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

by Matthynssens, Cheryl

  Alador nodded. “I will tell you honestly that while I do need a man inside that temple, I fear I will lose my friend to the madness within it.” He searched Jon’s face with genuine concern.

  “Then a wiser mind would be better seated. All will be well, Alador. You are my only friend. I do not tend to discard that casually,” Jon admitted. “And if you ask me if I care, I will deny it.” He added as if the sharing of emotion had been too much for him.

  The others entered. Ben looked a little worse for wear. “Everyone okay?” Alador called up to the five peering down at them.

  Nemara chuckled as Ben cursed. “Ben didn’t run fast enough. When he threw the meat forward, they knocked him over in a rush to get the meat and then the rest behind ran right over him.” The others laughed at the memory of Ben being ran over by a flock of fledgling dragons.

  “It is not funny,” Ben protested. “I could have been killed.”

  “You are fine. After all, how many can claim to have been stepped on by a dragon and lived.” Nemara answered him with a laugh. “Your red dragon spoke ...” Nemara sounded in awe. “A dragon spoke to me, it was amazing.”

  Alador looked up to the ledge, a bit of a smile tipped his lips as he remembered the first time Keensight had spoken to him. “You become accustomed to it after a while.”

  “I hope not.” She grinned down at him. “He wants to know if there are eggs.”

  “Yes, five. Each of you come and get one. Careful where you step, there is...shite everywhere.” Alador looked back at Jon.

  “What you ask goes against what I feel to be right.” Alador murmured in almost a whisper. “I still fear I will lose you once you are within.”

  “Do you plan to kill me?” Jon grinned at him. “That might be fun, though sad.”

  Alador shook his head in frustration. “No. You kept the fledglings and eggs safe. You raised no spell or hand to any that came to free them. What kind of a friend would I be stopping you from your own path?”

  “Good, will you hold Nightmare while I help our comrades with the eggs?”

  Alador eyed the fledgling. “Can’t you just…put it down?” He had no desire to hold that spawn of evil.

  “It is a baby, Alador. All babies are innocent.” Jon held the fledgling out. “Besides, it will be good to impress your scent as not a threat. It might just save your life one day.”

  Slowly Alador put his hands out. The dragon hissed in concern, but Jon soothed it as he handed it over.

  “Rub it between the eyes, they seem to like that.” Jon said as Alador carefully took the small helpless creature.

  Jon’s words brought a sting of tears to Alador’s eyes as Rena had loved this too. He did as he was told and soon the dragon was nestling up against his chest and curling its long whip like tail around Alador’s arm. Was Jon right? Were they innocent as hatchlings? Could a black dragon be anything else but evil?

  Jon led the others to the eggs, and one by one they were carried out. When the last egg was ferried out carefully by Ben, Jon returned to Alador. He stood watching Alador and the young dragon for a long moment. Alador was lost in petting it between the eyes and the soft coos of pleasure from the little beast.

  “See, I told you. It has yet to learn of right or wrong. It knows only the things that babies know. Who is kind. Who feeds it. Who gives it comfort.” Jon reached out and gently took the dragon from Alador. “To kill at someone’s command… that comes with training.”

  “Will you teach it to kill?” Alador’s voice broke as he looked at Jon with concern.

  “I may have to so as to keep my place close to Morana. Let us hope an opening to remove her from power comes before the dragon is old enough to be trained to such things.” Jon caressed it. “It is bonded to me so the training of it will come down to me. I will ensure it knows the difference between defense of its lair and killing at whim.”

  “Do they speak, can they speak like the other flights?” Alador was now a bit curious having held it. It had responded as any other small animal.

  “They can. They are a literal beast and loyal. Once their affection is won, they will defend friends and family to their deaths.” Jon sighed. “A strength if properly focused, but a flaw in the wrong cooing hands.”

  Alador sobered at that thought. “Make sure it is your friend, Jon. Please, I beg you to not let it learn that Morana is a friend.”

  “I will do what I can,” Jon promised. “Now, you had best be off before you are discovered.”

  “You will be all right?” Alador looked about them.

  “I will wait for a while then move up to the main hall. Then in a couple days, I will slip away at night.” Jon laid it out with that stoic manner.

  “Take care, my friend.” Alador offered his arm which Jon clasped. They stood that way for a moment then Alador let go and turned on his heel and walked away. He did not look back. He was uncertain if he were making the right choice and did not want to second guess it. When he reached the entrance to the cavern, the others were waiting for him.

  “Where’s Jon?” Nemara looked behind Alador and back to him.

  “He has another mission he needs to see about. He will not be returning with us.” Alador said. “He died tonight as far as we are concerned. Understood?”

  The five of them nodded wearily. “Good,” Alador stated. “Gather round. We need to get back before Luthian checks to see who is about and who is not.”

  They gathered around him, placing hands on him. Alador took them all back to his bedchamber that they had left a couple of hours earlier. Daylight was beginning to show on the horizon as they returned. Alador sat on the floor where they all manifested. He put his head against his knees and wrapped it in his arms. It was done, but what was lost was greater to him than what had been gained.

  Nemara took up the lead, with one hand on Alador’s shoulder she began commanding the others. “You all cast a clean spell and change back into your previous attire. Master Bariton will be waiting for you downstairs.”

  One of the women looked at Nemara with sadness. “What of those that did not return?”

  “The High Master already had a plan in place for this. Just return to him and keep your mouths quiet.”

  “What of you, Nemara?” Ben asked.

  “I will be staying the night with my lover.” She emphasized the last word.

  Alador did not react to Nemara’s statement. He was exhausted and overwrought. Alador felt the throb of his wounds and the true depth of the loss of Rena. He was content to let her take the lead.

  “I know we lost friends tonight. Try to remember they died to save all those dragons.” Nemara said as she escorted them to the door.

  Once she had shooed the others out, she turned to Alador. She cast a clean spell over him then helped him out of his armor. “I need to put poultices on these.”

  Alador sat numbly and let her do as she wished. She was a nature mage and had some basic healing skills. Once she had dressed his wounds, she formed a nightshirt over him. Alador let her guide him to the bed and dozed while she saw to her own needs. She had apparently used his bathing room as she was damp and naked when she crawled into the bed beside him.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, half awake. The depth of his grief was keeping sleep just out of reach despite his exhaustion.

  “Keeping appearances,” she answered quietly. “Don’t worry. I am too tired and overwhelmed by the night to assault you for my pleasure.” Her words, though meant to tease, held an edge of sadness to them.

  “Oh, sorry.” Alador murmured.

  “I could use a warm hug, and I have a feeling you are in need of comfort as well,” she said as she moved to press her back against him.

  Alador realized she was right and pulled her close. He buried his face against her damp hair to hide the silent tears that had begun to flow. After some time, he finally fell into an exhausted sleep.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Luthian sat back in his leather chair; his fingers
drummed both arms of the chair as he pondered what he knew. He had read the reports from the aides in charge of the night watch of the scrying bowls. He was perplexed and concerned by the information provided. Not because of the content, but because it was incomplete as if the communication had been interrupted. The only way the commander or his next in command would not have completed the report was if the bloodmine had fallen.

  The practice of bloodmining had started long before he was appointed High Minister. However, since he had become High Minister, the practice had been refined. With the help of Lady Morana, the stealing of eggs had become easier. Dragon nests were invariably hard to find and well defended. Using the black dragon as scouts, they had been able to raid nests with greater success and fewer losses. The only price that had been demanded was the hatchlings of black eggs. The temple then imprinted and trained the black dragons.

  To have the oldest bloodmine fall on his watch was going to cause him a great deal of troubles with the council. Luthian leaned forward and read the report again. The commander had reported that a sudden storm of harsh weather had manifested out of a clear night. The storm had lifted only to leave an obscuring fog so thick that the watch posts were unable to see one another. It was the mark of a skilled storm mage or very intelligent blue dragon. He did not believe the dragons were all that intelligent, so most likely the former.

  From this fog, an attack had occurred. The commander spoke of blue tabard mages carrying swords and dragons working together to assault the compound. It just ended there. There was no report on losses, numbers or anything else that Luthian would have expected. Dragons had attacked before, but the compound had always managed to repel them. Mages working with dragons was unheard of due to the breaking of the pact hundreds of years ago. Dragons had worked with the Daezun in past wars, but never with mages. Mages carrying swords were also uncommon. It suggested men of his own Blackguard, and this he could not fathom.

  Luthian tossed down the report. He rubbed his weary eyes and gave out a long sigh of annoyance. He was going to have to assess the damage. His mind was racing as he sat back again. There were a myriad of explanations that he could give the council, but he could not be sure which path would recover the most damage. He rose from his chair decisively. He would go alone to minimize rumor and speculation.

  He strode through the minister’s manor to his own lab. He armed himself with spell components, the snake dagger, and a normal boot dagger. Luthian swiftly formed robes more appropriate for cold weather. He chose a simple gray cloak for his attire to allow him to blend in as much as possible. If the dragons were still present then he did not need to paint them a bright red target to focus upon.

  The spell of travel was always a bit taxing, so he ate from a nearby table that was kept stocked for his use. He also grabbed a bit of jerky and tucked into his belt pouch. He stepped into his casting circle in the center of his lab and spoke the words to take him to the mine. The world swirled out of view, the feeling always disconcerting. The swirling came to a sudden nauseating stop and the command room of the mine surrounded him. He stood for a moment allowing his body to adjust to the sudden change of environment, his eyes blinking rapidly. He pulled the jerky from his belt and began to gnaw on it as he looked about. The space for mages to arrive was always kept clear, but this time it had still been a close matter as a chair had been near where he manifested.

  The scrying bowl was not on the table, and the smell of death hung heavily in the room. He moved forward and around the table. There on the floor was the body of the commander. He had an arrow in the chest and the man’s throat had been slit. The scrying bowl lay shattered on the floor nearby telling the tale of the sudden stop of the communication he had reviewed.

  He shoved the last of the jerky into his mouth then moved to the commander’s body. He broke the fletching of the arrow off. Sometimes, one could trace an archer by the fletching of their arrows. He fingered the flight feathers. The craftsmanship was excellent but the fletching quite common.

  He put the fletching in his belt pouch. There was no evidence to be seen within the room beyond the arrow. Whatever had happened in here, it had been swift and decisive. He saw no sign of struggle or conflict. The commander had been taken by surprise.

  He strode from the room and headed for the hatchery. If orders had been followed, the hatchlings and fledglings too small for bloodletting would have been destroyed. He cautiously looked about the corner into the hatchery, discerning no movement he moved forward. The room reeked of feces and urine. He formed a ball of light and sent it floating down into the pit.

  There were no eggs, no fledglings. He glanced to his right and saw that the door to the pit had been left open. Whoever had assaulted the mine had freed the hatchlings and taken the eggs. He had been about to send a ball of fire to cleanse the hatchery when he sensed movement to his right and below him.

  “Who is there? Show yourself!” Luthian demanded. He formed a ball of fire reflexively unsure if a fledgling had remained behind or if the assaulting force remained. Luthian moved to put the wall behind him, glancing swiftly at the hall. He was more than prepared for a trap.

  “I have a fondness for life. I do hope you will hold your spell.” A man in black robes stepped into the aura of the ball of light. He had a black hatchling in his arms. “I have heard burning to death is quite unpleasant.” The man’s words were even and respectful but held no fear.

  “Who are you?” Luthian was more than prepared to kill him and the dragon rather than risk his own safety.

  “My name is Jon. I was assigned the hatchery. We were overrun so swiftly that there was not time to cleanse the hatchery.” Jon looked down at the creature in his arms. “I took the black hatchling and hid within the recesses of this room.” The man’s hands were stroking the black beast within his arms, trying to keep it calm.

  “I see.” Luthian eyed him over slowly. “If they came to get the eggs, how did you remain hidden?”

  “I cast an illusion. They were moving so swiftly that they did not take time to discern any spell.” Jon’s factual answer held no emotion.

  “How many?” Luthian demanded.

  “I saw at least ten.” Jon met Luthian’s eyes calmly.

  “Could you identify anyone?” Luthian was looking about the hatchery.

  “It was dark, and I knew none of the faces.” Jon took a cautious step forward. “I can tell you that they wore blue tabards marked with a silver dragon.”

  “A silver dragon you say?” Luthian’s eyes narrowed. His mind swiftly raced over the fact. Where had he seen that combination before?

  “Yes, it shimmered in the light of their torches.” Jon answered. “If the danger is passed, Lord Guldalian, I would like to leave this pit. The stench is unbearable.”

  “Yes, approach.” Luthian released the ball of fire that writhed within his hand. The heat of it had finally become unbearable.

  Jon moved cautiously through the pit and up the ramp. Luthian watched him warily every step. This man claimed to survive by means of deceptive magic. Luthian had learned to trust nothing at face value. Once Jon was close enough to see within the glimmer of the lightstone, he continued his questions.

  “There were three black eggs at the last report. What of the other two?” He eyed the small fledgling with distaste. He had no liking for dragons.

  “This one ate the other two before we realized they had even hatched.” Jon stroked the creature as if it were his child, comforting its distressed hissing.

  “A killer then.” Luthian muttered to himself. He eyed the creature with interest. “He will need delivered to Dethara’s temple.”

  “I had planned to do so, Lord Guldalian. I was just waiting to be sure the danger had passed.” Jon frowned. “I felt certain that they would not release this one as they did the others.”

  “You realize that hatchlings do not survive transit by means of a travel spell.” Luthian pointed out. It was odd, though they were creatures of magic, they had yet to
devise a means of transportation to the temple by magic. The little creatures did not survive the reformation at the target location.

  “Yes, my lord. I had planned to head south by foot until I reached the nearby village of Halfbrook. From there, I could buy transport by a lexital.” Jon’s even words betrayed no distress.

  “You have done well, Jon. I will be certain that the High Master is made aware of your service. Let us go and see if the way is clear outside. I have found no sign or sound of an enemy within the cavern.” Luthian turned on his heel expecting the younger mage to follow.

  Jon followed two paces behind the High Minister, taking care to make sure he was downwind. Luthian appreciated the man’s respect and insight. Despite his certainty that no one was about, he moved with caution.

  “Lord Guldalian, may I ask a question?” Jon’s voice behind him was strangely monotone.

  Despite the question and answer, Luthian’s eyes constantly moved. “Yes, you may.”

  “Do others besides those assigned here and sworn to the secrecy of that service, know that the dragons are intelligent?”

  Luthian could feel the man’s piercing eyes on his back as he approached the cave entrance. “What makes you so certain that the beasts of legend are anything more than a fishwife’s tale? You have learned here that even from birth that they are killers.” Luthian paused and turned to face the man. The young fledgling hissed as its eyes met Luthian’s. He so hated the dirty beasts. They were nothing more than large killing ravens that stole anything that glittered and was not nailed down. Sometimes, he mused, they even took what was nailed down.

  “Well, they speak for one thing. They are quick to pick up words from the guards around them. More than once, I am certain we have caught the plotting. We rearrange the bloodmine regularly so they are not next to another for too long.” Jon’s hand covered the eyes of the fledgling which seemed to settle it.

  “Nothing more than mimicry, I can assure you,” Luthian answered with a dismissive wave of his hand. “They may have a basic knowledge that sets them apart from the other beasts of the land, but if they were so intelligent then why have their older kin or flight mates not rescued them long ago?” Luthian’s piercing lavender eyes moved from the dragon to the man. He noted with pleasure the puzzled look on the mage’s face.