Blood of the Red

Chapter 22 - Dain

Chapter 22 – Dain

Ingold's questions bounced off Gartus. The giant knelt, his head shaking slowly, hands twisting. Then at last he gathered himself and rose. The silence stretched whilst Gartus busied himself around the cave. He took three bars of iron from a chest and put them into the fire, thrust among the hottest coals. Then for some time he paced the floor, picking up a trinket from a niche in the wall, setting it down, turning to another. At last he settled, coming to sit before the hearth with Dain and Ingold.

Dain spoke, his voice almost lost in the crackle of the flames.

"Why do you think I'm important?"

Gartus sat close at hand, his great chair turned toward the fire. He stared at the three bars of iron set among the glowing coals, one dark and two almost silver. Ingold slouched in his seat, studying the dance of the firelight across his wine. Gartus considered the question.

"Do you ever hear an inner voice Dain? Something deep within that speaks to you?"

"No," Dain lied. He held his secret close and regarded the huge man with unblinking eyes.

"Now Ingold," Gartus turned to the bard, "how say you?"

Ingold pursed his lips. For a long while he was silent and they listened to the voice of the fire.

"Sometimes . . . just beyond hearing. Sometimes it seems I hear a whisper. I hear it clearly in my dreams, but the memory leaves me as I wake." The bard moved his fingers as if trying to capture something.

Gartus nodded. He held out his fist and smiled. Again Dain saw those teeth of his.

"And when you use the power?" Gartus opened his hand and a single hot blue flame danced on his palm.

Ingold shrugged, "Then the whisper becomes a roar, but it tells no tale."

Gartus closed his fist and the flame died. He leaned forward and thrust his hand amongst the red-hot coals. With the fire leaping around his wrist he drew forth the iron bars. All three shone a fierce orange. Where the iron touched his flesh it didn't sizzle, rather it glowed more brightly.

"The dark iron came to me from across the ice fields of northern Arkas. It was a fallen star, trapped in a glacier for aeons and brought to me by a merchant with a hunger for gold. The lighter iron comes from ores I dug amongst the roots of this mountain. It's harder than Sark steel, and will never tarnish."

As he spoke Gartus plaited the three bars, kneading the half-molten metal with his fingers. Gartus fixed Dain with his strange crimson eyes. The pupils narrowed to slits, like those of a cat who sees the light. He spoke again,

"When you first taste the Blood of the Red you are opened to the voice of power. When you have drunk of the Blood as often as I, the voice speaks clearly. Just as the Blood has changed me - this boy can change the world. I don't know how or why, but he can. He has greatness in him, it goes before him like a whisper of his coming. It is a promise in his eyes. The voice names him Freedom. I will be his guard. I will stand before him though all hell rises to take him."

"You sound like a character out of one of my songs, Gartus." Ingold snorted. "Dain has the shine to him, the Red Priests would send him to drink when he was of age and he'd be a good Blood Guard. Who knows, maybe he could be a Fifth like you, or the first Sixth the lands have known in a lifetime. Well and good, but that won't change the world."

"There's more to it than that, Ingold. You walked the mountains in a storm to find this child. You didn't face death on the peaks for just another Blood Guard."

Ingold's face hardened. "I'd face a storm for any lost companion."

"I'm Freedom?" Dain said. "Freedom for who?"

Gartus cocked his head as if straining to hear something far away. He shook his head. "I don't know. But I think you'll find out." His hands worked the metal rapidly, pinching and twisting, mixing the dark and the light before it hardened. Even at this heat, it should have required a hammer and anvil to shape the iron.

Dain frowned, "And who are you going to guard me from?"

"Everyone. This lunatic bard for a start." Gartus turned to Ingold. "I'll keep the boy safe whilst you pursue this vendetta against Handelf. When you've killed the king you can come for Dain here. If you fail ... well then, I'll look after him."

"But I want to..." Dain began.

"You want to go with me," Ingold finished for him. "And I'd take you, boy. You're good company on the road, you don't talk too much, not too many questions, no complaining. When I come back I'll take you on my travels and train you as a bard. First, however, I'm going to pay a visit to the palace. Now if you understand me, and I hope you do, you'll know when to be silent. Gartus will watch over you. I will return."

Dain peered at Gartus with narrowed eyes. "Will he watch over me better than he watched over King Attlus?"

The huge Blood Guard shook with laughter. His mirth boomed and echoed in the cave. "Ah! He's a sharp one, Ingold." He leaned toward Dain, his chair creaking, "I was captain of King Attlus's guards for twenty years. There are none that could stand alone against me. The traitors that Handelf gathered to him would not move against his father whilst I stood at his side. Handelf persuaded the old king to send me as his representative to a tourney held on the Sark border."

He continued to shape his piece. It looked to be an armband or bracelet. "King Attlus was killed in my absence. I would have fought to save him, but he was a hard man to love and I would not spend my life to avenge him. So, for ten years I have lived in the mountains. I work my forge. I weave a little fire-magic for those who call on me, and with such trade I am kept comfortable enough. The new King could seek me out, but I dealt roughly with those he first sent to kill me. I think he prefers to pretend I no longer exist."

A silence stretched until Dain spoke again. "Why do you look so strange?"

This time it was Ingold who shook with laughter, though he had the grace to hold it in. Gartus set aside his metalwork. He ran his fingers over his ridged brows then stretched them out to study thick dark nails that were almost talons. "You know it has been so many years since any man has dared to ask me that question I had almost forgotten...

"It's a fair question Dain. If you're to be left in the care of a monster, you should at least know how he came to be. The Blood of the Red brings change. The deeper you drink, the deeper the change. Ingold has tasted the Blood only once; he is a First. It has made him strong, quick to heal. He can see in others the strength needed to survive the Blood. He hears the Voice in whispers, but beyond that he is little changed in mind or body.

"Each time a man drinks of the Blood, the risk that it will consume him grows, as do the changes that are wrought upon him. When I was chosen, I was a blacksmith's apprentice, big and ugly, but not what you see before you."

Gartus took up the bracelet again. He polished the metal on his leather apron. From time to time he spat on it and the saliva sizzled away into steam. Finally, satisfied, Gartus tossed the piece to Ingold. The bard snatched it from the air, hissing at the searing heat.

Gartus laughed, "You have soft hands little minstrel. You'll need to toughen yourself up if you intend to call in at the palace."

The armband caught the light as Ingold turned it. The design was simple and bold, executed with skill, a double spiral with a pierced latticework between. The delicacy came in the interwoven swirls of silver and grey. The interplay of shades somehow echoed and elaborated on the larger pattern like a harmony.

"Wear that. It has some fire magic woven in the mix – a little help against the Red Priests maybe. You'll need all the help you can get!"

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