Draconis' Bane (7 page)

She looked at her
mother as she continued. “Mom was different. There must have been
some really powerful magic at play because she was born whole and
with a dragon’s command of magic. Her mother was mortal, but her
father was a greater silver dragon. Later, when Dragon Magic began
to fade, she had you and then years later I was born. Now that the
Dragon Magic is completely lost she can’t have any more
children…just like the dragons who haven’t been able to have
offspring for decades.” Eurydice explained with her eyes
alight.

“Ten years apart to
the day Tristan. You, then your sister, are the last children I’ll
be able to have.” His mother explained sadly.

“Your sister has
quite a bit of magic in her, no one is really sure why. But up
until now, everyone just assumed you were completely mortal. Very
interesting, I wonder if that’s how he survived. Annadora?” His
father asked.

“It’s possible,
having that spell cast on him might have awakened something already
there….I’ll have to talk to father about it.” She continued.

“You get some rest
now Mykl. Eurydice, let him go sweetie he needs some sleep.”

The stress of the day
and still being exhausted from his ordeal, Tristan grudgingly
agreed to get some rest as the family began to slowly leave his
room. His brother came over to him, towering above his bed as he
put a reassuring hand on Tristans shoulder and gave it a
squeeze.

“You’ll be fine
little brother. Get yourself some sleep and tomorrow I’ll have some
drills for you, get you back in shape in no time.”

“Great…” Tristan
replied with a sarcastic smirk. “Thanks Kevin.” He replied
sarcastically.

Kevin laughed as he
ruffled Tristans’ hair.

“You know I hate it
when you do that.” Tristan commented.

Kevin stopped,
staring down at him he said; “You’ll make it back. You’re tougher
than you look.” With that pronouncement he grunted and walked out
of the room. Eurydice gave him a parting hug around the neck, and
then his father patted him on the shoulder as they left. The
servants came in a removed the food and left a fresh pitcher of
water.

Good night Mykl.

His mother stood up,
hesitating as she was unsure of whether to come towards him and hug
him or let him come to her. He knew this because he could feel her
thoughts. He felt her affection for him and it burned like an iron
inside him, knowing that his memories had been forever tarnished
because of the damage he had to endure in what had felt like an
eight year nightmare. She turned to leave and he leapt out of bed,
flinching slightly as he was still in a little pain.

Mother?
He
sent to her.

“Yes?” She replied as
she turned around to face him.

In four strides he
had crossed the room, reached out to her and pulled her into an
embrace. Tristan was surprised that he was taller than she was. He
felt so small and helpless; clearly his memories still betrayed him
as an eight year old boy. They stood there, mother and son, finally
reunited as it always should have been. Then she began to cry.

His father came back
into the room and put a reassuring hand on Tristans’ shoulder as if
to communicate ‘this is what she wanted’. Annadora allowed her
husband to usher her from the room as Tristan turned around and
began to explore his room.

As much as his
emotions had been drained in the space of a few hours, he felt a
renewed spirit and his curiosity took over as he began to explore
his room. The four post bed up against the outer wall was made of
black stained mahogany and upon closer inspection; the other
furniture was made in the same fashion. There was a dresser against
the opposite wall from the fire and a wardrobe in the corner to the
right of the dresser at an angle.

On either side of the
bed was a pair of windows, each one opened in the middle and had a
clever latch that kept them together and shut. Opening one of them
he noticed there were storm windows on the exterior that could be
pushed out and locked with a sturdy hook and bobbin made of cast
iron. He took a deep breath, noticing a faint humidity in the air.
The window sill felt damp, hinting at a light rain.

Looking out from his
window he could see the town below as it extended out a hundred
yards to the massive assembly of docks. In the setting sun Tristan
could make out dozens of sails on the horizon coming in and leaving
the docks. The roofs of businesses and houses in town were all
similarly tiled; the rain troughs were made of the same material
and emptied into little barrels at the back of the buildings he
could make out in the dusk.

The wooden barrels
must have had no bottoms in them because none of the barrels seemed
to have any water in them and it appeared to have just rained,
perhaps the water was used to flush away the towns’ sewage into the
bay? How Tristan knew this was a mystery but he assumed that some
of his more mundane memories were beginning to surface. Simple
things seemed to come quite easily, but complex emotions like the
ones he felt for his mother and sister seemed to be very alien to
his experience.

The roads in town
seemed to be made of crushed rock packed down and sturdy as wagons,
filled to overflowing with produce, meat, construction materials
and cloth, rolled along being pulled by up to four draft horses.
The teamsters hauling the cargo wore what seemed to be a kind of
uniform with blue short sleeved shirts, grey trousers and wide
brimmed matching grey hats. Some wore sandals and boots while
others went barefoot, presumably retired sailors who were so used
to working barefoot that they were more comfortable that way.

Poverty didn’t seem
to be an issue, all the people Tristan could see from his third
floor window looked well fed and happy, not much of a surprise
given his father’s character seemed to be that of a man that cared
deeply for those he was charged with protecting. As Tristan hung
his head out farther to get a better view of the town, he noticed
that it extended farther to the right and left of the harbor than
he originally thought. He decided that there must be a hundred
thousand people living in this city if the town extended the same
way to the south. The sun was setting off to his right and as it
dipped below the surface of the water he swore he could make out
what must have been a huge dragon flying south.

He shook his head
with a smile and turned his attention back inside the room. Tristan
noticed a desk, made of the same black stained wood, to the right
of his wardrobe. He approached it began looking through the books
that littered its surface. There was also an ink well in a circular
cutout closest to the wall with a few quills in a metal cup next to
it. He looked up at the wall in front of the desk found a map of
the continent and overlapping the ocean to the south of the map was
an enlarged map of the country of Vallius, which he took to be a
confirmation of where he was.

Tristan studied the
map closely, trying to memorize names of places, though after the
stress of the day he quickly abandoned the pursuit and sat down.
Some of the books that littered the desktop were bound in leather
while others in some form of cloth. He picked up a book with
several dog-eared corners and began to skim through it.

He was quickly
interrupted by a small knock at the door. Tristan closed the book
he’d been reading, a historical text on the surrounding countries,
and walked over to the door. He was still very unsure of what to
expect and his distrust of people in general caused him to barely
open the door and peek outside.

“Good evening my
Lord.” The man said happily.

The servant, Tristan
assumed, wore the typical blue shirt and grey trousers that
appeared to pass as a uniform here. This servant though had a gold
band around his right arm and wore knee high black leather boots.
His mustache was trimmed and well kept as was his hair, though it
was thinning. His hair was brushed back, shoulder length and was
the shade of autumn wheat. He smiled warmly as Tristan open the
door wider and stepped back to allow him entry.

“Does my Lord require
the fire built?” The servant inquired politely.

“What? Oh! Yes
please.” Tristan stammered.

“Very well my Lord.”
He answered with a smile.

Tristan sat back down
on the chair and thumbed the books anxiously as the servant busied
himself in front of the fireplace. The servant pulled out a taper
from a metal cup on the mantle of the fireplace and knelt in front
of the fireplace. He neatly organized the pieces of wood into a
rough house style construction and then lit the taper from a nearby
candle and started the fire.

“Why do you call me
Lord?
” Tristan asked as he continued to stare at the
books.

“You are a Prince of
the Realm my Lord….” He replied as he busied himself in front of
the fireplace. “Is there another title you would prefer?”

“Just Tristan
actually, I’m not very comfortable with this...royal thing.” He
admitted.

“Very well, young
Master Tristan.” He replied as he stood up, looking slightly
confused.

Behind him a merry
little blaze was growing, spreading hypnotically across the wooden
construction he’d built.

“Would you like help
getting dressed for bed sir?” The servant asked.

“No, I can dress
myself thanks.”

“Very well Master
Tristan. Goodnight to you.” He said with a smile.

“Goodnight.” Tristan
replied as the door closed. “Wait!”

“Yes sir?” He
replied, sticking his head back into the room.

“What’s your name?”
The young Prince asked.

“Carl sir, I’m the
senior servant, if you require anything just ask for me.” He
replied jovially.

“Thanks Carl.”
Tristan said quietly.

Smiling, Carl closed
the door as he called out again; “Goodnight young Master.”

Shaking his head as
the exchange Tristan pulled a blanket off of his bed and sat down
in front of the fireplace on a plush rug and stared into the depths
of the flames. To call this a strange day was something of an
understatement. Emotionally drained, he let his mind wander freely.
He still struggled to separate the nightmare from reality and he
was having a very hard time of it. Remembering simple things like
his surname for instance wasn’t improving his mood any. It seemed
like just moments ago he feared the beating of a lifetime and now
he was safe, whole and happy….despite his confusion.

He began to doze in
front of the fire. Suddenly, his head snapped up when he heard
voices coming from his fireplace. The recognizable booming tone of
Kevin he could hear clearly, but there were three other voices he
couldn’t quite make out. He tried to focus his mind, as his father
had taught him, trying to tune out the crackling of the wood and
soft breeze playing across the drapes of his windows. He reached
out and focused his mind on the next room.

“…do you make of that
Kevin?” His father asked.

“I don’t know, he
seems to be physically fine, but he doesn’t seem able to remember
his life.” Kevin replied.

“The trouble is
though son,” His mother interjected. “He does remember a life.
That’s why he’s not pushing and it’s important that we don’t push
him too hard either.” She paused and took a steadying breath before
continuing.

“The only life he can
remember is that of a tortured child. He’s hurt, paranoid and
fearful. He imagines that at any moment his tormentors will burst
into the room and continue the abuse.”

“So what do you
suggest we do m’Lady?” A strange male voice asked.

“I suggest we put him
back into his real life. Let the memories come in their own time.
Until that happens we need to remember that he’s going to be very
defensive.” Explained his mother.

“I don’t think we
should speak with him about that scroll Eurydice uncovered until
he’s back to normal.” His father announced.

“He has a right to
know Dion.” His mother chastised.

“How would
you
feel Annadora?” The King answered.

“He’ll find out
everything in due time husband.” She answered calmly.

“Born into this world
will be a son of a mighty King and Queen descended from dragon
bloodlines. He will shake the foundations of man and bring forth an
era when man and dragon will live together for the benefit of all.”
His father recited before rolling up a rather noisy bit of
parchment.

“It’s not something
that we can keep from him for any length of time.” He admitted. “By
now the rumors have spread among the staff. They all know the
contents of that scroll; this house has been obsessed with his
survival since the attack. Once word gets out to the ones who
orchestrated that attack that he survived the attempt on his life,
they’ll hunt him down like a deer.”

“I don’t know, I
think the whole ordeal has the lad on the defensive already.” The
strange male voice offered.

“Like with Euri?”
Kevin asked with a chuckle.

“Exactly, did you see
how protective he was of her?” His father answered. “They always
had a strong bond, but that was unexpected.”

“He was due to leave
this week anyway. Truth be known, he was ready over a year ago.”
Spoke the strange voice again. “Kevin do you think you can take him
with you at the end of the week.”

“Oh absolutely
Gerald, he might not remember everything but I’m willing to bet his
instincts are still intact. I’m willing to take him with me.” His
brother answered.

Tristan’s excitement
surged, he’d never been in a journey before and his brother seemed
like the kind of patient teacher he’d never had before. Already he
began to day dream about an adventure into a strange land he wasn’t
familiar with. A pang of uncertainty grasped his heart briefly,
unsure how they would travel. It was short lived though as his more
stubborn instincts took over and he knew no matter how they
traveled, it would be infinitely more enjoyable than being locked
in the stuffy family station wagon.