Dragon Knight - The Ancestor Gods Saga Book 2

8. Isbold's Last Stand

Tylesin walked about the town. It was the first time he had been alone since he had joined with Riva and Lexon. There was a reason for that.

He had betrayed the Creatoress and at some point, she would want her revenge. The only thing he believed was keeping him safe was that he was never alone and the Creatoress was not yet ready to reveal herself to the world. How long she would show such restraint was debatable.

He still, deep down, believed he was doomed, it was just a matter of when his fate would catch up with him. Riva had insisted she would protect him and, of all the people he had known in his long life, Riva happened to be the one who had been capable of convincing him to trust her. Maybe it was because she now had a part of the dragon soul in her, or maybe it was just that she had tapped into some part of him that was not pure selfishness. The part that had agreed when she said he could not allow the Creatoress to have the dragon's soul. For the sake of all the world, mortals, and gods.

Or perhaps, after all, it had been just an act of pure defiance on his part. A rebellion against the goddess.

A terribly dangerous rebellion.

Whatever the case, he had agreed to risk his life for both the divine and mortal world. He was sure, sooner rather than later, he would regret that decision.

Tylesin had needed to get away from the others and it occurred to him that walking about the town, around mortals, would provide him with the security he needed to avoid any encounter with the Creatoress. She would stir up the attention of the other gods if she opened one of her deadly portals here, in the middle of a market square. She did not need that interest.

Tylesin walked around and he glanced at the stalls and shops open for business. While the protection of a demigod and his kin had enabled the town to thrive, it remained a very provincial affair. The shops were the front rooms of people's homes, with the window shutters thrust open and a fold out bench table serving as a counter. The stalls were often handcarts filled with produce such as potatoes or crated chickens. There was little in the way of exotic or luxury goods as Tylesin would see in a city.

Tylesin was the most exotic thing most of the people around him had seen. He was dark-skinned and wore the turban style headdress of another land. His clothes were dyed a deep blue, a colour too rich and expensive for the townsfolk to ever aspire to, and his tunic and trousers were cut in a loose fashion, that made it appear as if he walked almost in robes.

He knew he was watched. Some looked at him with interest, others were wary, and some glared at him with open hostility. Tylesin had walked in many lands over his long lifespan, and he was untroubled by these reactions. He was familiar with them all, and many more. There were things that worried him far more than the hard stares of countryfolk who feared a stranger in their midst.

Eventually, some might say inevitably, Tylesin found himself at a part of the town where the cobbles were irreparably scorched. Their blackened state spread out from a single central circle, moving like the ripples on a lake when a stone is cast in. There was a span between each ring where the ground was not so harshly burned, then a hard black line that encircled the first. There were a dozen of these rings, stretching outwards until their edges touched the walls of nearby houses. Several of the houses were burned out, blackened husks. A couple were little more than piles of ash, with struts of black timber poking out.

Tylesin walked around the outermost ring, the smell of burning raw in his nose. Here was where his fellow demigods had made their last stand and barely survived to tell the tale.

Tylesin was not a natural fighter, preferring to use his wits to get him out of trouble. The scene of devastation seemed a stark reminder of the trouble he was moving towards.