Silver Dragon Chapter One

Chapter One

The young man sat in the tavern, staring moodily into his drink, his thoughts far away.

Well, he thought, you did what you set out do to.

He narrowed his eyes and tightened the grip on his mug.

You had to go, didn't you, Kaine? Had to satisfy your bloody curiosity. Well, now you know.

He upended his mug, only to find it empty. Automatically he reached into the pouch on his belt, fumbling for another coin.

"Lookin' fer this?" someone drawled from behind him.

Kaine hesitated. He knew, just knew from the tone of the person's voice that the man was smirking.

Then he swivelled around and stared the person straight in the eye.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, I'm looking for that." He made a grab for the pouch that was dangling tantalisingly from the thief's finger, but the other man snatched it out of his reach.

"Mmm...nope. I think I'm just gonna see what you got in 'ere that's so important." He grinned, displaying broken teeth. "You ain't taken yer hand off it all this time an' that tells me there's something in 'ere worth seein'."

Kaine stood up. Although not excessively tall, he was still on an eye level with this man. Without speaking, he slid one hand silently to his side and pulled out a dagger.

"Give it back," he said, in a voice of ice. "Give it back and get the hell out of my way."

His opponent blinked at him. Kaine had noticed him when he'd first walked in; the man had been taking part in an impromptu drinking contest that had sprung up between a centaur, an Eyrien and half a dozen humans. The effects could be seen; the man was clearly the worse off for drink...or possibly the better off, depending on your point of view. Despite that, Kaine felt a grudging respect; the average human wouldn't even stay conscious in any drinking match involving a centaur, much less be walking, talking and robbing people.

"You heard me," Kaine stated. He didn't have to raise his voice; the entire tavern had fallen silent now, the better to eavesdrop. "Give it back and get out of my way."

A combination of drink and bravado prompted the man to take a wild swing at Kaine, who didn't even bother to blink as the fist missed him by about six inches. Faster than anyone could follow, Kaine resheathed his dagger and drew his sword instead. The other man's eyes widened and he scrambled away.

Kaine couldn't blame him. Unlike most blades, which would reflect the light in a room, the one he was currently holding seemed to suck it all in, creating a sword of moving darkness.

The legend went that it had once been a blade of the gods, perfect in every respect until a hero had stolen it. The gods had cursed the weapon, splitting it into two; one a weapon of pure good, the other - Kaine's - pure evil. According to the story, the only sword capable of destroying such an evil weapon was its opposite. The weapon in Kaine's hand would not only take an opponent's life, but their soul as well. Anyone except the wielder who looked upon the Dark Blade would see their own end, in graphic detail.

Kaine himself didn't believe in all that religious crap; the idea of an evil weapon being balanced by a pure one was as old as the mountains and nine times out of ten nothing more than wishful thinking. He'd been in several places, fought countless battles and never even heard a whisper of this so-called pure blade.

There was, however, no denying that his sword was capable of doing what the legend said. Nine times out of ten, Kaine didn't actually have to wield it - which suited him fine now - the vision of their own death was enough to deter anyone.

Kaine himself didn't know how it worked. He'd never seen it from a victim's point of view, only his own and the wielder was immune to the blade's effects. All he knew was that he couldn't get rid of the damn thing until he found its nonexistent counterpart.

Which, as far as Kaine could see, meant he was screwed either way. Nobody would buy the sword from him and he didn't dare leave it lying around in case it fell into the wrong hands.

"I won't ask you again," he said softly, addressing the man, who had only stopped retreating because he'd hit the wall. "Give it back."

There was a long, taut silence.

"Just 'avin' a joke, 'sall," the man muttered. He tossed the pouch over to Kaine, who caught it in his free hand, smiling mirthlessly.

The distinct sound of a laser pistol, or lastol as they were more commonly known, being primed jerked his thoughts back to the present and he glanced around to see the innkeeper pointing the deadly weapon at his head.

"I don't know who you are-" the man's voice was trembling- "or what kind of cursed weapon that is, but I want it and you out of my tavern. Now," he added as Kaine didn't seem to be showing any signs of rushing to comply.

For a moment, Kaine simply stared at him, then smiled slightly, the smile of someone graciously conceding an argument, and slid the blade easily into its sheath again.

"Alright," he said. "How much do I owe you for the drinks?"

"On the house," the man grated, still pointing the lastol at him. "Just don't ever come back."

Kaine snorted slightly, the sound meaning No fear, then ducked out of the door. Once outside, he sat down in the dust by the road, in no mood to go anywhere else that night.

Even by his standards, things weren't going well. This was the seventh place he'd been thrown out of, and to add insult to injury, he hadn't really done anything except terrified the wits out of a few people.

A slight chirp, but a vaguely reptilian one, caused him to glance up with a scowl.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded irritably.

A bronze dragonling fluttered down to land on Kaine's offered forearm.

I was with a blue, if you must know, the dragonling said, sounding distinctly haughty.

Kaine smiled slightly, relieved to have something to take his mind off his current problems. The dragonling had been his one constant companion since his escape from Castle Bluesilver. The swordsman had no idea how he would have coped without the bronze around.

"I didn't think you liked blues," he said aloud.

I don't, usually. But this one's almost as large as a black.

Kaine grimaced slightly at that. "And I really didn't think you coupled with blacks," he added. Black dragonlings were almost as large as bronzes and, like bronzes, were almost exclusively male.

The bronze screeched its annoyance and dug needle sharp talons into Kaine's arm.

"Ouch!" Kaine knocked the creature off. "If you're going to scratch, Yilmav, you can scratch something else," he informed the dragonling coldly. "I was only joking."

Yilmav glared at Kaine, but condescended to land on the man's arm again.

So now where are we going? he wanted to know. You've been thrown out of more taverns than I've had dust baths! You can't drink your way to oblivion.

"Says who?" Kaine muttered, not quite under his breath.

Well, if you're that bored, you could always go back to Natha, Yilmav offered, the sarcasm in his tone unnoticeable unless you were listening hard.

"Are you mad?" Kaine demanded. "You heard what they said! I'm not welcome there either."

Oh, so you're just going to let some stuck-up human female dictate where you can and can't go? Yilmav gave the draconic equivalent of a snort. I never thought I'd see the day when Lord Shadowdeath Kaine the Master Swordsman-

"Oh, shut up," Kaine said ungraciously, climbing to his feet again. Anything had to be better than listening to Yilmav prattle on. "I told you. I'm not...who you said," he finished, somewhat lamely, then relapsed into silence, lost in his memories.

Some twenty five years ago, the sorceror known only as the Shadowlord had raided the mining village where Kaine was born and taken him prisoner. He'd been the one to train Kaine to the standard of fighting he was now at, and the Shadowlord had placed Kaine in charge of his armies, controlling him by means of an enchantment that not only allowed him to monitor and dictate Kaine's every move, but also made Kaine think he was acting of his own free will. A small band of fighters had broken the enchantment and Kaine had defected to the other side. During the final battle, he had been killed by the Shadowlord himself, only to be resurrected fifteen years later by a noble family in need of a protector. Disgusted with the way the family treated their servants, Kaine had left their castle with the help of an old friend who had told him that somewhere out there he had-

-a horde of children, Yilmav chipped in, sounding bored. With nothing to take his mind off everything that had happened, Kaine had had plenty of time for remembering and the dragonling had sat through the same stories and memories over and over again.

Kaine glared at the bronze. "Excuse me? Could you at least knock before entering my mind? And I do not have a horde of children, thankyou very much!"

In fact, he had no idea how many children he'd fathered while under that damned curse. He thought that it might be around the five or six mark, but that was no more than a rough estimate, based on snippets of conversation he'd overheard.

Look, you found one of them. Your eldest daughter was raised by the elves in Rengal and wants nothing to do with you-hardly surprising, since you were in the pay of the Shadowlord when you raped her mother. That's the only reason you won't go back to Rengal. It's nothing to do with what they told you. It's just because you're too scared and ashamed to look your own child in the eyes.

Enraged, Kaine took a swipe at the bronze, who dodged easily.

"I said shut up! And stop thinking about...about that!"

Why? Yilmav said smugly. You still do.

"I...That's different." Kaine leaned against a tree wearily. "That's entirely different."

Yilmav paused, then flew over and rubbed his cheek against Kaine's, who smiled wryly.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just...oh hell, I don't know! I need someplace to be on my own, just think things through. I have no idea where I'm going or what I'm doing."

You had no idea where you were going or what you were doing when you were under that enchantment, the bronze pointed out, with more emphasis than tact. Kaine ran a hand through his hair.

"I know. I know." He hesitated. "Do you know where Alenda lives?" he asked.

Alenda with the horse? Yes, I know. Then the dragonling realised. You want me to take a message to her, don't you?

"If you wouldn't mind," Kaine said, a touch sarcastically.

Yilmav started to say that yes, he did mind, then caught sight of the strange smile on Kaine's face and had second, third and fourth thoughts about doing so.

Alright. I'll see if she'll let you stay there...again. Just don't do anything stupid like dying or vanishing off the face of this world without a trace again while I'm gone. Without waiting for an answer, Yilmav zipped away, faster than the average eye could follow.

Kaine snorted. Even at the arrow-quick speed of the dragonling, it would still take Yilmav a good few hours to reach Alenda's farm.

Alenda was the closest thing he had to an actual friend; she was an ex-noble who had fallen in love with a farmer and fallen out of favour with her family at the same time. The farmer in question had died three years ago, but Alenda still refused to make up with her family and had given Kaine a place to stay and a good meal more than once. It wasn't really fair to keep imposing on her hospitality, but still...he had nowhere else to go. Besides, she made an amazing bat stew.

With a sigh, he stretched up, then started to follow the bronze. He had no doubts as to Alenda's hospitality; sending Yilmav was just a courtesy...not to mention it got the bronze out of his hair for a while and let Kaine think in peace.

Another slight smile tugged at the corner of the fighter's mouth as he made his way to the farm. Perhaps things weren't going so badly after all.

ID: 494445   (Rated: 13+) Silver Dragon Chapter Two  Kaine sets off on his journey by JudasFm