Outcast (The Blue Dragon's Geas)

by Matthynssens, Cheryl

  Each day that they were not out bloodstone mining, they had other tasks. Mesiande helped in her mother’s field or worked in the ore mine. Gregor was learning his house father’s trade of building and Alador, of course, helped in the smithy. They gathered up their things and headed back to the village.

  “I think it is great that you can see better." Mesiande offered.

  “Yeah, if I had known hittin’ yah in the head would be all it took. I would have clobbered yah harder a long time ago." Gregor offered helpfully.

  Alador chuckled. “Thanks...I think." He looked over at his friend and forced a smile to his lips. He wanted to laugh and joke with them as usual. But, he was perplexed by this new skill. He felt different. Not like he was still sick, but different? He was not ready to share this with his two best friends.

  They climbed the steps to the top of the hill that lay between the village and the practice field. Alador looked down the slight hill they stood on for a moment. Despite feeling an outsider all of his life, there was always something welcoming about the village. It was built in a circle. The middle was left open for visiting traders and celebrations like the mating ritual. The first ring contained buildings like the smithy and other craftsmen’s shops. The next ring held the houses of the elders. Each had been carefully built and was of the nicest craftsmanship. Only those too old to bear small ones and work, were allowed in the elder homes. During the day, the small ones were sent to this circle to learn the wisdoms and to be kept safe till they were old enough to work in the fields or other trades.

  During the late afternoon when the sun was not so high, middlins like Alador and his friends would take small groups of those almost old enough to leave the elder’s teaching for small practice trips in the fields, smithy or even to a small area set up to practice mining. After all, there were other metals used besides bloodstones. In the winter, skills such as fletching, skinning and spinning were taught. This time of preparation and trial allowed each child as they became a middlin, to choose or be chosen for professions that suited them.

  The next few rings of buildings were the houses of the villagers. These were often not as fully formed as the elder homes. They were added to as each household saw a need. Much like Alador’s home, wings and second stories sprang up and out as if just thrown on. All the houses had the warm rich hewn beams and thatched roofs. Barrels were placed all around the village to catch rain water. If it did not rain for a time, there was also a well. From where he stood, the village looked like a wagon wheel with all paths from the outer edges ending at the center circle.

  Alador was brought out of his musing by the touch of a warm hand on his arm. He looked down to see Mesiande looking up at him with concern. Gregor had moved on without them. They stood alone in the light warm breeze.

  “You hardly talked the entire time we were practicing, Alador." She searched his face. “I am worried about you. Maybe you should not work today? I am sure your family and the elders would understand." She moved her hand up his arm gently.

  “I just have a lot to think about Mesi. There’s nothing to worry about." Alador was suddenly very conscious of her touch upon his arm. He could feel the heat of her hand as it moved.

  “Are you worried that Trelmar will come after you?" She looked about as if the middlin were to appear at any moment.

  “No." He blushed a deep red. His thoughts had definitely not been on Trelmar.

  “Is it that you don’t have to mine any more if you don’t want to?" Mesiande could be a pest when she wanted to know something.

  Alador sighed with exasperation. If he didn’t say, she would just keep on him. “Dorien told me today that I would be joining the ritual this year because of the stone. Everyone is treating me differently than I am used to because of that stone. I am glad and all, but I...I don’t know what I think. Confused I guess, and I am not sure how to act." His confession spilled out in a rush of words.

  When he had said he would enter the ritual, he thought for a moment he saw dismay but then she smiled. “Well of course they are. If not for your heritage, you would probably be the most desired housemate at the yearly gathering. Even with your heritage, many will overlook it due to what the sale of it could mean for you. A few would have overlooked it anyway; you are rather pleasing to look upon." She bit her lip as she watched his face. Her face turning a delicate pink in the cheeks.

  “Now you are just being nice." Alador sighed and ran a hand through his short drab hair in frustration. “I don’t want to go to the mating circle without..." He flushed with color. “We better get to work." He strode down the hill now not wanting to look at Mesiande. She followed him silently with a huge smile on her face. She did not try to stop him. They parted ways at the bottom of the hill. Mesiande was headed for the mines, and Alador headed for the smithy.

  The next few days passed uneventfully. Trelmar had given him a wide berth once he had been released from the healer’s hut. An old comfortable routine re-established itself. Alador and his friends worked their bows in the morning, they did their village tasks till the learning bell and then took the small ones out. These trips included picking berries, learning to swim and other simple skills. Evenings were spent with family tasks, or on occasion, Alador would go hunting with Tentret or fishing with Gregor. The hunting and fishing had been outstanding since the snows had fallen off.

  While many of the villagers still watched and whispered as he passed, he was becoming accustomed to this new kind of attention. The awkward moments were when one actually took a moment to ask after his day. He would shuffle, murmur and disappear as quickly as he could without being rude. For years, he had complained that he was an outsider. Now, with more acceptance, he realized just how much more peaceful life had been left on his own. At the same time, this new attention still was a form of being on the outside. It was just now people cared if he also disliked them.

  This routine continued till the traders’ caravan came to town. It was a rare event for the caravan to visit. There was always a cry of excitement when the dust on the road was noticed. The caravan would roll in, armed guards surrounding it as it moved. It was always a day of celebration, feasting, music, and of course bartering. The caravan worked a route of Daezun settlements. Each village excelled at differing crafts and then passed their wares on in the caravan. Added to this, were items from Lerdenia, which the villages found hard to acquire on their own. By the time all the wagons filtered in, the center of the village was full of wagons turned into stalls of goods. At the very center, rough boards were set up for tables and benches and a prang was set to roasting on a large spit. The middlins took turns keeping the wild beast turning and brushing it with the sweet sauce that brought out the meat’s rich flavor.

  Prang, though available year around, embodied the image of winter. Their white and brown coats made it easy for them to blend in in amongst the dead foliage of the cold winter months. An adult prang could weigh up to two hundred and fifty stones and so were not butchered by individual families, but the village as a whole to prevent losing any to spoiling. The upswept and back curving horns were used in many medicines by the healers for headaches and eyesight.

  When not trading, the women were busy cooking and soon the boards would fill up with foods of all varieties. The traders always brought the drink to the table as their contribution. This way, they could spend their time in trade and did not have to worry about a meal when they were done.

  While on occasion medure slips changed hands, most of the trading was exchanges of goods. Of course, traders always made better in the bargains, but it was just the way of it. The strange rectangle pieces of metal were the currency between Lerdenia and Daezun. Medure was a hard metal that was difficult to find and harder to work. It glistened with flecks of blue. Most villagers didn’t want to keep it about as it drew thieves and greed. Some would not trade if they could not barter fair goods straight across.

  Dorien had suggested that they wait till the day was mostly done before heading over
to the trader that bought bloodstones. This would not be a trade of goods because the bloodstone trader worked with the Lerdenian Empire, and he only had slips to give in trade. As Alador worked his way through the stalls, a crowd began to appear behind him. By the time he made it to the stall, he had his personal retinue of as many villagers as could fit into the small spaces and still see him.

  He waited patiently as one of the other miners traded in an egg sized stone. It brought fifty medure. A nice price for any miner. A single medure could get a great deal in trade goods. When the man had completed his trade, Alador stepped up. The crowd about him became quiet.

  “Ah, I do not have to ask. This is the young man with the hulking stone I keep hearing about." The man’s smooth way of speaking was only outdone by the silken robes he wore. Alador had traded before so was used to the odd appearance of the stone trader but even so, he found himself at a loss for words so nodded.

  He set the stone upon the weight board. He heard the intake of the man’s breath and looked up as the man stared at it. “It is clear?" The trader tapped it curiously.

  “I know, I hope it does not lower the value over much." Alador looked up at the taller man with concern. He shifted fearfully. What if the trader did not want it? He looked from the stone to the trader with evident anxiety.

  The trader had been watching Alador closely. He licked his dry lips and then spoke. “Well, I do think I will be lowering the weight price a bit. I have never seen one that had the appearance of a window pane, red though it is." The trader stroked the smooth stone curiously.

  “What do you offer then, sir?" Alador’s hands were clenched tight. His brother, Dorien had worked his way to Alador’s side and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He surely could get at least four hundred for it.

  “Well, it is substantial to be sure. And its weight measure is the largest I have seen." The man pursed his lips and tapped his chin in thought. “I will offer you five hundred medure.”

  The crowd gasped about him, and the price was whispered back all over to those that could not hear. Alador was ecstatic. That was one hundred more than he had been hoping to receive. Before Alador could speak, his brother scooped up the stone. “I think we will just make a trip to the border Alador. I mean, why should you stand here and let this thief rob you? Seriously, five hundred is an insult.”

  Alador looked up at Dorien as if he had lost his mind. He was more than happy with five hundred and was about to tell his brother so when the trader raised a hand. “Wait! Wait now. Perhaps I have been a little hasty in my offering." Alador’s eyes riveted to the trader’s in disbelief. His mouth hung open with the weight of his shock. He had never considered that traders would undervalue the bloodstones. He had always just accepted what the men offered in the past. He had felt so grateful to have slips that he had focused on the things they would purchase.

  “Well then, my friend, you had best be giving a fairer accounting to my brother, or we will have no business to attend." Dorien answered him imperiously. Alador looked over to his brother and was surprised to see a bit of anger in them. In addition, Dorien’s usual jovial manner was gone as he drew himself up. The large size of the blacksmith made Alador look small beside him.

  “One thousand medure and that is fair for you would have to take time from your shop to go to the border for a better offer." The trader fired back. The trader looked between the two brothers and bit his lip as he waited for Dorien’s counter.

  Dorien did not answer right away. “Five thousand and I might consider it an apology for an attempt at thievery." Dorien’s tone brooked no argument. Dorien was tense at his brother’s side. His eyes were watching the trader closely as if watching for something.

  The man paused, his face flushed a dark color and the murmur of the crowd took a slightly bitter turn as word spread that the trader had undervalued the stone with intent. “Two thousand is all I can offer and still make my own slips when it reaches the border." He finally spit out. The trader was clearly concerned now. Traders that were known to cheat were often cast out and could not make a good living due to distrust. Not only that, but word spread quickly from village to village. Alador wondered if the trader would be forced to be generous the rest of the day.

  Dorien turned to leave as if he did not believe the man. Alador panicked for fear his brother had just lost him his slips, and he would have to wait an entire season before he could sell the stone. Not only that, but he had never heard of anyone with two thousand slips. “I think we will just find a mage who is need of a strong stone.”

  “All right two thousand two hundred, but you are making it very hard to keep my own small ones fed." The trader countered wringing his hands.

  Dorien turned back around and dropped the stone down with a dull thud upon the weight board. “Done!" Dorien held a satisfied grin as Alador stared on in amazement.

  The trader went into his wagon and was gone for some time before a man with him helped to bring out a large chest. They lifted the chest up, and the boards beside the weight board creaked with the weight of the box. The trader opened the lock and peeled back the lid. There were strings of medure inside. The trader took out eight strings and then pushed the chest toward Dorien. Medure had one hole in the end to string. In large transactions, there were one hundred Medure on a string. He stared at the box filled with string and slips of Medure. Dorien closed the lid held out his hand for the key. Reluctantly, the trader handed that over as well, and Dorien locked it.

  Alador had not yet said a word since the bartering began. Dorien nodded to Alador to grab a handle. Two thousand two hundred medure was going to weigh a fair amount and sure enough, it took both hands for Alador to carry his end. The crowd parted, the noise of conversations washed over Alador as words like..." Tried to cheat him”, “not fair a mongrel gains so well” and “wonder if he wants small ones." He tried to block it all out as he and Dorien worked their way out of the trading circles. Twice they had to set it down so Alador could shake his hands out. Dorien just smiled at him. The blacksmith’s seemed unfazed by the weight of the box. Alador was still stunned at the amount the stone had brought. He could not believe a trader kept that much in his wagon. However, now the Daezun that traveled with the traders and were heavily armed made more sense.

  When they finally stepped into the house, the whole family was waiting. They gathered around while Dorien unlocked it once more and opened the lid. They all stared at it in awe. Sofie reached out and caressed the metal in wonder. The box was full of the dull hard metal, and the blue flecks sparkled in the lamplight. Alador picked up a heavy string himself and laid it on the table to stare at the beauty. No one spoke for the longest time. The sound of the cooking fire and the clinking of the slips as he had pulled them from the chest were the only sounds in the room.

  Finally, his mother broke the silence as she looked up at Dorien. “How much?" Alanis whispered.

  “Two thousand two hundred. The korpen dung tried to cheat the boy with five hundred." Dorien’s contempt was obvious in his tone.

  Alador finally found words. “How did you know he was...You know...Under valuing the stone?" His brother did not mine bloodstones. He had always said he preferred creating out of metal rather than finding it.

  “He gave you the price far too fast and was licking his lips when he spit it out. I have seen a stone half that size make five hundred.”

  “I never thought. I have always taken..." Alador sputtered. He was embarrassed as he realized how many times he had probably been shorted. He had never felt he had the right to argue with those older than himself.

  Dorien laughed. “Never take a trader’s first offer, Alador. They are trying to feed their own small ones. They will make as much as they can in a trade.”

  It made sense when one thought about it. Alador had just always been so grateful to have a slip that he never considered he might have earned more than one. You could get fifty trading tokens for a medure. He had always immediately traded in his slip for th
e trading tokens and been off to buy a sweetmeat or fletching. Most of his trading tokens he had given to his mother to help with his keep.

  Alador slowly smiled. He took his knife out and cut the trading string of the one hundred slip circle he had laid in front of him. “I have never been able to do much for naming days and such”. Due to the fact that many small ones did not live past their second year, a small one did not officially receive a name until their third year of birth. Alador had never been able to do the things he wanted for his siblings’ naming days. “So today, we celebrate." He handed a slip to Sofie. “Spend it all on yourself." He smiled as she squealed with delight.

  He turned to Tentret two slips. “I know your drawing supplies are low." Tentret smiled slowly and hugged his brother then he too rushed out. Alador reached into the box and took two strings and handed them to his brother. “I know you have your eye on Felia in Corsgrove as a housemate. Maybe now you will, you know, take on some small ones." His brother started to protest, but Alador held up the strings. “Call it a commission for more than five hundred slips." His brother smiled and took the strings. He faded away, most likely to hide his strings for Alador could hear him banging about.

  Strangely, Alador’s mother had said nothing. There had been no requests, no pointing out she had experienced the pain of birthing him. She was just staring at him in a strange awe. Alador shifted uncomfortably not used to her silence. He reached in and pulled out two more strings. “I hope this will more than keep me till I find my own home and small ones to raise.”

  His mother took the strings slowly. “I knew...I knew it was right." She whispered

  “Right? Right about what?" Alador looked at his mother with an arched brow.

  “Choosing your father in the circle. I just knew it would turn out alright. I just knew it." Her eyes glistened with pride as she watched Alador.

  “Maman, for long as I can remember, you have been saying what a mistake that was." Alador looked at her in confusion. Had she lost her senses in the face of so many slips?