Heir of Dust and Wind

Chapter 9 - Allegiance

Trygve closed his eyes in relief when the grip of the Fyrran crystals fell away and with it the ever-present grip of the oath that magically bound him to Frode. 

Without the magical amplifiers in place, even a sorcerer as powerful as Frode could not control him on his own.

When he opened his eyes again, the young woman was looking up at him utterly gobsmacked. 

She was very pale and there was a light trickle of blood running from her nose to her mouth, but after channelling such an enormous amount of magic, she seemed as well as could be expected. Behind her, Gainor had collapsed, collateral damage of the moment that her magic had manifested.

Its might was truly impressive he thought, although it lacked the clear elemental affinity which all sorcerers bore. But then again, this was no concern of his. The healing had shattered the oath of allegiance which had held him captive to Frode's foul moods.  The promise he had given in exchange for his ascent to the Next Life had been fulfilled: He had delivered Frode a novice that could pass the first two trials.

The young woman had been able to see through his glamour and to manifest her magical ability. Because new sorcerers were rare - and those that showed actual potential even rarer - they were protected by the sacred laws of the High Court. Even Frode couldn't harm her. Gainor's failure to follow Frode's orders earlier had clearly proven that status.

Being freed of his obligations also meant that he didn't need Frode's help to join him in the next life. He could do that on his own. All he wanted to do now, was to leave this wretched place and never look back. The thought of this possibility had his whole body tingle with anticipation.

When he turned to face the window front, the only obstacle between him and the feel of the wind beneath his wings, he cast a brief glance at his former liege. 

His usual mask of arrogant anger had slipped to a rare expression of shock, maybe even a little fear. Trygve couldn't help the satisfaction he felt at this sight.

Predictably, he had surrounded himself with a protective shield. The shimmering silvery dome around him, the colour evidence of his affinity to air, made his complexion even paler, his eyes even colder. 

Just as Trygve prepared himself to finally leap out into the dusk of fading daylight, he realised that he couldn't. The all too familiar tug of universal magic, the kind the wasn't for sorcerers to wield but surrounded every being in the Three Dimensions, and bound creatures like him to keep their words, wouldn't let him leave. 

He still owed the novice an explanation.

For a moment, the feeling of desperate frustration hit him with such overwhelming force that it made him scream. Being in his dragon form, the nearly naked concrete walls reverberated with the powerful sound.

Frode too had realised that something kept him. As if on cue, more of his Dracaeni entered the room, trained warriors in either of their forms, ready to fight him on their master's order. The shimmer of Frode's shield reflected from their Fyrran blades.

The sorcerer's lips curled into a mirthless smile and Trygve began to feel the undertow that accompanied the preparation of a magical blow. He needed to act quickly, otherwise he was in danger of ending up in Frode's service once again.

He felt panic rise within him as he mentally went through his options. In a fight with the sorcerer, it was either death or submission. While he would gladly choose a warrior's death over another submission to the Alderman's mercy, his earlier experience had clearly revealed that magic would not let him go before he fulfilled his promise to the novice.

As he surveyed Frode and his forces, he knew that there was no chance for him to give the young woman an explanation in time. Inwardly he groaned again. 

How could he have come so close to freedom, only to lose it again within minutes?

"Now, Trygve, there really is no need to make this more unpleasant than absolutely necessary." 

Frode's voice held the slight strain of somebody that was summoning as much magic as possible, being ready to strike at any moment.

"I graciously offer you to retake your oath to me. I'll forgive your insolence and everything will be as it has always been."

At that Trygve snarled. Frode's arrogance truly knew no limits.

"Oh, come on, no need to get all grumpy," the sorcerer drawled on, "It's not as if there are any alternative offers on the table."

While his words clearly spoke of a certain victory, an assessment that Trygve had shared only seconds ago, they also gave him an idea. It was a crazy one, for sure, but it could as well work to keep him free from Frode and in his heart, he knew it was the lesser evil.

Grinning at the Alderman in grim determination, Trygve let all of his terrifying teeth show before he swiftly reached into that space inside of him that was his human form. Satisfaction filled him again, as he watched the sorcerer's features turn into another expression of shock.

The change this time was much quicker and certainly less painful than earlier this evening.

The last thing he heard before the swirls of shadow engulfed him was the surprised murmurs from the other Dracaeni who clearly were confused by his move. Not waiting for them to decide on their next action, he turned to face the young woman and quickly closed the distance between them.

Reaching out, Trygve touched the blood in her face to his thumb, which he cut with his more than human sharp nails. 

If that was even possible the young woman's eyes went even wider, but she didn't shy away from his touch.

Luckily for him, she seemed to have decided, that he was less scary than whatever she saw behind him. Smelling the ozone of Frode's oncoming blow he rushed out the words that he believed would never come out of his mouth.

"By all of the seven stars, I swear to be yours until the end of all time."

***

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