A/N: This is a ridiculously long chapter... I could have split it into two... But I'm too lazy. A maze thing... do you know how happy it makes me that you're reading this? *giggles* Your reviews bring me such joy because I somehow imagine you slamming on the capslock button when you type. Ector isn't Gaius's son. He's Gaius's mentor's son, the *old* physician of Camelot. What happened becomes clearer in this chapter. I agree... Ector is my favourite of this generation knights that I'm writing... closely followed by a tied Lachlan and Frenwyn... You learn why in this chapter... Oh and Arnold... *snickers* Told you, your reviews make me happy and when I'm happy I laugh.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. I own all DVD's of Merlin. I own a Merlin poster which I stole from a DVD store... Not actually lying about that...
A Castle, a Dragon and the Knight
Dearest Ygraine,
Sometimes I cannot believe how beautiful you are as I watch you from...
To the fair Ygraine,
There is something I have been meaning to confess for a long time now. A flame in my heart has started that cannot be quenched by water...
Dear the utmost beautiful...
To my dearest Ygraine,
Not the light from the sun or the shine from the moon or even the dew of a single flower petal can compare...
...
...
To Ygraine de Bois, the heartbreaker.
No, you will never love me the way I love you. Not in a million, trillion years. Thank you for stealing my heart and stomping all over it.
Much appreciated,
Uther.
"Lachlan! Get back here!" There was giggling laughter from Hunith in the back of the cart Balinor was driving. She was enthralled by the two knighted brothers as they ran around the sides, the older trying to force the younger to wear his cloak. It was a mad chase too, with the knights using tactical procedures to either avoid or gain on the other.
"Frenwyn, stop mothering me!" the younger yelled. He had light blonde hair that curled on the edges making it appear shorter than it was and blue eyes.
"It's cold. You'll become ill," Frenwyn shouted back. The older knight looked very much like his brother only with darker hair. Both of their jaws were solid and their noses sharp, and despite the different shades of hair, they could have been twins.
"I'm not a child!"
"Then put on your damn cloak!"
"You're embarrassing me, Fren."
"You're embarrassing yourself. I swear our mother gave me a burden, not a brother."
She erupted into giggles again, and Balinor turned around and smiled at her. "They're always like that. Though Frenwyn mothers all of us, not just Lachlan."
"Ha! Bally admits it. You are a mother hen," Lachlan shouted.
With a final cry, Frenwyn threw the cloak into the cart. "Fine! Just because I care about your well-being. When you get ill from the cold, I shall make sure not even Gaius tends to you."
Lachlan stuck out his tongue as Frenwyn stormed away. He went to walk with some of the other Knights of Camelot that had joined Balinor and his father on their quest to stop the dragon attacks, and Lachlan joined another group on the farthest end from his brother.
Hunith was sat in the cart carrying all the supplies from her village of Darreth. At first, she had walked alongside the Knights with the rest of her village, but she grew weary, still sick from the blaze. Balinor had caught her before she fell and put her in the back of the cart he was shuttling. The injured were in another cart alongside the nice physician Gaius who tended to all her wounds and promised her he would help her father.
"Why do they call you Bally, milord?" Hunith asked, twisting her feet beneath her legs. Lachlan wasn't the first Knight she'd heard call Balinor the nickname, but from what she knew, he was an Ambrosia. He was the son of a Dragonlord and the next heir to be Lord Ambrosius, owner of the lands from which she hailed.
If Hunith climbed the hill near her village early enough, she could see the sunrise from above their Manor. It was usually empty, bar the few who live in the town. But the Ambrosius family were able to trace back their lineage to the beginnings of Albion. To call him such a name was disrespectful, and Balinor seemed to understand what she was asking.
Why don't they show you more respect?
"The same reason I ask you not to call me Lord," he chuckled. "I did not grow up a noble... Well, I did, but I didn't understand what that meant until recently."
"When King Uther took back Camelot," she assumed. Balinor nodded. She had heard the tales, sung by bards and passed on through word of mouth. She recognised some of the knights by name, just as she had recognised Balinor's. Sir Frenwyn and his brother, Sir Lachlan were Knights from Mercia and the sons of noblemen. They swore allegiance to Uther after he helped avenge the death of their father. Both were quite young, eighteen and twenty summers old. But from what she had seen of them they were excellent fighters.
"My mother died because of Vertigern." Hunith wasn't sure why she said this, but Balinor did turn back to look at her sadly. "She was pregnant with me and his taxes ruined her and my father. I was a winter child, and my mother passed from exhaustion, her hunger and the pregnancy creeping up on her. They barely managed to pull me out."
Balinor became sombre. "I'm sorry to hear that. My mother died before I can remember."
Hunith's lip jutted out in curiosity. "How?"
"No one is quite sure. She handed me to Uther as Vertigern took over and she was killed at his hand." Hunith became quite sad for him. His mother died directly by the hand of Vertigern, the king children like herself had grown up to fear.
The silence grew, and Hunith's sadness turned against herself as she worried that she had upset the friendly son of a Lord and that he would no longer speak with him. However, he peered back at her once more and smiled. "Come here. If we are to talk it is much easier to do with you beside me where I can see you. My neck is starting to creak."
She smiled and carefully climbed forward until she was beside him on the cart. They chatted about things not as horrid as death. Things like their favourite foods and the stories of adventures they had been on.
She liked Balinor's stories. While her stories involved running through the forest with friends and occasionally hiding from bandits, Balinor's involved great wars and Knights and Dragons named Celosia. Said dragon flew above them in slow, lazy circles
"Celosia. What a funny name," she commented, looking up at the sky. She had to hold back the shudder of fear that ran through her. She kept thinking of the dragon that had flown over of her village. It had been the only warning they had before it all burnt in flames, and she was afraid the vision would never quite leave her.
"It means 'burning' in Dragons Tongue. Celosia was hatched when I was a babe. She has been my companion ever since."
She looked to the sky above and watched as the beast lazily flapped its wings. "Why did the other dragon attack us, yet yours is a companion?"
"Dragons must obey Dragonlords. It is the magic that binds us. Some dragons grow up with us, others grow up wild." He peered up at Celosia and smiled. "My father hatched her, and while I am not yet a Dragonlord, Celosia is a good friend who does as I wish... Sometimes."
Hunith still was frightened of the blue dragon, thinking back to her encounter that morning. She shivered and found herself curling up into Balinor's side. "Are you cold?" he asked gently.
She nodded, and he took the cloak Frenwyn had discarded and wrapped it around her shoulders. That was how Hunith appeared when Sayard, later in the evening called for camp. She was tucked up against Balinor's side, fast asleep.
"It appears young Balinor has himself a girlfriend." Sir Lewis was knighted by Cambridge, one of the Lords of Camelot, and joined the official ranks of Camelot when he broke out from Vertigern's Court to search for the lost Prince, Uther. He had been an immature eighteen-year-old when Balinor had first met him, with wild gold hair that appeared red under the light of the sun and yellow in the dark.
Time had been good to the young knight who had grown a beard and turned into an immature twenty-four-year-old.
Balinor whispered something, his eyes flashing gold and Lewis was sent sprawling across the forest floor by an ill placed twig. He calmly collected the girl, Hunith up into his arms from the cart, and laid her on the back, warm between rolls of sleeping gear.
He had expected the blow to come from Lewis and ducked before he could land a punch. He turned around, grinning with humour and Lewis did the same. "Come now; she can't be older than a child, little Bally. What are you doing charming her?" Another punch was thrown, and Balinor ducked under it. He waited for the second and dove beneath the blows, tackling Lewis to the ground.
The two fought to gain the upper hand, but eventually, Lewis's brawn won out to Balinor's tactic and he landed on top of the future Lord with a wide grin. "She's eleven," Balinor huffed. "Her father's over there possibly dying, and I was keeping her mind occupied."
Lewis's face softened. "I'll still tease you for it."
"Wouldn't expect anything less."
"Boys." Both looked up to see Sayard looming above them with a hard look. "Do I even need to say anything."
"No Lord Ambrosius." They both leapt from the ground and stood in line. Balinor was usually more susceptible to his father's scrutiny, but he was also the first one the Lord would protect.
Two years ago, when they finally put forth the plan to take back Camelot, Sayard had refused to let his son fight because of his age, even though Arnold, now Ector's squire, had gone and was months younger. Balinor didn't follow his orders and snuck across borders to Camelot to fight. There had been a moment at the end of the battle, just before Uther struck his sword into Vertigern, where Balinor had almost lost his life.
Only he hadn't, because Sayard had come appeared out of nothing and defended Balinor tooth and nail. Not a single man could hurt or get near his son.
Balinor felt pride swell up inside of him at the thought. Despite his harsh upbringing, Balinor always knew his father's love and had never known another nurse or figure as a parent. Sayard had said it was the way of the Dragonlord's to raise their children, and not let anyone interfere. Balinor was taught respect and honour above all else, except for love. Love came first to duty, or at least according to Sayard it did.
"You two need to show these people you are strong, reliable men. They'll need support over the next few weeks and will only remember the faces of those who rescued them. They need to be able to trust you. Rolling around in the dirt like children will help that."
"Yes, Lord Ambrosius. Sorry Lord Ambrosius," they repeated together.
With a nod, they were dismissed by Sayard and went their separate ways. Just before Lewis and Balinor parted, the Knight shoved Balinor lightly, and the two exchanged matching grins before calling a truce to their war.
Sayard was right. There was a time to be immature, and that would come later. For the time being, they helped the survivors of the village set up camp for the night, taking caution in watching the fires.
Balinor did most of it by magic, making his jobs go by quicker. When he pale-faced young, he went and found Celosia, feasting on something she had apparently just caught. "Done well for yourself there," Balinor commented to the beast.
Celosia peered down at the deer pinned between her claws and then back at Balinor. "Did you want some?"
Balinor made a face. "No thanks. Had bread."
"Your loss. When we get back to Camelot..."
"You're free to go," Balinor stated, leaning on a tree with his arms gently folded over his chest. "We just want protection back to its walls."
"Well, that's good to know. Not that I ever leave your side," the beast growled, only because of the timbre of her voice. "What I was going to ask was, when we get back to Camelot, will we be meeting with the King?"
Balinor looked a little surprised. "Um... I don't know. Maybe. Why?"
"I bring word for Uther, from Ignacio."
"What word?" Balinor asked, recognising the dragon's name. Ignacio was the oldest of all Dragons, and as age meant power to the ancient and noble race, he was their King.
"Only that he is to meet Uther in the crescent shaped clearing outside of Camelot upon your return tomorrow."
"Why?"
Celosia snorted. "Like I'd tell you."
Feeling a little nervous he puffed up his chest and tried to reach for a magic deep within. "I demand you to tell me."
Celosia chortled, and Balinor deflated. "You're not a Dragonlord yet, little Warlock and if I were you, I wouldn't be in any hurry to be one." With those words, Balinor looked over his shoulder and glanced at his father, his heart aching.
A part of him yearned to be a Dragonlord. Yearned to be one with the dragons and feel their magic burn inside of him. It beat in his blood whenever he rode Celosia or was in the presence of a dragon. He knew there was an emptiness inside of him that could only be filled when he could call himself kin with the creatures. He imagined it to feel like fire and happiness, and the sound of dragons roar would gurgle deep within his chest with a magic of its own.
But he didn't want his father to die. He didn't want to lose another parent. Not for many, many years. Not ever if he could help it. For as much as Sayard loved Balinor, Balinor loved his father just as much.
He pulled himself out of such dark thoughts and glared at Celosia, trying to appear angry. "Fine. Have it your way." Balinor stalked away from Celosia and back to the camp. Just before he was out of her earshot, he turned back to her with a smile on his lips. "But just watch how mean I'm going to be to you now."
Celosia chuckled some more before ripping her teeth once again into her dinner.
Balinor,
Rematch? With swords? In Camelot? And maybe a lance. You're hopeless with a lance, aren't you?
Lewis.
The Knights and the village arrived in Camelot just before noon the next day. Hunith kept close to Balinor as the uninjured were sorted into houses in the lower town. Hunith's father Owen was to be taken up to Gaius's chamber where he could look at him again, and Hunith wished to go there too.
"I'll take you," Balinor promised as they made it to the Courtyard. At the same time, Gaius overheard the Dragonlord's son. He shot Balinor a look that asked him to give him some time. "But first we must visit someone. Quite quickly."
Hunith didn't seem to mind and followed Balinor up into the castle, holding his hand as they moved along to the main chambers. The guards at the door recognised Balinor. One of them called out Balinor's title as they opened the doors, ushering Balinor and Hunith through.
Uther, Ector and Tristan were just inside, bent over a table and they all straightened as they entered. "Bal!" Ector cheered. The man was tall with large muscles that almost burst through the seams of his tunic. He had thick brown hair and burning green eyes. "We were expecting you back in the morning!" Balinor let go of Hunith's hand and embraced Ector fiercely.
"Did you worry about me?" Balinor teased.
Ector snorted. "No. I was worried about Uther. He would be a wreck if anything happened to you."
The King rolled his eyes. "Reports Balinor? And where is your father?"
Balinor had bowed before he spoke. "We have those who are not injured enough to warrant Gaius's attention in the lower town. Alice is tending to them too, and I haven't been to the physicians' chambers yet to check on them. My father is with the Dragons. Apparently, there is some message for you from Ignacio?"
"Which one is he again?"
"Big red one. Their King."
"Ah, yes."
As they spoke, Ector studied Hunith with a small frown on his face. She stared back at him, unsure of what to do, never have been in the presence of so many nobles before. Tristan followed Ector's gaze and raised his brow, equally as fascinated with the young girl. Hunith shifted uncomfortably beneath their gazes. "And who is this?" Ector asked, pointing at the girl.
Uther followed his pointed finger and then looked a little stunned himself as Hunith blushed under his gaze. "Milord," she bowed quickly.
Balinor stepped aside and waved his hand to introduce her. "Uther, Ector, Tristan, this is Hunith. I saved her life. Pulled her out of a burning building and everything," he boasted. Uther gave him a sharp look, and Balinor remembered himself for a moment. "Oh and Hunith, this is the King, Uther Pendragon, my cousin-of-sorts, my cold friend, Sir Tristan and..."
"I'm his brother," Ector said, wrapping his arm around Balinor's neck. "Sir Ector. A pleasure to meet you milady." Hunith giggled as Ector waved his arm around dramatically and bowed.
She calmed herself and asked, "Does... Does that make you a Dragonlord as well?"
Tristan rolled his eyes. "He wishes and prays, but we all thank the heavens, no."
"He was my father's ward," Balinor explained, peeling Ector's arm off. "Which technically makes him my brother-of-sorts. But just brother will do."
"We have a lot of 'sports' family," Ector explained.
Balinor looked up at the other men pointedly. "Gaius is treating Hunith's father, and she is in my care until I can take her to the physician's chambers."
The wise Tristan understood that Balinor didn't want Hunith seeing her father in an injured state. "Ahh, well you shall be here for a while," Tristan said, peering over at Hunith. "How would you like waiting with my sister until Balinor has finished his report with us? Then he can take you to Gaius later."
Hunith raised her eyebrow, slightly annoyed. "My father taught me to read and write. He taught me history and how to read maps and the land. He did not teach me to be an ignorant or daft. I know that this is a distraction so please do no think me naive." The men stared at her, all equally stunned. Hunith's cheek flushed red as she realised who she was speaking to. "My lords," she added, and she clumsily curtsied.
Balinor stepped forward calmly. "I will take you to the physician's chambers later. Gaius is worried for your father and doesn't wish you to be in there in case something does go wrong. For now, why don't you stay with Tristan's sister?"
Hunith was reluctant but agreed. "Yes. Of course."
Tristan looked to Uther and he, in turn, looked at the guards. "One of you. Find Lady Ygraine de Bois and bring her here. Hunith, if you will wait outside." Hunith curtsied as she left and Balinor shot her a large reassuring smile. She couldn't help but notice how cheerful and slightly gawky his smile was on his long face.
Hunith reached the hallway outside, and she turned back to see Balinor still there with the same smile on his face. It only started to disappear as the doors closed, and the four men began to speak in hushed voices. The doors shut with a bang and Hunith quite suddenly felt cold and scared and, for the first time since leaving Darreth, alone.
The guard was still there. He stared above her, not at her and it made her feeling invisible. Being alone for the first time since the fire made Hunith remember the flames and their heat. But more than the heat, Hunith remembered feeling alone. "Are you the young girl I am supposed to meet?"
Hunith jumped and spun around. In front of her was the most beautiful young woman she had ever seen in her life. Ygraine de Bois was a woman like no other, with hair that could catch the sun even in the dark. Her eyes were blue and alarmingly bright. Her dress was made of silks and laces and everything expensive. It all looked like it was worth more than the small village girl had ever seen in her life. "Wow," she gasped, looking her up and down. "You're beautiful," she said truthfully.
Ygraine blushed and tilted her head to the side. "And you're kind. I am Ygraine and this my brother Agravaine." With the Lady de Bois so eye catching, Hunith had completely missed Agravaine, dressed in a white tunic and black trousers with mangy black hair. He wasn't nearly as handsome as his siblings, and his eyes were dark and cruel and permanently narrowed.
"Hello." She bowed because they were a Lady and Lord of the court, and though she had grown up in a village, she knew that was the right thing to do. "I am Hunith."
"Well hello, Hunith," Ygraine smiled. "I have been told you are mine to entertain for the next few hours."
She nodded. "Just until my father is better. He is with Gaius."
Her face softened, and she placed her hand on Hunith's shoulder. "Then do not worry. Gaius is the best physician in all of Albion, and if not Alice will fix him." The way she said Alice was slightly suggestive and Hunith frowned, clearly missing something when the silent brooding Agravaine rolled his eyes.
"I do not understand," Hunith confessed.
"Well! Alice and Gaius…" Ygraine pressed her hand against Hunith's shoulder, moving her along and started indulging her in all the castle's gossip. Agravaine was moaning behind them until Ygraine dismissed him with the wave of her hand. He gratefully left them, muttering something about the library under his breath.
Hunith was so caught up in all the tales Ygraine told her that she forgot about the fire and the flames. In fact, she was almost starting to feel like herself again when Ygraine offered to have her handmaiden run her a bath. "I would, but I have nothing else to wear."
"Nonsense. I can find something in your size." Ygraine summoned her lady in waiting and asked her to make an order with the seamstresses and to have a bath drawn in her quarters. "I do believe you, and I shall be the best of friends, Hunith."
"Thank you, milady," Hunith blushed.
"Ygraine, please. I do loath titles."
Tristan, our sister, is consorting with peasants again. Agravaine.
Is she counting any of them? Tristan.
No. Agravaine.
Agravaine, I don't care. Tristan.
The topic of Balinor, Uther, Ector and Tristan's council began about Ignacio's visit, but once they had all realised they couldn't guess what he wanted, turned to the banquet that night for the anniversary of King Constantine's death. Balinor didn't quite understand why they had to have a feast, as it had been sixteen years since King Constantine's death. But Uther was adamant about retaining the tradition of celebrating the old King's name for four years after his death. As there was no chance Vertigern celebrated Constantine's name, it was left to Uther to do so now.
They were trying to determine exactly how they could keep the peace amongst the warring lords and nobles who would be in attendance that night, but it was all proving too difficult. Ector believed the mead would keep them all occupied enough, but Tristan wanted Guards and Knights on duty to ensure everyone's safety.
"Sire." Sayard Ambrosius entered the chambers, his navy cloak swirling around his legs, emblazoned with a silver dragon. "I am sorry for my late coming. The Dragons were acting strangely."
By 'the Dragons' Sayard meant the three in his care, which he trained to defend and protect Camelot. Sayard had hatched Nuriel and Celosia himself, for Ector and Balinor respectively. It was a tradition amongst Dragonlord's, and the dragons protected them when Sayard was pulled away on a quest. Aodh was Sayard's dragon, hatched by Balinor's grandfather Emil in much the same manner.
"Maybe it has something to do with Ignacio's arrival," Balinor quipped.
Sayard frowned. "Ignacio is coming? Here?"
Uther raised his eyebrow, deeply concerned. "Did you not know? Balinor was told he wishes to speak with me. We were waiting for your arrival to depart."
Balinor shrunk under his father's glare. The anger wasn't directed at Balinor intentionally, but it still frightened him to see it on his father's face. "Well then, why are we still here? Let us go," he said evenly.
After quick preparations, they left for the clearing just outside the castle where Ignacio promised to meet. Suddenly, they were all wary, Tristan especially. His hand hovered over his sword in a way that made Balinor uncomfortable.
Tristan was a more serious breed of Knight. Balinor supposed he had to be. Unlike Uther, Balinor, and Ector who had managed to escape from the castle the night of the siege, Tristan, Ygraine, and Agravaine were left behind. They were forced to watch their parents beheaded for their loyalty to Constantine. It was only because of Tristan's quick thinking that they managed to leave Camelot in the dead of night and the three siblings wandered Albion until they heard rumours of Uther and his Dragonlord. Unlike the others who all joked and teased, Tristan rarely smiled or told a joke when on duty. He was as dedicated to his family as a Dragonlord, which won him favour with Sayard the first time they met.
To keep his siblings out of danger, Tristan had learnt to track how Vertigern's men patrolled the borders of Camelot. Without Tristan's knowledge, they never would have been able to win the castle back. When the battle was over, Tristan became the Overseer of the Knights, for out of all the men, he was the most stringent when it came to schedules and training. He even made Sayard look lax.
When the two first met, Balinor felt as though the knight hated him. He always acted coldly to everyone, compared to his warm and kind-hearted sister. But the act of looking down his nose at everyone was apparently just that. An act.
Balinor had been walking through Budic's castle in Anglia, only fourteen at the time, and found Tristan sitting on the ramparts, one leg dangling over the edge and the other pulled up at the knee. He was whistling and out of his armour, watching the skies. Balinor had almost turned back when the knight spotted Balinor and smiled, inviting him to join him.
Balinor did so, and the two chatted quietly into the early evening. Tristan apologised for making Balinor feel uncomfortable when he reluctantly admitted how he felt. "I suppose I haven't seen you outside of my duties. See, when I'm being 'Sir Tristan,' I cannot think with my heart. If I did, I would most likely murder any who dared go near my brother and sister and in doing so, would cause more harm to myself. So I think with my head, to ensure I stay rational and logical. That way, I can protect more However, it has the downfall of turning me sour. Do you understand?"
Balinor thought he did and nodded. Still, sometimes he had to wonder when Tristan was harsher on him in training than the others. When he had fully recovered after the War for Camelot, Tristan had put him through his paces in training sessions and yelled at him for being so irresponsible. Ector said it showed that he cared. Balinor wasn't so sure as even Sayard was less frightening.
Balinor was stopped short in his musings about Tristan when he realised they had reached the clearing. "Here," Balinor said. "This is where he said he would meet us."
"When?" Uther demanded a note of impatience in his tone.
"When I arrived." Balinor startled and spun around. Stepping out of the trees was Nimueh, dressed in royal purples, her hair as wild as ever. Balinor's face lit up. He rushed forward, wrapping his arms around the High Priestess and lifting her up. She rested her hands on his shoulders as he swung her around with a laugh.
"It's been too long Bal," Nimueh said, cupping his face as he put her down. She winced as her hands scraped his cheek. "A beard. Really?"
"Lewis said I couldn't grow one."
"Shouldn't is more like it."
Her hand slotted into the crook of his elbow, and he led her towards the others. She only detached from his side briefly to embrace Sayard. "It has been too long my High Priestess," he said kissing her cheek.
"Much too long, Dragonlord Sayard." Nimueh tilted her head as a sign of respect as she slotted back into Balinor's side. Only then did she look at the others, as she'd seen them in the last few days around the castle. "Tristan, Ector."
"High Priestess," Tristan replied formally.
"Nimueh," Ector said. His arrogant posture and smirk dared her to correct him, but Nimueh looked away as if she didn't notice him. Balinor looked at Uther, confused by the strange tension he could feel between his brother and friend but Uther shook his head dismissively. Balinor could only hope the King would tell him later, so he didn't feel so out of place.
There was a booming beat of wings above them. The group tilted their heads back, squinting at the sun as the oldest dragon in existence flew overhead. It circled, curling up in on itself to land in the clearing. Its large feet fell on the ground with a surprising gentleness He bent his body further, pressing it into the earth and bringing his large muzzle closer to their faces. "Greetings King Uther," the dragon's voice boomed. The trees shook behind them, and Ector took an involuntary step backwards, but Tristan caught him and held him steady.
Ignacio was the King of the Dragons. He was almost as tall as some of the turrets of Camelot and was easily the length of the castle walls. The red and orange scales that bejewelled his body shone like rubies under the sun. Some were as long as a man was tall, but their colours danced like flames, giving the illusion that Ignacio was alight with fire.
"Greetings, Ignacio," Uther said. They both bowed to the each other as a sign of respect.
Ignacio's eyes swept their faces and landed on Sayard. "My Lord Ambrosius. I was not expecting you. I sent word to your son." The Dragon narrowed his eyes at Balinor accusingly.
Sayard placed his hand protectively on Balinor's shoulder. "I heard. And I would like to remind you that Balinor is not yet a Dragonlord. He has no duty to your kind while I am alive."
Balinor internally shivered, and Ector moved behind his brother. But Balinor was not afraid for himself. It only just occurred to him that whatever Ignacio had wanted to discuss, he had not wanted Sayard to know. But Balinor had told his father as soon as he laid eyes on him.
"This does not affect you Dragonlord," Ignacio said.
"Yet all those in this clearing, including yourself, are entrusted to my care. It may not affect me directly, Ignacio, but it is important I be here." Balinor knew the balance between Dragonlord and Dragon Master was thin. Non-magical beings presumed all Dragonlord's were the Masters of Dragon. They assumed Dragonlords reigned supreme and dictated like Kings to the Dragon's what to do and how to act.
But they weren't, and it wasn't how it worked. Instead, theirs was a tedious balance act of friendship bound in honour and loyalty. Without a Dragon, a Dragonlord would have no power, and without a Dragonlord, the Dragon race would crumble. It was a relationship built on the spindly foundation of trust and believing that each race would bow and humble the other. All of it could crumble with the slight sway of a greedy wind or a megalomaniac's desire for power.
Uther stepped between Sayard and Ignacio. "I would have told Sayard eventually. He is the Dragon Master of my court, and I must keep him to date with all Dragon related issues." His words were waning on the dragon's interest, and he threw his head back in contempt.
"I am not here to speak of Dragons and Dragonlords, the rule of the land and our governance. I am here to talk to you, King Uther Pendragon and the fact that our world's are reaching a tipping point. I do not wish to see the world I know and have been a part of for so long destroyed by one man and his sorceress, so I came to serve you this warning: Magic is a great ally to man and man has been lucky it is blessed with it. Whether through vows or friendships, magic has enlightened both your lives and is now a great source of rejuvenation for your kingdom.
"But remember, King Pendragon and High Priestess Nimueh, magic is not wholly to blame, and magic is not wholly the answer. It is filled with as much evil as it is good and for that, you must be wary of its potency. Your actions have consequences. But do not forget that they were your actions, not the actions of magic." His red eyes stared into Uther and Nimueh's very souls and engulfed their minds with flames that only they could see. Both the King and the Sorceress shouted and clutched their heads. Sayard leapt in front of them as Balinor and Tristan caught Uther between them and Ector held Nimueh up.
"Stop this now, Drakon!" Sayard roared, and Ignacio pulled his eyes away as commanded.
But he did not seem to care. Ignacio pulled his wings back and beat them in a frenzy. "Remember, Uther. Remember my words for all time."
Balinor stared down at his cousin, shaking him. Uther's head lolled against Balinor's chest, and the Dragonlord's son looked up to the sky to watch the King of the Dragons disappear. "What was that?" Balinor demanded.
Nimueh gasped, waking up first and Ector clutched her small frame to his side. She twisted her head around and looked at the sky. "He… he showed me a vision," she hissed. "He showed me… Showed me Uther's death. His death at the hands of a sorcerer."
Uther's woke up too, and he immediately began searching for something in the clearing, finding it as his eyes rested on Nimueh. Balinor was shoved backwards when Uther scrambled up and engulfed her in an embrace. He pushed Ector away, but Ector was too worried to notice. "I saw you die," he choked. "I saw… They killed you. With magic, they killed you."
Sayard checked on Balinor, lifting him to his feet. Then he turned to Uther and Nimueh. "Who exactly did you see kill her?" he asked.
Uther shook his head. "I do not know him. I cannot even place him now. I just… I saw her die." His arms tightened around Nimueh, and he turned to Tristan. The Knight wore a frown between his brow, looking more than mildly concerned. "What?" Uther demanded. "Why are you staring like that?"
"You were just given a painful vision of each other's deaths. I have the right to appear alarmed," Tristan replied evenly, fist tightening around his sword. "But I am more concerned about what it all means."
Their eyes all landed on Nimueh, the only one with enough experience in magic and visions to understand it all. "We both saw each other's deaths at the hand of magic," Nimueh whispered, more to Uther than the others and like one would with a child. "The Dragon is warning us that if we abuse the trust of magic, it will find us and destroy us."
"Why would we abuse magic after all it has done for us?" Uther asked.
None could answer.
To my dearest Nimueh on her birthday,
In ancient times there was spoken a legend. A legend of a King and a Sorcerer, who will bring peace to the lands and renew magic into the depths of the earth. They, together, will unite all the Kingdoms of Albion under one name.
I believe they might be you and Uther. Use your gifts wisely, my love.
Sincerely,
King Budic
It was much later after Hunith had been bathed and dressed when she received word of her father's health. Ygraine had sent a messenger along to Gaius's chambers to alert them should anything with her father's health change, then proceeded to take Hunith to her chambers and use her like a doll, trying on difference dresses and hairstyles.
"You must attend the feast tonight," Ygraine said, taking it upon herself to induct Hunith into the court. "You can be my escort."
Hunith chuckled. "That's not very proper."
"You will discover very quickly, Hunith Adhan that there is not much about me that is very proper," Ygraine laughed. "Anyway, I only have brothers and not just blood ones. There are a battalion of Knights watching out for my well-being and they all insist it is their duty to escort me to and from tea drinking as if I'm some sort of delicate petal." She rolled her eyes. "My only other company are the other ladies of the court, and they are a bore. There is only so many times one can discuss the difference between a blanket and curled stitch before one wishes to behead themselves."
Hunith laughed at that. Ygraine dressed her in a gown the colour of autumn leaves, with a bodice in bright red. She braided her hair in some stylish fashion, twisting a matching orange ribbon through the pattern. Beneath it all, she wore a silk petticoat and on her feet were red velvet slippers.
Never in her life had Hunith seen such fineries so close. Ygraine even attached a pretty gold pendant with an amber stone around her neck. "There," she said, somewhat pleased with herself. "Fit for a princess."
"Thank you, milady." When Ygraine gave her a pointed look, Hunith smiled and corrected herself. "Ygraine."
"Better." There was a knock at the door, and Ygraine looked up from where she sat beside the vanity. "Come in."
The door opened, and a servant looked in. "Lady Ygraine. The girl's father is awake. Gaius says you can see him now. Lord Balinor will be there soon."
Ygraine smiled happily. "Thank you, Damon." The servant nodded again, and Ygraine's blue eyes sparkled with mirth. "Did I not say Gaius would fix him?"
Hunith smiled and nodded happily. Ygraine led her around the castle, asking all along the way to the physician's tower on their opinion of Hunith's dress. "Very lovely, milady," they would reply, and Hunith felt herself blushing like a ripened tomato.
They entered the physician's chambers there, laying in the bed was her father, Owen, chatting comfortably with Gaius. "Papa!" she exclaimed, then bolted across the room and threw herself into her father's arms.
He was winded but laughed as he hugged Hunith tight against his chest. "I'm alright, my dearest." He pulled away from Hunith just enough to study her. "Let me see you."
Hunith held herself stiff to let him see her dress. "You look like a princess. I always knew you were one," he teased.
"Lady Ygraine gave me these." Hunith turned her head to her new friend and beckoned her forward. Ygraine smiled and walked to Hunith's side. "Papa, this is Lady Ygraine de Bois. Ygraine, this is my father, Owen. She told me you would be fine."
Owen smiled gratefully. "Thank you milady."
"The pleasure was all mine. You have a wonderful daughter," Ygraine said truthfully, the two having spoken all afternoon.
Gaius joined them a second later, smiling widely at Hunith. "My dear, how are you feeling? Balinor told me you were feeling ill along the ride, but I did not believe it was much more than the after effects of the smoke."
"I am fine," Hunith said. "Thank you, Gaius, for healing my father."
"It was nothing, my dear. I'm just glad we could fix him," Gaius replied, bowing his head in the slightest bit.
Owen's arms tightened around Hunith's waist, and she adjusted herself, so she sat in his arms on the edge of the bed. "My dear, do you remember me telling you about your mother's sister? Annabelle?" Hunith nodded. "Well Gaius is her husband's eldest brother, is that not right?" Owen looked at Gaius who nodded his head.
"Yes. I am afraid however I have not seen Annabelle and Octavian in many years. They perished under Vertigern's rule," Gaius said sadly.
Owen nodded sadly. "I was sent word of it six years ago, during a raid in the lower town of Camelot. I would not have known the relation if you did not look so much like your brother."
The doors to the physician's chambers opened with a clatter and Ector, Nimueh and Balinor rushed inside. Nimueh hung like a limp doll between the two boys, and her arms slung around their necks. "What happened?" Ygraine demanded, striding across the room to take Balinor's place beneath her arm. Balinor rushed forward with Gaius to prepare a bed for them to lower Nimueh into her. They had just laid her down when Uther came in, in a similar state with Sayard and Tristan. The King tried to walk on his own but kept stumbling back into the Dragonlord and Knight.
"Balinor!" Ygraine demanded, and the seventeen-year-old winced under Ygraine's glare. It was no secret that the Lady of Court was the only one who could put the fear of God into the Dragonlord's son apart from his own father. Ygraine had taken up a sort of maternal role in their strange company and took her mothering seriously when it came to the younger knights, Balinor, Lachlan, Arnold and Agravaine in particular.
"The King of the Dragons gave them a vision of the future but he's all powerful, and it hurt," Balinor said quickly then recoiled as though Ygraine had hit him.
She spun and turned to her brother. "Is this true?"
"Why don't you go and take the girl?" Tristan asked quietly, lowering Uther to a bench. "Now is not the time for panic, sister."
At the same time, Sayard spoke to Gaius. "It's just their eyes, old friend." He patted the physician's shoulder and Gaius quickly started to make a poultice. "Where is Alice?"
"In the lower town."
"Hunith is with her father, and I shall not force her to leave," Ygraine said to her brother. "Why did the dragon give them such a vision?"
"A warning," Nimueh explained weakly. "Ygraine, calm yourself. I am fine. So is Uther. It is just our eyes that ache dully."
The King smiled up at Ygraine pleasantly, but she was unnerved and didn't seem to believe them. Hunith could see that more than anything, Ygraine cared a great deal for her friends and brothers, and loved whole heartedly. Once Gaius made a cloth soaked in cold water and infused with herbs, Ygraine took one to Nimueh and forced her to lie back with her head on her lap. She carefully rested the cloth over Nimueh's eyes and stroked her hair back off her face.
The King and his most loyal subjects descended into quiet chat, explaining what had happened to Gaius and Ygraine. Sayard seemed furious, and Balinor was staring out the window in thought. All the while, Hunith and Owen stayed quiet, trying not to hear the random words like, 'Dragon', 'Magic' 'Sorcerer' and 'Death' that swept their way.
Hunith, not knowing who Nimueh was, thought her outfit was quite improper for a court. But she heard Ygraine's words in her mind talking about her own impropriety and thought maybe this woman practised a similar belief. Also, no one seemed to think her very low cut dress, made from a mix of sheer materials was in any way indecent.
Balinor walked over to Hunith and smiled. "This is your father then?" he said, eager to be distracted from the talk behind him. Sayard watched him for a moment but turned back to Uther who was speaking quietly.
She nodded. "Papa this is Balinor. He pulled me from the flames."
Owen's face softened. "Thank you, lad," he said sincerely. "I don't know what I'd do without Hunith."
"She is a special lady," Balinor said. "Ygraine said she is prepared to have you escort her to the banquet tonight. She rarely bestows such an honour on anyone. Trust me. All the knights, but her brother have tried."
Hunith looked down at her father, staring at him. She did not quite want to leave his side. Almost hearing her thoughts, Owen squeezed her hand. "You should go. I will not be much fun for you. I will be sleeping tonight."
"I can watch over you," she offered.
"No, my dear. Ygraine has invited you and given you such nice things. You should go with her. Have fun, and I will be here when you return."
Balinor smiled and at the same time the party behind them started to disperse. Uther was feeling much better and declared he had to see the Council, and only Nimueh and Ygraine stayed in the chambers along with Gaius. "Balinor," Sayard spoke from the doorway.
Balinor turned his head to see his father and nodded to him. "I will be there in a minute father."
"I was going to say that Ector and I are going to go home and change before the feast. You can come along as you wish."
"I'll come along now," Balinor promised. He turned back to Hunith and Owen. "I do hope you get better, Master Adhan, and I shall see you later this evening, Hunith." Balinor bowed and kissed Hunith's hand, making her blush. Owen smirked quietly at his daughter.
He left, and Ygraine turned her head, and even the Nimueh was smiling, with the bandages off her eyes. "If you wish, I can ask Balinor to escort you instead, Hunith," Ygraine teased.
Nimueh snorted and tilted her head to the side, resting it on Ygraine's shoulder.
Sayard,
Someone is severing the Dragonlord bloodlines.
Luther and Belakane were found with their heads severed and their Dragon's, Boro and Vesta dead. Belakane's daughter was killed hours earlier, and with that, her bloodline is finished. We have yet to discover how they killed the Dragon without a Dragonlord, or who they are but they are the eighth and ninth bloodlines in the last three months.
I tell you this Sayard because you are a good friend and I know how much you care for your boys. Not many know Ector is not yours, so I fear he may be in danger too.
I suggest you be careful.
Sincerely,
Sir Brenton
The banquet for the death of King Constantine was as grand, as expected. Uther had made sure that everyone across the kingdom would talk about the party for years to come, with acts and musicians arriving from all corners of Albion. Sayard watched the revellers from his corner on the edge of the room. He never enjoyed festivities like other did, and much preferred to observe the crowds and his eyes were drawn away from the juggling act to his sons amidst their friends.
Ector was not his own, technically. Others called him his ward, but Sayard had never thought of him as the old physician of Camelot, Elias had entrusted Gaius to care for Ector he had not considered how much Gaius already had to take care of. He was the personal physician to Uther, a young man himself at the time and a vivacious five-year-old who had just lost his father flustered him. So Sayard had offered to take Ector, enchanted with the boy. In Budic's kingdom, Gaius was still a serf, and his ownership turned from King Constantine to King Budic until Uther was old enough anyway. With Sayard as his guardian, Ector was allowed to be educated along with the Prince and became a noble.
Sayard hadn't quite liked the fact Gaius was owned. Ownership and slavery were against the Dragonlord code of honour, and they could take no serfs in their name. He never understood why Uther hadn't made the physician a Freeman upon his eighteenth birthday. But Gaius didn't seem to mind and affectionately allowed Balinor and Ector call him Uncle.
Balinor was his other son and his youngest. He cared for both boys greatly, but even Ector knew that Balinor was special - and not just because he was blood. Both men watched for him and enjoyed the joy he often brought to others. He was standing in the midst of Knights, Ector, Lewis, Frenwyn, Lachlan, Tristan and Bedivere, who had been inducted into the Knighthood after the takeover in one of Tristan's first group of recruits. Balinor was telling a tale that had them all laughing. No doubt it had something to do with Ector, a tavern and a bar wench, considering the way Ector kept correcting him but even he was grinning like a damn fool.
Sayard felt quite blessed with his boys and his life. Only the recent attacks against the Dragonlord bloodlines disturbed him. He hadn't told his sons yet. But days earlier, before the attack in Darreth, he had asked for Ector to take extra care with himself and with Balinor. His eldest hadn't quite understood but did promise not to do anything reckless. Neither of his son's had yet to receive any threats.
"Lord Ambrosius?" The Dragonlord turned his head, and the giant-like Sir Goloris stood beside him, a smile on his gentle face.
Sayard was a tall man, standing at six foot six, but even Goloris towered over him. He remembered when Goloris had first joined Uther's men the blacksmiths had made special armour for him, to fit his giant form. Goloris had dark blonde hair that was too short to be long and too long to be considered bald. In some places it stuck up in angles and, in others, it laid flat against his scalp. Bulging out below his protruding brow were two big brown eyes. Despite his awkward features, Goloris was the kindest and more generous of the Knights of Camelot. It did not interfere with his fighting skill, and he was still the only Knight to ever take down Uther in the midst of a heated rant, and question him when he did something rash.
All in all, he was a good friend of the King and a better Knight. "How are you tonight, Sir Goloris?" Sayard asked, a tone of affection in his voice. He had always enjoyed Goloris' company.
"Good milord," Goloris said, smiling back. He was looking around anxiously. "I heard about what happened. How is the Lady Nimueh and…" The Knight trailed off, and Sayard smirked, knowing what he was about to ask. He did not interrupt. "I um... heard the Lady Ygraine was tending to her. Will she not be making it this evening?"
Sayard smiled, and then the opening doors caught his eye. "I believe they both may be here."
Goloris turned his head, and his eyes became wide as plates when in walked Ygraine and Nimueh, pushing Hunith between them. Sayard hadn't quite met the girl properly as of yet, but he liked her and her energy. There was something in her that lit her with a different sort of magic. The kind that didn't necessarily come with power, but with light.
Nimueh had changed into a blood red dress with no shoulders, and with swatches of material knotted in the ways from the Old Religion around her arms.
Ygraine, as always, looked beautiful. She wore a blue dress the colour of her eyes, with a silver neckline that mimicked a necklace. Her locks hung in curls with small clips on either side to hold the fronts back.
Sayard noticed how her eyes surveyed the room, seeking Goloris. The two broke out into matching stupid grins when they spotted each other, and Ygraine leant down and whispered to Hunith before crossing the room towards him. "Excuse me, milord," Goloris said, rocking on the balls of his feet. "However I must..." He couldn't seem to find a good enough excuse and Sayard grinned.
"It's all right, Goloris. Go."
Goloris didn't need to be told again, and he took off to meet her in the middle of the dancefloor. He was unsure of what to do or what to say and stumbled with his words. The musicians were playing, and Goloris noticed the sounds for what felt like the first time. "Would you do me the honour of having this dance, Lady de Bois?"
"Of course, Sir Goloris," Ygraine replied, a small giggle on her lips.
Goloris grinned and bowed deeply, probably more than he needed to, and offered out his hand. She took it, and he lifted her up and spun her around, joining the other couples.
The two of them, though very different, seemed to fit together in an unsuspecting manner. The Knight's hand was twice the size of the Lady's, but her fingers fit neatly inside of his palm as they cupped them together and stepped around each other. They were near perfect together, and Sayard and everyone else who watched them dance felt the same.
Sayard tore his eyes away from them when a flicker of red-gold hair caught his eye. He spotted Arnold, the squire who had fought alongside Uther and the Knights, despite his youth. Arnold was the same age as Balinor, if not a few months younger. He was always annoyed that while the others who had fought had been knighted he, along with Lachlan and Balinor had not. At least, not at the time. Lachlan received the title of Sir on his eighteenth birthday and so would Arnold when the time came. Balinor had different duties to attend to, and thus could not be a Knight. Not that his youngest had wanted the title. But because of this and Lachlan's patience, Balinor did not quite understand Arnold's arguments over not being made a Knight. He often preferred to ignore him in fact, and Sayard knew for some reason Balinor didn't trust the other man. It often left Arnold isolated from the others, wearing a restless expression. Wanting to see the boy smile for once, Sayard stepped off the wall he had decided to support for the evening and went over to him. "How are you tonight, Arnold?"
The pale-faced young man glared up at Sayard and then back at the dancers. "I am only allowed to stay until ten. Then I must leave to get sleep. Frenwyn called an early morning training for the squires."
Sayard smiled. "Early morning training, hmm? Well, for that to happen, Frenwyn has to rise too and judging by the amount of ale Lachlan is forcing him to consume, I don't quite see that happening." He tried to make the boy laugh, but his expression turned sour.
"Yes, well, I'll still have to be there. God forbid one of the other children report me to Frenwyn. Then I'll never hear the end of it." Arnold's jaw twitched. He kept glaring at the Knights, men who he had fought with to reclaim the castle but who, he felt, saw him as a lesser. But the reasoning behind letting Arnold and Lachlan stay Squires was much more innocent than that. The Knights had merely not wanted them to be in any more danger than they had to be.
"They have all gone through their paces in training, Arnold. Each of them waited until they were eighteen to be Knighted. You must wait too," Sayard said gently.
"Goloris didn't," Arnold correctly pointed out. "He was knighted at twelve by Vertigern. I remember. I was there."
"One day ask Goloris how he feels about that," Sayard said, and Arnold looked properly ashamed. Sayard sighed and rested his hand on Arnold's back. He looked up, catching sight of Hunith, by herself against a wall much like Sayard had been just before. "Before you leave tonight, why don't you dance? That girl there, her name is Hunith. She is new to Camelot and most likely frightened. Ask her to dance."
Arnold turned and saw Hunith standing alone against the wall. "Her? She is a child."
"I am not saying to court her, Arnold. I am saying try cheering her up. I often found making someone else feel better makes me feel better."
He stared at Hunith for a long while with a frown. It softened after a minute. "She is pretty."
"Well go and speak with her," Sayard encouraged.
Arnold stared for a moment then shook his head. "No. I might leave early. Goodnight, Lord Ambrosius."
Idiot, Sayard thought to himself. His eye caught someone new before he could continue his internal rant about the impatient squire.
Uther.
The young King was watching Ygraine dance, and Sayard sighed at his young cousin's infatuation with the de Bois woman. Sayard knew how heartbreak was made. Through unrequited love, shallow rejection and death.
Uther was clearly heartbroken. But instead of collapsing in tears or wallowing, he took the raven-haired, green-eyed Vivienne by the hand and dragged her out onto the dance floor. Vivienne yelped and pressed her hands on Uther's shoulder quickly, but looked thrilled at the chance of dancing with the King. Duke Burgoyne also was equally pleased by the events.
That boy's anger is going to get the better of him one day. He won't make Ygraine jealous if that is his aim. She is too deep in love with Goloris to even care. If his wife had been alive, despite Uther being the king, she would have slapped some sense into him and gotten him to dance with someone less… less like Vivienne Burgoyne. She would have detested the young woman purely for her bootlicking ways.
Sayard closed his eyes, holding his chest almost has if he had taken a blow. He had been avoiding all thoughts of Lenore. He smiled despite himself at the idea of dancing with her at such a banquet once again. Sayard would have given his life for one more moment with her.
"Father?" Balinor had noticed his father staring off, watching the feast with the hazy expression he always did at this time. It wasn't only the anniversary of Constantine's death after all. Balinor knew that while he had no memories of his mother, his father did and had loved her very much. "Are you alright?"
Sayard blinked slowly and pressed his hand on his son's shoulder with a smile. "I am fine son. Why don't you go ask one of the women to dance?"
Balinor snorted. "No one wants to dance with me, father. I don't have rhythm apparently, and something about stepping on toes. Anyway, I was coming over to tell you Lewis and Ector were going to the stores get more ale. It seems we have run out. May I go with them?"
With a slightly coy smile, Sayard asked, "To get ale, or to get even, Balinor? I know Lewis has challenged you to a rematch for last night's fight."
Balinor's ears turned bright red, and he ducked his head. "Father, it has nothing to do with that. I promise."
"Go ahead," Sayard said after studying him carefully. He wasn't lying. Sayard could always tell when Balinor lied. "But tell Ector that he is responsible for you tonight."
"Father, I'm not a child."
"You're my child. Now go," Sayard said, nodding his head to dismiss him.
Balinor rushed along and saw Hunith standing by herself in the corner as some visiting Lord chatted up Nimueh, and Ygraine danced happily with Goloris. Ector and Lewis were beckoning him to the door, but he did not want to leave Hunith alone. He put his hand up for them to wait and they both groaned and tapped their feet impatiently.
He looked around and watched Lachlan at the table laden with food, slipping grapes in his mouth with ease. "Lach?" Balinor called out, and the knight stopped mid-chew to face him.
"Yesh," he replied, his mouth full of meat and bread.
"Could you do me a favour?" he requested. "Swallow whatever is your mouth and go and ask Hunith to dance? She's alone, and I haven't seen her smile once since she arrived."
Lachlan looked around the room, and his eyes landed on the young girl alone, against the wall. He swallowed everything down in one gulp and turned back to Balinor. "And you can't because…?"
"We've run out of ale."
"Ah, the ale." Lachlan pushed himself off the chair with a groan. "Well, it wouldn't be very knightly to leave a damsel in distress alone. It would be worse if I didn't let you get the ale. You owe me, Bally. And by that I mean, bring me the first pint, will you?" Lachlan patted Balinor on the back then went across the room.
By the time Balinor had gotten to the door, Lachlan was already leading the much shorter Hunith to the dance floor and gallantly bowing to her. She giggled, and her smile lit up her entire face. Balinor found himself smiling as she did and only looked away when Ector yanked his arm. "Come on, Bal," Ector groaned. "The people grow restless. We need ale."
"You grow restless. And shouldn't servants be doing this?"
Lewis grinned, appearing alongside him. "Servant's can't get the ale we're getting. The King will kill us if he ever finds out."
"Uther won't mind. But Father, he will murder us both," Ector said.
"That can't be good," Balinor confessed when he saw Ector and Lewis both wore smiles larger than their faces.
It turned out that Ector and Lewis had a secret ale supplier just in the lower town. They made their own brew from ingredients they acquired from the legendary Market City. Located on the most eastern edge of Albion, the city sold all sorts of goods smuggled in from over the seas. The ale was supposed to be deadly potent, and Ector and Lewis were more than keen to try it out, bringing Balinor into their plans.
"Wait out here," Ector said to him as they reached a house close to the gates. "We'll be back in a moment." Ector smacked Lewis's chest and beckoned him forward. They went inside, leaving Balinor alone on the empty street of the lower town.
The gates to the city were open, two guards standing at either side with their long spears held up. Suddenly, something didn't feel right to Balinor. For the beginning of spring, the weather was chilly that evening. But it wasn't just the cold that made Balinor feel on edge. He tugged his cloak over him as a feeling of unease settled into his bones and gripped at his throat.
He looked to the small house, an awning just over the door and thick yellow curtains in the window. Balinor could see the shadows of Ector and Lewis in the window chatting to a third shadow. Their laughter echoed out onto the street. He shivered as a cold wind wrapped around him. "Come on Ec," he murmured beneath his breath, not wanting to be alone much longer.
There was something wrong.
He could feel it in the very bottom of his soul and could almost it whispered in the breeze. A sudden flutter made Balinor jolt, and turn to the city gates. He stared at them, hearing a siren's call to follow them outside. He tried to pull away from it. He wanted Ector to come out of the house and hold him back. But, uneasily Balinor followed his gut feeling down to Camelot's gates. The guards nodded to him, recognising who he was. He turned his head and looked at the home where Ector and Lewis were still inside. Nervously, he left the city to find the disturbance.
He had only intended to glance around. Glance around, turn back and go straight to Ector. That was his plan. There was a snap of a twig to his left and the world got colder still. "Hello?" he called out.
Not a complete idiot, Balinor withdrew his sword, the pommel emblazoned with the head of a dragon and the hilt made up of its wings. It was designed just for him, weighted and made to the exact length of his arm. "Who's out there?" he shouted, stepping into the thicker parts of the forest.
There was another snap of twigs, only this time it came from behind him. Balinor spun around and then swore aloud. It's a trap, he realised. He tried to run back to Camelot, but he was hit suddenly from behind and sprawled out on the forest floor. The world went black for a moment, his shoulder throbbed in pain, and he felt blood pouring from it, his left arm effectively useless.
There was a warrior cry from above him and Balinor shifted just quick enough to miss the axe that narrowly missed his neck. "Balinor?" he heard his name shouted and recognised Ector's voice.
He tried to yell back, but a swift kick delivered to his stomach winded him. Before he could think about it, he was twisting again as the axe descended once more, catching his cape.
He tried tugging away but it was useless, and he was on his back staring up at his attacker. Balinor fought to see the man's face, but there was no face to see. Instead, the attacker wore a mask made from leather like an executioner and stitched into the shape of a dragon. His eyes widened in alarm, and he tried to fumble with the straps of his cape to dislodge himself but he couldn't lift his left arm, and he was trying to keep his sword up with his right.
The Executioner left the axe dug into the earth where it trapped Balinor and withdrew his sword. Balinor waved his sword to fight him off, but he was quickly disarmed, the blood loss making him dizzy. "Hineásæle." The man hissed, and Balinor was trapped and at the man's mercy, unable to scream or shout. The Executioner seemed to know this, suddenly taking his time. Working with ease. Less frantic and more methodical.
He dropped his sword and walked over to Balinor, watching him, with sharp grey eyes. He fell to his knees beside him, and Balinor wanted to fight but couldn't move. The spell The Executioner had used had ensnared him in magical binds, paralysing him.
From his pocket, The Executioner withdrew a ceremonial knife. He pulled Balinor's stiff head up onto his lap and turned his head up to the moon. This is dark magic, Balinor thought as he tried to fight his own stiff body. The Executioner laid his knife over Balinor's throat. I'm going to die, he thought, panicking.
His eyes grew wide and fearful, and he thought of his father and Ector and Uther and Gaius and all the Knights, trying to keep the tears at bay. He did not want to cry in front of the man who would bring about his death.
"Eac cwealmdréor ic copestþín drýcræft,." The Executioner hissed and dug the blade into his throat, sliding it part of the way across.
"Get away from him!" The Executioner spun at the same time as Ector burst into their small clearing and attacked. Balinor shouted as the spell was released. The Executioner, equally as surprised, ripped the dagger over Balinor's throat but mostly across his chin.
Ector attacked, and The Executioner only had a moment before he could pick his sword up again and defend himself. Lewis rushed in too and seeing himself outnumbered, the Executioner turned and bolted through the forest, escaping into the dark. "Bally!" Ector yanked the axe out of Balinor's cloak and fell to the earth, pulling Balinor up onto his lap. "Balinor, look at me."
Balinor turned his head and stared at his elder brother with unseeing eyes. "Bal?" Ector yelled, but with all the blood spilling around him, Balinor couldn't concentrate.
"Ec?" he finally groaned, managing to get his mouth to work. His throat burnt like fire, and he grabbed at it, sticky blood coating his fingers.
"Hold on little brother," Ector said, slipping his arms underneath Balinor's lanky legs and behind his back. "Hang on. We'll get you help." He stood up and adjusted Balinor in his arms.
"Ector," Lewis whispered, looking out over to the large clearing next to the small one they stood in. Ector turned, about to yell but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what Lewis's sword pointed to.
Behind them, mounted on the top of a spear was the head of Sir Brenton, a Dragonlord of Anglia.
Sayard,
I am sorry it had to be this way, that I could not watch Balinor grow up, but I have given my life to save his. Make sure he grows old where I cannot. Make sure he has a chance and is always loved and protected. Make sure he knows my love and, if you must, give your life for him as I have done. He is my legacy, and he is my life.
Love,
Lenora
The doors to the banquet flew open, and everyone turned their heads at the same time, Sayard included. What he saw, standing in the large doorway was the thing of his nightmares. Face drenched in blood and wrapped in the cloaks of Ector and Lewis was Balinor, his head tilted back to reveal a wound on his neck and chin. "Gaius!" the voice tore out from Ector's throat with such pain that Sayard physically staggered.
"No…" he choked. He crossed the room in strides or in bounds, he didn't know. He also couldn't pick where his goblet had gone. All Sayard knew was one minute he was in the corner and the next he was lifting Balinor from Ector's arms and gasping in panic at how pale he was. The entire banquet had fallen into silence and was now watching as Ector started speaking. "I didn't know… I tried… Father?"
Sayard ignored him, and Gaius was just behind him with Alice. The three of them took off with Ector half stumbling behind him with Lewis and they headed to the physician's chambers. More blood fell from his son's neck and shoulder leaving a trail dripping through Camelot, but Balinor didn't stir. His eyes were half closed, and he could barely see the browns underneath.
"Balinor," he pleaded but nothing happened. Sayard ran faster still.
Gaius emptied one of the desks completely as Sayard lowered him down. Alice was already concocting some potion as Gaius pushed Sayard back. "I need room, Sayard."
The Dragonlord nodded and stumbled away.
The man from the fires, Owen took up the bed. Sayard paid him no attention, but he was peering up keenly. "Is that the boy who saved my Hunith's life?"
Sayard didn't reply, his heart lodged in his throat as Gaius removed Balinor's shirt and started applying pressure to the shoulder. The wound on his neck was more difficult. Thankfully, it wasn't deep enough to kill it. It started on one side of his neck but hadn't slid through any life source by some sort of miracle.
Alice came over and pressed a phial to Balinor's lips. "Gaius, help me to get him drink this." Gaius lifted Balinor up and held his neck on his own shoulder as Alice tipped the phial back. His breathing eased into a less frantic, rhythm and Gaius squeezed Balinor's good shoulder once before laying him back down. As he did, Alice held her hand over the wound on his neck and whispered, "Lácne." Her eyes flashed gold and both the shoulder and the neck managed to stitch itself up.
There was a breath of relief from behind him, and now Sayard turned. The young girl Hunith stood in the doorway, watching in fright as Gaius healed his son but that wasn't who concerned Sayard. He was staring at Ector, pale and shaking and being held together by Lewis's steady hand on his shoulder. "What happened?" he demanded. "Where did you go? I thought you went to get ale!"
"From the lower town," Ector said, never moving his eyes away from Balinor.
"What were you doing in the lower town? There is ale in the stores below the castle!" Sayard demanded, his voice raising.
Ector shook his head and wiped his eyes. "There's a man in the lower town. He makes a special brew…"
Losing his temper, Sayard grabbed Ector by his collar, causing him to gasp and shook him. "You let Balinor almost die, for a special brew? You let your brother be injured for ale!"
Tilting his head down in shame Ector nodded. "I'm sorry," he cried, leaning forward, his head pressing against Sayard's chest. "I told him to wait outside. I thought we'd be five minutes at the most."
"Milord, he went out of the city gates." Lewis cut in, trying to calm the Lord. "The guards told us. He went out, and Ector rescued him before the man could kill him. He was using magic, he must have lured him away."
"They had Sir Brenton's head…" Ector whispered, shock evident on his features. Sayard's insides turned ice cold as he realised this wasn't just any sort of attack. There was a hunter out there, looking to end the Ambrosius bloodline.
He shook Ector again. "Do you even understand what could have happened?" he demanded.
"Father?" He spun around, letting go of Ector who stumbled back into Lewis's hold. Balinor was sitting up with his right arm supporting him. "Don't blame Ec. It's not his fault. Please?"
His anger faded instantly, the dim light in his youngest son's eyes enough to bring him a flood of relief. "Bal," he breathed, going back to his side and sitting on the edge of the bench, wrapping his arms around him. "Don't ever do that again," he said shakily.
Balinor rested his head on Sayard's chest without another choice. He was too weak to move, the spell healing him but not restoring his blood. "Ec?" he groaned. Ector wiped his eyes and walked forward hesitantly. "Thank you… for finding me."
Ector nodded, not trusting his own voice.
Guilt flooded Sayard at the way Ector's face contorted with pain. "Ector, come here," he demanded in an even tone. Ector actually looked afraid as he approached and stood just in Sayard's reach.
The father of the two boys reached out and took his eldest son's arm, dragging him closer. Finally, he had them together and held them both, resting his head against Ector's as he felt fear wrap around his insides reminding him of all he could have lost. If Ector hadn't been fast enough or if the attacker had decided that he too was descended from a Dragonlord… He could have lost both his sons.
"Father, you have to stop him," Balinor muttered, his eyes drooping. "He tried to steal… my magic. He wasn't casting a spell… He was completing a ritual… with blood shed in death, I steal your magic… that is… that is what… he said."
"Quiet now, Balinor," Sayard said, stroking his hair. "We can talk of this later when you have more energy."
"Father, you have to stop him," he repeated almost deliriously. "You must. No one should have to… have to die… like that." His head fell limply and panicked, Sayard turned to Gaius and Alice.
Alice smiled quietly. "He is only resting, milord. The potion contained a sleeping draft that he was fighting off." Her voice ended with sad laughter at Balinor's stubbornness.
But all Sayard could see was his fear. He felt Ector shaking against him and saw both of them broken. "Ector you must tell me everything you saw and heard," Sayard instructing, his voice hardening as his anger became directed at the man who caused his sons such fear. The Dragonlord swore to make them pay if it was the last thing he did.
Dear Uther,
I must take a quest that has to do with my duties as a Dragonlord, which, as you know, trump any obligations I have in your court. In my absence, I declare Balinor my successor and request Ector be on his personal guard.
Take care of my sons while I am away, Uther. I beg of you.
Sincerely,
Sayard