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

by Matthynssens, Cheryl

  Once sure that it was not getting up, Alador turned and ran back towards Rena. He could see a strange glow surrounding her and Nemara, who was kneeling near the dragon’s head. It faded as he approached, sliding to his knees as he came to a stop before her.

  “Rena. He is dead. I killed him.” He was babbling. “Why did you do that? Why did you dive over me like that?” He surveyed the damage on the young dragon. He could see ribs and bubbled meat where the acid had eaten in. He knew that without a strong healer, which they did not have, Rena was not going to live. Tears filled his eyes as the realization that there was no hope sank in.

  Rena opened her eye that looked up at Alador. “I told you that I would die for you.” She wheezed out. Her chest gave a heaving sigh as she labored to breathe.

  Keensight and Pruatra landed nearby and moved to either side of the ailing dragon. Alador looked up at them pleading. “There must be some dragon magic, something you can do?” Tears fell down his cheeks as the realization that he was losing her set in.

  Keensight shook his great head as Pruatra began making a strange keening noise. . It sounded like sobs on some strange mortal level. “There is too much damage, son. She has chosen this path. There is nothing we can do.” Keensight placed a wing over the grieving mother, nuzzling Pruatra gently.

  Alador scooted forward laying Rena’s great head in his lap. “What use is magic if it cannot undo this?” He put his face against Rena’s.

  The young dragon gave him a weak smile. “Don’t mourn heart mate. I will wait for you where the dragons rest.” Rena gave a strange cough and blood began to trickle from her mouth.

  “NO!” Alador stroked her head. “I just found happiness. You cannot take it now.”

  “I am… glad...we had our… time together.” Rena’s chest heaved.

  “Don’t talk.” Alador stroked her muzzle and laid a gentle kissed on her nose.

  Rena lifted her head. “There is so much I still wanted to know,” she began. She coughed again and blood spewed over Alador.

  Alador did not care about the blood. He rubbed between her eyes, something that he had learned she loved. “Shhh, it can wait,” he said.

  “I never got to find out why mortals kiss.” She lamented and gave a great cough. Blood spattered the ground from her mouth and began to ooze out her muzzle.

  “You have to hold on. We will go to the pool of the gods as you suggested,” he promised. “Just stay with me.”

  Rena did not answer him though he thought she smiled sadly. She gave a great heave of her chest; her great eye shut.

  “Nooooo,” he buried his face into her muzzle.

  Keensight and Pruatra began the dragons’ song of death. It was picked up by every adult dragon in the vale. Amaum landed close to his mother and began to sing too. Alador just rocked Rena’s head as he grieved.

  “I am so sorry, Rena. I loved you.” He cried against her muzzle. “I didn’t tell you, I loved you.” Even as the words left his mouth, he knew it was true.

  “She knew that, Alador,” Nemara murmured softly, she was still kneeling beside him.

  The dragons and Nemara let him be while the dragons sang. Nemara slipped away with the four remaining comrades to clear the inside of the cavern. Alador realized he understood the words. The dragons sang to all the gods asking them to accept this child’s soul and give it rest in the eternal land of sun and magic. It was a beautiful song and he sang the last few words himself, lifting his head to try to sing them. It was more a whispered plea than a song that left his lips

  Keensight let him sit there rocking Rena’s head for a few more minutes before he interrupted Alador. “It is not done, mage. You must get the eggs and hatchlings from within. It is likely men are there to put them down if they have not already with this delay.”

  “Bugger the geas,” he snarled, stroking Rena’s now peaceful head.

  “It must be finished boy.” Keensight’s voice took a harsher edge. “Otherwise, Rena will have died for nothing?”

  “She died for nothing.” Alador snapped. “It is wasteful.”

  Keensight nudged him hard with his nose and gave an exasperated huff. “She died protecting you. You, the mortal she loved and believed in; I will not let you desecrate that sacrifice.” Keensight’s face was inches from Alador’s. The dragon's breath reeked of death and sulfur. “Finish it!”

  Alador sat stunned as the dragon pressed him for a long moment. Keensight was right. She had died so that he might finish what they had all started. He reached out digging beneath her wing until he found his sword. Alador had lost it when she had shoved him into the dirt.

  He stood shakily looking about them. “I don’t want Luthian’s men to find her.” He looked from Keensight to Pruatra. “Is there anything you can do?”

  “Yes,” Pruatra growled. Alador could feel the pain in her voice. “Amaum and I will see that she is properly laid to rest.”

  Alador gave a nod then turned on his heel to head into the caverns. He set his jaw as he moved forward carefully. He shoved his emotions aside letting anger replace his deep grief.

  Being stabbed earlier in the year at the stable lord’s had been a harsh lesson; therefore, he checked each recess before he passed it. Shed tears left drying trails in the blood on his face. He did not bother to dash them away as he moved step by step into the recesses of the cavern.

  He caught up to Nemara in the main hall. She put a comforting hand on his arm, giving a squeeze before she spoke. “We have cleared the halls. We didn’t get here in time. The commander was making a report of the assault into a water bowl.”

  “Tell me you did not get close to that bowl.” Alador looked at her worriedly.

  “No. I knew what it was, I shot it off the desk after I shot him. He is still alive if you wish to speak to him?” Nemara looked a bit proud of herself.

  “Well done,” He considered for a moment then turned to the others. “Ben, go put the commander out of his misery.” Alador commanded.

  Ben did not question Alador’s order. He gave a nod and hurried off to do as he was bid. Alador looked around at their numbers realizing that the losses had been more than the dragons. He took a deep breath. “Any sign of Jon?”

  “Yes, commander,” one of the remaining women answered. “We found him in a strange room filled with eggs and small dragons. He won’t leave them. Said you needed to come talk to him.”

  Alador did not like the sound of that. If Jon had decided to work with his plan, he should have been willing to escort the dragons out. He ran a hand across his face, smearing the blood and dirt there.

  “All right. Let us go talk to our dear death mage.” His command was soft and deadly. He knew at that moment that if Jon had sided against them that he would kill him. He would kill each and every person who had led to Rena’s death.

  Alador suddenly remembered Lady Morana’s warning. ‘If you continue on the path you are walking, then every ounce of you will regret your choice.’ Morana had said, going on to say that ‘some pains in life cannot be healed.’ He stopped for a moment as the words rang in his ears and drove deeply into the very center of his being. His sudden movement brought the rest of the party to a halt, weapons up.

  Morana had known. She had warned him, and she had been right. His eyes narrowed as the words settled into his heart. He was going to kill her too.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Alador approached the end of the hall cautiously, his sword in hand and touching the well of magic within him. He stepped around the corner and looked about quickly, he was standing on a ledge. Jon sat on the far wall inside a pit below him. Clustered about him were dragons of various sizes and around Jon’s neck was a black fledgling. It sat on his shoulder like an imperious cat, its tail wrapped around the mage’s neck. The smell from the nest below made Alador’s eyes water. The smell of urine and sulfur was overwhelming.

  “Hello Alador.” The greeting was so flat that Alador could not discern if the mage were glad to see him or not.
>
  Alador gave a brief nod. “Jon,” he acknowledged. He heard the others slowly join him on the ledge. The tension in the air was instantly thick and the dragons became agitated. They moved around Jon nervously as if he were their mother and would protect them.

  “If you have come this far, I will assume you were successful.” Jon’s monotone had not changed in the time they had been separated.

  “Yes, the elder dragons are freeing the chained dragons and leading them to safety even as we speak.” Alador’s tone did not show any relief. The anger driving him at the moment was all that was holding him together.

  “Yet, you are not happy, old friend.” Jon looked him over. “The losses were great then?”

  “Too great,” Alador snapped. “Why are we chatting like this if we are old friends? You obviously did not join the battle.” Alador did not want to play games right now.

  “I stayed to protect the young ones. The orders were to kill them if the stockade was over run. I was not inclined to allow that to happen.” Jon admitted. Yet despite his words, he did not move.

  “Then let me send these out to find their parents.” Alador suggested slowly.

  “You will need some meat to get them to leave.” Jon nodded towards the far wall. “You will find it in the box to your left. Let the others lead them out so that you and I can talk.”

  Alador nodded to Nemara who let her bow relax and went to the box. She handed meat to the others. Ben joined them just in time to be handed a large slab of meat. Alador looked to his right. There was a tall gate at the end of a sloping ramp. “So open that and show them the meat?”

  “Yes, though they are a greedy lot so once you have their attention I suggest that you run.” Jon grinned. “Very fast.”

  Nemara hesitated. “I am not getting eaten by one of your dragons,” Her tone was emphatic. She looked at Alador.

  “First, they are not mine,” Alador pointed out. “Secondly, once out the entrance dive to the left, but toss the meat forward. From there, the dragons should take over.”

  “What if one of us doesn’t get there fast enough,” Ben asked, calling over to Jon.

  “If it looks like you are going to be overrun, toss it forward.” Jon suggested. “It will be the meat their after, not you.”

  Nemara took a deep breath and moved to the large door. She threw back the bolt which brought every little dragon head up. It was rather an amazing sight. There were all sorts of colors except for black. The only black dragon that Alador saw was the one around Jon’s neck.

  Nemara dangled the meat out and the little eager hatchlings began to run forward. “Oh, no,” Nemara exclaimed and turned to run. She did not have to worry, Ben and the others had already taken off. Nemara took off as fast as she could. Alador stood by, sword lowered as the little dragons began to run by after her. It was like watching a nest of birds with their mouths open, well except each of these birds ranged from the size of a dog to the size of a lexital.

  Alador went down the ramp as soon as the last little dragon ran by him. He stepped carefully into the nest as there were feces everywhere. “How do you stand it in here?” He was nearly gagging and his eyes stung.

  Jon shrugged. He still had not moved from where he sat. “You become used to it over time.”

  “I do not think I could get used to this,” Alador admitted. He made his way to Jon. He saw a blue egg in a keg of water. A small fire was burning beneath it to keep it warm.

  “How many eggs?” Alador asked, carefully looking around.

  “Five unhatched.” Jon answered factually. “Now that the others are away, we must speak.” Jon looked at Alador evenly. “I cannot return with you nor can I stay here. There will be questions in either case that have no safe answer.”

  Alador considered his words. Jon was right. If he returned, he would have abandoned his post. If he stayed, there would be questions as to how he alone had lived, who had attacked and much more.

  “What do you suggest?” Alador had finally made it close enough to Jon to be able to speak in lower tones.

  “I will flee to the South and seek refuge in Dethara’s temple.” Jon stroked the little black dragon’s head absently.

  Alador’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you even want to go there?” His voice was cold and hard.

  “She is the goddess of my sphere.” His answer was even and without emotion.

  “Jon, since you left that woman, the high priestess had tried to kill me. I have met Dethara personally in the sea, and I can tell you that I am not fond. To go there is to join with my enemy.” Alador spit out the last. His hand tightened on his pommel at the mere thought.

  “All the more reason for me to go,” Jon stated. “You will have a man on the inside.”

  “Jon, how can you serve that...? How can you serve this goddess with a clear heart?” Alador shook his head clearly in distress at the thought.

  “You mistake the goddess for her priestess. Despite her devotion to Dethara, Lady Morana is still a mortal woman...” Jon began.

  “Who I AM going to kill.” Alador spat out. “I am going to ensure before I am done that she no longer serves anyone.” Alador paused. “I do not mistake the two, Dethara attempted to kill me during my tier test."

  “Well, see … your plans for Morana will support my own designs.” Jon nodded, clearly pleased. There was a hint of a smile that seemed more like a grimace on the stoic man’s face. Jon wisely did not focus on Alador’s words about Dethara.

  “What do you mean?” Alador’s eyes narrowed.

  “I plan to become the High Priest. I will flee south bringing her this small treasure.” He stroked the dragon. “Having ‘saved’ her from certain death at the hands of the commander’s orders to destroy all fledglings, I will earn her favor and my way into her service.”

  “That … dragon is not leaving here alive,” Alador snarled.

  “It is.” Jon’s tone became deadly. “You will not touch it.”

  “Jon, those beasts killed my best friend.” Alador took a step forward. The hand on the hilt of his sword gripped so tightly that his fingers were white. “Nothing deserves to die like that. You know that Morana will teach this one the same.”

  “And black dragons deserve to be burned alive, steamed?” Jon pointed out. “Every dragon’s breath weapon is deadly. It is a baby, it has done nothing to earn its death.”

  “It will grow to serve her whims just as the three that attacked my force did.” Alador shook his head. “It dies.”

  “And the black dragons that attacked, they lived?” Jon asked, his tone again even and monotone.

  Alador frowned. “Well, no.” He did not like where Jon was going. He remembered that arguing with Jon was like hitting a brick wall.

  Jon finally got up from his seat and shook out his robes. “Then they gained what they deserved for attacking their own kin. This dragon will grow to serve myself and Dethara, not Morana.”

  “Jon...” Alador shook his head. “The temple is becoming an enemy of its own people. You are asking me to let you go become a part of that with the intent to take over as its priest. How can I allow this?”

  “You really have no choice. You can try to kill me and you will die.” Jon shrugged. “Or you can trust our friendship and allow me this path. You base your fears on your encounters and not the true purpose of Dethara.”

  “Dethara seeks death.” Alador snapped.

  “See, you are wrong. She mitigates the dead, she does not need to seek death as it is inevitable for us all.” Jon explained. He leaned over to tap Alador in the temple. “Use your head, my friend. There must be a gatekeeper for the souls of the dead to move where they should. She guards the nine doors to paradise, a land beyond for each of the gods.” He shook his head. “The priests of her temples and shrines ease the suffering of those approaching death.”

  “Nine? There are only eight gods.” Alador pointed out. “What is the ninth door?”

  Jon pulled the little dragon around to his chest as if
to emphasize his answer. “It is to the resting place of the dragons. As envoys of magic for the gods, they have a shared space that all the gods can visit.”

  Alador remembered his visions of drinking from the pool and the facing of all the gods as Renamaum. This must be the land that Jon spoke about. He swallowed down a huge lump in his throat. The place that Rena had said she would await him.

  “You will still support my own actions? You will warn me of danger from Morana?” Alador was considering. Sordith had told him that he had been unable to get a man into the temple. This would be his inside man. Could he trust Jon though? Could he trust any servant of Dethara?

  “I will not serve another, but as long as our goals are not in conflict then I will be your eyes and ears.” Jon’s cryptic answer did not assuage his concerns.

  “And if our goals become in conflict?” he pressed.

  Jon put out one hand in a position of openness, the other held the dragon. “I will be honest and tell you that I cannot answer or do as you wish as it will stand in the way of my own plans.” Jon tipped his head. Is that not a role of a friend? To assist when one can and to be honest when one cannot?”

  Alador slowly let go of the pommel of his sword. His fingers were stiff from the tight grip and lack of blood. “You will not be able to leave here for a time,” he pointed out. The dragons will be outside the cavern for a while.” It was as close to an agreement as he could verbalize. He eyed the little black dragon with such hatred that it looked at him and hissed its own displeasure.

  “Shhh little one. It is okay. He is just upset.” Jon’s tenderness came as a surprise giving his usual lack of emotion. Once the hatchling was soothed, he looked over at Alador. “I will stay as long as I dare. Someone will come when there is no further reports.”