Shunned: Dragon's Cord #1 The Metal Veil and the Weeping Sword Named Tear

  Chapter Four

  Ragon

  A large flowering tree, a Crimson Apple Tree, stood next to a cave in the scene that appeared before Shy. The wind gently swept through its green leaves and purple flowers and this was the scent that she smelled earlier. A small Black Cardinal landed on a branch, then as if someone removed their hands from her ears, she heard the male bird chirp to the midday.

  The scene brought with it a sense of tranquility, but five men heavily armed on horseback shattered that as they rode up. They halted before the cave, dismounted, and gathered their weapons. They did this as quietly as they could.

  "Zor, this is the place," one of the men whispered to their leader.

  "I can see that," Zor replied in hushed tones. He was taller than the others by a head and wore a gold helmet with eagle's wings. He commanded the men, "Net the adults so we may steal their eggs. My scouts reported it's nearly time for the brood to hatch, and our leader, Lord Vonturk, is nearly out of patience waiting for the next batch of slaves."

  His men readied their weapons as two dragons appeared at the cave's entrance. Shy recognized one to be the Man-slayer of Torlawn and the other was slightly smaller and female, but of the same coloring and markings.

  "What do you want?" the man-slayer hissed, noticing the men's weapons and nets.

  The other dragon gasped as she said, "Ragon, they are dragon slavers!"

  "You shall not have our brood," Ragon proclaimed through a growl. "Quick!" he told his mate. "Go inside and protect the nest, Chaseah. I shall face these men."

  The female scurried into the cave as she told him, "Be careful, Ragon."

  Zor raised a large mace and rested it on his shoulder as his men readied the nets. "I prefer not to kill the mating pair," he told the male dragon. "It's bad for business. No adults, no children to be sold off later."

  "Leave slaver," Ragon said as his eyes flashed red with warning. "Torlawn does not permit your kind here."

  Zor looked around and questioned, "And who shall stop me?"

  Ragon charged the man, swiping with his claws, and Zor blocked the attacks with his mace as his men threw a net over the reptile. The dragon entangled in the trap and thrashed about on the ground. Wild eyed, the dragon looked up at the man.

  "See, that was painless," Zor said as he winked at the dragon.

  Ragon growled, whipped his tail, and cut the man across the cheek.

  Zor put his hand to his face, covering the bloody slash and yelled, "Vile beast, I'll kill you." He raised his mace to strike, then stopped, and said, "No, males are more rare than females, but I shall teach you a lesson." He turned to his crew and asked, "What's the name of the new man we hired from the village."

  "Marco," one of his men answered.

  "Ah yes, Marco the Lancer. Go in and kill the female."

  "Are you sure?" Marco asked.

  "Yes, the male must remember it has no rights. It is but a dragon," Zor replied as he wiped his blood on his pants. "Don't damage the eggs in the fight."

  "Yes, sir," Marco the Lancer spoke and ran in the cave with his long spear.

  Moments later, the savage screams of the female echoed as she fought the man in a death match.

  Zor turned to his other men and ordered them, "Go help him."

  They rushed in, and their battle cries and bloody movements were added to the mix of horrid sounds.

  "No!" Ragon pleaded, struggling to free himself. "Do not hurt my mate! Do not hurt Chaseah!"

  There was one last blood chilling cry from the female and then silence. Zor's men returned with the eggs as Lancer carried the severed head of the female to his horse and tied it to the saddle horn. Zor kicked the male dragon before mounting his steed.

  "Learn your lesson beast, never defy me again."

  "I have learned my lesson," Ragon hissed, staring at his mate's lifeless face as the men rode off, leaving him in the net. He had learned of their cruelty, and the dragon vowed under his breath, "I swear Chaseah, I shall kill them." A tear trickled down his scaled face as he spoke, "They shall pay with their blood, and I shall find our children."

  The scene faded as Shy felt the anguish and heartache of the dragon. No wonder he killed Marco the Lancer. Ragon was so close to his mate and to have her savagely killed... She understood his sadness and his hatred. His feelings were very similar to her own.

  While the enchantment gave Shy a glimpse into the dragon's past, it also bestowed upon Ragon a glance into hers. Ragon felt her blade pierce his chest and waited for his end as a weightlessness engulfed him. He thought this was death, till he realized the two hunters and himself were frozen. A blue-gray mist surrounded them as the mountain scene faded away.

  A new scene came into view like he was emerging from a dark cave into the light of day. Ragon saw Shy sitting by a slow moving river, staring at her unmasked reflection. She touched the deformed half of her face, studying it in the liquid mirror. She wore a plain brown dress and apron and held her unsheathed sword. She moved from the bank to sit underneath a Mountain Oak, saddened by a face given to her on the day she was born. Amber and gold leaves surrounded her as she examined her sword.

  "The Tear," she said. "Why was I given you?"

  She sighed, lifting her gaze to look across the water. Her sad expression changed to one of bewilderment as she stood. A man clung to a log in the middle of the river, and Shy dropped her sword, rushed into the water, and swam to the man, dragging his limp body back to shore. She hauled his heavy frame up to the grass and looked him over. Half of his body was burnt badly.

  "Sir?" Shy uttered as she knelt by him. "Are you alive?"

  The man moaned, but gave no other response.

  "I am going to get help," she told him and then she vowed, "I promise I shall be back."

  The scene flashed forward, the man was propped up in a bed, and his burns were wrapped in bandages. Shy sat beside him in a chair, wearing her hood as an older woman entered with a bowl of soup.

  "Faith, shall he live?" Shy questioned her as she stared at the sleeping man.

  "Don't know," the older woman replied as she sat on the bed, touching the man gently on the shoulder. Faith told him, "Wake... You should try and drink some broth."

  The man's blue eyes opened, focusing on Faith. He looked to the bowl, nodded, sipped the brown liquid from the wooden spoon, and coughed.

  "Not so fast," Faith spoke as she dabbed his chin with her apron. "A little slower there, sir."

  "Turk..." the man forced from his raw throat. "My name's Turk. Where..?"

  "Shhh... Quiet now. Save your voice. I'm Faith and this is my daughter Shy. She pulled you out of the river. You're badly burned and need to rest yourself, so no more speaking." She dipped the spoon in the bowl and told him, "You're in the Region of Bantam, on one of the smaller Mountains of Torlawn."

  The scene changed again, and amber and gold leaves fell as winter ice covered the branches. Turk stood outside the hut, wrapped in a bear fur. His bandages gone, revealing deeply scarred flesh. He seemed at peace with his surroundings. Shy, in her fur cloak, returned from her morning's wood gathering. She stopped before the porch, seeing Turk was up. In one arm, she carried a bundle of sticks and in the other hand, she held the Tear.

  "The time I've been here," he started. "I've seen you carry that sword everywhere you go. I've never seen you train with it, and you hold it more like a walking stick. Why do you have such a thing?"

  Shy looked to see if Faith was around for she had never told her adopted mother from whom she received the blade. Still a little bashful around the man, she answered, "My mother gave her to me. My birth mother. It is all I have of her."

  "I see. Would you like to learn how to use it?" he asked her.

  "Yes," Shy replied and then she questioned, "Are you a hunter?"

  "No, I'm a blacksmith," Turk replied. "Swords are my specialty. My father was a hunter and an excellent swordsman. He taught
me well."

  Shy pulled her hood further down to hide her face as she said, "I would like to learn.

  The scene changed once again, and small green buds appeared on the trees as the ice melted. Faith smoked a pipe as she watched Turk and Shy practice with the sword.

  "You've learned much over the winter," Turk told Shy. "Enough practice for now. I have a gift for you." He walked over to the small smith shop he'd built, then returned, and said, "I made a scabbard for the Tear. All swords should have one."

  Shy took the black leather sheath as she said, "Turk, I... I do not know what to say. Thank you."

  "No thanks needed," he told her, turned to Faith, and questioned the older woman, "May I take her for a stroll? We'll go along the river."

  Faith grinned and then she nodded.

  Turk offered his hand to Shy, she took it, and he led her to the river to the spot she pulled him from the water. He faced her, gently touched her shoulders, and stared into the shadow of her hood.

  "Do you find me hideous?" he asked her.

  "What?" Shy uttered surprised by his question as she looked at his scarred face, finding kindness in his eyes.

  Turk asked, "My burns... Do they repulse you?"

  She shook her head as she stroked her hand down the side of his cheek and stated, "This is who you are."

  He took her hand and kissed it, and he requested, "Show me your face."

  "No!" Shy exclaimed out of fear as she stepped back, remembering the hateful reactions of the villagers. "You shall despise me."

  "Faith doesn't hate you and she has seen," he told her as he gently took her hand back. "Trust me. I won't scream or run away."

  Shy bowed her head as she admitted, "I am afraid."

  "Don't be," Turk spoke as he tenderly grabbed the brim of the hood. "Allow me to see."

  Turk lowered it over the back of her head before she could refuse again, and Shy closed her eyes, bracing herself for his reaction, and when she heard none, she slowly opened her eyes. Shy wasn't sure how the shock of seeing her true self affected him for she couldn't read his expression. Turk tenderly lifted her chin to examine her face, and that's when she saw it. Fear didn't consume his expression as she imagined, and his eyes where full of love, not pity.

  "See, I'm still here," he told her with a smile, then placed his hand to the side of the face that the curse marked.

  No one had ever touched her there, and a sensation she couldn't explain tingled through her body.

  Turk seemed to also feel the unusual sensation for he slowly pulled his hand away, glanced at his palm, then turned back to her, and said, "Come, I better walk you back before Faith hunts me down. Plus there is something I wish to work on in my shop."

  He motioned for her to head out first, then he followed her, paused, and looked at his palm again. Turk rubbed the fingers of that hand over his tingling palm as a sensation he never experienced before nor would he ever let go of, swept over him and tenderly took ahold of him.

  The scene changed again as the buds burst out into leaves, turning the forest green again. Black Cardinals, who had fled south for the winter, returned and chirped joyously among the trees. Shy stepped into the smith shop after her early morning workout with her sword. The smell of leather and burning pine filled the open room.

  "It's done," Turk said, holding something behind his back and then he pulled it out for her to see the shiny half-mask. He went behind Shy, placed the half-mask to her face, fastened it in the back, and then retrieved a mirror as he asked, "What do you think of the metal veil?"

  Shy touched the half-mask and replied, "It is beautiful."

  "Yes, now everyone can see you as I do. No more being afraid to enter the villages. You're free. Free to go where you want. I should also tell you the metal of this veil is very special, but I shall tell you more about that later. You should go show your mother."

  "I do not know what to say," Shy spoke as she hugged him. "You have made me so happy."

  She stepped back from him and looked up at him full of adoration as she couldn't contain her excitement. Shy took the mirror from him, peered at her reflection, and saw how beautiful her gift was. She smiled at him and then questioned, "Why is it called the metal veil?"

  "In the tradition of my homeland, a promise veil is given to the woman a man intends to wed as a vow to her that he would ask for her hand in marriage."

  Her heart thundered in her chest as she inquired, "Are you asking me to marry you?"

  "No, not yet," he replied. "In my homeland, a circlet is forged out of silver and given to the woman to wear around her neck, and if she excepts it, he wears a matching one, and then the two of them are engaged to marry. A promise veil tells the woman of the man's future intentions and when the woman wears the promise veil, other potential suitors know of the claim that will be made shortly. The metal veil is my promise veil to you."

  Turk bent down and kissed her on her fleshy cheek, and Shy blushed. He put his hand to the side of her face the metal veil covered, and told her, "There's something else I've been wanting to tell you. I..."

  "Turk! Shy!" Faith screamed.

  The way she yelled, caused both of them to rush out of the smith shop, and they found a small red dragon had cornered Faith by the barn.

  "What is it?" Shy questioned through a gasp.

  "A Lava Dragon," he answered her and noticed the collar around its neck. "It's a Tracker. A slaver has sent it." Turk fisted his hand as he muttered, "It is too soon. How did it..?"

  "What does it want?" Shy asked. "Maybe we can lead it away with food."

  Faith had a pitch fork, keeping the reptile at bay. The dragon was wingless, flat like a snake, spiked, and had two forked tongues. Born in the Land of Volcanos, these smaller than Ragon dragons had a high tolerance for heat. Even their skin looked like lava, and they reeked of sulfur. The dragon smelled the two approach, so it turned and faced them.

  Shy drew the Tear as she uttered, "I shall kill the beast."

  She stepped toward the dragon, but Turk put out his arm and blocked her.

  "No, don't attack! The Lava will only call more dragons to help. We must lead it away from the farm," he told her as he grabbed an anvil, took off running, and the dragon pursued.

  "Wait!" Shy yelled as she followed them.

  Turk ran for the river and followed the flowing waters till they ended at a cascade, and Shy was close behind. He stopped and turned to face the dragon who had beaten her to the top of the large fall. The water roared over the rocks beside him as the Lava crept toward Turk, and Shy was still a little ways away. The dragon leaped for him, and both fell over the waterfall.

  "No!" Shy yelled, running to the edge, but she couldn't see the bottom for the mist.

  She quickly made her way to the basin, but found neither Turk nor the dragon. Shy ran down stream, but still found nothing. Tired from her endless search, she made her way back to the hut where Faith waited anxiously.

  Faith threw her arms around her just as the sun set and said, "I thought something happened to you."

  "Turk is gone," Shy replied as she felt numb.

  "What?" Faith exclaimed as she stepped back and her daughter wept.

  "I could not save him. There was nothing..." Shy said and buried her face in Faith's shoulder, sobbing bitterly. "I was powerless."

  "There, there child. Everything shall be fine."

  "Mother," Shy began through sniffles. "I love him."

  Faith sighed deeply, knowing the sting of this loss and stroked her daughter's sable hair as she told her, "Everything shall be fine."

  Ragon felt for the huntress as the images faded, then he and Shy's thoughts came together as a new scene appeared, and their souls moved as one to a place neither of them had been to before. A sign outside the town proclaimed it to be Havlong, and many people and animals filled its vast streets. Slaves from many a race and creatures were forced into cells and onto auction blocks, awaiting to be s
old to the highest bidder.

  Ragon saw his brood of eggs carted along one of its streets, and Shy... she saw Turk with his hands bound in front of him, led into one of the many buildings. The scene snatched itself from their combined minds and with its revelation, left behind a sense of loss and powerlessness. Each knew where there loved ones were, but alone they knew they had no chance of rescuing them.

  Chapter Five

  The Promise And A Sorrow-filled Vow