The warmth from the ale warmed Drake from his belly to his fingertips. It was sour and warm. But the cold outside the tavern was piercing and the heat from the single fire place was like a warm blanket. The tavern was in a small nameless hamlet on the border of the human realm and the land of monsters. It was called the Knight’s Sow. The sign showed an armoured man holding a white pig with piglets hanging from its pink teats. The tavern the one thing that stood out in the settlement and it was the one of the worst Drake had ever been in.
The maiden sings for her beloved
Beloved
The soldier sings for home
Home
The Knight seems above it
Above it
Yet on the eve of battle his thoughts roam
Roam
Of hearth, and his lady’s embrace
Of Court, and cream white lace
And yet it is not enough
For A Heart does not stay in its place
Place
When battle is not looked in its face
Face
The song was sung loudly and out of key. The men singing were the rough sort. Rogues, cutthroats, and thieves. Filthy, with blood still staining chainmail, most were tattooed, with their wealth hung in chains and rings on various parts of their bodies. Wealth and power. Drake sat at the table of honor, at the only chair that didn’t creak, boots set on a table more ancient than his ancestor by five fathers. His hair was too long and too thick, like velvet and silk, blacker than the night, and stronger than iron. His eyes changed color by whim or shifting light, but mostly kept every color in the rainbow. With a common face he would have been beautiful in the group of ugly, scarred brutes and footpads that surrounded him. But Drake had a face like one carved from dream. Drake called it a hateful beauty. Gold rings pierced his ears and nose and hung from a small white chain that connected lobe to nostril. Platinum hung from his neck and wrists. Precious stones on rings of gold, electrum, and silver.
“Your majestic highness, here’s a fresh one for you!” One of his men called out, pushing a plain serving girl into Drake’s table.
Drake gave the man a dark look which caused the man to laugh harder. You didn’t even get it right. Drake thought before he studied the barmaid. She looked harried. She was barely older than Drake and the men were not kind with their hands and words. Pale straw-colored ale sloshed over the rim of several of the tankards she held and splashed on Drake’s boots. He quickly hid his flash of anger and braced his hand against the girl’s tankards. She stopped and looked from his hand to Drake’s face.
“Oh…” She breathed.
Drake had to swallow rage this time as he plastered a smile over his face. The tankards crashed against the straw matted floor, but the noise was swallowed by drunken songs and loud boasts. One or two of his men looked his way and smiled nastily. He ignored them and crooked his finger at the girl. She obeyed, leaning close. Her eyes wide, thin lips curling into an unbidden grin.
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“Go to my room, the men will not bother you there.”
She blushed scarlet and stammered. Drake felt his throat tighten. None of the words she spoke to him were excuses to keep her out of his bed. This pox-ridden face! Drake thought. He looked her in the eye, willing her to focus. “No one, will bother you there.”
“Your eyes…” She said, “They’re…so pretty.”
Finally, Drake could take it no more. He scowled.
“Go!”
She dropped her head and bit her trembling lip. But she did not move. Drake glared at her and blinked hard. “Why are you still here?”
“You…you didn’t tell me which…room.”
Drake sighed deeply. “It’s the first one, the one nearest to the door.”
At that she hurried away, eyes shining with tears. Drake growled at her back and yelled for someone to get him something stronger to drink. Some of the men laughed coarsely as the serving girl rushed past. A few minutes later the barkeep waddled over and set a full tankard of ale in front of Drake. He glared at Drake for a long moment before he knelt and started to pick up the tankards littering the floor. Drake ignored him, picked up the tankard, sniffed it and slammed it down on the old table in disgust. Drake then glared at the barkeep before shooing the pig-like man away with a gaudy hand. How can a man like him sire a girl so skinny? Drake thought, before another part of himself answered. What about you? How skinny are you?
Drake looked down at himself and frowned. Underneath his trousers and tunic and loose silk shirt was a plain of hard packed muscle that was more than the average man, but far less the biggest brutes in his group. No…not that you…the real you? The door burst open, letting in a swirl of frigid air and snow. The fire danced wildly at the wind and wet. A tall man stood in the doorway, his fur-lined cloak matted with ice and fresh snow, his mane of black hair as untamed as Drake’s hair. He wore a dark brigandine under his cloak, nearly as heavy as full plate, and his rugged face was no less handsome, but, it made Drake’s face seem like a small child. His dark eyes found Drake quickly. Drake swallowed at the disapproval in them. Wyvern turned away from him as the discordant songs trailed off and the rogues and worst stopped their warbling to peer at the newcomers. Wyvern stepped further into the tavern. Half a dozen men followed him, all with dangerous eyes, all with dark cuirass or chainmail and gambeson. The last of the newcomers quickly shut the door against the winter outside.
“It seems that there is party going on.” Wyvern said looking around the common room.
The drunk men shied away from his burning gaze like condemned men edging away from the noose.
“We weren’t invited?” Another man from the new group said throwing back his hood and baring the telltale deep black mane that marked Drake’s siblings.
Salamander stared at Drake who tried to sink through his chair.
“Well?” Wyvern said before his eyes rested once more on Drake. “Let’s really get it started. You youngbloods need a lesson in how to celebrate!”
The room let out a collective breath. Salamander rushed over to a brute who had been singing the loudest, wrapped a heavy arm around his neck, and stared bellowing out the lyrics to The King’s First Mistress. In minutes, the room was twice as loud with three times the amount of ale sloshing around in tankards or in bellies. Wyvern made a straight line to Drake, his eyes intent. Wyvern loomed over his younger sibling and glared at him for a long moment.
“Oh…” Said Drake, hopping up from his seat and presenting it to his brother.
“You’ve been keeping busy.”
Wyvern sat down in a tired grunt and picked up Drake’s tankard. He sniffed it, grimaced, and then drained it in a single swig.
“I’ve been hiding, like you told me.”
“You should have hidden better. It took me less than a day to find you.”
Wyvern drained Drake’s old tankard and then waved for another three.
Drake scowled at his words. “I haven’t seen you in a week. How…”
“I chose…we chose, to reveal ourselves now.” Wyvern said, his eyes now dark holding Drake as if they were night-colored chains. “We could have stopped this…gallivanting, at the first crook of More’s Road from Alistre.”
Where…? Drake started to think before the realization came to him. “That’s a hundred leagues from this place!”
Wyvern shrugged, “As I said…you should have hidden better.”
Salamander rushed over with two tankards of ale in each fist. His smile was warm enough to tempt a long dead maiden in the coldest grave or make any man an instant friend. Drake noticed that it did not touch his darker than black eyes.
“Dragon is coming for you, Drake.” He whispered in the boy’s ear. “I hear he plans to skin you alive and wear your flesh like a cloak.”
“I’ve heard that threat since I was in the nursery.” Drake said, dismissively. He looked away from his brothers.
Wyvern hissed at Salamander but spoke up in agreement. “It’s real Drake. You know that it is different this time.”
“The Awakening?”
Drake turned to face them as Wyvern and Salamander’s breath caught.
“How did you…?”
“No…well, yes…but no.”
Drake frowned. “What is it, then? If not, his awakening what could possibly…Is father?”-
-“Father is fine.” Wyvern said. “Dragon’s Awakening was just the first bit. All the others have awakened as well.”
Drake’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand.”
“You have been named, Drake.” Said Salamander.
Confusion made Drake’s mind go blank.
Wyvern looked sharply at Salamander once more before speaking, slowly, carefully.
“You are now the Crown Prince of the Everhigh.”