(Path of the Dragon Mage: Exiled) 27. Seen (Patreon)

Corvus needn’t have worried about meeting Solt on  time. He arrived at the stables and waited until well past sundown  without any sign of the man.

He paced back and forth, his mind swirling with anxieties and  annoyance. He should have been spending this time working out how to  free the dragons. At the very least, he could be practicing the new  runes he’d drawn to find out what they were for.

What if Solt had gotten himself in trouble? How would Corvus ever  know, short of inquiring at the local jail—assuming he could find it. He  supposed he could start searching the village taverns in case he passed  out somewhere. All of this, of course, would take time away from saving  the dragons.

As if alerted by his anxieties, the door to the nearby barn opened  and the man wearing a badge of a stable master stepped out. Fists on his  hips, he looked around until he spotted Corvus. Then he stomped over.

“You're the owner of the two mares?”

“My Master is, sir,” Corvus said.

He gestured to the setting sun over the wall. “Well? What do you want to do with them?”

“I beg your pardon?”

The man frowned at Corvus as if he was an idiot. “It’s sundown, ain’t  it? That means you either pay for overnight lodging, or I set your  beasts free.”

“I’m sure Master Solt will be here any— ” Corvus stopped as an idea  hit him. Saving the dragons would be much simpler if he did not have to  travel back to the village tonight. “How much is overnight lodging?”

“Five coppers.”

Mentally focusing on his Haggling skill, Corvus set to work.

He had just handed over three coppers when a slurred voice called out from behind him.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Both Corvus and the Stable Master turned to see Solt staggering up.  His gait was loose, and even from feet away Corvus smelled spilled wine  on him.

“Your apprentice was just settling with me for your horses’ overnight  lodging.” Cheerfully throwing Corvus under the cart, the Stable  Master's fingers closed over the coins. Then he tipped his head at both  Corvus and Solt. “Have a good night, sirs.”

Solt whirled to Corvus. “What did you do that for?”

“He said he was going to turn out the horses,” Corvus said, watching  Solt's hands carefully. He’d already had his ear boxed once today and  didn’t want it happening again.

“Idiot boy! Then why didn’t you get me?”

A little frustration leaked though. Why did people always blame him  for their own shortcomings? “I didn’t have time to search out every  tavern! By the time we came back, the horses might have been set free  and in someone else's hands! What else could I have done—”

“Enough!” Solt barked and Corvus fell silent.

The man glared for another moment. “I suppose staying overnight won’t  hurt—but don’t think the inn will be luxurious, your Majesty.”

There was a sour tang to Solt’s drunken words—something old and  bitter. Corvus felt his spine stiffen. “I thought you said I was a  Cartwright, not a Prince.”

“Ha!” In a quick-flash change of mood, Solt clapped him on the back  hard enough for him to stagger forward. “So, tell me. Did you have fun  with your day?” He leered. “I know I did.”

Corvus rolled out a suddenly sore shoulder. He didn’t receive any  damage notifications, but it felt like he should have. “Well enough. I  saw the dragon pit.”

“What did you think of that?”

“It shouldn’t be allowed!” He burst out. “There are laws in place to  protect the ferals, but it’s clear the guards look the other way.  Dragons are supposed to be honored within the Kingdom!”

“Not much honor to be had when the beasts go after your cattle or  your children. You can’t…” His cheeks expanded as he burped. “Can’t  fault the village for wanting a little retribution. The egg knows  they’ve been kicked around enough…”

“So they kick around lesser creatures to make themselves feel better?  They can't simply chase them off or defend themselves? They have to  torture them, first?”

Solt gave him a smile without the least bit of humor in it. “Now  you’ve got it. Come on.” Before Corvus could react, Solt threw an arm  around his narrow shoulders—it wasn’t a companionable gesture for he  leaned on him and clearly needed the balance—then gestured Corvus down  the next street.

* * *

Staying in an inn was an experience Corvus never had before. The  bottom floor of the inn was a bar and restaurant, with the top made of  several rooms. All of which were in even worse repair than Solt's  estate.

The barkeep on staff referred to Solt and Corvus as father and son.  Solt didn’t dissuade him, even though they looked nothing alike.

Solt’s coins purchased a single room with a large bed for Solt and a  smaller cot for Corvus. As soon as Solt staggered into the room, he  fell, loose-limbed to the bed.

Corvus watched him for a moment, wondering how he had managed to grow drunker on the way to the inn.

“Master Solt, I’m going downstairs to buy a meal.”

Solt’s answer was a snore.

He crept out, not intending to be back until after the dragons were saved.

A half copper bought him a bowl of stew downstairs. He ate it in silence, watching the sun go down. No one bothered him.

When he was certain no eyes were looking his way, he slipped a knife  meant for cutting bread up his sleeve. It was rather dull, but thanks to  his runecraft, he had the means to sharpen it.

* * *

Corvus stepped out into the dark.

By night, the village seemed to be a wholly different place. Seedier  and smaller. He walked along the streets cautiously, but the few other  villagers he saw along the way paid him no mind. He was just a teenage  boy, neither interesting or a threat.

It wasn't the first time he had felt like a nobody, but it was the first he found he enjoyed it. The experience was freeing.

You might not think anything of me, but tonight I will be setting your village's dragons free, he thought grimly. Just as soon as I figure out how.

That was a problem. Out of all the runes in his dictionary, only  Sharp seemed to have the most direct use. He certainly wouldn't be able  to free the dragons by holding them in place for five minutes at a time.

He did have the five other runes he'd discovered from the house  insignias. Wouldn't it be convenient if one so happened to be a rune to  break chains?

Corvus ducked into a nearby alleyway shielded on both ends by walls  that had no windows. His Night Vision made it easy to navigate past  piles of refuse to a sheltered corner.

No one had bothered to cobblestone an alleyway. The bare dirt suited  his needs fine. Kneeling, he took the list of runes from his bag and  studied them.

After a moment, he laid the parchment flat and drew out the Shield rune in the dirt using both hands to get the most out of his ambidextrous nature.

Then, after looking around again to make sure the flash of light  would not be noticed, he placed his fingertips on the edge and  concentrated.

His mana plunged by seventy five points.

Shield has been added to your Rune Dictionary.

A shallow faintly blue dome appeared over the glowing rune, along with a countdown of thirty seconds.

The rune name was strikingly unoriginal. In his opinion, it should  have been named Shieldwall in honor of the first family of the house.

… Unless that had been a different rune all together. House insignias did change.

Curiously, he poked at the shield. The tip of his finger encountered  an odd resistance in the air a few inches away from the dome, as if he  were moving it through thick clingy pudding. When he pushed through to  reach the dome, it was smooth and unyielding as glass. Corvus slowly  increased his strength to see if he could get it to crack, but even with  the added benefit of the Hell Hound bone ring, he could not press  through.
All too soon, the shield fell. Corvus was left squatting in a dark alleyway with a much reduced well of mana.

He frowned. What if all of the house insignias had similarly mana  heavy runes? His Second Wind would kick in to drain both his stamina and  then health.

The last thing he wanted was to pass out in this gross alleyway. That would not be helpful for him or the dragons.

He flicked his gaze over the four remaining insignia-runes. Millers, Cartwrights, Blacksmith, Gemstones.

Out of all of them, only the Blacksmith's seemed like they had a rune  fit for combat use. It was a three-point flame insignia. So he was  unsurprised when, upon drawing it out and activating it, the entire  circle lit up in flame.

Ever-flame has been added to your Rune Dictionary.

It also cost a staggering one-hundred mana, leaving him with five  left over, thanks to him recharging some from his well between runes.

For a rune named Ever-Flame, the actual flame only lasted ten seconds before snuffing out.

He hesitated, torn between waiting until his mana pool refilled and experimenting again or going to see the dragons now.

At this rate, it would take hours to go through them all, and he had  no idea how long it would take to free the dragons. He would have to  risk it.
Corvus waited only long enough to refill his mana well enough to cast a temporary Sharp rune on a stone. Then, he used the sharpened end to carve that rune  into the bread knife he had stolen from the restaurant. This was no  temporary rune. He had every intention of returning it—well sharpened  for his efforts.

Creeping out of the alleyway, he headed for the dragon pens.

* * *

Dragons were creatures of daylight, unless hunger forced them to hunt  at night. He expected to find them asleep. However, they were all awake  and restless. The blue paced back and forth and making low haunting  cries towards the direction of a second pen.

In that smaller pen across the paddock lay the rose-red dragonet. It  now had a smaller version of its mother's cage clamped over its muzzle.  Fresh rivulets of blood dripped down its wings where clamps had been put  in to lock them up and out of the way.

If there were any guards on duty, they were out of sight.

Using the shadows, Corvus moved forward to the side of the pen  opposite of the mother. His mana well had refilled up to thirty during  his trip here. Using it, he activated the Sharp rune he'd carved on the  breadknife. 20 mana later, the blade sharpened in the moonlight, going  from dull to wicked.

For such a low-cost rune, it was useful.

Immediately, he set the knife to the treated rope webbing.

It didn't cut through.

Brows furrowing, he tried to saw through the rope. Whatever it had  been treated with, it made the fibers tough. He worked for a few minutes  and was only able to part a few threads.

A low hiss jerked his gaze up. The two remaining baby dragons—it was  hard to tell exact colors while using his Night Vision as everything  looked black and white—stood only a few feet away on the other side of  the pen's wall.

They were small dragons, their sloping backs only coming up to his  knee. Yet they radiated menace. As Corvus stared at them, he was  confronted with the fact that these were predators.

Starving predators who only had bad interactions with humans.

One dragonet let out a squeal meant as a roar, its wings spread wide  as if to make itself bigger. Corvus stepped back just as it launched  itself forward at him.

It hit the wall of the pen — the heavy rope webbing absorbed the  impact as easily as if it were a brick wall. It couldn't be natural. It  was reinforced, somehow.

Reinforced by a rune?

Frustrated, the dragonet squealed again, chewing on the webbing in a  way that left no doubt it would rather be chewing on Corvus's neck.
Its ivory teeth left no mark on the webbing.

Definitely charmed.

Cautiously, Corvus took a half step forward. "Shh! I'm trying to help you."

If the dragonet understood him, it paid no attention. As hungry and  aggressive as they were, he would have to figure out a way to protect  himself as well.

… And a way to make sure the village was safe once the mother was set loose.

Maybe he should start with the smaller pen, first. With the  dragonet's muzzle caged and the wings hobbled, it would have a harder  time ripping into him.

"What in the world are you up to, young man?"

Corvus whirled around, staring this way and that. There was no one within sight.

"Up here."

Old and thready, the voice came from above. Corvus twisted and made out the figure of a guard upon the nearby perimeter wall.

He froze, already cursing himself as a fool. He had been so  preoccupied with the dragons, the men who imprisoned them, and guards  patrolling the streets that he had completely overlooked the wall.

Should he run? The guard sounded old, and besides it would take a  while to catch Corvus or sound an alarm. But if he escaped there was  little chance he would be able to return tonight to save the dragonet  from its fate.

"Not many who are brave enough to gut a baby dragonet in the  dead of night," the guard continued amiably when Corvus didn't speak.  "But… you don't look like the type."

Somehow, though Corvus was not certain, he knew the guard was staring at the knife in his hand.

"Ah," the guard said. "I see. You are on a quest."

He barely had time to take that in before the guard leaped off the  two-story-high wall. They sailed through the air in an arc that was as  graceful as it was impossible, and landed in front of Corvus with a  heavy clatter of armor.

Corvus stared.

The guard was even older than he had thought—face so wrinkled he could not guess at the age. 

She  was also a woman. Shorter than Corvus, her arms looking as frail and  thin as a bird. Moving around in that bulky armor should not have been  possible for her, much less that death defying leap from the wall.

What caught his attention most, however, was her eyes. They were wide  and staring and filled with glittering points of light, like stars.

This was the village's Long-Eyes.