Sky Warriors: Poleuthan's Thief (Sky Warriors Saga Book 1) (13 page)

Gregor
blinked surprised as he gazed at Ange. “For a child?” he asked surprised.

“Child?” Ange snarled immediately enraged.

He stepped back, surprised by the venom in her voice.

“She’s no child,
Gregor,” Showl explained calmly. “She may be young, but I will ask that you enchant the armor with growth, just in case.”

Ange shot a vehement glare at Showl.

“Of course, sir. When will you need this?”

“Immediately,” Showl replied without hesitation.

The man frowned troubled. “Is this request urgent?” he asked.

“It is,” Showl stated simply.

Gregor grunted. “Very well, sir. I will start immediately. What kind of enchantments will you desire?”

“The standard,” Showl replied, he added more carefully. “Everything that would be required for the armor of a
Dragonbound.”

The man blinked surprise, switching his gaze to Ange who
scowled uncomfortably and looked away.

“I see,” the man whispered. “I trust you brought the required materials then?” he asked turning his gaze back to Showl.

“I did,” Showl asserted. He removed his pack and opened it before he pulled out beautiful white plates from the bag, as Ange looked closer she realized they were scales. Large, white, perfectly smooth scales larger than Showl’s hand, probably even larger than a dinner plate.

“Are those yours?” Ange asked surprised, moving closer as she observed the beautiful plates that according to legend covered any dragon’s body. She had to suppress the urge to reach out and touch them.

“They are,” Showl replied quietly as he handed two stacks of a dozen to the man.

“Any specifications apart from the design?”
Gregor asked as he brushed the scales with his fingers and inspected them carefully with an obviously well trained eye.

“Make it light,” Showl instructed. “Well plated in vital areas but flexible and easy to breathe,” he glanced at Ange with a brow arched. “Anything to request?” he asked.

Ange blinked surprised, she hadn’t expected her opinion to be involved. “As flexible as it can be would be nice, and of course light enough that it won’t hinder me…” she remained quiet and thoughtful for a moment before her eyes lit up with an idea. “This is full body, right?”

The man nodded. “Boots,
gauntlets, chest plate, leg plates. Depends on your kind of battled style really.”

“Well I am fast and nimble, dodging and evading and striking quickly is my style, I use two long daggers and I depend highly on stealth.”

“Quiet and fast, understood,” Gregor replied seriously. “Not a common battle style among the dragons,” he observed.

“Really?” Ange asked surprised.

He nodded. “They usually fall under a more brute and direct form of combat, and they usually wear heavy armor, more comfortable to them apparently. When I made…” he looked at Showl unsure, “his, he chose a more medium form of armor, an uncommon kind of armor, but not rare.”

“You made Showl’s armor?” Ange asked surprised and awed. “It’s beautiful,” she praised.

The man smiled sheepishly, his eyes surprised. “One of the best I’ve made,” he agreed. He looked at Showl with a smile. “It’s good to hear that you have a name now, sir.”

Showl nodded, his face emotionless. Ange glanced at him, wondering what was wrong.

“Can my gauntlets have barbs underneath the fingers? Not a lot, just for grappling, you know? And can the heels under the boots have hidden daggers that shoot out to the front?” she taped one of her heels in demonstration, one of the daggers snapped out with a twang, the metal was already scratched to her dismay. It seemed scaling that wall had taken a heavy toll on them.

Gregor
nodded as he bent down and looked at the boot. “Yes, I see…hmm. That can be useful,” he stood up thoughtfully. “I’ll add knives to the top of the wrists that extend out as well, just encase you get disarmed?” he suggested.

Ange smiled exuberantly. “That sounds perfect,” she agreed.

He nodded. “I’ll get started at dawn, once the forge has been heated up,” he addressed Showl, his hands suddenly began to glow with a faint blue aura as the scales floated away from his grasp and began rotating around him, shimmering faintly  and lighting up the dark areas of the house around them.

Ange gasped in awe. “You can use magic?”

Gregor gave her a gruff smile. “You can’t forge Dragon Armor without magic, the skill is required to mold the scales to a specific shape,” he replied as the scales floated away to a dark door, glimmering faintly.

“I thought there was no magic left in the world,” Ange commented amazed.

“You’d be surprised. Magic has not disappeared entirely from the world. But you are right, very few humans are born with the aptitude today. A sad result from the disappearance of dragonkind and the Souls Binding Contract, since then not many humans have been born with the gift of magic that weren’t Dragonbounds.”

“So the bonding of the two races resulted in less regular humans being born with magic?” Ange asked surprised.

“It was an unexpected side effect of the spell that affected the entire human race,” Showl answered as Gregor walked away into a dark room and revealed a bright sol lantern.

“And the-”

“Dragons?” Showl interrupted amused, quickly catching her question before it was finished. “Our race resulted in less dragons being conceived, successful pregnancies among the dragons became difficult even with magic. Clutches of eggs were often born…dead, if not empty.”

“Really?” Ange asked surprised.

He nodded with all due seriousness.

“That must not have pleased many of the dragons,” Ange observed mildly.

Showl nodded. “It has become a great misfortune for our race, and it may as well become our undoing as any other, even if the ten Draconis Rexes and Regina decided to work together in an attempt to reproduce.”

Ange growled slightly, her face reddening with heat as anger boiled in her stomach, she coughed in attempt to regain control of her composure. She was surprised that hearing Showl talking about mating so casually angered her.

She decided to change the subject abruptly to take her mind off her confusing thoughts, she walked after Gregor feeling more confident. To her surprise the new room she entered led out to a courtyard with a forge and smelter. Gregor was already lighting the forge to life with a simple glare as the coals caught on fire without a catalyst or tools, it was magic at work even if nothing was seen, not even a spark.

“Can the armor be black?” she asked curiously, absorbed by the floating scales as he set to light the smelter as well.

“No…” he replied awkwardly. “Showl’s scales are white after all, as a result, Dragon Armor is always the shade of the dragon’s hide it’s made from.”

Ange nodded in understanding, she had suspected as much when Showl proved Daren’s words about dragons being unable to change the color of their eyes or hair.

“That reminds me…Gregor, do you by chance have anything she can wear for the moment? Her armor is damaged and I was hoping you could repair it,” Showl asked coming up behind her and quickly glancing at her in concern. She avoided his eyes and focused on the smithy instead, she still felt uncomfortable under his stare and she wasn’t sure she would ever become accustomed to it.

Gregor
blinked thoughtfully. “I might have something,” he replied. “Allow me to check,” he left for what looked like a storage room to the far side of the house, the fires of the smelter and forge now glowed as bright as the sol crystal lanterns but brightened the room like a late sunset.

“Is something the matter?” Showl asked worriedly as the man left.

“Nothing. Everything’s fine,” Ange brushed off casually.

He scowled annoyed, obviously not believing her calm answer.

Ange pursed her lips in thought. “Actually…Something does feel wrong,” she admitted before her voice entered a whisper. “Is Gregor always this nervous? They seem…afraid.”

Showl frowned
pensively. “He wasn’t so when I last visited, but that was nearly twenty years ago. Many aspects of his character could have changed during that time. Humans are not as set to a specific personality or way of thinking as a dragon is.”

“Just how old are you?” Ange asked exasperated.

He smirked humorously. “Three hundred and twenty-one.”

Ange gaped in shock. She just simply couldn’t figure out the numbers and understand how he could possibly be that old, even if the legends claimed that dragons were blessed with
longevity. It was hard to believe she had left the world of mundane.

“That’s impossible!” she protested before she could articulate a more intelligent response.

Showl snickered quietly. “Dragon,” he reminded teasingly.

“I know that,” Ange rebuked with good humor. “I just didn’t expect you to be
that old
.”

Showl smiled whilst raising an eyebrow. “That is young for a dragon, for your information, little thief.”

“Young?” Ange echoed. “How old do you dragons live then?” she asked interested.

His face relaxed to a more serious composure, though a smile still tugged at his lips as he replied. “It seems that the Rexes and Regina live indifferently, none of us have ever died because of old age. The lesser dragons, depending on how close their bloodlines are to the
Draconis Concilium, live an average of three thousand years up to ten thousand years. Some dragons even learned how to cheat death with magic and remain young.”

“So you had many ancient dragons?” Ange asked surprised and thrilled by the information.

“There were plenty of the old but enough of the young as well. The problem with magic is that they never found a way to stop the mind from aging and deteriorating, sure the body remained young and vital but the mind grew old and slowed indifferently, coaxing the dragon into an endless sleep,” Showl replied with a distant glaze in his eyes, his voice grew deeper. “The dragons that eventually fell asleep rotted slowly away as the magic that was keeping them young unraveled itself in their sleep state. Dragon’s found like this were usually killed so that their suffering wouldn’t be prolonged.”

“…Did none of these dragons find a way to stop the mind from aging? How come the ten of you were so special?” Ange asked bemused

“We still have not truly found an answer to that very question to this day,” Showl answered with a sigh. “A few of the elder dragons managed to successfully transfer their minds into special jewels, rare sol crystals that we called ‘Aeterna Vas’ or Eternal Vessel in your tongue. Usually these were used to store knowledge, memories, or powerful magic. The downfall of using this method though was that the dragon’s conscious or soul continued to endure but in a deep sleep, their mind became stagnated as well, in theory the dragon’s mind no longer aged nor could it learn new information. One elder dragon did manage to overcome this problem apparently, his mind would sleep but would awaken at the touch of another living being and he would still be able to learn new information at the cost of forgetting other information.”

“That…makes no sense,” Ange admitted a bit confused. “I don’t see how that is even possible.”

Gregor strode back from the room at that moment, caring a few items in his hands before Ange could inquire more on the subject. Showl’s light mood was gone as fast as it had come as his face took a more firm appearance and Ange guessed the conversation was done for the moment.

“I found a small light leather
cuirass, looks about her size…some cloth pants and a simple brown cape and a pair of good leather boots,” he showed them uncertainly. The brown material look at bit dusty as he displayed them near the firelight.

Ange peered at the cuirass carefully and noticed it looked old but
unused, probably made a significant amount of years ago. A simple long-sleeved shirt accompanied it. As she touched the leather it felt hard under her fingertips. She frowned uncertain.

“Just the
clothes will be fine, Gregor. Thank you,” Showl replied taking the clothes and the boots before placing them on a small stone table near them. “Do you think you will be able to repair her armor?” He pointed to Ange.

The blacksmiths eyes trailed to her as she shoved back the damaged cape to reveal the damage done to one of the arm sleeve. His eyes lingered on the emblem at the center of her chest, his eyes widening in shock.

“The…Black Owls,” he whispered surprised and a bit nervously. “You’re a thief?” he asked, his voice suddenly untrusting and even more uneasy as he met her eyes.

Ange was about to reply, angered by the distaste that curved his lips when Showl cut in.

“That is not important, Gregor. Can you fix the armor or not?” Showl asked with fierceness in his voice that hinted that the subject should not be explored further.

Gregor
scowled as he grumbled under his voice and instead fixed his eyes on the damaged armor.

“May I inspect it closer?” he asked with force politeness as he extended a large hand out to Ange.

She scowled, disliking the idea of letting the man touch her armor after his sudden change in attitude. She snarled under her breath as she snapped the cloak off and yanked the black leather off and handed it to Gregor. She felt suddenly vulnerable and exposed.