Bloodmines: Cheryl Matthynssens

by Cheryl Matthynssens

  He picked up a rock and tossed it into the still lake. There was no wind at the moment and the morning stillness had the lake looking like peaceful glass. The rock shattered the glimmering sheen, creating ripples that mirrored his thoughts. He was frustrated, and knew that he needed to quit acting like a child, but essentially, he had been one less than a turn ago. Like the lake, his peace had been shattered, and still the ramifications of the bloodstone rippled through his life.

  “Renamaum, I know you can talk to me when you choose. Can you talk to me when the matter is not urgent?” Alador whispered to himself.

  “I can,” came the internal response. The voice was reassuring and kind.

  “Will you always be able to?” Alador continued to speak aloud. He looked around to see if any could observe him talking to himself.

  “That will be up to you.” Renamaum’s tone and voice were clear.

  “Up to me…?” Alador knelt down, resting on his own heels as he stared that the subsiding ripples. “How?”

  “So far, you have been slowly absorbing what I was: my memories, power, and even some of my personality. You can continue to do so, or you can choose to allow me to exist within you. I will take no offense either way. You are well guided by those that are worth trusting.”

  Alador could picture the large dragon in the lake, gazing at him with calm assurance. “So eventually, you will, in effect, die if we continue as we have?” Alador struggled with this thought, mixed emotions swelled within him.

  “All beings die,” the dragon stated matter-of-factly.

  “I thought dragons were immortal, though.” Alador picked up another stone and tossed it in shattering the lake and making his mind image of Renamaum waver.

  “Nothing is truly immortal; even the Gods eventually cease to be. We just appear immortal as we live such long lives.”

  “What is my geas?” Alador asked. Rena’s challenge of his interpretation was worrying him. The dragon fell silent. Alador could still see the image so knew that the dragon had not totally withdrawn.

  Alador pressed the matter. “Renamaum, you have forced me along a path I wouldn’t have chosen; I’ve the right to know what it is you want from me,” Alador said, and his angst was nearly palpable.

  “Peace on the isle for all that live here: Daezun, Lerdenians and dragons.”

  Alador clenched his fists. “You ask the impossible from one who would still be a middlin if not for your stone. How, by the gods, am I to do that?” Alador wanted to strike out at something. Sheer frustration flooded through him. “This is… I can’t do that!”

  “Yes, you can. I have given you the power, and Keensight has ensured you have the means. You have but to trust him and Pruatra. You can and will do this,” Renamaum insisted.

  “If I refuse…?” Alador was panicking.

  “Then you will die.” Renamaum’s simple answer was so emphatic that Alador dropped to his knees.

  Alador did not speak to the dragon again, his mind racing with a million thoughts. Renamaum seemed to understand his need for space and receded to wherever he was living inside the mage. Alador sat on his knees, trying to shove fear out of his way. He would die if he attempted to fulfill the geas and he would die if he did not. The racing thoughts shattered the image of the dragon as he buried his face in his hands.

  Henrick’s soft step in the gravel along the edge of the lake drew Alador’s attention. Henrick sank down to sit cross-legged beside his son. He picked up a stone to toss into the lake and looked at Alador. “And now you know,” he said softly then tossed the rock sending ripples out again.

  “How long have you suspected it was more than the mine?” Alador asked, looking up from his hands to his father.

  “For a time.” Henrick dug through the pebbles looking for another rock. “The interpretation that you had was plausible, but seemed a little shortsighted for the way Keensight had described Renamaum,” Henrick answered. He tossed a second pebble, making cross waves in the ripples.

  “How much did you hear?” Alador was not surprised to see his father; the man reminded him more and more of Sordith. They both seemed to show up when he thought none were about.

  “Well, it was rather one-sided, but enough by your words and reaction to know he told you.” Henrick pulled out his pipe and loaded it as he was speaking.

  “He wants me to bring peace between Lerdenia, Daezun and the dragons. I could see maybe two, and that is doubtful, but all three…?” He looked back to Henrick.

  “It is possible,” Henrick answered. “A geas cannot be placed in the realm of completely impossible.” He closed his bag of smoking herbs and placed it back into his belt pouch.

  “Yes, but possible for me?” Alador searched his father’s face.

  “You have four dragons on your side. When was the last time you heard of that happening?” Henrick lit his pipe with a small flame from his finger. “Many would say that feat was impossible.” He drew deeply on the pipe before he met Alador’s gaze.

  Alador had to admit he had hoped for one or maybe two. Having four agree to help with his cause was something he would not have predicted, and both dragons had indicated a promise of more to come.

  “I don’t even know where to start!” The panic in his tone was evident, as it was on his expression before he put both of his hands back over his face.

  “That is strange,” Henrick mused, then casually puffed out a smoke ring.

  “What is?” Alador murmured between his fingers.

  “Seems to me that you already have…” Henrick watched the floating smoke ring slowly dissipate. “You took down the stables. You just aligned with four dragons. You have a plan to take out the largest bloodmine. You are making decisions that will affect the Daezun as a whole, and yet sliding in the back door to make sure it minimizes harm.” Henrick looked over at Alador. “I would say, my dear boy, you just need to keep doing what you believe is the next right thing to do. I suspect that it will all turn out in the end.”

  Alador was slowly musing over his father’s wise words when he realized that Henrick must have spoken of that fateful night with Sordith. “Wait,” Alador said as he lowered his hands. “You know about the stables?”

  Henrick grinned at him. “It had you written all over it. The report of an attack on you the same night was brilliant. Who did you get to stab you, or did that happen in the stable house?”

  Alador sighed. “We missed a guard and he got behind me. I am lucky to have lived.” Alador subconsciously put a hand where he had seen the blade in his stomach. “Do you think Luthian knows it was me?” He scanned Henrick’s face.

  “Oh, he might suspect. The injury was a little suspicious. However, Sordith told me he went into detail with my brother on how Aorun planned the whole thing. I think he was trying to convince me of it as well.” Henrick took another deep draw on his pipe

  “Why didn’t it work?” Alador pressed.

  “Your questions about magic that takes one’s will, combined with the fact that my favorite cloak smelled of blood.” Henrick’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “And as I said, it had your righteous sense of honor written all over it.”

  He gazed at his son curiously. “How by the Gods did you get them out of the city?”

  Alador grinned. “No one wants to look in garbage carts. We smuggled them out during the morning rounds, covered in garbage.”

  Henrick laughed with delight to the point he had to wipe tears from his eyes. “Well played my dear boy. I would not have thought of that,” he finally managed to acknowledge, though the chuckles continued.

  Alador looked at Henrick in surprise. The older man did not offer compliments often, and that praise felt good, even though Alador had held him in disdain so recently. He looked back out at the lake. “I need you to be honest with me.”

  “I will if I can be,” Henrick promised.

  “What secrets are you keeping?” Alador moved in front of Henrick, blocking out the distraction of the still lake. “I need to know.” />
  Henrick stared into Alador’s eyes, clearly weighing his response. Alador did not miss a moment of pain on his face. “I cannot tell you yet. I will tell you this, though: not telling you right now is helping.” He pulled his pipe out of his mouth and stared down at it. “I promise I will tell you the moment I think that not knowing is no longer helping.”

  Alador did not like his answer, but for now, he would accept it. “Have you ever lied outright to me?” He gave his father time to form his answer, and both sat quietly for a time.

  Henrick looked at him finally. “Yes, I have lied outright to you about one thing: to protect the secret I will not tell you yet.”

  Alador gave a frustrated sigh as he threw up his hands. “I do not see how a lie or a secret will help me.”

  “What we do not know cannot be used against us. If Luthian learned what I keep for you, we would both be dead within days. It is… the nature of it is something you would not be able to hide.” Henrick sounded a bit regretful.

  “Tell me this, then. Does keeping this secret in any way harm my family or Mesiande in Smallbrook?” Alador looked worriedly at his father.

  This time, Henrick did not pause. “No!” he said emphatically.

  Alador breathed out slowly. “Then I will wait until you are ready to tell me.” He did not like a secret between them, but at the same time, Henrick’s honesty that there was a lie and a secret was more reassuring than a glib no would have been.

  Both fell silent and neither looked into the other’s eyes for a long moment. Finally, Henrick tapped out his pipe out and rose. “We should join the others.”

  Alador rose, too. “There is one more thing. Keensight said to ask you for the medallion, and to have you teach me to use it.” Alador knew that his learning to travel was essential in order to carry out the first few things that he had planned to do for his people and the dragons. He would have to think more on the rest of it later. He would focus on the bloodmines for now.

  Henrick pulled a chain from around his neck. The medallion slipped free as he pulled it forward and handed it to Alador. The medallion was black, and etched into it was a dragon’s eye. In the pupil of the eye was a silver hour glass.

  “This is beautiful,” he murmured as he took and examined it. “How does it work?” He swore he could see the sand moving within it.

  “Well, the work part is easy,” Henrick said, watching the medallion as if he just parted with a best friend. “You imagine clearly where you wish to be and say the words I will give you; then you and anything you hold will appear there.” Henrick’s tone held an edge of warning.

  “Your tone suggests there is a catch.” Alador looked up at his father as the awe melted away in the face of his father’s tone.

  “If where you imagine has changed - such as a tree fell in a clearing for example - you could appear with it in you or you in it: a painful - and often deadly – outcome,” Henrick explained carefully.

  “So you need to imagine a place that you are certain will not have changed since you have been there last?” Alador had thought it was a spell, not a magical item.

  “Correct. You must be certain. To go home, for example, I use my bedroom, and my servants have orders to leave nothing lying about nor to move any furniture, even to clean.” Henrick’s eyes were still locked on the medallion.

  “This is important to you, isn’t it?” Alador had seen that look before, but could not quite remember where or when.

  “It is. Keensight gave it to me, and he received it from the Gods themselves when he sought a boon from them.” Henrick blinked a few times then looked up.

  “That is part of the secret, isn’t it?” Alador touched his father’s arm. “Keensight was that way with the items in his pile.” He watched his father suspiciously.

  “Yes, and I have said too much, so let us return to the others,” Henrick gruffly answered with a hurried smile.

  “Wait! What are the words?” Alador asked, still holding his father’s arm.

  Henrick smiled. “Persvek sia ricin, nomeno goawy si ocuir origato sia adon vur rasvimi qe.”

  Alador recognized the tones of it as the draconic that Keensight had spoken, though it did not roll off Henrick’s tongue with the same ease.

  “Keensight taught you draconic?” Alador sounded amazed.

  “Some of the knowledge he taught me does not translate well to our common tongue. So yes, he taught me what I needed to know to do the things he wishes me to do for him.” Henrick answered. “Let us go a phrase at a time.” He repeated the first three. “persvek sia ricin.”

  Alador and Henrick worked for an hour on mastering the phrase before they returned to the others. As they walked back up the shoreline, Alador finally asked his father the question plaguing him.

  “You said you learned what you must so as to complete Keensight’s wishes…” Alador tucked the medallion out of sight. “Are you his servant?”

  “I said he let me live, Alador. I never said that remaining Henrick Guldalian came without a cost.” Henrick chuckled softly as he parted the brush where the three blue dragons waited.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The day to leave finally arrived, and Alador found that he was sad about it. The time spent with the dragons had been wondrous, every small one’s dream and more. It had also been tiring, enlightening, and frustrating. He could not seem to shake Rena’s constant attempts to flirt with him. He had finally gone to Pruatra, whose only advice had been that it was a phase that would pass after her next mating. This did not reassure Alador at all. He was fairly certain at this rate, the dragon would come calling for him when that time came.

  He was sitting by the lake when the female in his thoughts strode up and plopped down beside him. “Don’t you like me, Alador?”

  He glanced over at Rena to see her eyes on him. They were excessively large at the moment, as well as tearful. “Yes, I like you very much. I think you are going to be a great sister to me,” Alador offered in an attempt to deflect.

  “I don’t want to be a sister," Rena argued. “I think you are amazing and brave.”

  Alador scooted closer to her and put a hand to the side of her great muzzle. “Okay Rena. Let’s think about this. First, I am mortal and you are dragon. You would never be able to mate with me or have fledglings.” He waited for her to counter this most important point.

  “I could go to the Gods and ask to be made a mortal,” she quickly offered.

  “You would not like being mortal Rena. Never to feel the wind beneath your wings, to die in a short time, as is the nature of mortals,” he countered. “There are many chores to being a mortal that you don’t have to worry about as a dragon, such as gathering water, or lighting a fire just to stay warm.” He ran his hand over her nose crest gently.

  “Then, you could go ask to be a dragon,” she amended.

  Alador sighed. “I do not want to be a dragon, Rena. I can’t complete my geas as a dragon,” he looked at the water rather than the dragon, letting his hand drop away.

  “Then ask after,” she stated huskily as she laid her muzzle against his leg. Her voice took on a pleading edge. “I love you.”

  “You have a crush, Rena. It is not love. I am just different, and that appeals to you.” He looked at her and replaced the comforting hand on her head. He knew how it felt to be denied one you were in love with, and was truly regretting having to hurt Rena.

  She raised her head, shaking loose his gentle touch. “I know the difference between a crush and love. I have mated, I am not a hatchling!”

  “Then why aren’t you with that male and your eggs?” Alador gently questioned.

  “The mating didn’t take,” she snarled.

  Alador winced. Again, he had blundered into another’s wounds without thought. He sighed softly. “You can’t be in love with me, Rena.” He shook his head sadly.

  She rose up indignantly on all fours. “I know it is love. I would die for you!” She hissed at him like a snake.

  “May y
ou never have to, Rena.” Fearful of losing her support and genuinely not wishing to hurt the dragon, he rose up and hugged one leg. “I tell you what: we can have this discussion again after my geas is fulfilled - if you still feel this way.” ‘If nothing else,’ he thought, ‘this would buy time.’

  “Do you promise?” She put her muzzle so close to his face he could feel the warm steam from her nostrils.

  “I promise,” he swore solemnly.

  “You know a dragon can’t break a promise, right?” she asked suspiciously. Her eyes closed tight as she reminded him, “And you are a pseudo-dragon, so that counts.”

  “I will not break this promise.” Alador put his hand over his heart. “If you still feel the same way when it is all done, we will talk.”

  Rena heaved out a great sigh. “Henrick said to come find you and tell you it is time.”

  Alador squeezed her leg tightly. “If it is any consolation at all, Rena, I have truly enjoyed my time with you and your family.”

  “It would mean more if you had left off family,” she said dejectedly, then turned and dragged her feet as she led him back to the others. Her head hung low as she plodded along.

  Alador felt horrible, but at the same time, the last thing he needed was an infatuated dragon showing up at the worst possible moment. He had been careful not to mention Mesiande. He was fairly sure that a jealous female dragon was not a sight he ever wanted to see.

  “You have no idea,” Renamaum quipped.

  “I don’t want one. I am sorry your daughter seems to have taken a liking to me,” Alador thought with true regret.

  “What is there not to fall for? She is right: you are brave, and so far, you have the best parts of me.”