The musicians were just starting up a tune, so Alador offered her his hand, which she gracefully took. The two were the first to the floor and, fortunately for Alador, the steps were ones he had learned. He managed to keep up with her graceful movements. The dance had many moments when they were apart, but there were also moments when they turned with hands held palm to palm. It was in these moments that they spoke.
“You made a bold move to declare yourself, a half-Daezun, Luthian’s heir,” she stated.
“Bold moves make visible what others do not see. They also make quiet disappearances harder to arrange,” Alador explained.
She smiled as they parted. When their hands touched again, she asked. “What is it you want of me, Lord Guldalian?”
“Well to be honest, when I first saw you, I merely thought how striking your appearance with me would be. Tonight, for me, is about making a statement. But as I approached, I found the seriousness of your table far more interesting,” Alador admitted.
“Are you always so honest?” she asked as they parted.
The response had to be delayed while the number called for a changing of partners and it took a few moments before he had her back again. “No,” he answered. “This city does not allow a man the luxury of complete honesty. I can tell by your manner, however, that you hold my uncle somewhat in disdain, and that in itself is refreshing.”
“I assure you, I bear the High Minister no ill will,” she replied cautiously.
“I would think one of a healing order would find it hard to bear anyone ill will. It does not mean you have to like an individual, or agree with the methods he employs to gain his ends,” Alador countered. He was frustrated as the dance parted them again. Alador could feel the many eyes upon them and smiled. He had chosen his dance partner well. The dance would end soon, so he pushed to make his point.
“I could use a friend in this city, my lady. I do not ask to be a paramour. I need a friend I can trust. I sense in you someone who would give sound advice and keep a confidence,” he pressed. He hoped he was right, but there was something about her.
“I might just be better at being false than the rest,” she pointed out.
“You might. Then my uncle will be very interested in the content of this conversation. I guess, by the end of tomorrow, I will know if you are a skilled Lerdenian player or a person of real merit.” The music ended and Alador bowed low. He offered her his arm to escort her back to the table that he had stolen her from.
“I find your candor refreshing,” she admitted.
“That would be new. I am often scolded for my outspoken tongue.” He flashed her a charming smile. “May I call upon you?”
“You do not know where to call,” she pointed out.
They reached the table and Alador kissed her hand gallantly. “I am quite sure that if you truly wished to grant me this boon, you could send me word within the Blackguard.” His eyes met hers over her hand. “Enjoy your evening, Lady Aldemar.”
The lady sank into a deep curtsy, making those about them draw in a surprised breath. Alador smiled, realizing he had just won a few more moves within the court of his uncle’s little empire.
He took his time returning to his father’s side, taking the opportunity to acknowledge the many who stopped him, curious to know more. He was careful to give no indication of any word that might compromise Lady Aldemar’s standing or honor. His main goal had been achieved: the two had commanded attention. Not only had they made a striking couple, the fact that she did not take to the floor often featured in conversation as Alador passed through the differing groups.
Henrick handed him a goblet when he returned to his father’s side. “Well played. Whatever did you say to her to get her to dance with you?”
Alador murmured softly to his father. “I used a tactic foreign to this court.” He sipped the goblet as he looked around.
“What is that?” Henrick was truly curious as he turned to face Alador.
“The truth,” Alador answered, grinning into his goblet.
Henrick looked a bit puzzled by that, but just nodded in response. Alador looked across the room and saw that the lady in question was watching him, so he ever so slightly toasted her, bringing a smile to her lips. “Doesn’t Luthian dance?” he asked.
“Oh, I think he will now.” Henrick chuckled.
Alador looked at where Henrick pointed with his goblet. Sure enough, Luthian was moving his way through the crowd to Lady Aldemar’s side. “I guess I will find out tonight how well the truth worked,” he muttered into his glass.
When Luthian reached Lady Aldemar, Alador could tell by her expression that she was shocked. His soft whisper brought a concerned look to her face, but then she nodded and offered him her hand. All eyes were on these two, more so than when Alador had danced with her. Luthian led her on to the dance floor and nodded to the musicians who started up a slower tune. Soon the floor filled around them, but Alador’s eyes were on the couple.
Unlike in his own company, the lady’s posture was rigid. Her body language, as she moved perfectly through the steps, spoke volumes. He could tell that she had no desire to be on the floor with his uncle. He doubted anyone ever denied the High Minister a dance, especially if, as Henrick said, the man rarely took to the floor. ‘Well, this will be interesting,' he thought.
It was then that the doorman’s staff hit the floor to announce a late arrival. Alador’s eyes casually swept over the doorway and swiftly returned to it. His eyes widened and his face paled, as there standing in the doorway, was the woman on Jon’s walls.
Her black dress showed more skin than it covered. It fell in waving strips of black, a veiled shimmering shadow of movement. Her gleaming complexion was in sharp contrast with the deep, shimmering black against flawless alabaster skin. Her face shined with a beauty he had never seen. The lady's eyes were darkened and her lips reddened to draw the observer’s gaze.
“Lady Morana, Mistress of the Black Sphere and Guardian of the Rites”
Alador felt Renamaum recoil within him. He had never felt anything like what happened within him at that moment. Alador trembled and clutched his goblet tightly as emotions boiled through him. He forced a barrier of magic between him and the dragon within. The wine in his goblet began to steam and bubble. It was as if Renamaum was attempting to burst free from his internal confines. Despite the shield, rage poured through Alador as he fought to contain the blue dragon. The hand gripping his goblet turned white.
Beside him, Henrick cursed softly. “We have to leave,” he whispered. “Meet me at the manor as soon as you can extract yourself.” Henrick grabbed his arm. Alador barely noticed the grasp as his vision swam, still attempting to gain the upper hand over Renamaum. “Alador, I mean it. Get out of here quickly. She might be able to sense Renamaum,” he hissed.
“He can sure sense her,” Alador managed to squeak out.
“Then you know who that is?” Henrick pressed.
Alador nodded. It was Dethara, the Goddess of Death. How was it that she was here? How was it possible? He turned to ask Henrick, but the man was gone. He took a deep drink trying to keep Renamaum in check.
‘Stop it, damnit,’ he thought quietly.
“Betrayer…! Vile, lying, poisonous snake…,” came the returned, snarled thought.
“You will give us away. Go to wherever you hide within me. Go deep, Renamaum, very deep,” he commanded desperately.
Alador watched the woman as she glided into the room as if she were the High Minister, herself. She made her way across the dance floor, dancers parting as she moved. It was then that Alador’s eyes found his uncle. His uncle stood still, Lady Aldemar at his side. Luthian's face was pale and his eyes were wide. At that moment, Alador knew that his uncle also knew who this was.
Renamaum must have listened, because Alador was able to find some semblance of a center. He watched as Lady Morana moved through the dancers to Luthian. The music faltered to a stop. Silence descended on the room at this strange ent
rance and the High Minister’s response. The only sound was the tapping of her shoes, the heels on them higher than any lady’s slipper he had ever seen.
“Ah Luthian, it has been too long. When I heard you were hosting a ball, I decided I must come for a visit.” Her voice was silken and pitched so all could hear her words. “I was MOST disappointed not to receive an invitation...” Though her words held a husky sense of chastisement, her movements were all sensual. She rubbed her arms then her bare sides as if she were cold. “The mountain cities are so cold this time of season.” Lady Morana looked around, fully aware that everything had come to a complete stop. As if she had not meant to, she waved to the musicians in a soft command. “Please, do not stop on my account.” She took his hand, effectively cutting Lady Aldemar off his arm.
Morana flashed Lady Aldemar a look of clear dismissal. Alador noted that the woman did not take offense. In fact, Lady Aldemar escaped swiftly to her table. His eyes switched back to Luthian to watch as Lady Morana whispered something in his ear.
Luthian waved to the musicians to continue and the two began to dance. The floor had largely emptied by this time and so all eyes were on the striking couple. The lady was clothed completely in black and the High Minister in a matching black trimmed in red. The only contrast between them was the white of Luthian’s hair and the black of Morana’s; somehow it made them that more striking.
Alador decided that now was the time to leave. The last thing he wanted was Luthian to decide to introduce his heir to the Goddess of the Black Sphere. He feared what she could discern at a mere touch. Alador could not risk her learning of his friendship with Jon. He set down his goblet on his way to the nearest servants’ door, not pausing to become drawn into the whispered conversations.
Once outside, he began sweating despite the coolness of the air. ‘Why was she here?’ His thoughts swirled as he dodged bowing servants. Cursing softly, he emerged outside the manor, magically transforming what he was wearing to darker thicker clothing to hide him better in the crisp night. Swiftly he made his way to the stairs, nodding to the guard at the top of the steps.
The faint sounds of music still played from the hall behind him: a haunting melody that seemed foretelling and ominous. One thing he was clear about: when he had last glanced at Luthian, he was certain that there had been fear in the High Minister’s eyes.
He could not help but feel as if he has been outmaneuvered. How did one outplay a goddess? He could feel Renamaum seething within him. By Luthian’s body and expressions, even the High Minister had been unprepared for that swift turn on the game board.
‘Regardless, things just became much more complicated,’ he thought bitterly. ‘Much more complicated, indeed.’
Glossary
Blackguard – an elite army of half-Daezun and half-Lerdenian who have shown the capacity for spell-casting. First school of mages established on the isle.
Blood-mining - The practice of feeding a chained dragon to full health then cutting it so that its magical powers and blood meld into the ground. The mixture is harvested and planted into dirt in a nearby mine to congeal into bloodstones. Process takes a minimum of one two turns.
Bloodstone – A magically embed stone created from the magic and the blood of a dragon. These combine into a hard substance that can be drained or used for item enhancements.
Circle- In an attempt to control birthing and population, Daezun use this ritual for coming of age, reproduction and celebration of high summer.
Daezun – A shorter stocky race proficient at mining and other trades involving the use of hands. Daezun cannot cast spells. They revere the dragons and the Gods.
Geas – an obligation or prohibition magically imposed on a person. In this case, the geas was established to whoever harvested Renamaum's bloodstone.
Korpen – Korpen had originally been slow moving pests that traveled in herds and are now domesticated for farm use. Their massive heads had double, vertically-oriented horns. The upper horn curved forward from behind the head, while the lower emerged from the head itself. As a protection from predators such as dragons, the spikes along their backs were almost impenetrable. That was useful to the miners as well: korpen were strong and a great amount of weight could be attached to each spike
Lerdenians – Lithe and lean, many have white hair due to magical drain. Most Lerdenians are capable of some spell casting.
Lexital – These unique flying creatures had a strange curved beak with what seemed to be like the sail of a boat rising above both beak and eyes. Their neck was long and serpentine, moving side to side as they steered through the sky. Their eyes were red and rimmed in blue. Their wings were varying shades of blue with a ridge of red that seemed to arch out mid-feathers. There was a natural dip in this neck right before the body that could carry the rider.
Medure- Medure was a hard metal that glistened with flecks of blue; it was difficult to find and harder to work. Used as currency in rectangle pieces.
Panzet – large birds with long legs, prized for their long purple feathers. Often used in comparison for those who have a focus on appearance but lack intelligence.
Prang – A local herbivore, their white and brown coats made it easy for them to blend in with the dead foliage of the cold winter months. An adult prang could weigh up to two hundred and fifty stones – too large for individual families. A prang’s up-swept and back-curving horns could be used in medicine for headaches and eyesight.
Slips- Another name for medure that has been formed into currency. These are small rectangles of the medal with a small hole in one end so that they can be strung into strings of one hundred.
Trading Tokens – Smaller form of currency for day to day items. There are fifty trading token in a single slip.
Trench- A below ground level area carved out with a central canal that takes the city sewage out to sea. Many denizens of Lerdenian cities that do not have spell casting abilities are forced to live there in abject poverty.
Turn – How the denizens of Vesta measure time. A turn is approximately eight earth months and is measured from winter to summer solstice.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cheryl Matthynssens is a mother of four and a grandmother of four. She graduated from Western Washington University as an English Education Major with a minor in Psychology. She later went back and received certification as a Chemical Dependency Counselor.
Combined with a love of helping others, there has remained a strong passion for all things fantasy. An avid reader, RPG player, and as her family calls her – a computer nerd, Cheryl has never given up her writing or desire to share her art with others.
She has six prior books published at this time. Many are available in hard, electronic and audio formats through Amazon and Audible.
Children’s books:
Not an Egg!
How the Dragons Got Their Colors
Once Upon a…Wait!
Adult Novels:
Outcast
The Blackguard
Magic Scorned – Sorceress Chronicles
Cheryl also has a blog and website. You can contact her through those sites at dragonsgeas.blogspot.com or http://dragonologists.com/
Dedication
This book is dedicated to Robin Chambers, an outstanding author in his own right. Robin has taken the time to work with me to improve my style and technique as he shared his love for my creative vision.
He has his own series that I highly recommend. The Myrddin's Heir series is a blend of magical intrigue and adventure. His work not only entertains, but it leaves you with things to ponder and it encourages personal growth. Written with three distinct messages, they are so subtly interwoven that they only add to his timeless work.
Robin believes in being read and so all of his creative treasures for e-book is only .99 cents. I am currently working my own way through the series and I do not think he will be able to write them as fast as I am reading them around my own writing.
So with special thanks and t
ribute, I dedicate this book to Robin Chambers for being willing to take time out of his own busy schedule to mentor and guide me on my own path in creativity.
Bloodmines: Cheryl Matthynssens Page 23