Chương 311: 4.1

Evren stood as he had been told. As would make his keepers pleased. Standing in the soft sand of the training grounds. Flexing the toes of his fore and aft paws over the smooth grains. The eyes of the soldiers on him. The sun baking down upon his feathers and fur. Called him the Wolf prince they did. As if he was a wild thing. As if his mother and father were not shepherds when he hatched. As if his family had not remained shepherds until the lord's men found Evren out tending the flock with his eldest brother.

As if the principality of Vanand were his and his family's and not a lie to bind him. As if it had not been ruled by and would not continue to be the dominion of Evren's 'regent' and 'advisor' in anything that mattered. They called him a 'prince' because it was better than 'countess' and that was all. That lie was sour on his tongue. He heard a great deal whispered about the Countess, his counterpart and elder wyrm. He was often compared to rumors about her. He wondered if she too was held up by a lie.

Evren ruled no one. He didn't even have any sheep to tend now. It was all made up. Just like today's exercises. A play for the benefit of everyone but him. Evren stood as he was told to, braced how they had commanded. His fore and hind paws planted firmly where they ordered. Body coiled loosely, wings furled, tail at the ready.

Jaws parted to strike, a mix of instructions decided by the High King's best gryphon riders and from the whispers around Evren what details had been found out about the Countess Wyrm's own exercises. At least that was what he usually would do. But not even that today. Today was a new sort of lie. He missed the sheep. He missed the hill pastures. He missed his brothers and sister.

He even missed the lazy sheep-griff Olthin that would rather laze in the sun on a day like today then do his job and circle the flock from the air. He missed them all but he had to be here. Mother and Father told him so. The High King promised. He had to keep them safe, that was the promise, but only as long as he did what they told him too. Mother would want for nothing and no harm would come to Father or his siblings. That had been the oath sworn to seven gods not just by the 'regent' but by the King too.

The King declared Evren and his family all noble, he declared the principality of Vanand theirs. Had 'given' them the land that Evren's grandfather and great grandfather and so many more before had seen their sheep graze on since time immemorial. Done so much to try and set them above their neighbors. Had built a new house for them by the labor of strangers where his parents' old one once stood. All so Evren would do as he was told and listen to all lord's men talk.

So Evren would squint and 'learn his letters' in stuffy rooms full of sheep & pig skin and painted wood. It was honestly mostly easier work than watching the sheep. That might seem more than fair. It might look like kindness. But Evren missed the sheep. And Mother and Father both warned about the way of the lords. About empty gifts promised for worse deals. Warned how evil foreign peddlers could be. Of how much lords could take while claiming to give.

No matter how honest and true the High King had sounded and smelled Evren needed to never let down his guard. Do what they told him, but always be careful. His parents had told him to stay safe and true and well out in the world of strange and terrible foreigners. But also to stay sharp. Just as his family's neighbors warned their men and boys when they left to serve in the armies of the Lord. Fighting wars far away from their home."

Never forget the lords are the same kin as the ones who tried to take our hills from us, The same that claim our best wool and lambs every year." Mother made him promise not to forget. And Evren wouldn't. He still missed the open skies and clean air. The ruling lords and stinking city folk even now judged his family for the snouts on their faces, the fur on their bodies, the ears and tails that they held high with pride out in the hills. Evren did not know why but he had seen the looks and heard the curses.

Somehow he was different. The very same things that now had him called Evren The Wolf Prince he knew his sister had been cursed and spat on for. He'd been there to comfort her and dry her tears when a traveling merchant had run her off for simply watching from the side of the road! He'd helped his brothers find the man that dared to scare her and see justice done. That was what foreigners were like under their lies. He would never forget that these Lords and stinking city men could not be trusted. He couldn't.

Evren knew who his family was. For his fur, ears and snout matched his mother's. His coat was short and tan like the plains in the height of summer just like his sister's. His wings feathered brown and speckled black, like all the sheep-griff of his home that worked with the shepherds in the hills guarding their herds. But somehow what was praised on Evren was cursed on others.

The same things which made some cities close their gates to his family, unless they hid themselves in smothering cloth, was all honors to him? Evren struggled to imagine why, Just like he struggled with 'learning his letters'. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. He was not sure he ever wanted it to make sense. It felt like if he knew it would make him dirty and stinking like all the city men.

He missed the village and the other Shepherd families where you could trust someone's scent and voice to tell you if they were being true. He missed even the ones that didn't like him. At least they told him so. Even when these nobles told the truth they found a way to lie. Twisting their scent around so that they could make the world itself seem mad. He'd never forget the warnings of his Father and Mother. He would do his duty for their safety. But he missed his sheep. Evren missed his family.

It was for them that he was here. That he obeyed. By the promise of the High King of Magarska, he did as he was told. Which right now meant standing here in the sand, throwing men around with swings of his tail, the snap of his jaws or the shove of his wings.

"And again!" Evren nodded and resumed the starting place. Warriors, well armored and skilled, the best that the High King could call (so said those around him) surrounded the wyrm. Armed with the spears meant for hunting the feral rock wyrm. There was another wordless shout from the side as a signal and it started over again. The smell of the men's sweat filled the air as they lunged. The slight thickening stink of blood from the bruises under their skin. Magarska's so-called finest prodded and hounded Evren.

But he had long since learned to be swift on his feet, even when commanded to stay grounded. He had already grown skilled enough to beat this number in a proper melee if he fought with his all. But today was not for such a trial. No today was for drills. More for the men than Evren. He struck as he was supposed to. With his teeth. But he kept the snarl from his lips despite the irritation. Mother always said to do so." Do not curl your lips like the beasts they think you are. Do not give them the satisfaction.

Hold your hate deep and in the eyes. Let your eyes speak your fury, my children. Not your teeth." He hoped Mother would be proud of him. He hoped that all the lambs had made it through the summer this year. Evren wished he was watching over them right now with little Olthin flying in his wake. Not this. This was a lie worse than usual. He knew from his lessons how a Tyrant Wyrm was supposed to fight. The Countess would not bite with her teeth.

But then again this was not training for fighting the Shining Doom of Viznove. Not for these men. That was Evren's responsibility and perhaps if he was lucky the work of the Greater Gryph Riders in support of him. For men on the ground to face the Countess and expect they would ever get close enough their concern was her teeth was stupid. Evren wasin't stupid and neither were these men. As much as they lied, the men that told Evren what to do were also not stupid. No, today it was drills for fighting Feral Wyrm.

These men were to be new hunters. Seekers of more True Wyrm Eggs. Another lie said with the truth. All the Lords talked about them that way. More Wyrm Eggs, Hoped to hatch into more like Evren. Viznove's one single Countess might claim ancestry from the mythical Tyrant of the north. But Evren's egg had been found in a Gryphon nest in the rock cliffs by his father. Most assuredly not laid by anything legendary. Yet he was their Wolf Prince.

And by every word, besides the markings he took from his family Evren was every bit the Tyrant Wyrm as the Countess of Viznove. Thus was the training done. So did Magarska hunt for Wyrm Eggs. All while lying. Openly it was said to be for the bountiful riches that Old Cantor offered for the eggs to perform some incredible miracle workings or other foreign nonsense. But in 'secret' it was to prepare Magarska with more than just a single Tyrant Wyrm.

Which meant trying to find more eggs and more families to raise them. His parents had talked about it among themselves when he was last allowed to visit. The High King's men had come for all their neighbors. All the families in the hills of his homeland. They had been offered riches, or safety or so many other poisoned promises to hold an egg. To keep one and if it hatched, raise it. To give Magarska a second Wolf Prince, or a third, a fourth, as many as could be managed.

He hoped the ones that were never heard from again had simply taken up the offers and been moved away. But Evren's parents were grim about it. He missed those that disappeared too, unable to even visit them. Still the drills. The training of these hunters. Jerk back when they went for his neck with their spears. Weave away to avoid the hooks under the metal points catching on the scales beneath his fur. Offer a puff of 'training fire' to ward them off. Not enough to slay but to bring caution and worry.

They had drilled this part already, none of the soldiers surrounding him were caught in the first spray of blinding white fog. But they had not gotten much further than this today. He reared back and swept with a wing. Doing the motions he'd been commanded too by a man who was half there. Leg, arm and a portion of his belly scarred over and missing on his left side. A hunter of wyrm that had lived despite his injuries. Who talked and directed Evren late into yesterday's evening.

All to prepare for the training today for the High King's men. Evren did as he was told to do in a moment like this. But not as the men around him had been told. More lies. Unlike before the soldiers around him were not prepared. He caught two of them in the chests with his wing knuckles. Pulling the blow just enough that they were only thrown to the ground and maybe bruised. Not broken against the impact with shattered ribs. He was told not to hurt them permanently.

But he was also told to do this if the moment came up. They had gotten too close together. So where three were thrown back they took the balance of their neighbors with them. Not enough to fell them all, but it was a distraction. One Evren had been told to then exploit. He puffed training flame over the entire tangled mass before they could rally and break free from each other. Washed over all of them in the blinding white fog that would merely sting and discolor cloth.

The shouts of dismay drowned out as he took up the starting position again in anticipation of the half missing man's command. He had done precisely as told by the crippled wyrm hunter. The entire party would have been dead if he had used even the scattered flame of a rock wyrm. But It was not his place to declare their failure. For that came the grizzled shout of the man that had told Evren to do these things in the first place.

"All of you are dead, less than ash. Honestly I thought this was supposed to be Magarska's finest! But a whelp of a wyrmling being soft as a mother cat with her kittens has bested you three times today!" There were frustrated sighs but no complaints. Evren supposed discipline was at least true in these 'finest' men of the High King. The half of a man turned to Evren and nodded.

"Good work child, That was just like the one who did this to me." The once dragon hunter gestured with his one remaining hand at the disconcerting voids on his left side. Then as had been happening since first light that day the order came again.

"Form up and try it again! Don't let your guards down, keep your formations loose, Feral Wyrms can be clever beasts when cornered, Especially the older ones!" And Evren settled in for his role in all of this. He would serve. He would play his part in this lie. For his family.