Pseudo-Dragon (The Blue Dragon's Geas Book 4)

by Matthynssens, Cheryl

Alador and Nemara had carved some time out and met up in his cell. They were sitting on the bed as Alador laid out the terrain around the bloodmine. Nemara had been fairly successful during her classes on mapping and between the two of them, with his descriptions and her skill they had managed a fair sketch of the area.

  “If you have never been there, how did you get such detail?” she asked. She made a correction on one side where he had pointed out a conflict between map and memory.

  “I flew over that mine many times.” Alador inwardly cursed as he realized his error even before her anticipated question.

  At first, Nemara just nodded but then the truth of his words sunk in. Her eyes narrowed as she searched his face. “How did you get a lexital to fly that close to dragons?” There was a hint of suspicion in her tone. “Don’t tell me one of your dragon friends flew you there because, well, no one has ever managed to ride a dragon in all of history.”

  Alador took a deep breath as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Sometimes Renamaum’s memories were so much his own that he did not even think about his words before they escaped his lips. “I won’t lie to you, and I can’t tell you how I managed to get this information.”

  Silence descended between them as she lightly sketched in the last detail that they had discussed. Alador could sense her suspicion and regretted that he could not tell her how he knew so well the outlay of the compound.

  Her hand paused in her sketching. “Can’t or won’t?” she asked, not looking up at him.

  Alador reached over and took her free hand. “A bit of both, Nemara. Besides, it is doubtful you would believe me anyway.” Alador offered her a small smile as she finally looked at him. Alador was beginning to understand how Keensight had felt keeping his secret for so many years.

  Her mouth opened as if she had been about to press the matter when a strong knock startled them both. Nemara looked at the door and whispered quickly. “Were you expecting anyone?”

  Alador shook his head no. Nemara swiftly messed up her hair and was unlacing the top of her vest as Alador got up to answer the door. She swiftly laid down, shoving the map and supplies between the wall and the bed.

  Seeing her quick thinking, he swiftly did the same to his tunic shirt. Alador opened the door as the knock rapped loudly again. He stood in utter surprise as he realized that it was Luthian that stood there. “U-uncle,” he stammered. He stood shocked to see his uncle in the caverns. He swiftly hoped that Nemara could hide her hatred of the High Minister.

  Luthian strode by Alador and into the small room. As he turned to face Alador, he caught sight of Nemara stretched out on his bed.

  Nemara sat up wide-eyed from where she had stretched out. “Milord” Nemara acknowledge. She began tying the swiftly pulled laces.

  Luthian’s eyes were hard as his gaze returned to Alador. “So this is what you would rather do than attend your lessons with me?” The anger and disappointment were evident on the older mage’s face and in his tone.

  Alador’s eyes flew to Nemara then snapped back to Luthian. “I assure you, Uncle, had I been allowed to leave the caverns then you would have had my full attentions.” Alador began tucking in his tunic as if embarrassed.

  Luthian turned to Nemara. “If you will excuse us, guardswoman, I would have words with my nephew.” His tone was firm and left no argument. His face was hard, and his mouth was in a straight line of displeasure.

  Nemara gracefully slid off the bed. “Of course, High Minister, I would not want to interfere in matters of family.” Her tone was husky and her movements subtle with a hint of sexuality as she got off the bed and moved to where Alador was still standing by the open door. Alador had to give her credit, she was convincing.

  She reached up and snaked one arm around Alador’s neck, pulling his head down for a long and intensely intoxicating kiss. She placed her mouth next to his ear as she nibbled on his earlobe before whispering, “I will come back later,” she promised just loud enough for Luthian to hear. As her eyes met Alador’s, he could see the warning in them.

  “I am sure this matter with my Uncle will not take long. I will see you soon,” he promised with a worried smile. He shut the door behind her then turned to face Luthian. He did not glance at the bed for fear of giving away that there was more to Nemara than a mere tryst.

  Before Alador could react or even prepare, he found himself pinned to the door, Luthian’s hand on his throat. Alador’s hands grasped his uncle’s in reflexive surprise. “What were you doing to earn yourself this loss of privileges, Nephew?” Luthian’s voice was cold and his eyes hard as they met Alador’s.

  The young mage’s first reaction had been a pull of magic and he could feel the thrill of power dancing between his fingertips. He swallowed hard, not in fear but to force that urge down. He did his best to look contrite, but fear was pulsing through him.

  “I drank far too much the night before; I cannot even tell you all that occurred. I woke late in the day,” he explained, stumbling through his explanation

  “For such a firmly stated distaste with your father, I find it hard to believe that you would choose to spend the evening drinking with him,” Luthian pressed. His eyes sought Alador’s and the bitterness and rage seemed to pulse through his fingers to Alador’s neck.

  Alador felt the pressure on his ability to breathe. Anger boiled deep within him, and he blinked a few times to try to contain it. He could not keep the first snaps of power from filling his hands. He was still trying to free himself and the power danced up Luthian’s arm a short distance. “He is still my father,” he stated. “I might never see him again.”

  At the first surge of power, Luthian let go of him, and Alador sagged a bit against the door in relief. He coughed and rubbed his neck; half bent with a wave of dizziness. He watched as his uncle turned away looking about his small room.

  “I fail to understand this sentiment you have to blood. Either a man is with you…” Luthian turned around to look at Alador. “...Or he is against you. I wonder sometimes which is the case with you.” Luthian clasped his hands behind his back.

  “I assure you, Uncle, some of the wine was to dull the senses as my father went on and on at how he was being wronged.” Alador rubbed his throat as he stood straight once more. “That man can talk the fleas off a prang.”

  “Yes, yes he can.” Luthian twitched with a hint of a smile. As quick as the smile had come, it left in the next shift in conversation. “You did get the missive on your testing before you drank yourself into a stupor?”

  “I did,” Alador confirmed. “And I thank you for the opportunity.” He managed to force himself upright. He needed to pander to his uncle as best he could right now, or Luthian might start digging.

  “As soon as you pass your test, you will move into the manor your father held. That is… if you can pass the test.” Luthian stroked his chin as he thought. “As soon as both of those tasks are complete, you will start the winter we spoke of so that this plan can begin to move.”

  “Of course, Uncle. I had intended to go my next half day that I would have spent with Henrick, but if you wish me to wait…” He let the words fall away. He let the question hang between them in awkward silence.

  “Right now, you need to be studying to pass your tier test. This must be your first priority.” Luthian insisted. “Get your things, we are returning to the top tier.” He moved to Alador’s desk picking up a book to examine it. His manner now settled with a decision made.

  “But the evening is nearly over,” Alador said. “By the time we get there, it will be time to seek our pillows?”

  “Oh, you will not be sleeping tonight,” Luthian calmly stated. “You lost that right two times over.” He put one finger up. “First, drinking to the point of no memory is dangerous for any mage.” He added a second finger. “Secondly, instead of contritely studying, I find you in the arms of a woman.” Luthian folded his arms as firmly as any father. “Now get your things before I roast your arse right here.” His tone brooked no argum
ent from the younger mage.

  Alador inwardly smiled, knowing that Luthian might have a bit harder time with that now. However, he also wasn’t ready to reveal the extent of his power now that Renamaum was a part of him. “Yes Uncle.” He swiftly gathered up a few things.

  He suddenly remembered his penance from the High Master. “What of my duty in the kitchens?” He glanced over as he packed.

  “I am sure that those have been...reassigned.” Luthian moved to the door to wait for Alador to finish gathering his things. “Also, change your clothes,” Luthian insisted with disgust. “I am not traveling through the city with my supposed heir without him properly attired.”

  Alador nodded and formed a picture of simple but well-made robes and let the spell snake around him. Satisfied he had what he needed, he followed his uncle out of the halls. He did not miss the snickering of some of his peers or the widened expression of others. He did not see Nemara as they left, but he was fairly certain that she would learn of the scene. Alador knew he was going to hear about this for weeks. He smiled at his uncle’s back. Too bad he could not thank his uncle for cementing his image as a whipped dog following in his uncle’s shadow. They were joined by Luthian’s guards as they moved out of the caverns.

  The trip to the top of the tiers transpired in silence. The streets were quieter on the upper tiers. As the sun went down, the third tier always grew louder while the fourth and fifth became more settled. Their boots snapped out a cadence that echoed on the upper tiers, drawing more eyes. Alador sighed and kept his head down as if properly defeated. He would be glad of the day when he would not have to be quite so subservient.

  When they reached the top, Alador was surprised that Luthian headed for the gardens rather than into the manor house. The broad flat top of the tiers made for a perfect garden in the spring and fall. Now, it was wind-swept and barren with the start of the winter winds. Luthian stopped at the entrance to the expansive garden and whispered to one of the guards who merely nodded and hurried off.

  “Uncle, what is it we are doing tonight?” he asked, his confusion evident.

  “Practicing the deflection of spells.” Luthian stated as he strode into the gardens. He led the way to a wide clearing near the gates.

  Alador sighed softly. He did not really want his uncle to know how quickly he was excelling, and at the same time, he could no longer pretend to be inadequate as he would be casting such a strong weather spell for his uncle. This was going to be a hard balance to keep. Alador had thought lying was the hardest thing when he had first met his uncle; now, it was knowing when to lie and when to be truthful.

  “Place your things on the side and disrobe.” Luthian instructed as he pointed over to a sheltered bench on the edge.

  “Disrobe?” Alador looked at his uncle with genuine concern.

  “You must learn to fight no matter the distraction.” Luthian stated. “A man feels vulnerable in a state of undress. As you seem to have taken after your father in regards to his interactions with females.” The sarcasm from his uncle dropped along every word. Luthian folded his arms confidently.

  “It is likely a smart fourth tier mage would just assassinate you when you are distracted in a state of undress.” Luthian’s displeasure with Alador was clear.

  “Uncle, I fail to see why you are upset.” Alador set his rucksack down on the bench. “When we first met you gave me a bed slave. I know you have women in your bed.” He pulled off the robe and laid it across the rucksack. The wind was cold against his bare chest.

  “Yes, I do take my pleasure as any man. But never…” Luthian drawled out slowly. "" ... Never when I have other matters of priority to address.” Luthian’s final words were growled out.

  “So you plan to punish me because I took a woman to my bed?” Alador’s face reddened with a combination of surprise, embarrassment and anger.

  “I prefer thinking of it as…” He smiled before continuing. “...Educating.” Luthian dropped his own cloak onto the bench and pulled off his robe. As usual, he was dressed in black pants and a black tunic beneath his robes.

  Alador breath caught as he realized that Luthian was going to take part in this practice. Working with his uncle when he was calm and focused was hard enough, he had no doubt that working on deflection with his uncle in an angered state was going to be harder. He stood in just a pair of breeches, the wind already reddening his exposed skin. He was thankful that it was not blowing harder. He looked at his uncle and hoped it would be enough.

  “Pants and shoes as well,” Luthian commanded waving his hands up and down the line of Alador’s body. He strode away and moved around the clearing. Torches lit around the circle as he brought fire to the first one.

  Alador realized that Luthian had used this clearing before tonight by the way it was lit and the comfort Luthian showed in his movements. It just did not have tables of food and wine, music or women. He sat down and pulled off his boots then removed his pants. Standing in nothing but his under garment, he hoped his uncle would let him keep that.

  Luthian returned to him once the last torch had flared to life. “Good, take the opposite end,” The man was all business tonight.

  Alador took the first step and cursed. He picked up his foot to find three spiked thorns attached to his feet. He had not wandered barefoot since leaving Smallbrook so long ago. The younger mage pulled them out and stood up, shaking the foot to ease the sting. He took in his surroundings. Luthian was putting him downwind. The cold wind was cutting in the high, cold air of the top tier. There were no leaves on the trees to blunt the knifing effect and he shivered. Before absorbing the bloodstone, he would have never been able to consider fighting at such a disadvantage. Fortunately, while he was aware of the cold, it was not debilitating. The thorns interspersed into the grass were another matter.

  “Uncle, surely I can keep my boots?” He looked back at Luthian.

  Luthian shook his head as if saddened at the lack of wisdom of his pupil. “A man in war may find himself awakened in his tent. His attacker is not going to sit calmly by while his prey puts on his boots.” Luthian looked evenly at Alador. “You must be able to protect yourself regardless of the distractions or discomfort.”

  Alador wanted to argue that point, but there was a bit of wisdom in his uncle’s words. He picked his way to the other end of the clearing muttering curses and turned to face his uncle. He had barely turned when a ball of fire hit his chest knocking him backwards. It had felt like a heavy metal fist and burned with a sharp intensity. He lay on the ground gasping for air.

  Luthian was moving to his right. “Do not expect me to play fair, boy. Your enemies will not.”

  Alador pulled water to cool the obvious round burn on his chest. His uncle was tense and his eyes darted over Alador with assessing precision. The younger mage’s eyes narrowed as he realized that his uncle no longer cared if he were injured. He moved to his right as well attempting to keep his uncle in front of him. He did not dare stop to pull out the piercing thorns that dug into his tender feet. This time when the fireball flew from his uncle’s hand, he was able to form a wedge of power, letting the fire slide by him. The shield flashed when the fire first hit it, letting his uncle see what deflection he had used. The ball of fire exploded on the ground behind him.

  His eyes narrowed as he eyed his uncle. There was not a part of him that did not want to unleash all his anger on the man. Now was not the time; he was going to have to wait, but that did not mean he could not defend himself. He watched as Luthian nodded and prepared another spell.

  This time several arrows of fire formed over Luthian’s head and went speeding towards Alador. He swiftly raised a wall of water, effectively putting out each of the arrows. He let the power go when the last arrow sizzled and fell at his feet. The wall of water splashed onto the ground, dousing him with welcomed relief as well.

  Alador was hit in the chest by a fireball that he had never seen coming. He had let the wall down to soon. He flew backwards again, and hit the
ground hard. The thorns dug into his back as he slid along the grass. The burning pain drew a feral growl from his throat as he forced himself to roll up before Luthian could fire another spell.

  Luthian shook his head with disappointment. “A smart mage knows what his opponent will do and waits for him to drop his defenses.” Luthian counseled. “Do not be predictable.” He spoke as one would teach a small one.

  Alador realized that though he had the knowledge to defend himself, he did not have the skill. As the evening turned into night, Luthian literally burned the lesson into him repeatedly. Every time he would think he had it figured out, Luthian would change his attack, and Alador found he could not predict his uncle’s next move. By the time Luthian chose to end the lesson, only Alador’s face was free from some level of burn. There was little left of his leggings, and he was exhausted. At this point, he was ready to let his uncle kill him just to be able to stop moving. A false dawn was beginning to filter up over the ocean.

  As he tried to stand up the last time, he found he did not have the strength. Luthian still stood without a hair out of place. He stared at his uncle in confusion. Alador had a dragon’s knowledge and as much power as his mortal frame could handle. Yet a memory of a skill was not the same as competently using it. While Luthian was attempting to teach him to defend himself no matter the situation, he had shown Alador that he was not ready to take on his uncle, at least, not yet. He had to wonder where Luthian pulled his strength. Alador had the ocean at hand, what did his uncle have? He was vaguely aware of Luthian calling for his guards.

  Luthian nodded to the two blackguards as they jerked Alador to his feet while another grabbed his belongings. Alador could not help the cry of pain the sudden movement created.

  “Take him to his room. He has time to get a couple of hours of sleep before he must return to the caverns.”

  Alador blinked wearily. “I need healing,” he managed to hoarsely call out.

  Luthian moved to Alador. “Healing, my dear nephew…” He tapped Alador’s tender face gently. "" ... Is reserved for competent mages.” With that said, his uncle turned and walked away leaving Alador in the gentle but firm hands of his guards.