  Isabella came to a section of the Tower blocked off with sawhorses. There were large signs that the area beyond was dangerous. This was where men were working all day long, breaking rock, digging out chambers and tunnels as the Tower was extended deeper into the mountainside. It was hard work, but the men were treated, and compensated, fairly, the excess stone given to the village to use for building.

  This is where Makal worked. The thought was at the forefront of her mind. Isabella smiled when she pictured his face, the way his eyes squinted when he grinned. She wanted to see him. She wanted to hear his voice.

  “This is stupid,” she thought, frustrated with her emotions. “Why would I feel this way about a boy I have spent so little time with?”

  She was continuing down the closed off hallway when she heard voices. She stopped and listened. The voices were getting closer and there was a lot of them.

  Around the corner came a group of workers, leaving the tunnels. Isabella moved herself to the side of the tunnel to allow the men to pass. They all recognized her and nodded a greeting as they passed. She smiled returned their greetings. Was that Makal’s father? she asked herself as a large man walked by, flashing her a wide grin.

  Suddenly, he was in front of her, Makal, dirty and dusty from the day’s labor. He smiled widely when he saw her and walked in her direction.

  Isabella’s heart jumped. She imagined that her scales were turning to a more reddish, purple hue. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her mouth had dried up, so she quickly shut it and smiled.

  “Hi,” Makal said as he walked up. “What are you doing here?”

  Isabella panicked. Should she try to speak again?

  “Um.” The sound produced was raspy. Isabella smiled, embarrassed. She took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Hi Makal.”

  “It’s dangerous down here, you know?” A look of concern crossed his face.

  Isabella took another deep breath and broke down. She sat down on the stone floor with her back against the wall and with her face buried in her hands. Isabella felt an arm wrap around her shoulders. She recoiled slightly from the touch until she realized it was Makal’s arm. He sat down next to her and tried to comfort her. She moved, tucking herself closer.

  “I just…” she started but then closed her mouth. Her mind was in turmoil over what to do. Finally, she just let everything out.

  She told Makal all about her feelings and the hardships that she faced. He listened intently, although, she could tell that he could not fully understand what she was going through.

  “Wow,” he said when she finished. He leaned the back of his head against the wall and exhaled deeply. “I had no idea.”

  Isabella just stared at the wall across the hallway, embarrassed that she just unloaded on him.

  “Maybe you need a hobby,” Makal said.

  Isabella was not sure if she heard him correctly. She turned to stare at him, inquisitively.

  “Yeah, maybe you need to get a hobby?” a smile crossed the boy’s face.

  “A hobby?” Isabella did not understand what he was saying.

  “It is something that you do for fun. Not like a game, but something that you enjoy that takes some work,” Makal said, suddenly very excited. “Like me. I like to carve stone figures. Animals and people. Little ones, out of soapstone. I have been doing it for years. My father taught me when I was young.”

  “You think I should carve things out of stone?” Isabella was very confused.

  “No. But, something that you enjoy doing.”

  Isabella thought about things that she enjoyed doing.

  “I like flying,” she said, quietly.

  “Okay. That’s a start. But, isn’t that part of what you are complaining about?”

  Isabella nodded in agreement. What did she use to do for fun in Prozia? She played with dolls and pretended to have tea parties. Not something that she was interested in anymore.

  Magic. The answer was magic.

  It suddenly dawned on her that the dragon had given her the greatest gift. Before Sisera, she was just a silly little girl, playing with toys. Now she was a capable battle-mage and fierce warrior.

  What did she have to complain about?

  She had an army and a fortress. She had abilities
that very few, if any, in the world possessed. She had a dragon.

  Yes, those perks came with responsibilities. That was something that she could handle in exchange for the great power that she now had.

  Isabella perked up and smiled at Makal. She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.

  Makal smiled nervously. “What just happened?” he laughed.

  “Everything,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, I guess.”

  Isabella got to her feet. “Will you show me how you carve stone?”

  Makal’s face brightened up. “Of course,” he said.

  The two teenagers walked to the village, happily chattering the whole way. Makal told stories of his life back in Partha. Isabella listened eagerly, asking questions when they came to her.

  Makal was leading her to the west side of the village, an area that contained housing for new arrivals. They walked through the twisting streets until they came to a small bridge that crossed a dry moat. The bridge marked the entrance to the west village.

  “I remember when Sisera helped the Daxrah dig this moat. It looks very different than it did less than two years ago,” she said.

  The entire area was a mass of shacks and shanties. Temporary homes until the new arrivals could find a place to call their own. Some of those that came preferred the chaos and the squalor and just stayed so the area was ever growing within the confines of the area. They could no longer grow out, so they began to grow up, shacks on top of other shacks, creating an awkward tower of living spaces.

  “I have never been down here,” Isabella said, constantly scanning the shacks, certain that one would fall and crush them.

  “It’s really not that bad. It’s a safe place to sleep, which is all that matters,” Makal said. “Over here.”

  The boy led her into a side alley and around to the back. Isabella found herself in a small area, littered with scraps of leather and metal. A small forge and an anvil stood in the corner of the yard. Placed against the tall wooden fence was a long work bench. A top the bench was a large box, which caught Isabella’s eye. Intricate carvings in the pattern of vines covered the box.

  “My father’s friend makes armor,” Makal said, explaining the mess. “He packages the armor in boxes like those. It’s sort of his trademark. He lives over there.”

  He pushed open a door on the back side of the building, revealing a small one room dwelling. Two mattresses lay on the floor next to the wall. In place of a dresser, there were two travel cases propped open. A small table with two chair stood in the middle of the room.

  “It’s not much, but it serves its purpose,” said Makal, grabbing a large wooden box that lay on the table.

  He opened the lid of the box and showed Isabella the contents. Inside was a selection of metal files, short knives, and saws, as well as some tools that Isabella did not recognize.

  “I’ve collected these over the years,” Makal said proudly.

  Isabella smiled and asked “Can you show me one?”

  Makal smiled and nodded. He went a corner of the room and pulled up one of the floorboards. From a hidden spot in the floor, he heaved another wooden box, very like the one that held his tools. He laid the heavy box on the table and opened the lid.

  Isabella’s eyes opened wide when she saw the treasures inside.

  In the box was a huge variety of ornately carved sculptures. Makal reached in and picked up an unpolished carved bear.

  “I made this one on the boat ride to Seron. I haven’t finished it quite yet.” He shrugged.

  Isabella took the small bear and turned it over in her hands. It was about the size of her palm. The amount of detail that the sculpture had was incredible.

  He handed her another, a dragon the size of her hand. Isabella lit up when she saw the intricately carved beast.

  “It looks like Sisera,” she said excitedly.

  “That’s as close as I could make it anyway. I started that one when we got here. I added little bits every time I got a glimpse of her. We villagers don’t really see you two all that often, so it took some time.”

  “You are very talented,” Isabella said.

  Makal blushed. “Thank you. It took me years to learn all these tricks.”

  “I am very impressed,” said Isabella as she returned the dragon to the box. “I would like it if you taught me.”

  “Sure,” Makal said, a huge smile crossing his face.

  He gathered his tools and a few stray chunks of soapstone and led her out to the yard. Makal gave her an elementary lesson in how to carve but by the end, rock dust covered her with nothing to show but a lump that vaguely looked like a dog.

  As the light was fading from the sky, she bid the boy farewell and made her way back to the Tower, a huge smile across her face. It was nice to have someone to talk to, someone who didn’t treat her like some fragile thing that needs protecting.

  14

  “What is your cargo?”

  Tarak carefully placed the crate he was carrying on the wooden dock. “Spices and textiles from Partha,” he said in a smooth, calm voice.

  The harbormaster looked at Tarak then looked at the ship and crew who were busy unloading crates from the boat to the dock using a crane. He looked back at Tarak and furrowed his brow for a moment. Then sighed and shrugged his shoulders slightly and went about scribbling on his manifest.

  “If you don’t mind my men will spot check your cargo. The king has ordered all ships to be checked on their arrival in North Port,” the harbormaster said as he finished his notations.

  “No problem at all. I will inform the captain. May I ask why?” Tarak said.

  “There has been an increase of foreign weapons found all through out Droll so the King feels that we need to stop their import. Since the dragons have returned the lords on the island have been stockpiling in case there is a war but they are not buying from local providers. Talk is that the King has a sizable investment in the weapons trade and he wants to squash the competition.”

  “That makes little sense, though. If I were to smuggle weapons to an island as big as Droll I wouldn’t use a port, especially not the largest port.”

  “That’s the way I would do it as well. I don’t make the stupid rules. I just follow them,” the man said with a smirk. He turned away and made his way back down the wide dock.

  Tarak laughed. A lot of things had changed in the city where he and his brother grew up but stupid rules made by stupid rulers was not one of them.

  North Port was the biggest port city on the north end of Droll because of its location on the island. The city marked the safest route for ships to sail between Droll and Bridgewater on Seron, across the Gray Sea, and through the Grim Isles. A mercenary navy trained by the admirals of a navy in the far west patrolled the waters. The two cities made a pact and hired the navy because the Grim Isles was an archipelago infested with pirates and sea monsters and a safe route was needed for trade. Both cities became very wealthy. Bridgewater grew but North Port truly flourished. It was also a major port along the trade route from Partha all the way to the Western Isles.

  Tarak remembered how enthralled he was to visit the city when his father would bring his and his brother there to look for work. Then he remembered how terrified he had been when his father did not return from his job and they had to make the city their home. Once they had settled into life in the underground, though, the city regained its former glow. Tarak loved the depravity of the city. He loved that anything and everything could happen in this city. Living in the shadows gave him a unique perspective. It was the kind of place that you could see the worst side of anybody if you knew where to go.

  “Mister Grakes.” Tarak addressed one of the workers after the harbourmaster’s men had performed their search. “Please ensure that this shipment arrives at the Guild warehouse without any problems. You and you alone will be held responsible should anything happen.”

  “Yes, Sir,” Grakes said. “The shipment will arrive
on time and fully intact.”

  Tarak nodded his head. It was very important to him that their client was happy with the goods. He had personally worked to have the workshops of the Sacred Blood supply finely crafted weapons to the members of the Mercenaries Guild or the Jade Hammers as they were known. It had taken years to convince the leaders to sign on with the Order but if everything went well with the first shipment Tarak realized that the relationship would be extremely profitable for the Sacred Blood. It would, however, take a large chunk of the kingdom's wealth as they were now supplying the Hammers with weapons. The Sacred Blood needed that income more. They had to pay for the war they were going to start. “I will leave you to it then. Garron save us.”

  “Garron save us,” Grakes said and went about his work.

  Tarak left the loading dock and strolled down the harbor. As he passed the harbourmaster the man threw up his hand in a half-hearted wave. Tarak gave the man a wide grin and a nod in response. He almost felt bad for the poor guy. He was only doing his job. There was no way he could know that he just let eight crates of swords, two crates of daggers, six crates of filled quivers and three crates of miscellaneous weapons into the city. His men saw what they needed to see. Tarak made sure of that.

  The Sacred Blood learned many centuries ago that brute force was never going to win the war against powerful dragons that could single handedly decimate large armies of men. Even the strongest mages were useless as most dragons are immune to elemental magic. Eventually, an unnamed scholar discovered that dragons were susceptible to illusion magic. The religious arm of the Brotherhood took on the task of developing the magic and the militant arm focussed on manufacturing weapons and other tools of war. Together they made an unlikely but very powerful team.

  It took many generations of Brotherhood scholars to unravel the intricate art of illusion. At first, they could hide squads of men from a dragon’s sight. Brotherhood warriors would sneak up with long spears and stab at the soft spots. This worked for a short while. Soon the dragons protected the very few weak spots they had by various means. Some had armor. Some used magic. Others just changed the way they held their wings.