Cedric
Cedric ran his hand along his collar, still unused to the feel of fine wool, though it had been two months since he had come to live in the King's palace. Eight whole weeks of pulling the Dragons from their dens on a daily basis, taking them to the Tournament fields, testing their capabilities with the other Dimn. It had truly been an uphill climb for him, not only to learn the ins and outs of his responsibilities, but to learn society in a world where there was more than himself and a solitary Centaur. People were often rude or gruff to one another, though they bowed when he gave them orders.
Besides his new responsibilities, he also spent at least two hours in the Dragondimn training yard each evening, sharpening nearly non-existent weapons skills. The King had not required it, but the other men’s withering glances at his clumsy sword-handling drove him to the weaponry. He was determined to keep his head attached to his neck, so he fought tooth and nail to rise to the top of Sebastian's expectations. His sword replaced his sling, and chain mail often covered his tunic.
He felt like a fresh-faced toddler when it came to the Dragons. Though the beasts always obeyed a direct order from him, he couldn't be around every Dragon in the King's armies all the time, so the King had delegated to him the responsibility of training the Dimn to each Dragon. The only trouble was, he had no knowledge of Dragons beyond what Shaya had told him. He spent the first weeks unrolling the scrolls in the King's library, seeking information on the four different kinds.
What he found was useful. For example, Dragons had a penchant for eating metals. Iron, gold, copper, anything the palace happened to have on hand. The Dragons considered the substances a treat, which saved many goats, sheep, and cows from slaughter. The smaller animals had erstwhile been killed in droves as treats until Cedric found the notation on a dusty scroll that had been hiding on a corner shelf in the library. Since abundant copper in particular streaked the hills around The Crossings, he instigated the practice of feeding the ore to the Dragons, with immediate, pleasing results: the Dragons grew more responsive and amenable to training.
As the weeks passed, Cedric slid into the rhythm of society. It wasn't without its flaws; he often drifted to sleep wishing for the lonely howl of the wind in the Dwellings, but each day he learned more.
Twenty Dragondimn took orders from him. Most were his seniors by at least ten years, and Cedric felt their animosity toward the idea of this seventeen-year-old-boy-just-become-a-man lording his authority over them. Cedric hadn't wanted to have authority over anyone; but Sebastian's demands presented a growing problem.
Two of the Dragondimn were his own age, and though they showed no extra friendliness toward him, Cedric appreciated their ready willingness to do the things he requested.
Jack-Boy was one—his internship at the palace had run out when he turned seventeen, but rather than return to the Dragon Clan as his mother had requested, he had decided to stay on to serve the King at the palace.
Natan was the other. He had arrived in the palace a month before Cedric and was still learning how to approach the beasts with care.
Cedric straightened his shoulders as he headed toward the Dragondimn quarters. They bunked in a side wing of the palace, a short walk from a back entrance into the dungeons and the tunnels to the Dragon dens. The bite of winter crept beneath Cedric's cloak, and he shivered. A small part of him wished for his caves of the Rockmonster Dwellings and a roaring fire lighting Shaya's face as she curled beside him, telling him stories.
But those days were gone.
He was here, now. In the palace. The King's own Dragon-Master. And the King's Dragons must be trained for battle. His jaw tightened. The only reason the King had made him Dragon-Master was because he could command the Dragons with a word. Sebastian had been impressed. Cedric had seen the King intently observing his practice sessions with the Dragons. If a session passed where Cedric did not give a direct command to a Dragon, the King called him into his presence later and reminded him to do so at the next session.
Cedric could understand the King's fascination with his gift. He surprised even himself with it. What he couldn't understand was why the King placed so much responsibility on his shoulders. He possessed far less skill than most of the palace Dimn.
And they knew it.
Cedric ran his fingers through his hair and braced himself as he pushed the door open. The men reclined on their bunk beds in various states of undress. Dislike settled across their faces when they saw Cedric.
“I apologize for the early hour, Dimn,” Cedric began. It wasn't that much earlier, but he refused to let the details get in his way. “We have a new Dragon today, captured in the Forgotten Plains and brought north for our training pleasure. He's an Ember. And from the looks of things, it will take a good deal of patience to tame this one. Let's convene on the Tournament fields one hour hence. Natan and Jack-Boy, you will please accompany me back to the Dragon dens right now.”
The two boys followed Cedric out the door and back up the path to the arched entryway.
Cedric led them down the hall and climbed to the next floor where he entered his chambers.
Natan and Jack-Boy glanced around in surprise, their looks guarded.
Cedric closed the heavy door and sank into a chair near his table. He nervously licked his lips. “Have a seat.” He waved his hand at the other chairs.
Natan did so, but Jack-Boy refused to sit. “Why are we brought to my lord's chambers?”
Cedric poured himself a drink and then filled two other goblets, pushing them toward the boys. He gathered his courage and cleared his throat. “For no other reason than the fact that I—I'd like to have friends.”
The boys stared at Cedric and then at each other. “Friends, my lord?” Jack-Boy's mouth twisted into a grin. “You want friends among the Dimn?”
Heat rose in Cedric's cheeks. “Of course. Wouldn't you?”
“But you're the Dragon-Master, an honor bestowed by the King's own hand.” Natan picked up his goblet and took a drink, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Are you using us to spy on the others?”
“No!” Cedric hastened to explain. “No, not at all. I've watched you both. You seem responsible, hardworking, and trustworthy.”
Jack-Boy smirked. “You trust us, my lord?” He belted out a hearty laugh. “Why?”
Cedric took a sip, allowing the silence to settle before he answered. “Because I've got a sense about people. I can tell which ones are the good ones.”
Natan snorted. “Right. M'lord jests.” Despite the shaky beginning, the tension in the room eased.
Cedric drew a breath of relief and raised his glass in salute. “If I do, doesn't laughter improve every occasion?”
By the time the hour had rolled by and it was time to repair to the Tournament fields, Cedric felt better about his knowledge of the men over whom he was responsible. Natan and Jack-Boy, while not divulging much of the bunkhouse chatter, had conveyed a sense of what the men felt for Cedric, their attitude toward him, and the root of the disturbance.
The trouble lay, as he had suspected, mostly in a man named Gustav, the largest of Cedric's Dimn by far, but also the only one who cast a friendly smile at Cedric whenever he appeared. It was that very smile that put Cedric on his guard. Something about the slanted glances the man sent his way caused Cedric discomfort. He wondered if he should cut the man from his troupe, but he couldn't find anything to prove Gustav's untrustworthiness.
Cedric stood on the observation platform of the same Tournament field where he had faced the Poison-Quill and the other Ember two months previously. He gripped the railing as the Dragondimn poured from the tunnel. The exercise he'd planned for today was one he'd found in a scroll dedicated to an Ember's training, but as the Dimn lined up below the platform, he wondered if he should have started with something easier. He'd watched the Dragon arrive at the palace on the end of a hundred chains, and he didn't want to lose any Dimn to the new creature. He swept aside his uncertaint
y and raised his voice.
“Today's challenge, Dimn, will be to bring me one flaming scale from the tail of this new Ember, specifically from the tip where it can feel no pain. Under no circumstances are you to remove scales from any other part of the Ember's body. The winner will join me tonight at the King's table. I shall look forward to your efforts. Have at it.”
The Dimn glanced at one another. In the two months since he'd begun, he had never issued an order. Generally, his requests came as just that: requests with a question mark at the end. Today was the first day he'd commanded them to do something.
Gustav stood in the back, his arms crossed over his barrel chest. “Where is the Dragon, m'lord?”
“He awaits you in the arena.” The Ember had been waiting since before daybreak. Cedric had risen early and opened the Dragon's den, coaching the beast out into the corridor and along the dark hallways until he reached the door. He'd commanded the Dragon to exit into the cold morning air, still awed that the creature listened to his words. He wasn't sure how or why he possessed this talent, but he was thankful for it.
He thought of the concept of psuche. His connection with the beasts fell far short of true psuche. He couldn't understand a Dragon's moods, thoughts, or feelings. They couldn't comprehend his.
His gift seemed to sit halfway between a normal Dimn's and a psuche. And it related to all Dragons, not only one.
A crust of light snow had dusted the area the night before, but the Ember had burned through it as he crossed the short distance to the arena.
Cedric sighed. He wished he could figure out why the Dragons would listen—most of the time—to a direct command from him. His gift made little sense, but he intended to find out more.
Natan led the way, followed immediately by Jack-Boy, who glanced up at Cedric with a lop-sided grin. Cedric smothered a spark of jealousy. Truth be told, he'd rather be down in the arena with the rest of them than up here on the stand, the object of the men's dislike. Leadership nearly always put one in the path of ill wishes.
The rest of the Dimn soon filed into the arena, and Cedric leaned on the railing of the observation platform to watch their techniques and tuck away information to be used in later training sessions.
The Ember had been nosing in one of the far corners, his snout burning through trees and shrubs as he scraped the earth. As soon as he sensed the presence of visitors, he turned his head toward the Dimn and hurled a huge ball of fire in their direction. It landed just short, licking the ledge below them.
Cedric had learned enough of Embers to know that the miss was a warning. Embers simply did not miss.
Jack-Boy was the first to move. He dove down the steep central path, skidding and slipping, to the center. The Ember moved with reptilian swiftness to the opposite corner of the field, his eye cast down into the narrow path. Jack-Boy reached the first divot, and he dove inside as the Ember hurled another fireball his way, the flames licking the ground where the boy had stood only seconds earlier.
The other men now fanned out to various ledges across the field, and the Dragon was distracted. He barreled toward one of the Dimn, his fiery talons swiping at the man. The claw caught the man and dashed him against the stone wall, where he crumpled and lay still. Cedric eyed the Dimn. Blood oozed from a wound in his cheek, and as far as Cedric could tell, no breath moved in his chest.
More Dimn rushed the Dragon, their weapons drawn. Two of the men reached the Dragon's scales, their swords clanging against the creature's torso before the Ember blasted them both with fire. They dropped over the ledges to the central path below, their cloaks smoldering and glowing.
Cedric shook his head. They knew better than to attack the body. They should have gone for the tail. He had instructed them explicitly to bring him a scale from the Dragon's tail.
During the mad rush, Natan had crept around the perimeter, hugging the wall. If the Dragon's eye moved his way, he crouched, hiding beneath his dark cloak. Too many other distractions kept the Ember's attention elsewhere. Natan drew his sword.
The Dragon turned his head at the metallic ring, and he roared. Jack-Boy flew out of the chute, arcing his sword over his head and dragging the tip across the Dragon's torso. He charged off in the opposite direction as burning heat chased his heels. He dove beneath a rock as the flame roared by him.
The Dragon searched for more intruders, but he needn't have worried. During Jack-Boy's invasion, Natan had clambered astride the Dragon's tail and neatly flipped his sword beneath a scale, tearing it off. He rammed the tip of his sword into the soft underside of the loose scale, waving it aloft as he ran for the exit. The men who were not knocked senseless or who still hid in what shelter they could find cheered, surging for the door, lifting Natan onto their shoulders, as well as Jack-Boy, whose diversion had allowed for the victory.
“Well done!” Cedric slammed his hand on the railing, lost in boyish excitement. He abruptly covered his enthusiasm, propping one fist on his hip as he surveyed the Dimn. Gustav hunched in the back, his hands on his knees. He had been one of the ones to get scraped aside by the Ember's talons. When he glanced up at Cedric, a flash of hatred lit his eyes. He masked it immediately, but Cedric had seen it.
All he sees is an outsider weaseling into the spot he wanted.
Cedric pushed the thought to the back of his mind for later inspection. “A job well done, Dimn. Repair to the dens and bring out the rest of the Dragons. We'll work with them throughout the day. Natan and Jack-Boy, you will dine with me at the King's table tonight.”
The Dimn pounded the two boys on their shoulders, issuing cries of approval. A happy smile creased Natan's face, and Jack-Boy crowed his victory song.
Cedric grinned. It would be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. He was sure of it. The lonely boy inside of him raised a shout of glee.
* * *
There was unusual bustle about the palace when Cedric entered the building to prepare for the evening meal. He closed the heavy oak door and stripped off his clothes, tossing them onto a nearby chair. The copper bathing tub was already brimming with steaming water. He lowered his body into it with a sigh.
His page stepped forward from his post by the door and bowed. “My lord, emissaries have arrived from the various regions of West Ashwynd—the Dimn and their creatures. King Sebastian has invited them to stay in the palace until the Tournament.”
“I see.” Cedric drew his rag across his arm and shoulder, rubbing away oil and sweat.
“They will be at dinner tonight, my lord. The King has instructed that you are to dress the part.”
Cedric sighed. He never understood Sebastian's whims, but thus far, he had bowed to them without question.
He feared there would come a day when he couldn't concede so easily. He hurried his movements and dressed himself in the fine linen tunic that hung over his chair. As the material slipped over his skin, he wished for the thousandth time for his cave in the Rockmonster Dwellings with Shaya's soft stories.
Cedric arrived at the banquet hall in the company of Natan and Jack-Boy. Natan was in the midst of telling an amusing story of Gustav's discomfiture after the morning's workout, but his words abruptly died as the doors swung open and the three entered.
Sebastian was already seated at the head of the table. Musicians strummed their lutes in the shadows; the table was piled high with turkey, roast venison, and wild boar. Fruits from the palace hot-houses were heaped in bowls, and wine had already been poured into the goblets.
Cedric recognized none of the guests but the King and Lanier, Sebastian's head general. The steward bowed to Cedric as he hurried to the head table near Sebastian. He motioned Jack-Boy and Natan to follow him, but unease stirred in his stomach at the King's expression. Sebastian picked up a grape and chewed on it thoughtfully.
“Why so late, Dragon-Master?”
“Nay, Your Grace. I am no later than the normal time, but you seem to have gathered everyone else early.”
“Aye. They were hungry.” He glanced at Natan and Jack-Boy. “And who are these?”
“Two of my Dimn, Your Grace. They excelled at an extremely difficult training session with the new Ember today. I gave them leave to eat at your table this evening as a reward.”
Sebastian dug his fingers into the greasy thigh of the boar on his trencher and pulled off a hunk of meat, chewing on it as he regarded the two boys. He motioned to his steward. “Seat these two at the end of the hall, Pomley.”
The steward bowed and motioned for the boys to follow him.
Cedric was furious. “Your Grace, you yourself instructed me to issue invitations to your table when a Dimn has done well. These two—”
“You forget yourself, boy.” Sebastian fully faced him. His eyes flashed fire beneath his thick, dark eyebrows. “As you can see, we have many guests, far beyond a normal evening's meal. Palace Dimn are not welcome at high occasions. Lest you forget, this is my table, my palace, my kingdom. You, Dragon-Master, are here on my gracious whim.”
Cedric's jaw cramped, but he bowed in submission. “As Your Grace commands.”
Sebastian leaned back against his chair as Cedric sat down next to him at the head table. “You haven't met any of my new guests this evening, Cedric, but allow me to introduce you to my most honored.” He motioned to his other side, and Cedric leaned forward to see around the King.
A beauty with white-blonde hair and cobalt blue eyes smiled brilliantly at him. “I am pleased to meet you, my lord.” Her voice was clear and fluid, like musical notes that floated on a spring breeze.
Cedric promptly knocked over his wine goblet, sloshing red liquid across the table. He snatched it up, soaking the sleeve of his white tunic. A curse left his lips, and he flushed in embarrassment. “A—a—and you as well, my lady,” Cedric stuttered. He lost himself in her blue gaze. “I beg your pardon, I don't know why I'm so clumsy this evening.”
A page arrived at the table and blotted up the spill with a cloth, using another one to dab at Cedric's sleeve.
Kindle the Flame (Heart of a Dragon Book 1) Page 17