Chapter 32

Broken Bonds

“The Second Crown Prince of the great Belkins empire, Sir Khan Anwar and his wife. The great Oracle Dathney Lorain,” an attendant called out.

There was a bit of contention as no one was called to attention. The reason being was that the first Princess of Prian was already in attendance. Since there was no way to know who was already here, there was a bit of concern until the female on the arm of the young Prince spoke into his ear and then pointed toward the Princess. After a few words were spoken, the Dean, who had been by the Princess’ side the entire time, politely excused himself then ran over to greet the new guests.

The new guests, however, were already on their way. Seeing this sudden attention coming her way, the Princess took in a deep breath, gave a quick caress to her dress to smooth out any wrinkles, then turned to the second Prince. She didn’t like greeting people, but she did so out of necessity. Putting on her best fake smile, she turned to greet the Second Prince, only to see them walk right past her as if she didn’t exist at all. Trailing behind them was the Dean, who seemed at a loss from the sudden pace the two took to get here.

Still, the two from Belkins went right past the First Princess of Piran. Ezma was so shocked by this sudden turn of events she couldn’t help but feel flustered and a little embarrassed. Then outrage sank in as she saw that they were talking to the person she had just been speaking to. The boy was clearly more than he would appear at first glance.

Then the most outrageous thing happened. They started speaking Belkanese, and worse, the boy responded fluently. Just as he had in Piran.

“Hahaha.”

A few things were universal, like laughter. The boy had said something, beaming with a smile, and gave a customary greeting and deferential bow to the Second Prince and his wife. Her eyes glowed with the icy sheen showing that she saw the future. Inwardly she scoffed at such a lowly Class, she was a Diviner of Prophecy, yet the woman seemed to have a knowing smirk about her. She smiled a coy knowing smile. Then the mere oracle gave a wink that set Ezma’s blood boiling.

Rather than stay focused, she turned her attention back to the boy, who clearly seemed to know them. Or at least he had known the Oracle from some second-rate Azani cast-off country. Looking at the Prince, she remembered the strategy meetings that were conducted. How different partners for war were spoken about, and how the Belkins had been disqualified almost instantly due to their Second Prince not even being able to keep his wife. Then her mind began reeling, her eyes growing wide as she remembered the details. The Belkins were considered a laughing stock for having an Azani bandit group steal the Princess from their very lands.

As the details came flooding to Ezma’s mind, she turned to look at the Oracular wife of the Second Prince. Upon feeling the gaze of the Princess on her, she turned and then gave the same smile and a knowing nod of her head.

Inwardly Ezma seethed. This second-rate witch from a second-rate country was daring to play games with her? Worse, she was winning.

“Calm down. They share the aura of battle together,” Jhamet’s mental thoughts came through their connection, trying to sooth her.

Yet it was Ezma’s head bodyguard, Tyleon Ulkin, who acted on the Princess’ behalf. Moving forward, he made to demand the woman who had been sending mocking smiles at her Princess back down. But as he moved, he found his way blocked by the wolf in men’s clothing.

Seeing this moment unfold, her mind went blank as a blanket of golden light covered the next few moments. She could make out no sights of the future, only the outraged roaring of dragons. Hearing these sounds of the future, Ezma decided not to step in. She was here to encourage international tensions between Piran and Sidhertha. What better cause for an international incident than to let an incident unfold that would get all of her dragon escorts angered.

So caught up with trying to see through the golden haze that she missed the next few moments. Instead, all she saw was her guard Tyleon purposefully drawing ire at having been stopped from approaching the Second Prince’s wife by the wolf of Sidhertha. In her mind, the boy had no other name. He was a wolf that needed to be brought to heel.

“You dare touch me!” Tyleon demanded in the Sidherthan tongue.

The boy just stood there, eyes blazing with resolve. A shiver ran down Ezma’s spine at the fierce gaze. She knew she should stop this, as this would only escalate things, but she was here for that very purpose. She and Tyleon were both here to escalate tensions. Watching the moment, the anger-filled roar of dragons sounded even louder, clearer in her mind. This was a sign that the future was unfolding toward this inevitable conclusion.

To anger a dragon is folly, Ezma thought.

“Indeed it is, Princess,” Jhamet responded to her thoughts.

“I demand an honor duel,” Tyleon demanded, continuing the charade. Tyleon was easily half a head taller than the boy, and his frame had filled out with the strength of the Piran people. He was a giant even amongst a land of giants. Still, the boy didn’t even flinch.

“You sure?” His only words. No pause or hesitation.

Tyleon looked over the spindly youth and sneered. Then his eyes were drawn to the Spirit Blade at his hip. Ezma was about to note something to the effect, but fortunately, his battle-weary eyes noticed the article in question without warning.

“Quite a fancy blade. Though our people are known for their prowess with a spear. A sword offers no modicum of safety from the skies,” Tyleon said grandly.

“Spears?” the boy asked, a sly smile forming on his lips. Seeing the smile caused Ezma’s heart to stop for a second. It was the look of a predator who had lured the prey into their well-crafted trap.

“Yes. Spears, a truly honorable weapon,” Tyleon said.

“Fair enough. You find me a spear, and we will settle this like Pirans,” the wolf, Lykan, said, taking off the sword at his waist and handing it to his charge. To Telka.

Seeing the act, Tyleon looked flustered for a second, then nodded, quickly regaining his composure.

Streams of gold flashed in Ezma’s mind. Her body was moving as she was following the flow of the future, but she could not see anything. The next few moments were nothing more than a blur. There was the sound of quick combat, then the roar of the first dragon. Then came the sounds of birds singing. Then many dragons roared in anger.

A sinking feeling crossed Ezma’s mind as she tried to understand what the future was to come. She knew parts of the future, but now things were set in stone. Unless she demanded Tyleon step down, the future was inevitable.

Before she knew it, she was outside.

Lykan and Tyleon both wielded spears about thirty meters apart. Dragons and their riders were to the left. To the right were delegates of the Belkins. To the back were the Sidherthan guards who were coming from the guards to see what the commotion was. Then behind Ezma were all of the students and faculty of the Winter Festival. To her right stood the Dean.

“I do apologize for the fuss,” the Dean said, his words falling on deaf ears as Ezma stared forward.

Then the golden haze of the future stopped for a moment as the Belkins Oracle came near.

“It’s funny,” Dathney, the lowly oracle of the Belkins, said.

Her words were so odd that they caused Ezma to turn her head and stare. She didn’t want to speak to the common oracle, but something forced her to move forward. It was clear the Oracle seemed to understand something more than Ezma herself could even dare to understand about the current stream of events.

“What’s funny?” Ezma asked.

Rather than getting a straightforward answer, she was met with another question.

“Have you ever wondered what happens when you cause an unstoppable force to move?”

“What?”

Before anyone had time to begin, the duel began. The wolf held his spear point toward the ground.

“You dare mock me?” Tyleon roared. “This is to the death.”

The wolf just shook his head. Looking at the boy, the image of a feral creature appeared where the head of an attractive youth once stood.

“Grr,” Tyleon yelled as he charged forward. Infusing one’s body with Power is a simple enough practice. Simply take the energy of your core or center and have it flow directly into your muscles. Tyleon was an expert on this. Not only was he naturally large and strong, but he was able to push his body beyond natural limits. Charging forward at speeds that no normal mortal could match, he blurred forward. Only to see the butt of a spear nearly impale him with his own speed and momentum.

“Oof,” Tyleon wheezed as he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Laughing broke out at the sight of the great warrior of Piran being taken down by a mere boy.

“No, no,” Ezma muttered to herself as she could tell what was going to happen next.

Yjulian, the great Poison Dragon and faithful mount of Tyleon roared and took a step forward. The beast was so close it nearly entered the circled-off dueling area that housed Tyleon and Lykan.

“RAHH!” Tyleon shot to his feet and charged forward once more. This time he was met with not one but three quick jabs to his torso, chest, and neck.

Wheezing.

Tyleon began gasping for air like a fish out of water. Deep painful wheezes were heard by all in attendance.

Yjulian began stomping its clawed feet angrily at the ground, desperately wanting to help.

Lykan, for his part, didn’t charge forward for the kill. Instead, he just stalked his wounded prey. Every step Tyleon took was mirrored by Lykan.

Finally, Tyleon was able to gasp through enough air that his windpipe expanded, and he was once again able to breathe fairly normally. He got up, staggering to his feet, using his spear more for leverage than anything.

“Do you yield?” Lykan demanded, still pointing the blunt end of his spear toward Tyleon.

Tyleon took in one breath, then a second. Seeing the boy Tyleon came to one conclusion, he could not win, not like this. With his honor as a Piran at stake, he did the only thing he could do.

“Kill him!” Tyleon called out in Piran.

Hearing that command of obedience, Yjulian roared a cry of victory as he was finally able to help his Master.

Ezma paused, realizing that was the sound of the lone dragon she had heard from her vision of the future.

“Telka!” Lykan screamed, then made sounds of birds singing.

In her mind, Ezma knew the sounds of birds made by Lykan was the language of the High Wood Elves. Having heard its melodious sound, she was once again impressed by the knowledge of the young boy. No, not a boy, a wolf. Then she remembered her dream that was clearer, the one with the sounds of birds, and realized that was the sound she had heard. The calling out of Lykan.

Again she could stop this. All the dragons would listen to her, even Tyleon’s, if she so much as commanded it. Yet, she knew the future. She had heard the dragons roaring in anger. Her mind played with different ways the future she hoped for could happen. The boy could wound Tyleon causing the Poison Dragon to spray its venom wildly, getting not only Lykan but a few delegates. The guards respond by attacking Yjulain, and then the dragons feeling the bond of unity will rise up to defend their packmate.

There was a communal aspect to dragons that many didn’t understand. Even dragons of different species would bond together if they were part of an overall community. This was something greater, the sense of community that was not found in dragons in the wild. This was part of why dragons accepted the bond of a Master. While not a full world law, it was close. The dragons themselves granted the power of the bond. Thus the world laws were partially enacted. This was as close to the old world laws as people had ever gotten in the last few thousand years, and it was all thanks to dragons and their near-infinite power. At least near infinite when in comparison to humans.

A piercing screech of pain flared out.

When Ezma turned her attention, she saw Lykan covered in venom and Tyleon down on the ground. Ezma’s heart pounded in her chest when she realized the man on the ground was still alive. She also looked to see that Lykan’s spear was in the left eye socket of Yjulian.

“How?” Ezma asked out loud.

Hearing the word, the Belkins Oracle just turned and gave a coy knowing smile. “I told you, an unstoppable force is now in motion.”

Ezma wanted to protest, but she was too caught up in the scene playing out before him. The boy had been phenomenal with a spear. His movements and actions showed that he was easily an expert with the weapon. A weapon he had purposefully turned around to not cause any serious damage to Tyleon.

Only now did Ezma realize what had happened. The boy had gone easy on Tyleon. Yet Tyleon had taken the acts to be mocking. Ezma, too, had taken the acts to be mocking. In a way, they were, but given the disparity in Skill and Ability, they were merely a precaution.

“He had no doubt he would win?” she found herself saying.

A sword flew in from the audience. Lykan, not even focusing on the object, plucked it from the air, and unsheathed the now glowing sword in one fluid motion.

Seeing the blade exposed, the light seemed to glint on the embedded jewel at the hilt of the blade. Seeing the blade, there was no doubt of its origins. It was a Spirit Blade, a true living weapon that glowed with killing intent.

Yjulian, now blind in its left eye, tried to overcorrect, charging forward while barreling at Lykan.

To make matters worse, Yjulian was the second smallest breed of dragons. The Poison Dragons resembled long venomous snakes with wings and short stubby legs more than the giant fire-breathing dragons. Still, Poison Dragons were deadly. Their spit was corrosive, and a bite was nearly instant death.

Its paces and gaze took it off to the right. Lykan moved with lightning-quick speed. It was clear he would easily side-step the charge, which was when Yjulian made a desperate gamble. It lowered its wings and tried to force Lykan back a step, right into the charging body. This was a common tactic. Dragons had long known that their staggering frames would cause many creatures to shrink back in fear. Just like birds would use their wings to try and scare away predators, so too did dragons.

The only problem was Yjulian had never met a creature who was not afraid of dragons. One who did not cower at the very sight of such a being. Instead, Lykan steeled himself as he held his ground and slashed forward.

Dragon wings are frailer than one might expect. They are hollow and are designed for lift. Thus the problem with using one’s wings to frighten an unflinching foe. A sharpened blade can easily pierce a dragon's wings if given enough force. That much was true for common swords. For Spirit Blades, blades that were forged through constant hardening of the spiritual essence stolen by the sword and made manifest in sharpened stone, the wing stood no chance.

Slink.

The blade sliced through the wing. Unaware of his own strength and the strength required to cut through a dragon’s wing, Lykan put the full force of his body behind the blow cutting down and diagonal toward the beast’s charging body.

There was minimal resistance. Then a slight pause as the blade came in contact with a solid object once more. Putting everything he had into this one motion, he continued to cut. Broken bones from the wing cut deep gashes on his right and left arms as his body went right where the wing would be. The blade had managed to cut through a few feet of the tough membrane of the wing, but there was still enough to cause the completely severed wing to fall to the ground and begin to get dragged behind.

The impossibly sharp Spirit Blade continued to slice and cut. Lykan’s vision was stopped by the feet of wing membrane that cut off his sight from what he was slicing into. He originally thought it was part of the side of the long serpentine body, but his sword soon sliced through the skin it had found.

With a sickening sucking sound, blood and viscera sprayed Lykan in the legs. Then the long charging beast began to fall and spin. Only after this did Lykan realize he had cut the beast's front right leg off completely. The subsequent loss of balance caused the beast to fall and spin. Its wing scraps grabbed and began twisting Lykan to the ground. Just before he thought he would be covered and smothers in wing membranes and a flailing dragon body, the serpent stopped.

Gasps.

Everyone was in shock. Using the moment of pause, Lykan pulled his sword clean and then managed to cut his way free of the broken wing that had cocooned him.

Staggering out from the wing, he went forward, only to stop in shock and horror at what he saw.

The spear that had been pierced into the beast’s left eye was now fully stuck in the ground. The spear had apparently arrested the tumbling speed of the monster and used the force of the fall to impale the spear deeper into and through the eye of the beast, piercing deep into the beast’s brain.

Shock.

Lykan was in shock at what he saw. Worse, the dragon was still alive, quivering as its body and mind still tried to fight on the moment. Sickened, Lykan walked over to the slowly dying beast. Its neck held to the side in full display.

Shaking his head in disgust, he picked up his blade and, with one precise chop, swung down. The head of the beast that had been held off the ground thanks to the tension of the spear now dropped. Blood and viscera sprayed Lykan as he watched on with muted horror at what he had done.

Then with a challenging roar, Lykan screamed out in the language of the dragons.

Hearing the primal sounds Ezma and the others watching flinched back in horror. Here was a man covered in blood which had just done the impossible. Taken down a dragon and rider in single combat.

Jhamet, for his part, took a step forward and lowered his head. His chin tilted up high in a show of reverence and respect. Soon too, did the others follow suit.

“What are they doing?” People muttered as they watched the display.

Ezma understood through her dragon bond. The boy had challenged any others to come forward.

Seeing that none wished or dared.

Lykan roared out again.

This time all the dragons roared back.

Ezma didn’t know what was said, but she felt righteous anger flowing through her dragon bond.

“So be it,” Lykan said in Sidherthan. Lykan moved away from the slain dragon and angrily strode toward the still unconscious Tyleon. Lykan dropped his sword to the ground as he strode forward.

What? was all Ezma managed to think as the boy suddenly began to glow with a golden hue.

In her mind, she saw this power and felt a chill run down her spine. It was the same magic that Jhamet had used to help them bond. It was the power of the old world laws. The same power that Tyleon had used to bond with Yjulian.

Lykan strode forward, taking his right hand and rubbing it on his drenched clothing. At first, Ezma thought it was to get the blood off of his hands, but as he pulled his hand away, it was clear that it was covered with the deep blackish-red blood of dragons. Even from a distance, it was clear that drops were falling from his hand.

“You have been judged by the old world laws and found to be wanting,” Lykan roared out. It wasn’t Piran or Sidherthan. It was an old language, the universal language of Babel. The first language that the old world laws were supposedly written in. The language that everyone could easily understand. Hearing the words, everyone gasped, but Lykan just continued.

“You have broken the pact of a Shepherd and their flock. Letting petty jealousy cost you your sacred bond and oath. Let this mark be not just a mark on your body but on your very soul. Your pride has cost you. Only once you have redeemed your soul will your mark of shame be removed,” Lykan said as he strode forward and slammed his hand down on Tyleon’s head with a deafening slap.

Smack!

A wave of energy shot fort, blanketing everyone present.

Ezma felt her chest tighten.

Then with golden glowing eyes Lykan turned to the Princess and her delegation.

“Let this be a warning. Should any more of you break your sacred bonds with your dragons, I will hunt you down and mark you in judgment for all to see,” Lykan said, his voice still booming with the language of Babel.

With that, the dragons all let out mighty roars that shook the ground.

A feeling of agreement and rage filled Ezma’s sacred bond with Jhamet.

Standing still and staring at everyone, the wolf’s eyes passed over everyone present. A chill ran down Ezma’s spine as their eyes locked for a second. Then his eyes passed on. A feeling of relief flooded her mind as she felt free of that judging wrath.

Finally, he stopped, and his voice called out in that sweet singing tone.

Telka ran forward and quickly picked up the sheath while Lykan picked up the sword.

Lykan sheathed his sword, but rather than re-attach it to his side, he let Telka carry it. Then with a dignified air about him, he held out his blood and viscera-covered arm. Telka paused for a second but then quickly took his arm. The two then made their way through the crowd arm in arm. Protectorate and his charge. They looked quite the sight, her wearing a nice red dress and him covered in a torn and blood-covered uniform. The two entered the ballroom and then seemed to disappear from sight.

With that, Ezma turned to see the horror that was before her.

Tyleon had finally recovered enough to sit up, a bloody handprint set firmly on his once beautiful face.

“What, what happened?” Tyleon said as he got up and stared at the beheaded dragon that had been his bonded earlier in life. Rage seemed to take Tyleon as he stood up. “We must make them pay!”

Tyleon said, but as he spoke, many Piran who gathered all turned away.

Even Ezma felt the overwhelming compulsion to turn away from her bond with Jhamet.

“What is going on? This must be avenged?” Tyleon shouted.

Ezma felt shame at his words.

Tyleon turned to the other dragons as if seeing if they would want to take up for their fallen comrade. The dragons he looked at all turned away with a huff when they laid eyes on him.

Looking at the mark, Ezma felt the overwhelming compulsion to turn her back on the man too. He had been marked.

The mark of Caine, was the only thought that Ezma could think as she looked away.

It was the old ways, the old stories. The mark of Caine, one who had broken the old world laws and been punished not only in body but in spirit at well. It was a mark upon his body and soul that would forever tell of his betrayal of the old world laws.

A tear formed in Ezma’s eye as she thought about how she had played a part in this. Tyleon had been little more than a pawn in the grand scheme of things, a pawn who had played and danced his part perfectly.

“The problem with unstoppable forces. Even when you see it coming and brace yourself for impact, all you can really do is get out of its way,” Dathney said from up ahead.

“I agree, my dear. I will endeavor to take your council more seriously in the future,” the Second Prince said, speaking perfect Sidherthan, a sign that they had purposefully been trying to keep Ezma from knowing what they were talking about earlier.

Then her mind went to shock for a moment as she looked forward to where the wolf in the form of a boy had gone. She looked and ran into the grand ballroom only to find it empty. There were a few blood trails, but crews of servants were already hard at work mopping up the entire floor. It was nearly impossible to see where the boy and his charge went.

“Princess,” Dean Mathers called out.

Ezma turned to see that the Dean, who had been rather meek and timid a moment ago, now had a look of power to him. Seeing the look, she paused.

“I think we need to talk about what happens next.”

Hearing that, her eyes turned to the dead dragon and the disgraced bodyguard who were still in the middle of the courtyard.

Sighing to herself, Ezma turned to begin the long process ahead.