Chapter 2
Chapter Two
B astian watched the raven walk the edge of the window ledge, a neatly rolled missive clutched tightly in his claws. He was not sure if the bird was coming or going–or if it was really a bird at all–but one thing was certain; the daily presence of the magical creatures meant something was occurring outside this sleepy clifftop temple.
He had lived among the wizards for a year, and during that time had never seen more than one messenger a month. A raven had appeared each day for a week now.
“You are teaching my favorite little redhead to swing a sword?” Teakin asked from down the hall.
“I wouldn’t let Eirik or my mother hear you proclaim that.” Bastian turned to face him. “As for Oakley–like I had a choice.”
His uncle laughed, the deep melodic sound bouncing off the stone walls. “No, I don’t suppose you did.” He slapped his hand on Bastian’s shoulder. “I told her you would give her one of your weapons when she’s ready.”
Bastian narrowed his eyes as they fell in step together. “What do you suppose the Grand Masters want so urgently that they couldn’t have waited for you to get cleaned up from your voyage?”
Teakin swung an arm around Bastian’s neck and dragged him in for a tight hug. “What? Are you saying I stink?”
Bastian shoved him away. “I’ve smelled pig shit sweeter than you.”
They both laughed. The familiar teasing was a soothing balm to the soul. Of all Bastian’s family, Teakin had become the closest to him over the years. A far cry from where they had started.
Teakin had been tasked with maintaining order in Gerra after the battle in Anu. The position was supposed to be temporary, but ended up lasting a decade. Bastian had joined him a year into the campaign and was put in charge of a small cadre that kept an eye on things. They were Teakin’s watchdogs in the volatile capital.
But that wasn’t the main reason he’d been sent to Gerra. Bastian had gone there to train under the gifted fire-dancer. To learn from Teakin’s keen military mind.
Unlike his father, who was born to rule; his uncle was born to fight. Bastian had learned a great many things about his craft, and himself, during those difficult years in Gerra. He owed much to the male at his side now. His training, his strength, but most of all…his gratitude.
Teakin slowed before they were within earshot of the banquet hall doors. “I have something for you.” He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. “From your father.”
His uncle placed a ring in his palm. “He had one made for us all.” Teakin lifted his right hand where a matching black band gleamed. “I gave Sterling his on the beach.”
Bastian looked at the intricate whirling design etched in gold on the band–twin dragons. The LaGoryen family crest stamped proudly between them.
“It’s been enchanted,” Teakin said. “With a drop of blood from each of us. ”
Bastian’s gaze met his uncle’s. “When we took the oath?”
A nod. “Apparently Stefen wasn’t teasing when he said he knew a witch.”
“Of course he does.” Bastian shook his head, inspecting the ring more closely.
An inscription on the inside read House of the Dragon .
“If any of us ever find ourselves in over our heads. If we can’t persevere on our own…” Teakin said. Bastian looked up. “We need only tell the ring. The dragons will start to glow, alerting all. A form of communication that knows no borders. Has no spells that can cripple it.”
“And will we need it?”
Before Teakin could answer, Master Huron called from the banquet hall, “This chair isn’t getting any more comfortable on my old ass.”
Teakin grinned. “We’ll talk more later. I don’t want to learn what he does to alleviate the pain.”
“ N ow that you’ve all graced us with your presence.” Master Huron gave Bastian a pointed stare. “Let us discuss these damn solstice celebrations.”
“Language!” Master Matthias admonished, sounding as old as he actually was. “What he means is…” He schooled his annoyance. “We have invitations. ”
“Did Hornhall not postpone their festivities?” Sterling queried.
“Apparently, even the death of a king cannot dampen a good party.” Master Huron met Master Matthias’s glare head on.
Arch-Wizard Kastor intercepted what was, no doubt, about to be another argument. “Our coven is being called to attend and bless the passage of a crown from one king to the next.” He looked to Bastian, Teakin, and Sterling. “They wish us to bring our esteemed guests. ”
Bastian instantly tensed. The price...
In the year he had been in Ventus, he’d yet to venture past the local village or surrounding woodlands. Mostly due to his exhausting training regimen. But also due to the dulling of his powers by the spelled wards outside the Temple grounds, courtesy of the magic contract he had signed upon his arrival.
As if sensing his hesitation, Teakin spoke up. “Did they mention in what capacity they wish us to attend?”
Bastian was thankful for the inclusive phrasing. For it was only he that had not made any formal debuts in this realm. Hornhall was likely just curious. Teakin, the acting emissary for Earth these past few years, was known to both kings.
Sterling had accompanied his father more than once as his understudy. It was only on this last trip that Bastian’s cousin extended his visit to the Temple while Teakin had returned to their homeland. Bastian had welcomed the chance to spend more time with him. Though he suspected the pretty tavern girl in the village was the real reason his younger cousin had wished to remain.
That left only one other LaGoryen in Ventus. Eirik.
His brother, unlike himself, felt quite at home in this realm. Even going so far as to take up employment in King Calian’s royal guard. Bastian didn’t wonder if Eirik felt the same without his full powers here. He had no doubt his brother had them restored when he agreed to kiss that ring.
“Both Hornhall and Windsong have invited you to join their tourneys,” Master Kastor explained. “Should you be so inclined.”
Bastian managed to keep the scoff out of his throat, but Sterling perked up. “The prizes are rather grand this year.” Master Matthias nodded. “Seems they know their target audience and are pulling out all the stops.”
“Indeed…” Bastian mumbled under his breath.
All eyes cut to him. Master Kastor said, “Master Huron and Master Matthias will accompany me to Hornhall. We will take Hanna with us to be evaluated. ”
Bastian bristled. “She’s too young.”
Teakin’s eyes slid to him– careful.
“The girl is half past ten,” Master Warelow uttered from the opposite end of the table. “We can’t hold off any longer.”
Bastian ground his teeth together so hard his jaw ached. Hanna and Oakley were sisters who had been left on the Temple steps at ages three and five. The two orphans were as different as night and day. Hanna was mild-mannered, studious, and rarely seen outside. Oakley was adventurous, headstrong, and always near something she had no business being near.
If one of the two girls possessed magic; his money was on the younger, Oakley.
“What are the prizes?” Sterling asked, steering the conversation back to neutral ground.
“Hornhall will grant the winner of the games anything they want. Their standard reward. However…” Master Kastor ran a finger over a groove in the ancient wood table. He looked up. “Windsong is offering to make someone a prince or princess.”
No one spoke. King Calian of Windsong had two children, twins, a boy and a girl. It was rumored both had been promised to approved mates at the time of their birth. Apparently those agreements had failed.
“Calian dissolved the contracts a year ago.” Master Matthias confirmed the suspicion, surveying Bastian. “When the Chosen Ones graced us with their presence.”
“Well that settles that,” Bastian said, pushing to his feet. “I will go to Hornhall.”
“There is a caveat to Windsong’s prize.” Master Kastor’s words stilled him. “And an added incentive.” Bastian waited. “The princess, or prince, must approve of the victor. Should they find fault with the winner; their hand in marriage would go to the runner-up.”
“The incentive?” Bastian asked.
“Use of your full powers for the tourney. The magic contract will be lifted for the duration of your stay. ”
Bastian weighed his response. “Will my brother be partaking in the competition?”
Kastor’s gray eyes met his. “Yes.”
“Then I suppose I must attend the tourney at Windsong.” Bastian headed for the door. “Eirik will need a best man at his wedding.”