The Blue Dragon's Geas: Bloodmines Part 8

"It will be better down on the docks," he promised.

It took a while to reach the end of the pier, leaving Alador more time to consider how he was going to make her want to go home. Mesiande was fascinated by the big, three-masted vessels and stopped often to ask questions and point out things she had never seen. Alador took the time to answer her questions as he knew that soon she would not want to speak to him again.

He took her hands and looked deeply into her eyes. Every part of his heart was screaming out to find another way. He swallowed hard and finally spoke. "You look quite beautiful in that dress, Mesiande. You would fit in with the finest halls if you were not Daezun," he offered. He tipped her face up to look at him and kissed her lips gently. A large lump formed in his throat, and he forced the threatening tears down.

"I...thank you." She looked up at him. "What has changed?"

"Changed?"

"You ... seem different this morning," she said with a frown.

"Ah yes, the change." He smiled and chucked her under the chin. "I have decided you can stay. Of course, the only way you can be close to me in the Blackguard is as a bed servant." He turned to look out at the breakwater. He could not look her in the eye and do this. "But if you are determined, then you may take your place in my rooms." He clasped both hands behind him, mimicking Luthian's arrogant and heartless air as best he could. It also hid the trembling of his hands.

"A BED servant?" Her voice held both surprise and small amount of shock. "Isn't that how Keelee came to you?"

He took a deep breath and turned back to her. "Yes. A bed servant warms their master's bed, sees to his clothes and room. Of course, there is the pleasure in the night." He reached out and pulled her close to him as he gazed down into her eyes. "I a.s.sure you that will be my most urgent need." He kissed her pa.s.sionately before she could speak.

Mesiande stared up at him until she caught her breath. "I thought... it would be more as housemates?" Her question held her confusion and disbelief.

"Well, you see, as a housemate, I would have to worry about Luthian using you against me. This way, he will see you as beneath his notice. Of course, to cement that illusion, I will have to loan you to a few other men for their use in the night." The words seemed to stick in his mouth, but he still managed to spit them out. He turned away from her again staring out at the water, internally bracing himself. "However, if you are determined to stay, then this is the way it will need to be done."

"You could do that?" There was an edge to her voice that he did not recognize. "Keelee said you never gifted her."

Alador inwardly cursed; the two women had talked more than he had antic.i.p.ated. It was all Alador could do to hold that mask. Every instinct within him was begging him to explain his coldness, to keep her close and happy. He could not do it here in Silverport, not as long a Luthian drew breath. "Do what?" he asked casually, knowing full well the question.

"You could send me to another's bed?" She bit out the words with a terse tone.

"Of course, just think of it like circle. Women often choose men different from their housemates during circle." He continued to stare at the water rather than look at her. "I am sure if we had stayed in Daezun lands, you would have taken someone other than me to your furs. Gregor, for example."

There was a long silence. He took a breath as he prepared himself to turn and look at her when suddenly there was a firm kick to his behind. Unprepared for such an a.s.sault, he hit the cold water face first. When he managed to flail his way to the top, she was standing there with her hands on her hips, glaring down at him.

It was all that he could do with boots and cloak to get a hold on the dock. He looked up at her with a harsh glare. "What, by the G.o.ds, was that for?" He worked the cloak loose to pull it off and heaved it onto the dock. He was not going to be able to pull himself up, weighed down as he was.

"I figured you were so full of yourself that I thought I would see if mages really could walk on water," she growled down at him. "If that is the man you are becoming, then I don't want anything to do with you." Her hands were still on her hips as she glared at him. She stomped on his fingers, sending him under water again.

Mesiande knelt down as he came up sputtering. "I didn't want anyone else to ever be in my furs but you," Mesiande snapped. "I see Silverport has truly influenced you. If this is who you want to be then I never want you in them," she hissed. She stood up. "If you decide to be the man I love, come find me." She picked up her skirt and stomped up the dock angrily.

Alador watched her go with wide eyes. He had wanted her to go home. He had wanted her to be hurt or angry enough to go. Now that he had achieved it, he wished he could take everything back.

It took a great deal of effort, given the height of the dock and the fact that his boots were full of water, to pull himself back up on the boards. A sailor stood nearby watching. "You sure p.i.s.sed that one off." He chuckled and shook his head. He strolled off, not even offering Alador a hand up.

Alador did not move, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had never felt so dirty in all of his life, as if Luthian's very presence clung to his skin. Alador knew that he had hurt her in a way that he likely could never repair. But now she would go home, and she would be safe from this evil place, as well as the plotting and conniving of his uncle's imperialistic ambitions.

When he had managed to compose himself, he struggled back up to his feet. He cast a drying cantrip, as the wind was cutting through his wet clothes. Slowly making his way up the docks, the bedraggled mage headed for the Trench Hall. He hoped that Sordith and Henrick would have her away before he got there. Alador did not know if he could look her in the eyes at this point. Lost in his thoughts, he started up the lengthy staircase to the hall. He startled when he heard his brother's voice.

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d! How could you?" Sordith snarled.

Alador looked up just in time to see the fist that connected with his jaw. Alador tumbled back down the few steps he had climbed. He managed to get up to his hands and knees when Sordith's boot connected with his stomach. He lay there gasping as the angry man towered above him. "Let... me... explain," he gasped, holding his stomach.

"You better be quick, or I am going to beat you senseless," Sordith hissed down at him.

"I had to get her to go home. She wasn't budging so...I tried to make her hate me," Alador gasped again.

"Congratulations, it worked." Sordith clapped his hands together in a slow and sarcastic manner. He did not bother to help Alador as his younger brother made it to his knees.

"I had to, Sordith. There was no other way to get her to go and not put Henrick in danger." Alador was sure something had broken inside besides his heart. Blood filled his mouth. The pain of the kick combined with the taste of blood, a hangover, and the salt water swirled together, and he vomited onto the steps.

"There were other ways, you idiot! You did not have to destroy her like that." Sordith moved back and forth like an angry feline. "Find your room and stay there until Henrick and I can get her calm and off to her home," Sordith finally snarled. The command spat at Alador left no room for argument.

Alador nodded. "I understand," he miserably answered.

Sordith spit just short where Alador had his hands on the ground. "In fact, just stay there till I calm down. I'm not sure I still won't beat you senseless." Sordith turned on his heel and stomped back up the stairs leaving Alador kneeling and bleeding on the bottom of the steps.

Sordith stopped after about four steps and turned to look at Alador. "I don't ever want to hear how people broke your trust again." Sordith's tone was cold and bitter. "What you did today violated that woman's trust and love. Words cut deeper than any physical a.s.sault. She said your words hurt her more than Trelmar ever could." Sordith's words were snide, his anger palpable. "You're no better than those you accuse of having misled and hurt you."

Alador's eyes widened as he stared up at him. The truth of his words wrenched the mage's heart harder than the words he had spoken to Mesiande. The realization of what Mesiande had said to Sordith drowned everything else out, even the taste of blood. His eyes followed his brother until he disappeared. Alador struggled to his feet staring up at the large manor house. He had done what he must without considering the cost to Mesiande. He was no better than Henrick or Luthian, and the pain of that realization cut through him.

"By the G.o.ds, what have I done?" he whispered as tears slowly fell down his cheeks.

Chapter Eleven.

Sordith had not sent for Alador in the last two days, and even Keelee had not been to see him. The one time he had seen Keelee in the hall, she had turned on her heel and gone the other way rather than talk to him. He could not blame them; he knew he had earned their ire.

Despite his fear that he had gone too far, he knew that there was no other way Mesiande would have followed Henrick's guidance when they returned. She was headstrong and forceful when something was in the way of what she wanted. He sighed as he stared out his window at the harbor. He could not stay here any longer. He was bored and restless and Sordith's decree had limited what distractions that he could access. It was time to report to Luthian, he finally decided.

He put together a few items and slowly put on the armor from the Blackguard. His lower ribs were still bruised where Sordith had kicked him, and he felt the pain every time he had to bend or take a deep breath. In addition, he had lost weight, and the fit was too loose no matter how he adjusted the straps. Once he was dressed, he headed for Sordith's office. He knocked on it tentatively, having had no idea what reception he was going to get from Sordith.

"Come." The tone was businesslike and hard.

The brisk call only served to raise the tension Alador was feeling. He stepped into the room and eased the door shut. He met Sordith's gaze. The hard look and narrowed eyes told him clearly that his brother was still angry. "What do you want?" Sordith snarled, throwing down his quill as he sat back in his chair.

"I came to say good-bye. It appears that I've outstayed my welcome, and I need to face Luthian at some point." Alador drew himself up, his posture more erect and formal, his hands clasped behind him. "I'm very thankful for your help, and though you're angry with me, I'm still proud to call the Trench Lord my brother." He saluted his brother across his chest.

Sordith did not return his salute, letting him stand there uncomfortably. He finally nodded in acknowledgment as he let out a breath of tension.

"Just because I'm angry with you does not mean I don't hold that we're kin." Sordith leaned forward clasping his hands as he laid them on the desk. "However, you need to seek council more often. You're like a wild, cornered prang. You bounce here and bounce there in reaction to what's occurring without a thought to the long term consequences. It's by the sheer grace of the G.o.ds that you're not dead," The Trench Lord rose to move around his desk, clearly not done with his lecture. He planted himself in front of Alador as he leaned back against his desk. "That girl did not deserve to have her heart ripped out and ground under your heel."

Alador started to speak, but Sordith put up his hand. "I'm not done yet." He leaned back on his desk arms crossed. Alador felt like a young middlin standing before the elders. He shut his mouth and remained quiet. "What you're facing, what you're trying to do, you cannot do on your own. You need people to help supplement your efforts. You need family, friends, and allies whether you can completely trust them or not." Sordith stood up and moved to his brother. He placed his hands on either side of Alador's arms. "You are truly a Guldalian." Sordith shook his head with a concerned frown. "When you see something, you rush at it without a care to the harm you will cause."

Alador stiffened and attempted to pull away, but Sordith gripped him tight. "I know you don't want to hear that.; -his tone lost its hard edge - "...but I can tell you that by watching from the outside, the apple hasn't fallen far from the family tree.

Sordith pinned him with his gaze. "What kind of man do you want to be? You could choose to stumble down the path you're on right now and end up cold, ruthless, and friendless," - he paused - "...a replica of your uncle, which, no offense, you show signs of becoming; or you could choose instead to become your own man, geas or no geas."

Alador dropped his eyes as Sordith let him go. "I don't know how," he admitted.

"Step one, seek counsel when your emotions run high. Step two: learn to ask for help." Sordith was holding up fingers as he counted it off. "Step three: accept your circ.u.mstances, because you just keep fighting what you've no power to change. It's a waste of your energy." Sordith dropped his hand. "You'd be better suited to put that energy into areas where you have control and influence."

Alador took a deep breath. Sordith's words were sound and he knew it. He deflated under his brother's wisdom. "You're right," Alador admitted under his breath.

"What did you say?" Sordith grinned at him.

"You heard me." Alador pushed the man back a little in frustrated humiliation. "I react too fast. I can't control my temper." Alador ran a hand across his face as he admitted his faults. "I play my hand too loosely. I have been like a small one doing anything to have a friend. I'm constantly focused on things that are beyond my control."

Sordith nodded. "Still feel it's time to leave?"

Alador contemplated the question. "Yes, I know how I'm going to proceed." Alador ran a hand through his loose - drab hair. Well, drab except for the strange white stripe he now bore.

"Then TELL me! Step one, remember?" Sordith moved back to lean against his desk. "Let's plan, rather than you rus.h.i.+ng off into another disaster." Sordith grinned at him, not letting the point fade.

"You'd help me with this geas? Would you really help me thwart Luthian and stop the bloodmining?" Alador searched his face. Could he dare to hope that his new-found brother was truly interested in helping the dragons, despite his Lerdenian roots?

"I've no interest in bloodstones, as I'm not a mage. Also, helping you will not impact my profits unless I'm caught. I've no love for the High Minister, despite how well he runs the city. But...I have a more important reason."

"What is more important than any of that?" Alador asked curiously.

"My brother needs my help," Sordith said evenly with a slight smirk. "That is what family does."

Alador and Sordith had talked for a couple of hours about possible tactics and strategies to accomplish a successful a.s.sault on the bloodmines. In most areas, Sordith had agreed with with Alador's plan of action,but he had also offered up a few ideas that Alador would never have considered.

As he left the trench, Alador realized that for the first time since coming to this city that he did not feel frantic. He had confidence in the plan that he and Sordith had created. Sordith had divulged the fact that Luthian had ordered Henrick's death. They planned to use that to move everything forward.

Alador reconsidered his stance on Henrick. He was still angry with his father, but he could now see that at least some of Henrick's actions had been prompted by his own need to survive in the harsh reality that Luthian had created for so many.

The one thing that Alador had not managed to let go of was the manipulation of his mother in order to provide another recruit for Luthian's army. Connected to that was the fact that Henrick had not told Alador of the High Minister's breeding program.

Alador made his way through the city and up the tiers, but this time with a new perspective. He studied the side streets and the winding path to the upper tiers with the eye of a would-be attacker rather than a defender. Silverport was made for defense, but it had its flaws. It was tightly packed, so if a tier could be taken, higher tiers could flood with panicked citizens. This would hamper any higher tier efforts at defense.

In response to this, Alador had no doubt that Luthian would sacrifice however many citizens he thought he had to to hold the city. Any a.s.sault on Silverport would either need to be swift or accept a huge loss of those not able to fight, unless and they had considered this - Sordith could safely offer many of the first through third tier citizens sanctuary in the vast s.p.a.ces of the mines.

Neither he nor Sordith had any concern for the mages on the fourth and fifth tiers. They deserved any losses they sustained.

When at last he reached the council tier, he was not surprised to be waved straight through. He was dressed in the garb of a mage, as his uncle preferred, and he had been announcing his true ident.i.ty as a Guldalian at every tier check.

By the time he had reached the High Minister's front door, there were four guards waiting for him. Alador smoothed his deep blue robes as they approached him. "Have I committed some crime that I am greeted at my Uncle's by armed men?" Alador's voice dripped sarcasm as he smiled coldly at them.

Alador knew he made a striking figure; he had dressed for that purpose. His deep blue robes were trimmed in silver. His black cloak held an embroidered blue image of Renamaum and was also trimmed in silver. The black boots were s.h.i.+ned to the point he could see his own reflection. The knee length robe was split and his leather pants were also polished so they s.h.i.+ned. He casually put both hands out to show he was not armed. Well, at least not by any material weapon.

"Your Uncle feared for your safety and sent us to escort you to him," one of the Blackguard stated curtly.

"Ah, may I point out that this would have been far more helpful in the lower tiers than on my Uncle's own steps?" Alador smirked. "I doubt I'm in danger here unless it is from my Uncle himself. Somehow..." he drawled out, "I don't see you protecting me from him." He grinned at the guardsman and strode into his uncle's manor.

The four guards fell into step as Alador made his way down the long hall towards the ornate door to his uncle's office. The hall was deathly silent, save for the echo of their steps. He eyed the intricate carvings and smiled before opening the door. He did not knock, as he knew he was expected.

Luthian did not rise from his seat as Alador entered the room. Two of the guards stepped in with him and shut the door. Alador noted their posting by the doors. Given the tension he could feel, he decided a subtler approach to his uncle might be appropriate. He crossed the large room and moved to the desk; he placed one hand on his heart as he bowed low.

"Good day, Uncle."

Luthian looked him over very slowly while laying down his quill. He was clearly a.s.sessing his nephew's current capabilities. Alador knew that, other than being thinner and a bit pale, he had recovered much of his strength. Luthian must have come to the similar conclusion as he sat back in his chair.

"How are you healing?" Luthian's question sounded genuinely caring, his voice sending a soft compulsion to answer that Alador did not miss.

"Physically, the wounds are healed. I've lost a bit of tone from my time in bed." Alador straightened up and clasped his hands behind him, letting them rest beneath his cloak. He stood before Luthian's desk as if he stood before the Blackguard's High Master.

"And mentally...? I understand that Aorun resorted to torture." The distaste in Luthian's measured tone was evident. The High Minister was watching Alador closely.

"He did. I fear that I may suffer yet awhile with bad dreams and feelings of apprehension." Alador nodded thoughtfully.

"You are stronger than I have given you credit for, and you obviously have a great deal of power at your disposal." Luthian leaned forward and the chair creaked in the tense silence that followed. He held Alador's gaze for a long moment. "Power you hid quite well, I must admit." Luthian's words were soft but their cold edge showed his displeasure.

"I did hide some of my capabilities from you," Alador admitted finally looking down at his boots as if in shame. "However, I don't think even I knew what I was capable of doing." Alador slowly looked up, his face schooled carefully in a mask of pain. "A man in desperation will sometimes overreach. I understand that the spells I cast to save my life could have killed me or just as easily left me mindless."

Alador had decided that the best tactic was to offer as much truth as he could. His uncle expected lies, so the truth might catch him off-guard. "In fact, it nearly did." He dropped his gaze again, as if this fact was weighing heavily.

Luthian nodded. "You left angrily the last time we spoke. I would ask where you stand today? After all, we did swear there would be... "truth" between us."

Luthian's reminder struck Alador as patronising and two-faced. He wanted to scoff that he very much doubted that Luthian ever told the whole truth to anyone; but instead, he appeared to consider the question very carefully.

"You're the High Minister, my elder, and my uncle," Alador stated curtly. "As a member of the Blackguard, I am pledged to carry out your commands." He raised his eyes to meet his uncle's. "Personally, I dislike you. You use people as if they are objects. However, I don't have to like my commander to serve him." He kept his hands tightly clasped behind him in an attempt to maintain his composure.

"Interesting... May I ask what has brought this change about?" Luthian was eyeing him with a penetrating gaze. He stood slowly and leaned forward against his desk. Alador felt a gentle pressure of magic, and he let Luthian in. He had nothing to hide but Mesiande, and she was secure behind walls of magic. Luthian could not breach them unless he knew specifically what to look for, a defense his father had taught him during their half days.

"I find that I've nothing left to live for besides my service in the Blackguard. Aorun took Keelee and killed her father. He took what pride I had in my heritage and used it as a reason to torture me. It seems to me, moving forward, you are the only one who has ever had some measure of honesty."

Alador took a measured breath and continued to speak slowly. "I'm as much Lerdenian as I am Daezun." He drew himself up as if proud of his next words. "AND... I am a Guldalian. I cannot trust my father and wish no further a.s.sociation with him other than when absolutely necessary. It's time that I accepted my circ.u.mstances."

Alador took a deep breath and spoke through gritted teeth. "If you don't mind, please get out of my head. It's taking everything I have not to lash back at the intrusion." He had been careful to make sure every word was truth.

Luthian looked a bit taken aback. He released the spell of seeking he had subtly cast, sat back and eyed his nephew. "And if I asked you to cast the storm spell in Daezun lands...?" His words held scheming calculation.

Alador knew that this was what Luthian wanted most and chose his answer carefully. "If I felt it was for the greater good... of the people, in the long run," -Alador paused - "I would cast your spell." His soft answer held just an edge of conditions attached.

"Are you sure?" Luthian pressed. He stood up and moved around the desk to look down at Alador. Though Luthian was now beside him, Alador did not s.h.i.+ft his position.

"I'd only have one request," he replied. "I would make it as your nephew and not as a soldier under your command." Alador's eyes dropped in deference.

"Curious. What would that be?" Luthian sounded genuinely surprised.

"I would ask that you do not make me cast it in a way that would harm Smallbrook. Despite my casting out by the elder council, my siblings and my mother still reside there. They did not reject me, and I wish no harm to them."

Alador knew he was daring to show weakness, but he calculated that Luthian would latch on to it as a way to manipulate and manage his nephew. He knew that Luthian looked for an edge and rather than let him find a real one, he hoped this would suffice, leaving him some room to maneuver.

"And if I agree to this - that I will never ask you to harm the family you were raised with - then what?" Luthian's tone held the triumphant edge of one close to a personal victory.