Sky Warriors: Poleuthan's Thief (Sky Warriors Saga Book 1) (14 page)

She straightened up shocked as something warm mantled over her shoulder. She touched the silky cape and smiled thankfully as she glanced up at Showl, he gave her a small smile and nod in return and turned his gaze back to
Gregor as she handed him her armor.

He took it without further rudeness and examined it for about a minute, brushing his fingers over the damage carefully.

“It can be fixed,” he grunted. “But this armor is of fine make, expensive materials I don’t have and of unquestionable quality. If I fixed it, even with the correct materials, it would look misshapen. Only the original maker could restore this to its original state,” he stated honestly as he handed the black leather back to Ange. “The cape is beyond repair though. It would be an absolute waste of material compared to making an entirely new one.”

Ange took back at the damaged
cuirass and brushed her fingers gently over the insignia, feeling homesick and anxious as she thought of Vera before hugging it to her chest and looking to Showl.

Showl nodded to
Gregor before scooping up the tattered cape from the floor as he directed his questioning yellow eyes to Ange. “Do you wish to keep it or do you prefer that Gregor disposes of it?”

Ange sighed, feeling her shoulders sag slightly. “It’s of no use or value anymore, I might as well get rid of it.”

“Are you certain?” Showl asked concerned as he detected the sad note in her voice, his eyes scrutinizing her for the truth.

She nodded, feeling cho
ked as she pulled Showl’s cloak around her more tightly. As she gazed down, she grimaced at how a good portion of the cape laid on the floor around her feet, another testament to her height.

“Is it true that the Black Owls are no more?”
Gregor asked curiously as he took the tattered cape from Showl, his voice sounded hopeful.

Ange snarled angrily, remembering Daren’s role and
Gregor’s implication, her voice came out harsh and rough like she was trying to hold back a cry, she had never felt so pathetic. “The Black Owls will always exist so long as one of us remains alive to hold out its legacy.”

“So it is true, they are no more,” he replied satisfied and sounding overjoyed. “Best news I’ve had all day. Now I don’t have to worry about paying tributes and bending to petty criminals.”

Ange roared in outrage as she lunged for the man, intending to punch him across the jaw. She stumbled and she met Showl’s arm in resistance. Before she could snarl in protest and regain her bearings, Showl had already marched the short distance between them and Gregor. His hand ensnared the blacksmiths clothes as he pulled the large man off the ground and to his face.

In the background a woman screamed in fear, her cry was ignored. Ange’s eyes were locked on Showl.

“I did not come here to cause trouble,” he snarled, his fangs making an appearance in his mouth, his voice grew deeper and threatening. “But if you continue harassing her, I will teach you proper respect! Now leave the subject to rest, or you will suffer my retribution. Am I understood?”

Gregor
nodded vigorously, his eyes were bloodshot and large white circles in his face. His lips drawn in, his skin was pale as sweat beaded his forehead, his entire frame trembled.

Showl let him go suddenly, the man stumbled back and hit his forge before regaining his balance. He swallowed thickly and straightened his shirt with fumbling fingers.

“F-F-Forgive me,” he stuttered anxiously. “I was not trying to cause conflict, it’s just…”

Showl growled deeply in his throat, a warning.

The blacksmith swallowed again and fell silent.

Ange gazed on a Showl, utterly shocked by his actions.

“Father! What’s going on? Mother is in a hysteria and…oh-”

Ange turned back surprised as she gazed back out to the main room, there stood a young man probably as tall as Showl, well-formed
physique, tousled black hair and wide blue eyes as he stood frozen, scrutinizing the scene. Ange pulled Showl’s cloak closer and gazed at the man who was obviously in his early twenties.

“Son, go back to your mother. Tell her everything is fine,”
Gregor ordered, his voice still a bit shaken.

The man ignored his father’s words and walked into the room confidently with a wide smile and bright eyes full of excitement.

“A dragon,” he whispered. “I am correct, aren’t I?” he directed his eager question to Showl.

Ange stared at the young man in surprise, didn’t he feel the oppressing, choking, threatening might that Showl had been releasing into the air only moments ago? He seemed utterly oblivious to the cold air Showl seemed to be excreting, the obvious tension in the room, and the fear his father was trying to hide.

Showl nodded slightly to him, his eyes still cold and still as if he was trying to keep himself under control.

“How did you know he was a dragon?” Ange asked, curious for the young man’s answer and to stop him from approaching Showl, who seemed dangerous at the moment. By his behavior, she could guess this was the first dragon he had ever encountered.

The man’s eyes snapped to her. She froze under the bright blue gaze, their seemed to be power there, she was sure she could somehow feel it. He smiled at her, his lips were perfectly shaped as was the rest of his face, as if it had been chiseled from stone to perfection by an artisan.

“And you’re his
Dragonbound,” he whispered absolutely sure as he extended his hand out to her. “Sorry, my name is Richard. A pleasure to meet you.”

Ange took his hand baffled. “How…how did you know what I was?”

He shook her hand vigorously before letting it go as he enthusiastically replied, not seeming to mind that she hadn’t returned the greeting.

“I’m sorry,” he laughed thrilled. “It’s just that I’ve always wanted to meet a one of the dragons and their
Dragonbounds since my father told me about them when I was a child. You see, I could sense the raw energy within you two,” he answered with a grin. “That’s how I knew what you were.”

Ange gawked bewildered. “You can do that?”

He nodded pleased, his eyes narrowed as he stared at her, she swallowed nervously and leaned back. He stared at her for a minute or two, as if inspecting. “Though your mana is deeply buried, I can feel it, but it’s locked away. I can’t tell that it’s powerful though, you have a lot of it. Fascinating. Are you under some kind of spell that’s suppressing your powers? It must be very powerful,” he asked curiously as he inspected her with elated eyes. “Oh! And what element do you control? How is it like to be bound to a dragon? How old are you anyways? You look fairly young…though I hear humans stay young when bound to a dragon. Is that your case?”

Ange stared at him, feeling confused and baffled. It hadn’t even crossed her mind that she could use magic, even though Showl had mentioned it several times.

“Well…I…” she began uncomfortable, Richards eyes stayed glued to her, unblinking.

“Richard! Stop bothering our guest with your constant questioning,”
Gregor snapped. He turned to Showl, his voice apologetic as he frowned. “Forgive my son’s…overactive zeal, sir. He can be a bit insufferably at times.”

“Father!” Richard moaned in protest as he took a step back from Ange. She let out a sigh of relief. “Do you really have to embarrass me? I am standing right here.”

“You are the one embarrassing me!” Gregor snapped. “Acting like a fool who just discovered he has a nose!”

“A nose. Really?” Richard repeated
lamely.

Ange choked down a giggle, though she didn’t quite succeed.

Gregor’s once pale skin swelled red with anger as he glanced momentarily at Ange before he fixed his glare on his son.

“Just do what I told you!” he spat crossly.

Richard sighed exasperated. “Come on father! This is the perfect chance to ply the craft you’ve been teaching me all these years. They have come for armor, right? Plus, it’s the perfect chance to study beings of magic like myself,” he insisted.

Ange stopped laughing and stared at Richard, surprised.
Another mage?

Gregor
sighed, pinching his temples as he shook his head in defeat. “Very well, I do need the help anyways,” he allowed reluctantly.

Richard grinned widely, he turned back to Ange. “Shall we get started the
n?”

Chapter 10: Memories of an Aeterna Vas

After what seemed like hours of embarrassing requests to stand still and straight for measurements, Ange was finally free of the hot room where the forge burned, Showl’s scrupulous gaze, and Richards overwhelming optimism. She had felt choked, uncomfortable, and uneasy. Thankfully, Showl had asked for a place for them to rest, the small barn in the back was empty of animals but plenty of hay littered the floor. Showl had remained behind to help with the forging of the armor.

Ange now laid in the hay, looking over her old armor and thinking of Vera and the Black Owls. Her thoughts
strained towards Daren, then to the other members of the Black Owls, while she idly wondered how Vera got the suit to fit her proportions without asking her to stand for measurements with a metal coil engraved with numbers. Thinking of her mentor and Daren proved only to upset her more.

She let out a sigh, resigning to allow her thoughts travel more pleasant avenues of thought. Reluctantly she placed down her damaged armor, along with her boots and gloves, into the pack Showl had given her when she went to change into the clothes
Gregor had provided. They were simple and slightly less rough than the ones she had left behind in the sewers. Oddly, she missed the scarf Daren had given her on her last birthday. Beautiful light blue silk with a white dragon embroidered into it. She had decided to wear it only on special occasions, since she didn’t want it to get damaged. Daren had after all, bought it with money he had earned, not stolen. She hope to reclaim it soon, despite Daren’s betrayal and her fear that the hideout might have been destroyed.

Quietly she contemplated what she would do when she arrived to
Cyridell. Intense hatred roiled within her as she thought of her once best friend. More than she wanted to choke him, she wanted to know why he had betrayed them. She knew the excuse would be pathetic to her, yet she wanted to believe Daren had not betrayed them lightly. She didn’t know why and she wasn’t sure she even wanted to know. She strayed between the idea of listening and giving him an opportunity to explain himself or shoving a dagger into his guts.

Letting out a deep breath, she tried to calm herself before she stared destroying objects in the barn to alleviate her frustration, though the idea was compelling and very tempting…

“You alright in here without a light?”

She sat up startled, reaching for a dagger that didn’t exist on her belt. She strained her eyes to see Richard in the doorway of the barn, a sol lantern in his right hand as he peered curiously at her.

Ange let out a sigh and tried to relax her stiff body as she crossed her legs and her back sagged slightly as she forced her untrusting feelings away.

“I like the dark,” she admitted simply.

Richard frowned confused as he came over and placed the lantern on the floor beside her.

“May I sit?” he asked, pointing to the hay to her right.

She nodded.

“You seem…agitated,” he observed kindly.

She let out a loud sarcastic laugh as she swept her hand through her hair. “Is it that obvious?”

He smiled slightly. “It is,” he admitted carefully.

Ange let out a loud sigh and stretched her arms out atop her knees. “I guess it is,” she allowed and fell silent.

She glanced at Richard, surprised by his silence as he stared at the lamp, seeming comfortable and calm. He seemed to be contemplating the glow of the yellow sol crystal as it illuminated the dark barn around them.

Uncomfortable with the silence, she spoke. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping your father?”

He blinked as if she had disturbed his thoughts and replied. “We have to wait for the forge to reach the right temperature before we start molding the scales and fangs.”

“Couldn’t you just make it the right temperature with magic?” Ange asked confused.

He smiled at her question, his eyes still unfocused. “We could, but my father doesn’t have that much
mana in him and he won’t trust me to do it. He thinks I’ll blow something up.”

“Will you?” Ange teased feeling more comfortable with the flow of the conversation.

Richard smiled good-humoredly and scoffed. “Of course not.”

“So…you have more…
mana in you?” she asked curiously unsure of the meaning of the word, and hoping she wasn’t prying too much, she wasn’t exactly the model of manners.

He nodded looking happy yet troubled. “Father says I was born with magic, a lot of it. More than anyone has probably been born with in the last few centuries. Like the
thaumaturges of old before the Souls Binding Contract with the dragons.”

“
Thaumaturge?” Ange echoed.

“That was the title given to the most powerful of
mages. Those who performed dark magic where called sorcerers, while dealing with the death magic gave them the name necromancer. The average mage was either a witch or a warlock. There were a lot of different names, all which went in a specific hierarchy of power. It would take me all night to explain. Taliesin was one of the last thaumaturges and the most powerful in history too, he was quite the genius in my opinion.”

“Who was Taliesin?”

Richard seemed to focus then, he gasped shocked at Ange’s question. “You don’t know who Taliesin is? Taliesin the Prophesier? Taliesin the Great Bounder? Taliesin the Savior of Man? The Doom of Dragons?”

Ange frowned and shook her head.

He gazed at her baffled. “You’re not very knowledgeable for a Dragonbound, are you? I mean, if you don’t even know the name of the man that created your kind. Have the dragons grown lax in the education of their Dragonbounds?”

Ange scowled angrily and snapped. “I didn’t know I was a
Dragonbound till this afternoon, you know.”

“Oh,” Richard frowned apologetically. “Sorry, I just assumed…”

He fell silent as Ange continued to glare before he averted his gaze.

Ange let out a heavy breath that ended in a hiss as she tried to keep her temper in check.

“I have a book about him, would you like to borrow it?”

She shook her head and sunk her chin to her knees. She didn’t want to explain that she couldn’t read, especially to someone who was already looking at her like she wasn’t very bright. She was
cunning with strategy and stealth, not with books and puzzles. That had been Daren’s forte.

She relented and decided if she really wanted to know the story, she could ask Showl. He was a good storyteller, far better than Daren.

Richard was a know-it-all, far worse than Daren in her opinion. Daren was at least humble about his extensive knowledge, more quiet and thoughtful. He didn’t blurt out every fact he could about any particular subject. Richard was also too frivolous for her liking, it was starting to get on her nerves.

“You know, I always wanted to be a
Dragonbound. You’re lucky,” he stated in a tone that implicated that she didn’t deserve it.

Her brow fu
rrowed in agitation as she stared straight ahead, the man next to her was seriously asking for a punch in the jaw. He might as well be begging for it.

“But what I really want to do is go study at the Tower of
Ingled,” he sighed dreamily.

Ange quirked an eyebrow and turned her gaze back to Richard, it was hard to believe he was twenty-three, he acted like he was thirteen. But if there was one thing that really bothered Ange, it was a mystery, of being left in the dark. She loved to learn knew information, even if she didn’t remember all of it all the time.

He smiled pleased that he had obviously gotten her attention. “The Tower of Ingled is an ancient university hidden in the shrouds of a magical fog created by the very founder of the school, Valtor the Knowledgeable.”

Ange raised both eyebrows, intrigued and curious.

“You see, Valtor was a dragon, son of two powerful dragons. Fenera the Regina of Nature and Dagda the Rex of Earth. Even before the Souls Binding Contract, Valtor had taken an interest in teaching humans in the use of magic, its principles, aspects, and implications. After the binding of the two races, he built his school where he could continue teaching magic to mages and Dragonbounds.”

“Then why did he name his school
Ingled?” Ange asked.

Richard smiled and leaned forward in a straighter siting position. “He named it after his
Dragonbound, Ingled. She loved books and they often spent hours studying and theorizing together according to records. They discovered and recorded many pieces of magic and how they should be applied. Many humans stayed in the tower and became what historians call today, the Bookmen of Valtor. It is said that the school still exists hidden by mist somewhere in the Shivering Sea and cared for by the Bookmen of Valtor. It is said that only people with a connection to the raw mana within them can cross through the mist and land on the shores of the most fabled library on Domus and ask to learn.”

Ange thought carefully and wondered where the Shivering Sea could possibly be, it sounded familiar like Daren might have mentioned it. She didn’t have a habit of looking at maps. She barely knew the name of the continent
Cyridell resided on or the names of the binary stars their home planet, Domus, rotated around. Rubor the small red sun that was the companion of Ebur, the large white sun. She didn’t even understand the concept of eclipses, since there were so many kinds. She knew one fairly well, and that was an eclipsing binary, when one sun got in front of the other. It happened every few months. Solar eclipses also occurred once or twice a year if not three times or more.

Richard was grinning ear to ear when he had finished his tale.

“Does it still exist?” Ange asked amazed.

Richard’s smile turned into a pensive frown as he shrugged and leaned back into the hay. “I don’t know, but I most definitely want to find out. Father told me that grandfather studied there for almost twenty years when he was young. But that was over eighty years ago, I wish I could have asked him myself, but I wasn’t even born by the time he died.”

“But I heard mages hardly exist nowadays.”

“It is true that humans born with an aptitude for magic have been on the
wane since the Souls Binding Contract. Only a handful are born with magic across the world every year if not less, and they are usually born with so little mana they can’t even do much with it,” he sighed. “But I hope that the Bookmen of Valtor still exist, that there are still teachers to teach someone like me.”

Ange frowned, surprised by the deep sorrow and despair in his voice. “Hasn’t your father been your teacher?” she asked her voice softening.

A burst of ironic laughter escaped him as he fell back into the hay. “My father hardly knows any magic outside smiting Dragon Armor, a few basic spells, but nothing grand. He was never powerful enough to study more elaborate magic. Grandfather only taught him what he needed to know to pass down the craft special to our family.”

Ange remained silent, feeling sorry for his frustration yet annoyed with his arrogance.

“Would you like me to show you something special?”

She stiffened and turned to him warily, uneasy with his mischievous grin.

“Show me what?” she asked warily.

He sat up straight suddenly, hay clinging to his hair in a wild disarray. He looked rather silly with the straw in his black hair and a childish grin plastered across his face.

His voice was serious, sounding suddenly husky and older contrary to his expression. “You must promise you won’t tell my father.”

Ange smiled amused. “Why would I tell
anything
to your father?”

He smiled wider. “Good,” he stated pleased before his smile broke and his voice became nervous. He looked away, fumbling with his right inner pocket of his thick vest till he pulled out something round, wrapped in a thick grey cloth. A large sphere that fit snuggly between his hands, with a diameter of at least four inches.

With careful fingers he unraveled the mysterious sphere, as he gently unwrapped the cloth from the object, rays of silvery light began to flood from underneath, lighting the room with a brilliance greater than the sol lantern could hope to radiate.

Ange blinked as her eyes watered and burned with the light, a humming and quiet whispering began to fill her ears. She could discern no words but she could feel something powerful and warm pulsing from the orb as it was completely revealed.

She gasped as she gazed at the beautiful gemlike object in Richard’s hand. Facets cut through the gem without precision, crystals in small pyramid forms jutted from the surface in several areas. It blazed with a silvery grey appearance, under its surface seemed to flow molten silver, like liquid mercury. A humming beat seemed to pulsate from the gem, like a heartbeat, fluctuating the light like a star.

Instantly, Ange knew what it was without ever laying eyes on one.

“An Eternal Vessel…”

Richard smiled. “
Aeterna Vas, as the dragons call it. You’ve seen one before, then?”

Ange shook her head, mesmerized by the beautiful crystal. She wondered if it burned like a regular sol crystal, like sticking ones hand into an open flame.