Draconis' Bane (9 page)

Next he grabbed the
saddle off its post and placed it on top of the blanket; he flipped
the stirrup over the saddle and pulled the cinch through the
buckle. He tightened the cinch and noticed there was a slight
fading four holes up. Behind him he could hear Albert chuckle. Not
knowing why Tristan slapped the mare in the stomach lightly forcing
her to exhale as he tightened up the cinch the four required holes.
Smiling to himself he grabbed the reins and walked back towards his
brother and the horsemaster.

“Care to go for a
ride?” He asked with a self-satisfied smirk.

His brother smiled at
him, shaking his head and laughing as he saddled his own horse.

The two of them rode
out of the stable and down the hillside their fathers’ castle was
built on. Tristan had only ever seen the town from his window and
he was enjoying this leisurely ride through town. They took the
long way around several of the main districts until they finally
approached the central marketplace. It was an enormous space that
served as an open market. It must clear out at night, he thought to
himself, because he’d never seen such congestion from his window.
At the moment, the market was crowded with hundreds of wagons full
of the most amazing things.

The brothers tethered
their horses at one of the available corral posts and made their
way into the market. Tristan gaped in amazement at the variety of
wares being sold, one wagon was selling the strangest smelling
herbs, and right next to it was a middle-aged gypsy looking woman
selling various styles and colors of silken scarves. It wasn’t
until they approached a weapon dealer’s wagon that Tristan was
truly impressed though.

Both sides of the
wagon flipped up, being held aloft by long eight foot poles. Kevin
still had to lean down to get under the awning though. Tristan,
however, was transfixed by the selection of exotic and impressive
weaponry. When Kevin finally motioned for them to move on Tristan
had marked several wicked looking blades he was very keen to try
out.

A few hours later
they slowly made their way back into the palace grounds and
stables. Tristans’ world was getting larger by the moment and he
was keen to get on with his journey to Kenting.

That night the family
gathered in his father’s council chamber, located behind the main
assembly hall. Conversation was light and Tristan was thoroughly
enjoying himself. After a memorable meal, his mother passed him a
small carved wooden box. A crest was carved into the box of a raven
flying over a rock jutting out of the ocean. Behind it, a wave
crashed sending a spray of water high into the air. The wood was
once again stained in a manner unknown to Tristan though he assumed
it was much the same process as his furniture.

When he opened the
box he found a silver ring with the crest carved into a flattened
out circular section. His mother explained that the raven was made
of opal, painstakingly carved into shape. The rock was made of
atacamite and the crashing wave was carved out of dark blue
sapphire. Finally, the sea water was carved out of light blue
sapphire. The gems refracted the flames from the nearby fireplace,
making the scene seem to dance and come to life.

“Our families ring
Tristan. When a member of our family comes of age it’s tradition to
give them a golden ring with the family crest on it.” Dion
explained. “Since you prefer silver I had the jewel smith cast it
in white gold instead.”

“Atacamite is the
family crystal; it’s very rare.” Annadora added.

“Open mine next!”
Eurydice insisted smiling widely.

She passed over her
small gift wrapped in a thick black cloak with a red silk sash tied
in a bow holding it together. He placed it gently on the table and
untied the bow. Tristan pulled back each fold of the cloak to
reveal a dagger inside. The handle was wrapped in black leather,
poking out the end of it was a roaring dragons head made of the
finest silver colored steel, the hilt curved up like scythes on
either side of the six inch long blade. Tristan pulled it out of
the sheath. The blade had been cast with a gap from the tip down
three inches, and the gap reappeared two inches later and continued
to the hilt. The sheath was wrapped in similar black leather with
the family crest carved into it in the middle and tipped with more
silver colored metal.

“Wow.” Tristan
whispered. “Thank you Euri, it’s beautiful.” He said just loud
enough for her to hear him.

“The master
blacksmith says it’s strong enough to deflect a sword strike.” She
said, grinning with pride.

After inspecting the
dagger, enjoying its craftsmanship, Kevin passed him a long wooden
box. Tristan had a good idea of what was inside as they had
discussed his favorite style of sword just a few days ago. Nothing
could have prepared him though for the sight he beheld when he
opened the box. Lying in a red silken bed was a shinning new
falchion style sword. Over the week of training Tristan had shown
more aptitude with one handed weapons with only one cutting edge.
His favorites had been the blades with large pommels to protect his
hands from blades sliding down into his own as he moved in for
closer combat.

At the beginning of
his intensive training at the hands of his older brother, Tristan
had been escorted to the dueling arena, which was right next to the
horsemaster’s stables. His first time with a similar sword, he
forced his opponent to slide his blade down the pommel of Tristan’s
blade. As it slid down Tristan stepped into his opponent, raised
his elbow and connected with his chin, as the man reeled backwards
Tristan stepped on his foot and he fell in a heap on his backside.
The moment he’d regained his feet Tristan immediately jumped
towards him sending him reeling back with a flurry of strikes and
parries, backing his opponent right out of the dueling ring.
Tristan used his speed to back the corporal up, eventually dumping
him into one of the water troughs surrounding the outside of the
horse corral. Pava snorted water out of her nose onto his head and
Kevin nearly fell over with laughter at the display.

The sword his brother
had given him though, was two and a half feet long with a
strengthening indent running the length of it an inch from the dull
side. The pommel was a large dragons’ tail, its four clawed legs
sticking out away from his hand presumably to be used for punching
an opponent. The pommel ended in a roaring dragons head with
atacamite eyes and the grip was wrapped in black leather. The blade
itself weighed as much as the entire hilt and appeared to be folded
many times. He looked up as his brother, who in the course of the
previous week had become almost as close to him as the sister he
felt so connected to and mouthed his thanks, though unable to
speak.

“The blade was folded
one hundred times as was the dagger. There’s a surprise I’ll tell
you about on the road tomorrow. Both of them will serve you well
for years if you keep them polished and sharpened.” Kevin explained
in his usual instructional, though friendly tone.

“May I see the dagger
son?” His father asked.

Tristan
absentmindedly handed the dagger to his father as he lifted the
falchion into his hands marveling at the lightness of the blade
judging from the last week of training with the heavy practice
swords, this blade will feel feather light in his hands, which he
supposed was the point of his training.

“This is quite
possibly your best work Kevin.” His father said.

Shaken from his
reverie Tristan looked up at Kevin who had grinned at the
compliment.

“You should look at
the sword then father; it’s lighter than the one I made you last
year and easily twice as strong.” Kevin admitted.

Tristan wordlessly
passed the sword, hilt first, to his father as he accepted back the
dagger. Looking on it with a renewed appreciation he looked up at
his elder brother again.

“You made these?”
Tristan stammered.

“Sword smithing is
something of a hobby of mine, little brother.” Kevin explained. “I
think you’ll find between the bugbear attacks and clumsy attempts
at infiltration our neighbor attempts at least twice a month there
is plenty of time to take up a hobby of your own.” Kevin replied
with a smirk.

“Er…bugbears?”
Tristan mumbled still staring at his new dagger.

“Pretty mindless
really, they attack the keep from time to time trying to get
treasure. No one really understands why, they never actually buy
anything from what we can tell…most likely they just like shiny
things.” He laughed dismissively.

Tristan chuckled
nervously; this dagger will eventually be stained with some things
or worse, someone’s blood. Suddenly he was stricken with the
thought that being a beaten down wretch might not be so bad after
all. Beautiful though the weapons might be what if he froze when
confronted and having to use them to defend his own life?

You’ll be fine I’m
sure Mykl.
Sent his mother.

I hope you’re
right.
He replied.

The rest of the night
passed wonderfully free of worry as they all discussed small
details of the travel plans to Kenting. His sister’s initial
excitement began to diminish as she began nodding off to sleep at
the table. It wasn’t until her elbow came to rest in what was left
of her soup that their mother carried her off to bed. As soon as
they had left the room Dion turned to his sons and turned suddenly
serious.

“Are you ready for
this son?” He directed at Tristan.

“I have to be.
Nothing is coming back to me here. This all seems like a dream to
me. I need some harsh reality, even if I never remember the way I
used to be at least I can grow.” He answered.

Tristan had rehearsed
this very speech in his mind numerous times since the night he had
eavesdropped on their secret conversation. He had decided shortly
after that night that not only would he go out the border keep with
his brother, he was determined to prove that he wasn’t a spoiled
son of a King.

“I told you.” His
brother chimed in, a proud smile playing over his lips.

“I want you both to
be careful; you know how your mother frets…” Their father
instructed.

“…and father….” Kevin
interjected laughing.

“Be that as it may,
we now have both of you on the border. I want you to take care of
each other.” Their father concluded.

“He means I’m
supposed to babysit you.” Tristan chuckled.

“That or he wants me
to change your diapers out there.” Kevin retorted, laughing.

Dion looked from one
son to the next, clearly enjoying the mocking by-play. Tristan was
sure that before his attack, the easy bantering he enjoyed with his
large older brother hadn’t existed. Many people seemed to enjoy the
recent development in their relationship over the past week as they
trained closely together.

“I have one final
gift for you Tristan.” His father added, drawing Tristan’s
attention.

The King motioned for
a pair of servants to bring a chest forward. The pair of them
lifted it with little difficulty and brought it forward, while a
third brought a large wooden cross with a wide base on it. A look
of confusion crossed Tristan’s face as Dion chuckled and motioned
for the servants to continue with their task. One of them opened
the chest, lifting the lid off as the young Prince was greeted with
the strong odor of oiled leather.

“This is something
I’ve had in the works for you since we decided to send you off to
the border for some toughening up.” Dion explained.

The servants attached
a pair of black stained greaves to the cross before placing a pair
of similarly colored boots, both possessed a band of red trim
giving them the same look as standard Vallious soldier attire. Upon
closer inspection though, the armor wasn’t leather at all. Rather
it was some sort of overlapping scale, smooth to the touch yet hard
as iron.

“Your mother couldn’t
stand the thought of you out there in simple leather armor, so I
had this suit of armor commissioned. You’ll more or less look like
any of our soldiers, though with some slight changes to mark your
rank.” He continued.

The tunic was next,
though it was more of a breastplate as the servants unfastened one
side and lifted it up over the top of the cross, retying the
leather laces. It too was made of the same scales and trimmed in
red. Two red stained metal clasps had been attached just bellow
each shoulder joint for a cloak to be attached, which they pulled
out of the chest next. One of the servants offered Tristan a bracer
for closer inspection as the others tied together all of the
joints.

“What is this
material?” Tristan asked as he ran his fingers along the
scales.

“Dragon scales.” Dion
replied, drawing both of his sons’ attention.

A servant offered
Kevin the other bracer for examination as another showed Tristan
how to tie the bracer he had to his arm. The outside was hard as
iron, with its overlapping plates of dragon scale. The inside
though was soft leather, padded and comfortable as the servant
tightened the leather cords he’d run through the iron grommets.

Carl the manservant
entered the hall baring a tray with two bottles of wine, three
pipes and some scented tobacco. As he approached the table he
smiled at Tristan before turning to the King.

“How does the lad
like his gift, sir?” Carl asked.

“Seems rather
speechless actually Carl.” Dion replied.

“Well that’s a first
to be certain.” The servant replied. “I’ll help you figure out the
pieces tomorrow young master.”

Tristan dumbly nodded
his thanks as Carl deposited the tray on the table, made a quick
bow, and left the room with the three servants. They had completed
their assembly of his armor and Tristan stood to examine his last
gift. Looking at the armor was like looking at a fine piece of art
for the young Prince and he enjoyed examining it from every angle.
The breastplate had a muscular frame, with the plates being
painstakingly attached to it. The padding and soft leather was
under every piece of armor, making it look like something he could
easily sleep in if required.