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The Dragons of Mere Odain Book Four of The Guardians of Glede Chapter One |
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The fourth book in the series came about because Pepin tapped me on the shoulder and told me he had quite a story to tell. How could I not listen to him? I just didn't know he would be quite so vocal. Three books came out of his story - The Dragons of Mere Odain, DragonMaster and For the Love of Dragons.
ISBN: 1920972625 PDF, PDB (Palm), HTML, LIT (Microsoft Reader), PRC (Unencrypted Mobipocket),RB (Rocket 1100), IMP (Gemstar 1150/Ebookwise), IMP (Gemstar 2150/Rocket 1200) Price: US $4.95
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Elfin
Crown Prince Treyas Merripen looked up from the parchments strewn across
his wide desk. His ward, a little, brown, halfling, was curled up in one
of the dark green hearthside chairs, immersed in a thick book. Treyas'
gaze flicked to the open window and the sunshine beyond. "Hoi,
Pepin," he said softly, so as not to startle the child. "Why
don't you take Li'el for a ride? You haven't ridden her for a couple of
days now." "Can't,"
Pepin replied, not looking up, "she's at Mayfaire, getting ready to
foal." "That's
right," Treyas mumbled, rising. He drew his finely boned fingers
through his thick blonde hair. "Well, why don't you and I go over to
Bailiwycke and spend some time on the beach with Reya?" Not
even the name of Treyas' goddaughter caught Pepin's attention. "It's
too hot on the beach right now," he muttered. Treyas
frowned, his mismatched eyes, one blue, one green, thoughtful. He walked
across the room and glanced at the book Pepin was reading. Something about
Glede provinces and governments. Gods, Treyas thought, he's only
eight and he's already worried about that? He plucked the book from
Pepin's hands. "Papa!"
Pepin leapt up to stand on the chair. He reached for the book, which
Treyas held out of reach. Treyas grinned at the boy's use of the word
papa. Though Treyas was just eighteen, he certainly did view himself as
Pepin's father, though he had no direct blood ties to the boy. "How
about going over to Saskra to see Darosenim and Ashton?" he asked. "It's
too cold in Saskra," Pepin returned, jumping on the chair and
straining for the book. Treyas
wouldn't give up. "Then how about Moyru to see Cynthe's brothers? You
always like playing with Conor and Chase." "You
just want to go see mama!" Pepin retaliated and leapt off the chair
at Treyas. Treyas
dropped the book, caught the slight boy in mid-air and rolled to the
heavily carpeted floor, where he tickled Pepin into gales of shrieking
laughter. Pepin wrestled with him, and Treyas flopped onto his back, Pepin
astride his chest. "I
win!" Pepin declared, pinning Treyas' arms to the ground. Abruptly he
bent over and kissed the tip of Treyas' nose. Treyas
grinned, then looked toward the TravelPortal in the corner of the study,
sensing a surge in the magic. "Incoming," he announced. "Let's
hide," Pepin whispered, and scampered behind the heavy desk, Treyas
at his heels. The
TravelPortal crackled with energy. A moment later a tall, sinewy black elf
stepped into the room. He was dressed in the usual royal attire of fine
woolen tunic and leggings, though instead of the warm colors others wore,
his were jet black and void of any trim or design. He made a striking
figure with his finely chiseled features, his black curls that hung to his
well-muscled shoulders and his clear blue eyes. "Oh,
danns!" Pepin sighed. "It's Grandpapa Kyel. His eyes are too
good." "So
is my hearing," the black elf said, with just a trace of a smile. "I
warned you about his hearing," Treyas teased, rising with Pepin. He
was amused at the title of grandfather that Pepin used with Kyel. More
amused that Kyel allowed it. Kyel had but one ward, Jansson, whom he had
cared for since Jansson was thirteen years old, and who considered the elf
his father. "I
hoped it would be Uncle Jansson," Pepin said. "He can never find
me." None-the-less, the little halfling ran to Kyel for a hug. "I
trust," Kyel said, looking at Treyas, "that the letters are
ready to be signed?" "They
are, my King," Treyas replied with a stiff formal bow. "Else why
would I be wrestling and playing hide-and-seek with Pepin?" Kyel
regarded him with amusement. "Why indeed, Prince Treyas?" He
stepped to the desk but did not sit down. "Is
there something wrong?" Treyas asked. "Is something wrong with
Jansson?" "No,
King van Tannen is fine." Kyel looked at Pepin, then back at Treyas.
"It's been six months since our little ordeal in Karsaba. I was
wondering if you were still planning on seeing if Pepin retains an
Immix?" Treyas
glanced quickly at Pepin, whose face registered uncertainty and fear. "I…
I don't know if I want it done anymore," he stammered, then pressed
close to Treyas and gripped his hand. "If
you choose not to, that is fine," Kyel replied, sitting down. "I
simply thought I would ask, and let you know that I am still willing to
read it. But the choice must be yours, not mine or Treyas'." He
paused, then smiled. "Pepin, I understand you've been learning to
cook." Pepin's
face lit up. "I have! And I made some cookies. Do you want
some?" "I
would love some," Kyel replied. "And bring extras for
Jansson." "All
right! I'll be right back." Pepin raced across the room, threw the
heavy door wide and dashed away. Treyas
looked at the open doorway for a moment, then turned back to Kyel.
"So, what was all of that about? Do you think that I talked Pepin out
of the reading?" "Did
you?" Kyel countered calmly. "No!"
Treyas snapped, then flushed and crossed to the window to peer outside. "But
you aren't really sure you want him to know, are you?" "No.
No, I'm not. I love him, Kyel. As much as if he were of my own blood. What
if he has relatives? What if they want him?" He drew a deep breath.
"I can't stand the thought of losing him. It's ripping my heart
apart." Kyel
rose and crossed the room. He laid one hand on Treyas' shoulder. "I
do understand your feelings. But this has to be his choice. It is his
life." "I
know that," Treyas answered softly. "Your
head may know, but your heart is not listening. And Pepin's empathic
abilities are linked to your heart. He no longer seeks his past because he
is so afraid of hurting you." Treyas
looked up into the crystal blue depths of Kyel's eyes. "And how do I
hide that, Kyel? How do I shield my feelings from him?" His gaze went
to the doorway as Pepin entered, carefully balancing a tray piled high
with thick, irregularly shaped sugar cookies. Pepin's
gaze went at once to Treyas, then to Kyel. He set the tray down slowly on
the desk. "What's wrong?" Treyas
sighed, slouched into a chair and motioned the boy toward him. Pepin
obeyed quietly, his face wary. "Pepin,"
Treyas said, his voice catching, "I think you should let Kyel see if
you have an Immix. I think it would be a good thing for you to know about
your parents." Pepin
stared at him, his brown eyes wide. "But…you and Cynthe…you are
my parents," he whispered. "Aren't you?" The
question tore at Treyas and he gathered the little boy onto this lap.
"Oh, Pepin, of course we are! For as long as you want us to be. But
that doesn't mean that you have to forget who gave birth to you. It took
me fourteen years to learn about my parents and I'm glad that I finally
did. But it didn't change my feelings for Elek. I mean, he's the one who
raised me, looked after me, loved me. And I love him. That's not going to
change." Pepin
was quiet, seeming to think about Treyas' words. "But…what
if…what if my relatives want to take me?" It
was as if he had read Treyas' innermost turmoil. The prince hugged the
little boy to him. "I would never let them take you unless you truly
wanted to go." "But
I don't, Papa!" Pepin cried. "I want to stay here with you and
Mama for always!" Treyas
held him tightly, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.
"I'd like that. But I don't want you to go through life wondering,
like I did. If you have a chance to find out, I think you should take
it." Pepin
sighed and glanced at Kyel. "Then I guess I'll do it," he said
softly. "It won't hurt, will it?" Kyel
smiled, approaching them. "No, it won't hurt. I've held only one
Immix that ever hurt, and that was with a rather powerful, undisciplined
elf who has since learned more control." Treyas
blushed. "He means me," he whispered into Pepin's ear. "I
know," Pepin whispered back. Kyel
drew a chair up opposite them and sat down. He reached for Pepin's hands,
then held the small brown ones in his long, elegant black ones. He closed
his eyes. A moment later, Treyas felt a shudder run through Pepin. A
puzzled look crossed Kyel's face. He opened his eyes and sat back. "Well,"
he said quietly, "there was something there. Not an Immix, but I did
find out one thing. You're going to have a birthday in just a few
weeks." "A
birthday?" Pepin cried. "Another one? Then I'll be nine!" "No,
you'll be eight," Kyel replied. Pepin
frowned. "Well, that's not fair! I've already been eight." "Not
according to the information left up there," Kyel said, gesturing to
Pepin's head. Pepin
slouched back against Treyas, pouting. "But
think of it this way, Pepin," Treyas said. "It's just one extra
birthday you get to celebrate, one extra party." Pepin's
eyes lit up. "That's right!" He turned excitedly to Treyas.
"Can I have a party, Papa? Can I?" Treyas
laughed. "Of course you can." He looked toward the TravelPortal.
"Incoming. Want to hide?" But
it was too late. Jansson van Tannen, sixteen-year old King of Odora Dava,
burst through the Portal, excitement glowing in his large brown eyes. His
curly brown locks were disheveled and bits of straw clung to his soft
leathers. His gaze went at once to Pepin, and his boyishly handsome face
broke into a wide smile. "Ah, Pepin! Just the one I wanted to see.
Li'el foaled. You've got a colt." "A
colt? Yippee!" Pepin shrieked, leaping off Treyas' lap. "Can I
go see him, Papa? Please?" "Yes,
go ahead. I'll be over in a bit," Treyas answered with a short laugh.
"King Kyel still has some letters to go over." Pepin
gave Treyas and Kyel each a happy kiss, then grasped Jansson's hand and
pulled him into the Portal. In seconds, they were gone. Treyas turned at
once to Kyel. "So?" "So,
what?" Kyel rose and headed for the desk. "So,
what did you find out?" Kyel
stopped. "What do you know of Mere Odain?" Treyas
shrugged. "I've never heard of it." Kyel
frowned. "Perhaps you should spend as much time in the books as Pepin
does," he chided, then walked to the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and
began to scan them as he talked. "Mere Odain is a continent to the
south and west of us. They have only recently come out of a long, rather
destructive war. Not a lot is known about Mere Odain. Her peoples are
rather secretive, but it is rumored that it is the home and birthplace of
the DragonRiders." He selected a thin tome and held it out to Treyas. "DragonRiders?"
Treyas took the book. "I thought they were only legend." "Perhaps
they are. However, there was something linked to them in Pepin's
memory." Treyas
started, then looked at the book. "Maybe he read this. He's been
prowling around in here for weeks." Kyel
sat down at the desk. "It's possible, but I don't think so. His
parents didn't hold Immix with him. The information that I got was coming
from Pepin's own memory. And that memory linked his birth to Mere Odain." "He
was born there? Then what was he doing in Karsaba? Sarben said the monks
found Pepin when he was just a year or so old. Why would Pepin's parents
make such a long journey with a mere babe?" "Perhaps
they had no choice. The war in Mere Odain went on for almost forty
years." He paused, his brow furrowing. "In fact, it supposedly
ended just after Brother Cernak found Pepin in the woods." Treyas
felt his gut tighten. "I don't get the connection." Kyel
shrugged, his face relaxing. He picked up the quill. "There may be
none. But for the time being, I would like to keep this information from
Pepin. I would also like you to read that book. But, just now, I think a
very excited young man would probably like your presence at Mayfaire. And
I have work to do." They
both looked over as Kyel's wife, Willow, slipped into the study. Treyas
was, as always, taken with her beauty. She was tall and sinewy, her
movements like those of a cat. Long, moon-white hair hung well past her
shoulders. She fairly glided to the desk, her emerald green eyes
sparkling. Kyel rose at once and took her hands in his, white elf to
black. Treyas grinned. "Looks
like work will wait for a bit," he murmured. "Kyel,"
Willow purred, "did you tell him?" "Not
yet, myshay," Kyel replied, smiling. He glanced sideways at
Treyas. "That vision you had of populating Lidgerwood with brown
elves…" He
needed to say no more. Treyas' face broke into a wide grin. "Yes!
Yes! Yes!" he cried and embraced them both. "You wasted no
time," he teased. "You've only been married for a few
months." "I'm
not getting any younger," Kyel replied. "Oh,
please! If I hear that one more time, I'm going to be sick." Willow
paled, her hand going to her lips, her gaze darting to Kyel. "So am
I!" she cried and fled the room. Kyel
sighed. "It comes with carrying a child. I need to go to her, Treyas.
You go to Mayfaire. We'll look over these letters later. I see some
changes I'd like you to make." "What?"
Treyas cried in dismay. "You barely looked at them!" "I
have very good eyes," Kyel reminded him, starting towards the door. "Tor's
hell," Treyas muttered under his breath. Kyel
stopped. "And very good ears, as well. Remember that." He left
the room, pulling the door shut quietly behind him. Treyas
groaned, dropped the book on the desk and picked up the cookies. This had
been quite a day. A new baby, a new foal and a new life for Pepin. Treyas
wondered which would prove to be the more exciting.
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