“My wife is here?” Gerald gaped.
“Yes she is, and she’s quite excited to be a baroness.” Dion replied.
“A ba….oh no. No.” Gerald said with finality. “Your Highness, please…no.” He added when the Kings expression didn’t change.
Now it was Tristans turn to burst out laughing. “Congratulations Dana…excuse me…My Lord.”
“Never you mind lad, I’ll always be Dana to you!” Gerald chuckled along with everyone. Turning to the King he once again attempted to plead his case. “My Lord. I’m ready for retirement….not a promotion.”
“Sorry my old friend, you’re the only one I can trust. It won’t be difficult, I’ve got some able administration staff coming and once we weed out the infiltrators together.” He emphasized reading the old tutors expression correctly. “We’ll have this town running itself.”
Gerald opened and closed his mouth several times, obviously trying to find the perfect argument that would change the King’s mind. After a few minutes of this, he sighed and allowed his shoulders to slump as his student had.
“Besides, Annadora and Hanna spent all week helping Hanna buy new gowns that would befit a lady.” Dion chuckled.
Gerald rolled his eyes as the three men got out of their chairs and made their way out of the council chamber and into the main hallway. Tristan heard a rustle of fabric and soft but quick footfalls, which were followed by being painfully hit around the waist and hugged tightly. Everyone chuckled as Tristan looked up from his sister to his mother and an older woman walking down the hallway towards them, both smiling at the display.
The next few days were spent preparing for his trip to Durshire. His mother and sister half dragged him out of his bedchamber the following morning to quickly break fast and then shop for a new wardrobe. They were completely deaf to his pleading and then insistence the he had all the clothes he would ever need. The three of them spent hours in a fine tailors shop purchasing enough clothing to outfit what remained of the 7th in style for the rest of their lives.
Many times over those days he would drift into bouts of minor depression. His guilt gnawed at him endlessly. Losing so many of the soldiers from the 7th, especially young Lieutenant Halvorsen, was very hard for Tristan to deal with. Everyone he had spoken to about this had the same advice; Leadership is sacrificing the few to keep many alive. Those words were hollow council when he woke in the night in a cold sweat after seeing Halvorsen’s laughing face in his dreams.
On the fourth day his horse arrived at the keep a letter from his brother.
Tristan,
You did quite well from all reports. I’m very impressed and proud of you. Captain Robertson was quite impressed and speaks highly of you. Mother sent me a letter about your guilty dreams. I still remember the name of every man who died under my first command. The faces of those who live because of their sacrifice are the only thing that brings me comfort when I see the dead in my dreams. The guilt will fade in time, but never forget the lesson. You’ll be fine.
Alison sends her love.
Your brother,
Kevin
That night the faces haunting his dreams ceased.
On Tristan’s last night in Irudin everyone gathered in the council chamber for a farewell meal. It was a night to celebrate many changes. He was leaving to take his first posting, his parents were heading back north to Metao, and Eurydice was being left with her Danai in Irudin.
Gerald had been placed in command of Irudin as its Baron; the ceremony had been conducted early in the afternoon much to the old general’s annoyance. Tristan, of course, was as prepared as he could be for his journey to Durshire.
“It’s not fair.” His sister whispered, sitting next to him.
“What’s not fair?” Tristan asked.
“You get to go and have an adventure and all I get to do is sit around and drink tea.” She pouted theatrically.
Since Eurydice had arrived, Tristan had been able to see firsthand what her tutelage with Hanna was like; she was right. When she was taking her riding lessons she had to do so in a dress sitting side saddle on the horse. Her horse fairly reeked of perfume, and its mane and tail had been braided with ribbons and bows. The effect was highly amusing for Tristan whose own horse was more often than not covered in dust from a ride. Tristan found that he cherished his time in the saddle and felt very sorry for his little sister, who preferred wearing an old pair of his leather trousers and using a traditional saddle.
“True, but you never seem to be lacking for company.” Tristan replied smirking at her.
“Who told….oh never mind. Who I have tea with is my business big brother.” She replied with barely concealed sarcasm.
Tristan laughed as he said; “That’s true enough, I know tea involves the mouth but…”
Euri elbowed him under the table as their mother looked over, attempting to hear their conversation from the other side of the table. Tristan laughed even harder as Eurydice’s face reddened noticeably. Unfortunately, talk around the table turned to Tristan despite his annoyance with being the center of attention.
“Well my young Duke. Are you ready for your journey?” His father inquired with a smile.
“Ready? He’s chomping at the bit. He’s only repacked his saddle bags a dozen times.” Gerald accused, laughing.
“Yet he stays curiously away from baggage wagon full of his new clothes.” Hanna replied with a sarcastic smirk.
Everyone at the table burst out laughing, Tristan had made no show of concealing his annoyance with the fashionable attire. His mother had even tried to force him into some leggings, which was where he finally put his foot down. So while uncomfortable, hot and irritating as his new wardrobe was, at least he had trousers for all of the outfits, cut wide at the ankle for his new boots which he was still painfully attempting to break in.
“Durshire has been without a Duke for the better part of a decade, so the town council will assist you in administering the area.” His father explained. “They’ve been doing an excellent job so far. You should have very little in the way of surprises when you arrive.”
His father had received word that the council was eager to receive a new Duke and the council members were looking forward to turning their attention back onto their respective businesses. The town had grown so much in the last few decades that the management of the estate required the council to meet more regularly than the members preferred.
“Which means, that I should be in Guis before the end of the month?” Tristan asked. The King nodded once in reply.
Tristan became introspective as talk at the table turned to the harvests and Gerald’s administration of the city. The young Prince couldn’t help but feel excitement. For so long he’d been held in one place and it felt wonderful to be allowed so much freedom to make his way. He wondered if he was up to the task, but dismissed the thought as too alien. He’d obviously proven himself over the last weeks for his father to entrust him with a keep, even on a peaceful border.
He thought about his upcoming move to the border town and his impending visit to the Raj of Guis; Julpinu. Over the last few weeks (between being dragged around shopping and riding Pava) he’d been asked to read as much as he could about their neighbor to the east. Tomorrow he would leave for Durshire and shortly after that he was off to Guis. The excitement had been building in him to the point where he was chaffing to be on the road. Gerald was right. Tristan was very eager to have another adventure, which of course was far more liberating than most people could appreciate.
His memories prior to his attack were still denied to the young Prince, although he rarely fought to remember them anymore. He’d accepted that the person he was before the attack wasn’t who he wanted to be at any rate. He could sense that others felt the same way, but rather than annoy him, it made him feel as though this was part of fates’ plan for him. He couldn’t remember ever being this happy, and even when his life lay in the balance he was still more at peace with this life than he e
ver could have imagined.
Supper was winding to a close and his mother called his name from across the table.
“Yes?” He replied absentmindedly, looking up from his glass.
“Would you take me for walk on the terrace?” She asked.
Tristan looked at her with confusion clearly evident on his face. He couldn’t recall ever spending any time alone with his mother. He sensed there was some hesitation from her, perhaps she was unsure of how hard to push him or if he was still the son she’d always known. The truth was that he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking; she kept her thoughts shielded at all times. He assumed it was due to the draconic legacy he shared with her and his sister. It appeared as though Euri had more of a connection with his mother than he shared. Tristan simply accepted that prior to the attack he hadn’t exhibited any of the gifts of his bloodline, so he was largely left to learn the ways of the Vallious men.
His mother seemed distressed that he could now hear her thoughts when her defenses faltered and communicate with her with his mind. She often forced him out of conversations he wasn’t supposed to witness, as she had when he had first awoken. While she clearly adored her son, there was a sense of fear there as well. As if she didn’t expect any of this out of him and yet he could do these things with ease.
“Of course.” Tristan replied with a smile.
The young Prince rose from his seat, walked around the table and pulled his mothers chair out so that she could get up. Hanna smiled warmly; obviously happy that at least some of her gentlemanly training was holding. Dion chuckled as Tristan offered his arm, as his mother took it they walked out of the room. Mother and son walked out of the main chamber into the courtyard where they made their way up the steps to the terrace that ran the length of the wall surrounding the keep.
They walked along, quietly enjoying the night, the stars shone brightly in the clear sky. Tristan could see both the Eastern and Western Roads fading off into the distance, wagons and horses making their way to and from Irudin, their tiny lanterns lighting the way along the highway. The keep itself was alight with merry little fires in all of the guest rooms as well as the larger Baronial chambers facing the keep gates. Off in the distance Tristan could hear the Great River coursing its way through Vallius just south of them.
Tristan’s attention was pulled ahead of them to the east by a distant roar he could hear as clearly as if it were right next to him. He could make out the outlines of what must have been an enormous dragon, illuminated by the large white moon. As they came to the first tower the pair stopped as Tristan’s attention was transfixed on the horizon where the dragon had disappeared into the night.
The east tower was a large affair, with a garden and benches lining the circular roof. They sat down together, his mother watching him closely as he pulled his attention from the eastern sky.
“Before you leave I thought it was only fair to let you ask me any questions you might have.” She began. “You’ll understand that most of what you will ask me is not something widely known by our subjects, so I’ll ask you to talk to me with your mind.”
I understand. He sent.
I knew you would Mykl. She sent warmly. Now, your questions?
I’m sure you know by now that I have hundreds of questions, no one seems to know the answers though. Tristan sent.
Before now I wasn’t going to give you those answers. His mother admitted, looking towards the moonlit forest to the north.
Mother, I’m given to plain speech. He chuckled out loud. Even in my mind. He paused, taking a deep breath and organizing his thoughts. Enough riddles. I get the impression that my life is at stake and I want to know why people are trying to kill me.
Annadora also took a deep breath; she turned her head to the east as she spoke to his mind.
It all goes back to when Dragon Magic began to fade. You have to understand that Dragons have been around since before men came to this world. Our ancestors used to roam freely, trading our magic with the dwarves in exchange for them building our homes.
Some of our kind lived in the forests, others in the mountains; still others had enormous monuments built to house them and their caretakers. Our ancestors were worshipped as Gods on this world. Our magic is ancient; it helped us to control the elements, creating sprawling grasslands for the nomadic tribes, dense woodlands for the elves, rivers and lakes in the mountains for the dwarves. She explained patiently.
You go to visit the last of the old races, in Guis you’ll find the descendants of the nomadic tribes, though now mixed heavily now with humans. But their ancient magic, given to them by the Dragons still serves them. The people of Guis make the finest magical items, mostly jewelry; they are respected for their craft all over the world. The Guisians are unique in the world; you’re going to learn more in the next few years than I could tell you for the rest of your life. Annadora explained with delight.
Tristan was enthralled by the story, whether he knew these things before the attack or not, he didn’t know. He suspected though that he had never been told any of this before. He had long since gotten over the shock of being descended from dragon lines. He even understood that the magic in their blood, and in his, afforded some traits that others hadn’t known about, much to their dismay.
When you were attacked I didn’t know what to expect. I hoped that you would survive it; I never trained you myself because there just didn’t appear to be any magic in you. Your skills always seemed to be physical ones, your speed and flexibility for example. You have the ability to sense movement and know what your opponent is likely to do next. All of these things tend toward the physical and the mundane. I never could have been prepared for your voice in my head. She explained. It even caught your sister by surprise and she’s long held that you’ve skills that haven’t made themselves apparent yet.
Tristan couldn’t hold the flood of questions any longer. Wait. Euri knows? I don’t understand. She’s a child.
His mother smiled at him. In her appearance and her emotions, yes, she is a child. But her mind is old, as is her experience. Dragon Magic is something unique Mykl. When a dragon baby is born they have all the knowledge and experience of their parents. They are born knowing, self-aware; some of our ancestors theorize that it’s an evolutionary change in our species. There are always hunters, and lesser kin who seek to kill dragons for trophies or as magical aides. She informed him.
Magical aides? I don’t understand. Tristan sent.
Dragon hide is impervious to mortal weapons; your armor for example, is made from the hide of my own father. He’s a magnificent greater dragon. One day a group of hunters showed up and tried to sell your father his scales for profit. Dion had them executed, after learning that they had hunted down and slaughtered several dragons, apparently including my father. We didn’t catch them all because the group had been quite large and they had sorcerer help. She said sadly.
Why would a sorcerer help them? Tristan asked.
Sorcerers are jealous of dragon magic. While magicians can manipulate what’s already there, sorcerers can add to what’s there. Dragons, on the other hand, can create with their magic, something that no other magical sect can do. She explained.
I still don’t understand. Why would they want them dead? Tristan insisted.
If they can’t possess the magic, they’ll destroy it. She explained darkly.
That doesn’t make sense at all. He sent.
That’s the price of arrogance and ambition Mykl. Everything done for the ‘Greater good’ rarely makes sense. She observed.
So, they’re trying to kill me because…? He replied with his mind.
Well, there’s that prophecy you overheard your first night awoke. She explained. They’re probably convinced you’ll fulfill it.
You don’t think I will? Tristan asked in surprise.
I hope you don’t have to, but your father and brother have prepared you well. She sent with a smile, placing her hand on his cheek.
He sat the
re, long minutes passing in silence as the words sunk in. Tristan couldn’t accept that he was just an easy target of some random prophecy. Everything he’d experienced from the moment he woke up until now pointed to something much more dangerous than a random lashing-out based on some unconfirmed lore. There was no deceit in his mothers’ thoughts so he assumed she was telling him the truth of what she knew, but there was still nagging doubt in his mind.
They spoke out loud with each other about his coming duties and his building excitement at traveling to Guis into the night.
When the street lamps began to be extinguished by the constables marking midnight Tristan escorted his mother back to his parents room. He went back to his own room and lay in bed for what felt like hours, his thoughts totally consumed with excitement, it wasn’t until the flames died down in his fireplace that he began to nod off to sleep.
Promotion
The road to Durshire was heavily guarded. Vallius soldiers occupied the area and were in the process of clearing out the Terum presence. More than once Captain Robertson had to provide warrants and proof of citizenship as he oversaw the 7th riding escort for the young Prince.
The Captain had been something of a surprise. The morning Tristan was to leave he broke fast with his family one last time. He was so excited to leave that he came fully armored to the council chamber much to the amusement of Dion and Gerald. The women found his attire inappropriate, he could tell, but wouldn’t tarnish this time together over such trivialities. After the meal everyone made their way out into the courtyard to bid Tristan good journey.
The young Prince was deep in conversation with his father as a familiar voice cut through the silence of the morning.
“On your feet you lazy dogs!” Sergeant Frose yelled.
Draconis' Bane Page 13