Fated Touch Box Set #2: Dragon Shifter Romance

Chapter 4

4

We left the good father comfortable in his chair with a warm fire and set off in the growing darkness. Caius led us westward along a wide dirt road to the north of the church so that we followed the last glimmer of light as it set behind the mountains.

Now was my chance at a heart-to-heart as I nudged my elbow to his arm. “So when were you going to tell me you had a brother?”

Caius didn’t meet my inquisitive gaze. “When you met him.”

I frowned. “Don’t you think that’s cutting it close? I mean, I am his sister now.” He pursed his lips. I looked ahead of us and sighed. “I know you were probably just keeping him safe, but since I’m going to go meet him now I really would like to know about him. I mean, how old is he?”

“Twelve summers, all told,” Caius revealed.

“So does that make him twenty in this world or really twelve?” I asked him.

“Twelve years,” he assured me.

I furrowed my brow as I recalled an old memory. “Didn’t you tell me you were a century old?”

“I am.”

“So why the age gap?”

“Marcus was rather unexpected,” he admitted.

I bit my lower lip and my eyes flickered to Caius. “So what happened. . .I mean, how’d-”

“Our parents die?” he guessed.

I winced. “Yeah, unless you mind telling me, and that’s fine.”

He shook his head. “I don’t mind. Marcus was half a year old when the poachers came to our home in the mountains north of here. There were too many of them. Our parents told me to take Marcus and get out, so I did.” His face fell as he recalled those terrible memories. “I gave Marcus to Father Ferrero and flew back, but it was too late. All I found was a few poacher bodies and their blood. The rest had been taken by the poachers.”

My jaw hit the ground. “They. . .they took everything?”

He nodded. “Yeah. They must’ve been cursing about all that wasted blood.” My eyes flickered down to his covered arm. He noticed where my gaze lay and set his other hand atop the glove. “Yeah. That’s why we were in the mountains.” A bitter smile slipped onto his lips. “They were trying to protect me and ended up getting themselves killed.”

I set my hand on his bone arm and caught his gaze. “It’s not your fault.”

Caius looked up at the darkening sky and I beheld a glimmer of tears. “It’s fine. What’s done is done. I just care about Marcus. That’s why I put him into Father Ferrero’s care and went away. It was too dangerous for two grayscales to be together.”

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” I wondered.

He pursed his lips and ran a hand through his hair. “About two or three years.” I frowned and punched his arm. Caius winced and rubbed the sore spot. “What? It was to keep him safe.”

“Safe and lonely,” I pointed out. “The least you could do was visit him once a year on his birthday.”

“I sent him presents.”

I gave him another whack for that reply. “Presents can’t replace his brother being there.” I glanced over my shoulder at my grandparents and my face fell. “They can’t replace anybody being gone.”

Caius studied me for a moment before he sighed. “I’m guessing you lost your parents, too.”

I gently knocked my arm against his. “Yeah, but let’s keep to the subject of you and Marcus.”

His eyebrows crashed down. “And the baron.”

“And the baron,” I agreed as I looked down the darkening road. “Have you ever met him?”

He shook his head. “No. At least, not formally. My friends and I used to sneak into his orchard and steal some fruit. Sometimes it was the gardener who caught us and sometimes him. We always tried to make it so it was the gardener.”

“Was he slower?” I guessed.

He shook his head. “No, a worse aim. The baron has been a hunter his entire life and his aim is precise.”

“So you’ve got some ventilation I haven’t noticed yet?” I teased.

He flashed me a grin. “Let’s just say I wasn’t the slowest in our group.”

“And the baron isn’t such a fool as to kill his subjects when the parents reside only a mile away,” Sage added.

Midge fluttered his wings and let out a few quick tweets. Bee nodded. “I quite agree. He should really pick up bowling as a hobby.”

I blinked at her. “There’s bowling here?”

“In a way,” Sage agreed as he studied the road ahead of us. “There is a ball and there are pins, but one might use magic to knock the pins over.” He chuckled. “It makes for quite a sight as the ball flies through the air on wild winds, or is consumed by the fire that pushes it along. More than one match has been won when one opponent has lost all of his balls to his scorching fire.”

“We’re almost there,” Caius spoke up as he nodded at the road ahead of us.

I followed where he indicated and my eyes widened. The road led out of sight, but along the right side grew a long line of tall bushes. They cut off in two directions to make a corner, and one line followed the road and the other led out of sight northward. A tall building peeked over the tops of the bushes and I recognized a design that closely resembled a stately English mansion with a central block and wings on either side.

A half mile of bushes later and we found ourselves at a pair of wrought-iron gates. The full structure came into view in all its granite glory. The house stood fifty yards from the road and was accessed via a graveled driveway. There were long steps that led up to the man-columned portico, and wide wings with tall windows that reflected the sinking sun. The home sported two floors with a half-submerged floor that lined up with the front stairs.

The land between the gate and the stately home was immaculate. On either side of the gravel drive was a lush green lawn filled with trees perfectly placed to grant shade to any who would stroll beneath their branches. Flower beds dotted the landscape to add color and sweet smells, and in the far off distance to our left glistened a pond.

Behind and to the right of the stately manor was a large barn with a peeked roof. The length and width told me it could fit at least two dozen fine steeds, no doubt hunting companions of the erstwhile hunter.

“Do all the barons in this world live so large?” I asked my companions.

Sage nodded. “Some are richer and some poorer, but much like Rome many are quite content to let those they rule live as they would so long as the taxes are collected.”

“Then he won’t mind if we collect something else,” Caius quipped as he walked up to the gate. The gate was locked by a heavy chain and bolt. He grabbed one of the bars and gave the gate a hard rattle. “Hey! Anyone here!”

An older gentleman stumbled out of the dark guardhouse to the left of the gate. He squinted at us in the growing dark and his frown was reserved for Caius. “You! You’re that damn watermelon thief!”

Caius flashed him a smile. “I’m glad I’m remembered, but my friends and I need in.”

The man scoffed. “As if I would open the gates to the likes of you, even if I could.”

“Why will you not?” Sage inquired.

The man turned to him. “Because it’s past hours. My Lord doesn’t take visitors.”

Caius held up the package. “Even if we have the baron’s monthly supply of stink weed?”

The guard’s eyes widened before he narrowed them at all of us. “Where’d you get that? Where’s Joshua?”

“At the stables dreaming of hay, now are you going to let us in or not?” Caius insisted.

The man pursed his lips. “All right, but I’m going to follow you to the house. One bit of funniness and out you go.” He opened the gate and let us through before locking it behind our group. The chain made an ominous dry rattle before he turned to us. “Follow me.”

I paused at the bottom of the steps and looked up. Above the stairs and against the flat front of the portico was a crest of arms carved from a smooth white stone. There was a shield surrounded by one either side by a branch of leaves.

Caius noticed where my attention lay. “The Mechta clan shield. The shield represents their duty to protect the principality and the leaves represent the fields.”

“Where’d they get that stone?” I wondered.

He shrugged. “They probably imported it.”

“If you would,” Sage called from the top of the stairs.

We followed and arrived at the pair of doors that signified the front entrance. Caius ignored the knocker and rapped his fist against the door. There was a slight pause and the door opened to reveal an older gentleman like the guard. His gray hair was slicked back and he wore a fine suit that was as brown as the earth.

The man eyed us with distaste and distrust. “May I help you?”

Caius held up the package. “We can help you. This is for the baron.”

The man’s eyes widened slightly. “I see.” He held out his hand. “I will deliver the package to him and My Lord thanks you for bringing it at such a late hour.”

Caius pulled the package away and shook his head. “We need to deliver this personally. The rules, you know.”

The man pursed his lips, but stepped aside. “Very well. You may wait in the trophy room. A fire is always burning there.”

We moved inside and found ourselves in an elegant entrance hall. The ceiling reached to the roof of the house, and a curved staircase led upstairs. On either side some hundred feet from where we stood were open doorways that led into the wings. On the right side of the wall in front of us and beneath the balcony where the stairs ended was a wide hall that stretched to the back of the house.

Though a chandelier burned bright above us and there were candles burning brightly in their holders on the walls, I felt like a darkness hung over the place. It was something I could almost see, almost touch, but there was a gap between me and it that I couldn’t quite overcome.

The man shut the door behind us and moved toward the east wing. “If you would follow me.”

We were led down the long hall that looked out through the front windows on the luscious lawn. On our left was a long row of thick wooden doors separated by enough distance to show that the rooms they hid were quite large. The servant stopped us at the fourth door which he opened and stepped aside.

“If you would enter,” he requested.

Our group stepped into a fine study filled with dozens of shelves, and on those wooden planks were arranged countless strange oddities. There were dried fruits made into gourds, weapons of all shapes and sizes, vials filled with unmentionable and unidentifiable objects, and much more. Small taxidermied animals stood in various intimidating poses, even down to the lowly fink. Any museum of travel would have loved to have even a tenth of that massive collection.

The shelves covered all the walls, but not to the tall ceiling. The wall above them was covered in the heads and antlers of defeated beasts. I even recognized the horns of the garbler, that monstrum which had caused us so much ‘fun’ at the House of Heron. The floor, too, was covered in the trophies of many decades of hunting. Creatures that resembled tigers and a few belk covered the ground with their large furry bodies, some with their heads still attached to create a tripping hazard.

Midge let out a shrill tweet and fluttered behind Bee’s neck. She pursed her lips and nodded. “Yes. This isn’t a horrible sight.”

Sage sidled up to her and studied the variety of animals with a dark expression on his face. “Some of these creatures are quite rare.”

“It’s too late to save them now,” Caius pragmatically pointed out as he strode forward to a large fireplace that stood opposite the door. Some leather furniture, no doubt covered in the skin of other prizes was arranged in front of the flames that burned brightly within the hearth. He lifted the package and pursed his lips. “Besides, we’re here to save someone else.”

I glanced up at the stone front above the hearth. Hanging on the wall was a large portrait of who I guessed was our unwilling host, Baron Mechta himself. He stood in front of the fireplace in that very room with one arm draped over the top of the hearth. That would have made him a half a head taller than Caius, and almost two heads taller than me. His graying temples were cut short and his chin was lifted in a proud manner. He sported a beard and mustache that were cut angular like his square jaw. The man was dressed in his best gray suit, but with a neckerchief of camouflage colors that signified his love for hunting.

“I don’t know if this guy is going to like us being here,” I commented as I looked from the portrait to our group. “This many of us, I mean. It’s a lot of targets.”

“Not so many as I couldn’t handle,” a voice quipped.

We turned toward the door and found an elderly man in the doorway. He was seated in a wheelchair with a blanket over his legs. His upper body showed he wore a robe, and his hands were folded in his lap. Though his thin, ragged face was pale, his sharp eyes betrayed the exuberance his whole being once enjoyed. His chiseled features and withered arm muscles hinted at a great strength that was now all but withered away. The smile on his lips didn’t extend to those dark eyes, so unlike those of his nephew that I wondered if they were truly related.

Standing behind the baron, for he was all that remained of the man from the portrait, was a woman of thirty. She was tall and thin, with long blond hair and a face that so lacked expression that for a moment I thought she was a wax dummy. Only her alert eyes told me otherwise. The woman wore a long black dress without frills and with long sleeves that reached to her wrists. Her long, thin hands grasped the handlebars on the back of the wheelchair and with a barely perceptible twitch of the baron’s hand she rolled him forward.

He looked at each of us and his gaze finally settled on the box in Caius’ hand. His bushy eyebrows crashed down. “Who are you and what are you doing with that?”

Caius held up the package. “We’re here to deliver and take.”

“Take what?” the baron snapped.

“My brother.”