A great fire razed the mighty hall of patrons. It ate through woods, melting steel, and felling bricks. Billows of thick smoke ascended in the air. Drake watched in horror. The assassin was gone. She had vanished in a flash and he pondered upon her wealth of skill.
All his young life, he could say he had been obsessed with the magic of bonding. He knew all the eight branches of infusion magic and their blood-sigils. But he had never seen anyone fight with such deadly skill.
Everyone knew that no mortal could survive a bond to two talents of infusion or wield two blood-sigils. From what he knew, not even, Lothar, or any of the great patrons were bonded as such. The scholars at the School of Conjuration had described it as filling one body with two souls or filling a balloon with both air and water. Eventually one gives way for the other or it ruptures and bursts.
Two things had changed his mind. He had seen the assassin display skill in both Alteration and Evocation. An impossible feat to achieve. But it was his own manifestation that burdened his heart with ill thoughts.
Drake's mind was ripe with fear. William had witnessed his showmanship with all eight magic of infusion and so did half the guards and Rangers. People fear the impossible and for the first time he was truly afraid of his own family.
Light footfalls approached down the cobblestone. He turned and quickly caught Elizabeth's face. Philip and William were right behind her, accompanied by the First Companions, his father's personal guards.
"Where did she go?" Philip stretched out his sword looking nervously from side to side.
Drake could not find his tongue.
"Did she hurt you?" Philip touched his shoulder.
"Hurt him?" William chimed in, "Our little brother here took the assassin on his own. You should have seen his skill. I have never witnessed anything like that in my life."
The guards glanced at themselves, nodding their heads in agreement.
"How did you come by it?" William glanced at Drake.
"What do you mean?" Philip sheathed his sword.
Elizabeth came forward and wrapped a cloak over Drake's shoulder. "We are all alive because of his courage, that's all that matters. Give him space to recover before you bombard him with your questions."
The guards made way separating into twin lines to cut a path in between them. She held Drake shoulders and they walked through the guards. As they went through, the guards slammed the butt of their spears on the cobblestone, raising loud thuds, a sign of respect.
He has never felt such reverence before.
They made their way into his mother's quarters and passed through several rooms of red and gold hues, most of which were perfectly square with doors on all four sides. Near the eastern side of the palace, they entered a long, narrow passage. It was red and illuminated with ornamented transparent containers that housed glowing flies, something very unusual. The walls were lined with paintings and portraits of his mother.
He had stayed away from the quarters to murder all memories of her, but now he needed it as a sanctuary. Elizabeth helped him to lie on a bed.
"Get some rest," she said, "I will go get the healers."
She smiled at him and then exited through the double doors.
A fragrant scent lingered in the air. Drake followed the smell to a strange object that looked like an oil lamp. Thick white smoke ascended in wisps, bearing the strong scent of incense.
YOU ARE READING
Foxfire (The Blood Oath) old version
FantasyWhen fifteen year old Drake was born, they called him boneless. Destined to die for what his clan called an abnormality, the love of his mother saved him. But growing up with a weak bone disease meant he cannot fight, hunt, joust, or draw a blood-si...
