Outcast (The Blue Dragon's Geas) (3 page)

Alador sighed with resignation and trudged slowly towards the hothouse. The last thing he wanted to do was have a run in with Trelmar and his friends. Trelmar had made his life miserable as long as he could remember. They seemed to find happiness in making his life miserable. Trelmar was the same turns as he was and had always outsized him. He had lost count of how many times he had taken a beating, had his head stuffed into the dung bin, or been cast into the prickleberries.

He opened the hothouse door a smidgen and was relieved to see it empty. He carefully undressed, folding his clothes as he went and then hiding them from plain sight. A tact he had long ago learned or he would come out of the baths without any clothes. Trelmar had stolen them more than once. He then placed the meraweed in the fire that was kept smoldering all the time. The small darkened room slowly filled with the relaxing vapor. With a smile, he went to the pool and slipped into it. Meraweed was given out in only small quantities by the healer. It seemed that if you used it too much, you lost focus on the day to day events and rarely left the hothouse. He could see why, a strange sense of peace and sleepiness quickly washed over him. He had to admit, his mother had been right, he felt much better. He soon lost track of time as the water soothed the aches and pains away, even the strange pain in his side for which he could not account.

Alador did not know how long he had been half sleeping in the spring. Long ago, the spring had been lined with stones and small seats created. It was comfortable to half doze without fear of drowning. His awareness was breached by the sound of the door opening. So much for the privacy he had been enjoying. He did not open his eyes
until he heard the grating voice that brought a cringe to his very core.

“Ah, the village idiot came hero."
 The tone held an edge of cold hate.

He opened his eyes to see his own personal nightmare standing before him. Trelmar stood with a sarcastic grin. His arms were crossed, and the fire behind him created an ominous silhouette. To make matters worse, Trelmar had three of his lackeys with him. He pretended not to notice that Trelmar was speaking to him as the four of them stripped down and hopped into the spring with him. He was glad it was large, maybe they would just stay on their own side. The meraweed was fading so he would leave once they were settled.

“No words from ‘hero’ eh?"  Trelmar needled once more. “It changes nothing. Put a fine bridle on a Korpen, it still can’t fly. Put fine clothes on the village buffoon and he is still a joke.”

Anger began to seethe within Alador. He knew better than to speak, or risk another beating. In addition, he was still feeling odd, and dare not try to take on the four of them. “I will leave you the bath."
 He snarled out, knowing he would have to get out in front of them. It was better than staying in here with them.

“Oh, don’t leave. Why everyone is in awe of the great miner, Aladork."
 Trelmar’s mocking tone echoed off the water giving it a hollow sound.

Alador hissed in anger but got up anyway and turned to crawl out of the pool. He wasn’t quick enough. Hands grabbed him and pulled him backwards and under the water. He thrashed about as hands seemed to come from everywhere holding him under the water. Time seemed to slow as he struggled to get free of those holding him just short of reaching air. He finally managed to break free and grab air just when he thought he would pass out, only to be shoved under once more. Every time he would come up gasping for air
, they would shove him back under the water. He swung madly, but they soon caught his arms rendering him helpless. Panic and rage swept through him. Would they be as bold as to kill him? His lungs burned from the lack of air. He fought for all he was worth as fire seemed to course from his lungs to his very blood.

The thrashing about hid the bubbles that began to rise all about Alador. The room was filled with the sounds of the boys’ laughter and the thrashing of limbs in water. The steam increased till the boys could hardly see one another. Suddenly, the hands were gone. Alador came up gasping for air to hear the screams of the four attackers. His first few ragged gasps were precious. In anger, he turned wanting to hit whoever was closest to him. He watched in confusion as they scrambled screaming from the pool. They turned staring at him as he stood chest deep in the center gasping for air, steam and water bubbling about him. He screamed in fury and outrage, it was almost bestial in its intensity. He was so scared and angry. He wanted nothing more than to get his han
ds on Trelmar and rip him limb from limb.

The assailants snatched up their clothes and ran from the hothouse naked and screaming. Alador looked about him in a daze. Why had they left off?
 Why had they ran?  He slowly worked his way to the edge still panting for air and then crawled out of the pool and sat with his drying cloth against his face in confusion. He stayed that way until his anger slowly dulled. He knew that if he stepped out after Trelmar now, he would just earn another beating for it was unlikely he would win. He never had been able to best the middlin. He slowly dried himself and dressed. Gathering up his dirty clothes, he set off numbly towards the smithy. He didn’t understand why they had left off or ran off as they did. He just thanked the gods, which ever ones had been watching over him.

Dorien looked up as Alador approached. He nodded to a stool as he hammered away on the plow head he was working. Alador, despite his dislike of working in the smithy, still loved to come here. The forge was rarely cooled. He had spent many an hour working the bellows as his two brothers worked the metals. Even now, Tentret was molding some piece of metal upon an anvil. The forge sat under a covered roof, high above them. It had a face that opened up outside where the two men worked now. It also could be used from the inside during colder weather. The bellows were off to the side within. It was a hot job in the summer, but a pleasant one in the winter. Large barrels of water were set about for cooling, but there were also buckets close by in case of fire.

Alador set his clothes beside the stool and hopped up. He watched as Dorien was putting finishing touches, buffing the metal smooth. He had not yet added the handles. It was a straight plow, this meant it would be used for heavy plowing. Dorien was working on the top that would be added to the plow beam. When he finally was pleased with the current work and the metal cooled too much to continue, he put down his hammer. He went and ducked his head in one of the barrels, shaking his head like a big beast before turning with a grin to approach Alador. He wiped his wet face on his sleeve; spreading more black soot than he had removed.

He motioned for Alador to walk with him as Tentret’s hammering was too loud to talk over. Once they were a bit away from the smithy, he began to speak. “While you were ill in the healer’s hut, much talk was given to your future. Your find will help you overcome your curse of blood. While you may not be ever chosen at the mating circle, it is possible that many will want for you to help raise their small ones. After much discussion, the elders decided you should join the ritual circle this year rather than the usual age. It will give you a chance to establish a life and not wait with too much coin to spend."
 Dorien glanced over at him to see how he was taking this news. He chuckled at the open gaping mouth of his brother. “Do not be so surprised, there have been others allowed in the circle at a younger age if circumstances dictated it was proper.”

The ritual circle was the mating tradition of the Daezun people. Small ones and those too old for mating created an inner circle around a large circular tent filled with furs and blankets. This circle sat with their backs to the nest behind them and were the musicians for the circle. The drumming had always been Alador’s favorite part of this ritual. He had ventured a glance once or twice to the activities behind him but usually little could be seen. The next circle out was for the women of mating age, they danced about in ways that still brought color to Alador’s face. The outer circle was the men they could choose from as the night progressed. Daezun lived to be about one hundred eighty turns. They usually were not allowed into the mating circle until thirty turns as males and whenever they had their woman’s time for females. This was usually between twenty-four turns and thirty-two turns for women.

There were more men than women in a Daezun village, so there were always a variety of men that a woman could choose. These men danced also, but in the opposite direction. You could always tell who was new to the circle as they more shuffled about than danced. The ritual continued to those drumming could drum no longer. It was said that the females drank a potion to keep them going. He could believe it as long as this mating continued. Sometimes, females chose more than one male as the night progressed. The ritual was always held at the height of the summer, usually on the shortest night of the turn. This way, the babies were born right before spring planting and most of the work for women was still light.

Alador was not prepared for this news that he was to be allowed into this year’s circle. His mind raced as he tried to fathom what his brother was saying to him. Alador had stopped walking. “I...I...What am I to do?"
 He knew there was some kind of ritual or meeting that men attended before the ritual. He knew the location of the small house that was used, he had seen others leave it after their ritual to become an adult. That was about the extent of what he knew.

Dorien flashed a wicked grin. “Oh, we’ll be making sure you know what you need to."
 He promised. There was a mischievous twinkle in his gaze that concerned Alador.

It was then that their mother came running up. “Alador, are you whole?"
 She grabbed his hands and flipped them palm up then down. She grabbed his head and searched his face worriedly.

“Maman, the boy is about to be brought into the circle of men. Stop treating him like a small one, by the gods, you are embarrassing even me."
 Dorien scolded as he also looked Alador over as well for some mysterious wound.

“The other lads came out of the hot house burnt up."
 She answered tugging up Alador’s shirt. “The water spiked hot and scalded them good.”

“Maman!"
 Alador shoved his shirt back down. “I am fine."  He batted her hands away before she started after his trousers. “I am fine. I...I got out before I got burned."  He offered. He flushed, not used to lying to his mother. Well it wasn’t exactly a lie. He had gotten out, and he was not burned. He still wasn’t quite sure why they were burned and he was not; but at least he knew now why they had fled like they had. However, he was not about to let her undress him here on the path before all and sundry.

His mother stepped back staring at him. “But...They said you were still in the water. We ran to fetch you out, but then you weren’t there."
 She looked him over. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“They must have thought I was still in. I was on the other side of the pool, there was a lot of steam."
 He answered somewhat absently. Alador was fairly sure that Trelmar would not say how he ‘knew’ that Alador had been in the pool. He would have to admit what they had been doing to Alador. However, what he didn’t understand was how that was possible?  He had been in the thick of them. If they had been burned, he should have been too.

Alador let his mother fuss over him all the way back to the house. His only protest was a look to his brother who just laughed and waved them goodbye. He heard something about going to bed and resting and he just nodded mutely as he let her shoo him up the outside stairs to the attic room he shared with Tentret. His mind was too lost in that moment when the four had left the pool. He plopped down on his small bed, and stared at the roughhewn beams and thatch above him. Why hadn’t he been burned?
 The pool did warm up every once in a while and then it would be too hot to use. He could never remember it having heated up suddenly. Why had he not felt it?  These questions haunted him until he finally fell asleep.

Alador got up early in the morning, and slipped out of the house with his bow. He had not seen Mesiande since he had woken up in the healer’s hut, yesterday. Alador knew she would be out at the practicing fields with Gregor. Gregor was in the same year of small ones as himself, and Mesiande was a year behind them. They had remained firm friends throughout the years, and to be honest, they were the only two people in the village he trusted entirely. It was their tendency to sneak out in the mornings to spend time together as their chores often took them in different directions throughout the day.

Outside the village, the fields were worked in three parts. Two parts held the village crops and one was left fallow each year. It spiraled around the village each planting season. The practice targets were always in the fallow fields. Sure enough, he found them both with their bows working on their targets. Daezun rarely did battle since the trea
ty had been established with Lerdenia. However, it was the practice that all those old enough to fight never forgot how to use their weapons. One never knew when the peace they enjoyed would fade away.

The morning dew was still fresh on the grass. The sun was up just over the hill and the first rays of warmth bathed the fields. A slight fog rose up from the fields giving it an almost mystical appearance. The morning air smelled of fresh dirt, the breakfast of many villagers, and unfortunately a little bit of korpen dung. The wind was light as he moved across the fields towards the practice area, it was going to be a beautiful day.

Alador grinned as he came down the steps to the fallow field. It was clear that Mesiande was once again scolding Gregor on his stance, something that she nagged at them both for continually. He had to admit, of the three of them, she was far better with her bow. He could tell she was nagging him as she was standing just behind his draw with her hands on her hips. It was the position she always had taken since they were small ones when she was frustrated with either of them. It was one of the things he loved about her; she was so cute when she was angry. He had learned not to laugh when she was angry for she would get madder. However, it was hard because she was adorable when she was angry, she would wrinkle up her nose and stomp her little foot.

When she heard him approach, Mesiande turned. Alador had just enough time to drop his bow before she flung herself into his arms to embrace him fiercely. “You’re all right!"
 Alador caught her and spun her about. He loved her hugs for she gave them so freely.

He held her short stocky frame up off the ground smiling down at her rosy cheeks. “I am fine, Mesi."
 He assured her. He looked over and saw Gregor approaching. He set Mesiande down and clasped forearms with Gregor.

“Thought yah was gonna be addlebrained there. But then I thought, by the gods, wouldn’t be any different."
 Gregor teased. Gregor was of a heavier build than Alador. He had this smile that lit his eyes and his kindness exceeded any other Daezun that Alador knew. He had this amenable look about him even when things were in strife.

Alador, in response, jerked him forward and twisted. Gregor landed on his back and Alador quickly placed a knee in the middle of him. “For one who is addled, I can still put you down."
 The two laughed, and Alador helped him back to his feet.

“I just let yah win, yah know that."
 Gregor fired back as he got up. There was probably truth to that, though Alador made up in agility what Gregor had in strength.

Alador smiled at his friend. “Say what you must to soothe that pride of yours."
 Alador quipped. The three laughed as they walked back to where Gregor and Mesiande had been shooting.

Mesiande cheerfully returned to her bow and picked it up. “You might want to wait, Al. We are working the farthest target."
 She flashed him a look of apology.

Alador frowned. One thing he had seemed to have inherited from his father, other than unusual color of his eyes, was his inability to see far away. “I think I will still try to see if I can at least hit it, even if it isn’t a kill shot."
 He sat down on a rock and readied his bow and checked his fletching. Due to his height, his bow had been specially made for him by his brother, giving him a little longer reach. Years of helping in the smithy had kept him strong enough to compete with his stockier friends.

Alador waited till both had taken a couple shots then stepped to the practice line. He sighted down the shaft of his arrow and for a brief moment, it seemed as if the target were but a few yards in front of him. He picked up his head and blinked a couple of times. It once more was a blur out in the field. He shook his head and sighted down the arrow once more. There it was again, it was as if had loomed right up in front of him. He picked up his head and again, the target was a blur in the far off distance.

“Can’t you even see it, Alador?"  Asked Mesiande curiously. “You could at least see it before you hit your head. Perhaps you hurt yourself more than you thought."  Mesiande moved to his side with a bit of concern.

“No...No, I can see it."
 He murmured. “I just umm double checking."  He sighted once more, and this time when it seemed to appear before him, he fired into the circles painted upon it.

“By the gods,” gasped Mesiande. “I think you hit it."
 She put a hand to her eyes to shield the morning sun to get a better look.

“He did!"
 Gregor danced around the other side of Alador. “Bet yah can’t do it twice.”

“Probably not."
 Alador strung another arrow. “I am sure it was just luck."  He sighted in again. This time he centered himself, and when the target seemed to jump towards him, he fired. He stood in amazement as the arrow flew straight to the target’s center. He eyed the target now that he was not focused, and it seemed a blur as usual. What was going on?  Alador looked to Mesiande as she spoke.

“Dead on. I am sure of it."
 Mesiande looked at Alador in awe. “Or maybe that hit in the head fixed your sight?"  She was looking at him with large eyes and Alador felt a wave of pride and pleasure sweep over him.

“Let’s go get our arrows and see."
 Gregor was excited as he scooped up his bow.

The three took a walk out to the target. Mesiande and Gregor were laughing, joking and pushing as they went. Alador was unusually quiet as he was lost in his thoughts. The movement of the target had unsettled him. He felt different, but if he were asked, he wasn’t sure how to explain in what way. His head did not hurt and he felt well enough. Yet, there was something definitely different. He glanced at Mesiande laughing with Gregor. Alador felt a moment of irritation that they were both ignoring him.

Mesiande’s blue fletched arrows were all well placed in the center circle. Gregor’s black fights were more sporadic, but all of his shots would still have caused a damaging blow if it had been a man. Alador’s two blue flights were far apart. One was just outside the target circle. But the second arrow was dead center. A perfect shot. Mesiande reached up and caressed it. “I have never seen you place a perfect shot on any but the close target, Al?"  She looked over at him.

“Sure it was just…a lucky shot."
 Alador murmured. What was happening around him?  First the baths, and then this uncanny ability to see the target; something was certainly different. In addition to these things, there were the odd dreams of the blue dragon. It had been as if he walked in the dragon’s actual body. Had he done some permanent damage when he had hit his head?

“Well, let’s go find out."
 Mesiande pulled Alador’s arrows and then her own, letting Gregor fend for himself. They spent some time practicing, and Alador put a center shot in the targets again and again. The only time he missed was when Mesiande poked him just as he fired. Each time, the target seemed to zoom in when he focused down his arrow. They practiced till the work bell sounded.

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.