Outcast (The Blue Dragon's Geas) by Cheryl Matthynssens Page A

laughter and music was a cascade of sound tumbling down around them. The weather had held for them, and a warm breeze still filled the air as the sun settled behind the hills. People mingled and shared their offerings with friends and even those they did not particularly like.
    The dancing began as soon as the boards were cleared from the feast. The fire from where the prang had roasted had been built up to light the circle. Middlins and adults danced about in circles and pairs with no apparent rhyme nor reason to the step. Children dashed about the dancers or attempted to imitate their elders, creating a vision that truly was the village. The Elders played flutes, drums or shakers. That was Alador’s second favorite part, the pulsing beat of those drums seemed to snake deep into one’s soul and the feet could not help but keep time.
    The favorite part, however, was watching Mesiande dance. In honor of the festivities, she had taken down her usual braids and her hair hung in waves that the long standing braids had pressed into her hair. Despite its brown color, a trait of the Daezun people, it glimmered in the fire light with streaks of golden fire. Her eyes were closed as her feet kept rhythm to the drums. Her hands were high over her head, and her fingers snapped to the same beat. She had donned a skirt rather than her usual miner’s garb.
    To Alador, she was a picture of perfection. Her body, despite the days mining, seemed perfectly formed. She didn’t have the over muscled appearance of many of the mining women. Only the palms of her hands gave an indication that she spent so many hours digging amongst stones. He smiled when she looked up to see him watching her. She waved him to her. He joined her, and the two of them stomped and spun to the pulsing music. The beat began to build in the song as the two of them moved about one another. He could feel the calluses of those small hands whenever she placed her hands into his to dance about in circles. As the music came to a sudden stop, she collapsed against him laughing. She felt so right in his arms as he held her up.
    As the evening progressed, he and Gregor both danced with her in turn. Sometimes the three danced together. Alador was leaner and a head taller than the other two. But tonight, he did not feel out of place. Tonight, the village was home. As he watched Mesiande prance around in circles with Gregor, he smiled. Tonight, he would not have wished to be anywhere else.

Chapter Four
 
 
    Village life did not tarry long, and despite the groans of those that had drunk far too much at the feast the previous evening, work began once more. It was planting season so there would not be any mining trips until the seeds were down. Alador was helping keep the korpen in front of the plows. The huge, lumbering beasts would see a piece of green, and wander off in search of a bite if not maintained firmly. They made the plowing easy enough but keeping them distracted from any tidbits could be a challenge. Alador had found it easier to manage the korpen by putting greens into his pockets. The beasts quickly figured out that if they followed him, Alador would slip them a bite now and then. The trick was to keep them placed, so the furrows were straight. It had been a wet spring, the ground was easily broken and plowed. The planting was a bit later this year as the village did not break the ground until the last of the snows melted off the surrounding hills. They had a particular hilltop they watched for an indication of when to start planting. It was usually pretty accurate for once the snow was off the top, usually the valley temperatures stayed warm enough for fragile new growth.
    Alador’s thoughts wandered as he strolled in front of the korpen leading them parallel to the last row. The mating ritual was still a ways off and yet still he wondered. He still had no idea what his role would be. He blushed at his own thoughts. Well, he knew if chosen what his role would be