Ian's Realm Saga by D.L. Gardner

Author:D.L. Gardner
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: dragons, portal travel, wizards, adventure, sword and sorcery
Publisher: D.L. Gardner
Published: 2023-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The Renegades

IAN TOSSED IN HIS BLANKETS, unable to sleep most of the night. Not because of the hard and rocky ground. He’d slept on worse surfaces than this. No, his own mind was the culprit, his thoughts tormented him. Being rejected by Kaemperns still ate at his soul. They were the only reason he had returned to the Realm. Now as an outcast, his purpose had been aborted. Worse, this foreign kid had his controller. He couldn’t go home if he wanted to.

The topper is, the boy said his dagger controls Draconis. Great. A dragon controlled by a boy-thief, if it’s even possible.

As Ian lay on the bed he heard singing again. He listened attentively as he watched the stars—contemplating the lyrics.

Oh, mourn for the loss of the child fair

Whose dreams float away on the midnight air?

He searched for his hope but his hope rides bare

On a horse that is stolen

On a sea that churns

Who once was Beloved, bereaved of his own.

Lament for the child so far from home.

No way. Who is this song referring to? The Boy-thief?

At dawn a mist from the evening’s storm seeped out of the rocks and foliage, lingering close to the earth in the form of a heavy fog. With the mare saddled, and breakfast cooked, Ian pulled the pan off the coals and brought it to the campfire. He scooped out a spoon of porridge; and held it to the boy’s mouth but the kid turned his head in resistance.

“Eat, dang it. This is all there is, and you’re hungry. What good is it for either of us if you get sick or starve to death?”

“With my own hands, I will eat.”

“Still bargaining?” Ian stared at the resilience in the boy’s eyes and then threw the spoon in the pot. “Fine, then.” He set the pan on the ground and loosened the rope to free the boy’s good arm, tied the other against the boy’s chest, and secured the knots around his feet. He then placed the pan on the child’s lap and put the spoon in his hand.

“There, enjoy.”

The boy stared at the food.

“You have a name?” Ian asked as he squatted in front of him.

The boy squinted at him. “Pour quoi?”

“Because if you want me to treat you like a human being, it’d help if you acted like one. We can start with a name.”

When the boy didn’t answer, Ian went on. “I could give you a name.”

“Daryl,” the boy mumbled and began to eat.

Ian watched him for a moment and then walked back to his horse, tightened the cinch, tied the saddlebags to the saddle, and shook his blanket before he rolled it into a bundle. Not once did he let Daryl out of his sight.

Daryl picked up the spoon, but instead of eating with it, he threw it in the dirt. Grabbing the pot’s handle, he lifted it and drank the porridge, coming up for air only once. He wiped his mouth with his forearm.

Seeing how hungry Daryl was, Ian felt a surge of pity for him.

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