Outcast (The Blue Dragon's Geas) (21 page)

“Elandel..."
 Alador called softly, finding his voice. Mesiande’s mother turned to look down where he sat upon the floor. Alador swallowed hard and hoarsely begged. “Please do not tell her if she wakes up. Wait till she is on her feet and able to understand."  The pain in his voice was apparent to everyone in the room. His one open eye met hers pleading. Mesiande’s mother blinked back the resurgence of tears and nodded once. She hurried from the home, a soft sob heard as she went out the door.

As soon as the door closed, Alanis turned to Henrick. “Can you not do anything?"
 She pleaded desperately. She sank to Henrick’s feet by the chair and grabbed a hold of the mage’s hand. Her voice was softly begging. “I do not want to see him executed. I always thought he would go with you one day. I would rather he was far away than with the gods. Henrick, please, I beg you."  Alanis put her face into Henrick’s hand.

Henrick looked between them. There was a silence as they all looked at the mage. For a second, Alador thought he saw something in his father’s eyes that indicated he had no intentions of helping. The glance was almost feral and triumphant. It was gone as quick as Alador had seen it. Maybe with his reduced vision, he was seeing things. Henrick tipped Alanis’s face up and smoothed a hair from it. “I am considering options."
 He finally answered softly.

Dorien flopped down in the other chair. “The council says there will be no options if Trelmar dies."
 Dorien’s tone was one of utter defeat. “Just in case, Tentret and Sofie are readying a wagon. If he doesn’t die, he will need to leave quickly. I have Tentret seeing to it that the wagon is well prepared for the long trip to the coast.”

“I am...here."
 Alador reminded them. He would have rolled his eyes, but the first movement of them hurt. “You all speak as if I am not here. I did this, and I am more than willing to face the consequences of my choices. I have wanted Trelmar dead for a long time. I am ready to pay whatever price the council deems fit."  Alador drew himself up bravely.

Dorien rolled his eyes. “Such a martyr."
 Dorien scoffed. “Fat lot that will do you when your head is in the noose."  Dorien stood up angered once more. “Willing to pay the price, Alador?  Do you not care what it will do to Sofie’s chances of a house mate?  What about the fact that my chosen may refuse me now?  What about the fact that Mesiande will ever be known as the girl that you killed for?  Martyr…"  Dorien growled in growing rage and frustration as he bent over Alador. “I do not need a martyr. I need a brother."  Dorien threw up his hands in frustration and went and threw himself back into the chair.

Alador could not help but bow his head in defeat. His brother had been right. He had not thought of any of those things. It had never occurred to him he was hurting anyone but himself and Trelmar. He had not considered anyone else, or even thought about how they might have felt. The sheer weight of his selfishness descended down upon him.

His mother, unsure of what to say, fell into her usual role in such situations. She hurried off to fetch water and rags and see to the blood and swelling of her son. The three men sat in awkward silence after Dorien’s outburst. His father was staring into the empty fireplace. Dorien had his head back with his hand over his eyes, and Alador sat mired in his own shame.

His mother bustled back into the room. When she was upset, she cleaned. Now, she focused all that energy and angst on Alador’s face. He almost wished she had left him alone for her ministrations hurt more than they seemed to help. However, when she was finished, he had to admit that he felt better. She had applied a healing cream that seemed to ease the pain. “When will Tentret and Sofie be back?"
 He asked finally.

“As your brother said, he sent them to gather some things."
 His mother said with a distracted frown. “Alador, you know we love you?  I mean, I know this and that was said about you being a half Lerdenian..."  She glanced apologetically at Henrick, but he was still lost in his pondering. “I…Sofie is making sure you have things a mother would send."  His mother choked back tears and turned away, taking the bowl and towel away. “Besides, Sofie would just be in here wailing and weeping."  She muttered as she left the room, her own soft sob barely heard as she hurried off.

Alador watched his mother’s back sadly. All these years of thinking that he was unwanted. Why had he not seen the truth?
 Finally, he looked over at his brother. “Dorien. If I am banished, can I still communicate with you?"  He looked to his brother. His eyes flipped to the mage nearby, but his father seemed to still be lost in his thoughts. His fingers were still tapping together.

“Yes. Yes, you can send in letters."
 Dorien answered, not uncovering his face with his hand. “In fact, you had better."  He answered quietly.

“I still want you to take the house. Promise me you will still see to the things we spoke of last night."
 Alador’s tone was quiet. His words were slow and measured.

Henrick head snapped up “You did not attack Trelmar till today. Why were you discussing being banished last night?"
 He gazed at Alador as if trying to see through him. Alador dropped his eyes. He remembered the alehouse and he knew that somehow, his father was able to use magic when asking questions.

“Trelmar saw me trying to cast magic."
 Alador admitted. “I looked up and there he was watching me. I tried to accost him then, but he ran off.”

“Did you?
 Were you able to consciously bring it forth?"  Henrick asked curiously. “Did you manage to pull even the smallest bit?"  He quit tapping his fingers and leaned forward to assess his son.

“Yes, I boiled the water of a small pool. I looked up, and the bastard was standing right there spying on me."
 Alador’s voice held his contempt. “That is the information he tried to use to buy Mesi’s silence before he forced her."  Alador’s eye narrowed in anger once more, and a soft feral growl left his throat. His body tensed, and the ropes in his wrists made an audible sound.

“Easy brother. Your temper seems to leave a swath of damage behind your path."
 Dorien finally moved his hand from his face as he looked at his brother. His eyes were reddened, and he looked deflated.

Henrick smiled slowly. “Well then, at least you came into your potential before you threw away your life for a skirt."
 Henrick seemed to have come to some conclusion, and he smiled at his son.

Alador glared at his father. That was the one thing he did not like about the mage. He seemed to have a total disregard for women beyond the bedroom. He treated them as something to be enjoyed or explored. His manner even with Alador’s mother was more like one was exploring a fine meal then a respectful regard for his mate.

Sofie burst into the room. She looked about wildly and then noticed Alador. “Oh Al. Why did you do it?  You were supposed to build your house and have small ones and then Gregor and I would come live with you!"  She burst into tears and threw her arms about Alador’s neck as she began to wail.

Alador’s mother moved to Sofie and detangled her from Alador. “Careful Sofie, he is a bit hurt."
 Alanis warned her daughter. “He is still tied up too."  She added, pointing out the obvious. She pulled her daughter into her arms.

Sofie was sobbing against their mother and words were barely audible. “Why...tied...up?"
 Alanis looked over Sofie’s head miserably, driving home for Alador that this was not just impacting him. He had not just hurt Trelmar.

Tentret stepped in the door. Dorien jumped to his feet as he eyed their middle brother. Alador did not hear his mother’s muttered response due to the expression on Dorien’s face. Tentret just shook his head no.

Alador looked between them worriedly. “What is it?"  He asked in a harsh whisper. “What has happened?”

Dorien looked down at his brother, swallowing hard. He knelt and took Alador by both shoulders. “Trelmar’s dead.”

The silence was only broken by Sofie’s sobbing. Dorien had stood back up and put hands into his hair as if trying to consider what to do. Tentret just stood there looking sad. Alador looked to his father. He knew in that moment that his father was his only hope of survival, but his father sat there calmly as if no great matter were soon to occur.

A commotion slowly grew outside, and Alador’s eyes widened. He looked outside in the waning summer light. It would be sunset in another hour or so. He could see Trelmar’s sire leading a group of angry villagers from where he sat. Certainly the village would not lynch him in his own home?  He shifted uncomfortably, with his feet bound he could not even run. Fear finally coursed through him as he realized he was going to die.

His mother let go of Sofie and slowly stood up. Her eye were large and fearful. “Henrick?"
 Her soft, pleading whisper broke Alador’s heart. The expected knock came at the door making his mother jump. Alador closed his eyes.

Dorien slowly went to the door. Alador watched him move past Tentret as if every step pained him. Alador could hear the head elder, Velkar’s voice. “I am sorry Dorien. The middlin did not survive. It is time."
 Dorien stood for a long moment at the door. Alador could see him fighting down his desire to strike out, to refuse them, but then he slowly stepped aside.

Two adults stepped into the room and went to Alador, jerking him to his feet. Alador’s mother screeched and launched herself at the man closest. “No, this is not right. He was just… Trelmar hurt the woman he loves. Trelmar pulled the knife! It was self-defense!
 Why will you all not listen?"  Her screeches of fear were shrill with terror.

Dorien was forced to pull his own mother off and hold both her arms behind her. Alador’s eyes met Dorien’s with true regret. His mother was still screaming outrage and obscenities that Alador had not known she even knew existed. Tears rolled down her face as Alador's mother fought against Dorien’s grip.

Alador was pulled outside, the movement hurting his head, into the afternoon sunlight. It was directly in his eyes as they pulled him out the door. Most of the village was gathered outside. Trelmar’s friends were clustered with Trelmar’s family. The anger from that small portion of the crowd was almost palpable. For all those that held anger on their faces, he saw several with remorse. Mesiande’s friends had tears, and so did many of his mother’s friends. Alador swallowed, fear filling his heart. They were really going to hang him. He was glad that Mesiande was still sleeping. She would not have to see this. A tear fell down his cheek. He swallowed hard as he realized the actual damage that was being done today. He was dividing a village that had been whole. He was ripping apart his family. His brother’s words of how he was hurting his siblings echoed in his pounding head.

He was dragged past the house he was building, and he realized all the things that were being lost this day. He would never see Mesiande’s small ones. He would never hold her in his arms and bed. He would no longer get to see that mischievous smile when she was up to no good. It had all been too good to be true. He should have known that the gods would never allow a half breed to find such happiness. Panic finally hit, and he began to fight being pulled through the village. Despite his tied feet, he fought those that held him, panic lending strength to struggles.

The villagers followed. It was rare that anyone was hung in Smallbrook. Such violence hardly known in the tightly knit community. Alador continued to try to pull free and had to be literally carried to the tree that was to be used. Two more large adults had come forward and picked up his feet. His arms felt wrenched from the sockets as they were carrying him face down. There were murmurs of distress all about him. They finally reached the tree, the roots beneath him seemed to strangle the very ground that lay beneath them. A rope was forced about his neck, and Alador continued to squirm and fight. He could hear Sofie and his mother crying. Their piercing wails cut through his very soul, it was a sound that would echo in his ears till he drew his last breath.

He tried to pull free one last time, but the rope that tightened around his neck froze him with fear. He glanced over and saw where it was tied to a korpen. A Daezun hanging was not a quick process. The slow plodding Korpen would slowly lift him off the ground. He did not want to die this way. Surely they would give him a quick death?
 He was lifted to his feet, and the korpen moved just enough to hold the rope taught. He was still frozen. His heart was pounding so hard that it resounded in the headache. It was as if the death drums already pounded for him.

Velkar raised his hand for silence. The crowd fell quiet except for the sobbing of his mother and sister. Velkar turned to face Alador, looking him straight in the eye. “Alador, you willfully attacked a middlin. You forced him to defend himself with a weapon and then turned that weapon upon him.”

An angry murmur went up in the crowd at the verdict. Voices shouted out: “What of Mesiande?"  “That is wrong?"  “Surely something else can be done."  “Hang him!"  Meradeth looked to Alador sadly.

Alador winced at the voices shouting out about him. The one he heard the loudest was the one calling for his death. Velkar turned and raised both hands for silence. It took a while but eventually the village calmed. “It was the decision of the full elders’ circle."
 Velkar looked back to Alador. “Alador, son of Alanis, you are sentenced to death for the murder of Trelmar, son of Anlicie."  Silence followed at the weight of the elder’s verdict.

Alador moaned in response. He did not want to die. For all his bravery in the house about willing to pay for his consequences, he knew in that moment, he did not want to die. His breath caught when his father’s voice broke the silence.

The firm tones of sarcasm filled the air. “I think not, Elder Velkar."  His father’s tone was so casual as he stepped from the crowd and stood with his hands clasped behind him.

Velkar turned back to face Henrick who was at the edge of the crowd. Everyone was now watching the two men. Henrick no longer conducted himself as the carefree visiting enchanter. He seemed taller and more imposing to even Alador. “You have no right or bearing to interfere here Henrick. You are not of Smallbrook or the Daezun."
 Velkar reminded him. “You do not speak for this council.”

The Elder and the village turned as one to look at the mage who slowly strode to the Elder and Alador. “I claim my son by right of treaty. He is mage born and as such, as a member of the Fifth tier of the Lerdenian Empire, I have the right to claim him."
 Henrick was on eye level with Velkar as Velkar was higher up the hill. The two men stood somewhat close, Henrick’s hands still clasped formally behind him. Alador was watching them with fear driven hope.

“Mage born?
 He came into power?! When did you plan to tell me of this?"  Velkar demanded his voice rife with indignation. Other elders were now forming a half circle around the two men. Alador was still in the noose at Velkar’s back.

A sound of outrage from Trelmar’s mother could be heard nearby. It was swiftly followed by Maredeth’s command to shut her mouth. Alador could not help but feel a moment of gratitude towards the elder.

“After the circle tomorrow so the boy could experience at least one season with his Daezun kin."  Henrick’s lazy tone held an edge of threat. “However, this turn of events has required I demand possession of him a bit early."  Henrick pulled a hand around and examined his nails as if considering cutting them. He acted almost as if the whole matter was rather an inconvenience.

Velkar stared at Henrick for a long moment. Alador held his breath. He could not remember anyone ever calling upon the treaty before. Velkar nodded once. “Take him then and depart."
 Velkar’s voice held an edge of relief. Despite this, his next words cut nearly as deeply as the calling for his death. “Alador no longer exists to this village.”

Anlicie, Trelmar’s mother, jumped forward. “No! No! He has to pay for what he has done. He killed my son! He needs to pay!"
 She tried to force her way through the elder’s half circle.

Meradeth drew up and turned to place a hand on the woman’s chest. “For the last time Anlicie, shut up!
 If Alador had not killed your son, it would be him in that noose. You would have lost your son either way. Go home!"  Maredeth’s command echoed firmly.

One of Anlicie’s friends took her by the arm and led her sobbing away. Meradeth turned back and met Alador’s terrified gaze. She gave a reassuring nod bef
ore turning her gaze back to Velkar.

Velkar turned to Alador. “You are hereby banished. The name Alador no longer exists to the people. Your name will be erased from the records."
 He met Alador’s eyes. “Be grateful you have been mage born this day."  Then as if to make his point, he slowly turned his back to Alador facing neither him nor his father.

Slowly one by one, the village turned their back to him. Many took a long moment to turn. Alador’s wide eyes scanned the crowd as one by one they all turned away. Gregor was by Sofie. He turned Alador’s sister away, holding her as she sobbed but not before he gave Alador a firm nod of support. His mother was one of the last to turn and even then Dorien had to turn her around. His mother sank to the ground at Dorien’s feet sobbing. Dorien’s eyes met Alador’s and he mouthed the words ‘I promise’ slowly. Alador swallowed hard, his heart felt as if it were being ripped out of his chest as Dorien turned. He was alone now. He had no one but Henrick.

Henrick strode to Alador and cut him down. “Come along lad. Time for us to go."  Henrick did not seem moved by the events about him. Despite that, his words were soft as he sliced the rest of Alador’s bonds. Alador had never seen Henrick with a weapon so the glittering knife with its jeweled handle caught his eyes. Henrick slide the knife back into his boot and then grabbed Alador by the arm.

Alador numbly allowed Henrick to pull him through the crowd, the villagers' backs remained to him. This was worse than being banished. If he wanted to write to Dorien, it would have to be in secret. As far at the village was concerned, he was dead. His family would be required to honor that. He did not say anything as Henrick pulled him roughly into his mother’s home.

“We do not have time for self-pity and regret Alador. Gather all that you want that is personal. Tentret and Sofie have already loaded a wagon for us with other supplies. If you want your chest of slips, you will need to get it now."  Henrick’s tone was not tender. It was not understanding. It was just commanding. “You have less than half the hour. I expect that the boy’s friends and family will wish some further justice, and it is not wise for us to tarrying long enough for them to form a plan."  With that said, Henrick strode from the room leaving Alador standing numbly in the center.

Alador stood, unmoving,
in the center of the room. He glanced at the table. So many meals had been eaten, some with scolding and most with laughter. His eyes traveled over his mother’s kitchen. She was the master of this domain, and suddenly he wished for her cooking for it really had seemed to make things better. His eyes moved to Sofie’s sewing. He wondered if she and Gregor would really be housemates.  Lastly, his eyes strayed to Tentret’s drawings. The small one with the flower holding his gaze as tears slowly fell down his cheeks. This was home. It had always been home. He just had never realized it.

Alador did not move till the murmur of angry voices reached his ear. Henrick’s words of additional justice rang in his ears. He hurried up to his room and gathered some personal items. He shoved them in a rucksack and looked about hurriedly. He did not have much. He scooped up his bow and quiver along with the sack of supplies for fletching. He ran down the stairs and to the small room in which the chest was hid
den. He opened it, struggling with the lock, and removed as many slips as the ruck bag had left to carry. It took a bit to relock it as his hands were shaking so badly, and tears in his eyes made it difficult to see.

He hurried back into the central room and placed the key
s upon the table. He hastily scrawled a note on the back of one of his brother’s drawings leaving instructions to take care of each other with the remaining slips and to look out for Mesiande. He stood up, took one last look around. He suddenly rushed to the drawing of the small one and took it down. He rolled it up as he hurried out the door.

Henrick had the cart waiting for him. He was beckoning Alador to get in, and a crowd was forming off in the distance. Alador could see the forms of Meradeth, Velkar, Tentret, and Dorien standing between the crowd and the path to the house. Alador hopped in and turned around to watch the crowd as Henrick slapped the reins on the korpens’ backs.

His eyes filled with tears once more at the chaos left in his wake. He had finally found his place. He had finally felt like he belonged. Trelmar had been right, he would never have her. The bastard had taken it all from him. He had lost his family, lost his Mesiande, his home and his village. All he knew and loved was here in this place with these people. Trelmar had found a way to torment Alador even in his death. Everything was gone!  He was headed to a place where he would be truly nothing, nothing but an outcast.

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