by S. E. Smith
“Surely it cannot be that difficult?” Brogan asked, wiggling his fingers.
“Shut up, Brogan. My chest hurts enough thanks to your comments. I would prefer to keep my head and my nervous system in working order from now on, brother,” Barrack retorted.
Asim released a sigh as he remembered his own struggles with the loneliness and despair when he thought he would never find a true mate. He turned the wooden figurine over in his hands, trying to think of what he could tell the men that would help them understand the difference between a Valdier mate and a human one.
The wooden bird in his hand was a creature alien to their world. It was large, flightless, and smart. In a way, his history with the emus reminded him of the humans he had met. Oh, he didn’t think of humans as flightless birds – just that it was easy to misunderstand them, like it had been when he found Jabir’s hidden cache of eggs. It was better to have the knowledge before you went into battle – every good warrior knew that.
“Over the last couple of years, my life has become very interesting, more fulfilling than I could ever have hoped – and definitely a lot more complicated. Like you, my dragon felt the emptiness of not having a true mate, but it was my symbiot who grieved the most. It was only my promise to our former king and my sworn duties to Lord Mandra, Lady Ariel, and their young son, Jabir, which gave me the strength to carry on. I never expected to be given the gift of finding my true mate. When I saw Pearl….” Asim shook his head and chuckled. “Shocked would be a mild description of my feelings. To find my mate after so many years… it was a revelation like nothing I could have imagined.”
“What do you mean? Your dragon and symbiot would know. The female would immediately recognize what was happening. What could be so surprising?” Barrack asked.
Asim raised an eyebrow. “You assume that Pearl is like a Valdier female, but she is not. Her species do not connect the same way we do. Our dragons and our symbiots recognize our mate even before we do, but we understand what is happening. Humans do not have that same connection. They must be courted,” he explained.
Barrack sat up with a confused expression on his face and asked, “Courted? Why should they be forced to go before the council? Are they sentenced to be with another?” he asked.
“No, no. Courted is a term I learned from Lady Ariel. It means you must put your mate first and bring her gifts and spend time with her so that she will accept you and fall in love with you,” Asim said.
“Of course, we will put our mate first!” Brogan exclaimed. “As for the rest, once she sees us, she will grow to care for us. How can she resist?” Brogan asked with a skeptical glare.
“Our symbiots will protect her – even from us if necessary,” Barrack added, glancing at his brother with a stern expression. “She will not need to fear us. We have learned from our experience before.”
Asim shook his head. “You two have a lot to learn about your true mate’s species. They are fragile, delicate creatures with a steely will beyond anything you have ever encountered,” he replied in exasperation.
“Pearl certainly seems to be,” Brogan replied, rubbing his chest. “What is that?” Brogan asked, nodding to the figurine Asim held in his hand.
Asim glanced down and grinned. “This is part of my tale, but first I need to tell you about how I met Pearl,” he said, reaching out and handing the odd-looking bird to Barrack. “My story begins just a couple of years ago during a very bizarre Earth ritual called Easter….”
1
Three years before:
“No more. You’ve had enough,” Asim Kemark ordered in a stern tone.
Of course, the damn creatures ignored him. The mass of small wiggling bodies turned their heads in unison to gaze up at him with dark, soulful eyes filled with a silent plea for more food. The floor of the barn was covered with furry bodies.
If the colorful Maratts weren’t enough to drive him crazy, the Grombots swinging from the makeshift lines and custom playset were doing a pretty good job. He and Mandra Reykill had built dozens of the playsets for the six-legged creatures. At the moment, the Grombots were doing a pretty good job of utilizing them.
No have this problem if you let me eat them, his dragon chortled.
Don’t remind me!
“Stop! Get out of there now!” Asim shouted in dismay as he tried to carefully navigate his way to the Grombot reaching into the feed sack hanging on a peg in the wall. The damn thing was using its four hands to sprinkle food onto the floor while handing from by its feet. The Maratts surrounding him turned as one toward the piles of food the Grombot was scattering. His jaw tightened in aggravation when the Grombot looked at him and grinned before it reached into the sack again and dumped not one or two, but four more scoops onto the floor. If he didn’t stop the damn beast, it would empty the sack and he would end up nursing several sick baby Maratts!
Lifting his foot, he started to take another step when a stray Maratt darted out from under a bale of freshly cut, warm grass. Asim twisted in an effort to avoid crushing the tiny creature and his arms wildly pinwheeled as he tried to keep his balance. He might have succeeded if another Grombot, hanging upside down from one of the beams above his head, hadn’t chosen that exact moment to drop onto his shoulders.
“Ugh!” Asim groaned.
His arms came up to grab the Grombot as he fell. Fortunately, he landed on the warm grass instead of the floor or any critters. If he had landed on the floor, his morning would have ended up going from bad to worse. Some of the little ones were not house-trained yet and the floor was usually a minefield on a good day and a landfill on the bad ones.
Holding the Grombot protectively against his chest, Asim leaned his head back and groaned. Three of the Grombots were now in the upper rafters despite the netting that was fitted across the beams to prevent it. One of the older ones must have figured out how to loosen it.
Asim grimaced when he noticed that one of the three was a juvenile. Lady Ariel would have a fit if she saw them up there, especially the baby. Jabir, on the other hand would probably be sitting up there with them. He had caught the little boy trying to imitate the various creatures on the ranch before. Asim pushed up, still cradling the Grombot against his chest, and gazed down at the mass of Maratts eagerly enjoying their extra breakfast.
“All of you will get sick again and Lady Ariel will be upset,” he informed them. Of course, they didn’t pay him any attention. He was about to get up when the Grombot in his arms turned its head. “Ouch! Dragon’s Balls! That is my chest hair you are chewing on. Oh no! You are definitely not trying that! I am not your Dola! You need to keep your grubby lips off my man nipples.”
The Grombot struggled against his grip, trying to suckle. Asim winced when several of his chest hairs were ripped out. He must remember to wear more than a vest when he fed the animals. Some of them were getting a little too attached – literally! He stood up, placed the Grombot on one of the climbing nets, and rescued the almost empty feedbag. He had no doubt that he was going to have a pile of shit to clean up when he returned this evening. He still needed to take care of the Pactor inherited from Lady Melina. He glanced at his communicator and noticed the time.
“Bloody Sarafin hairballs!” Asim cursed. “I’m late and none of you are helping. Pokey, get in here!”
The morning feeding was going about the same as it did every day – complete chaos. He ignored the sniggering of his dragon and waited for his symbiot to come help him. Ever since his dragon learned that none of the tasty treats running under foot and swinging overhead were on the menu, the damn thing was having way too much fun – at his expense.
It better than hurting and being grumpy like Pokey, his dragon pointed out to him.
“I know,” Asim snapped before he drew in a deep breath and replied again in a calmer tone. I know, my friend. I thank you for your control. It is obvious I have very little left.
True. You also have Grombot escaping, his dragon chuckled.
Asim turned to see the Grom
bot hatchling slowly crawling toward the opened door of the barn. If Lord Mandra didn’t set up another run to these creatures’ home planet, they would have to build another barn. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to keep the boys and girls apart, they always seemed to get mixed up. It had taken him a month – and almost three dozen new babies – to discover Jabir was sneaking out to play with the creatures after everyone had gone to bed and then returning them to the wrong cages.
“Dragon’s balls! Don’t you care that the Pactor would eat you up if you aren’t careful?” Asim demand in exasperation
He was about to pick up the dark gray creature when his symbiot trotted in, snatched it by the back of its neck, and continued past him. Asim turned and raised an eyebrow at his symbiot. The damn thing had been behaving strangely over the last few months.
“What took you so long? You know they get antsy if they don’t eat on time,” Asim demanded.
His symbiot dropped the Grombot on the bale of warm grass and shook. Its body shimmered for a moment before the glow died. Asim bit back the caustic retort he had been about to direct at the golden creature.
Symbiot like to be called Pokey, his dragon reminded him.
I know, Asim snorted with a shake of his head.
Pokey was the name that Jabir had given Asim’s symbiot because he liked a creature his mother told him about called Pokey the Puppy. Of course, his symbiot wasn’t the only critter with a name on the vast mountain spread that Lord Mandra, Lady Ariel, and little Jabir retreated to whenever they could. Those visits invariably meant more rescued animals added to the menagerie of creatures now under Asim’s care.
“Can you retrieve the three Grombots from the rafters while I take care of the Pactor?” Asim asked.
The symbiot shrugged and began climbing up the thick post. Asim didn’t miss that it moved with about as much speed as the Grombots and with a lot less enthusiasm. Concerned, he touched the thin band of gold on his arm to connect with his symbiot. A curse escaped him when the golden creature sent a warning zap of electricity through it. Asim winced and rubbed his arm. It was obvious Pokey wasn’t in the mood to communicate.
“How can we help you if you won’t let us?” Asim demanded, watching the symbiot climb up onto the rafter.
Asim drew in a swift breath when his symbiot opened to him for a brief moment and showed him the darkness that was dragging it down before it closed their connection again. In that second, it dawned on Asim how much his symbiot and his dragon were hiding from him. While they were all interconnected, the other two had somehow managed to shield his awareness of the slender thread of control they were struggling to preserve.
“What have I done?” Asim groaned, running his hand over the back of his neck in self-disgust. “I think only of my discomfort without consideration of what I’ve been doing to you.”
You protect us – we protect you, his dragon replied in a solemn tone.
Asim stared out the barn door, lost in thought. Beyond the fences that circled the assorted barns was a long meadow. Tall, purple grass swayed back and forth thanks to the breeze flowing down from the mountains that surrounded the valley. At the far end was a large lake fed by the waterfall and streams coming from the ice capped mountains. A thick forest of trees near the west side of the lake sheltered his modest home.
Perhaps it was time to move on to the next life. It was not as if the prince needed his protection any longer. With Lord Raffvin dead, the threat to the Dragon Lords was vastly reduced to a handful of traitors who were being steadily hunted. There were more than enough warriors to carry on the fight. He was just an old, worn out warrior with little left to give to his king and the rapidly growing royal family.
No! We be alright, his dragon snarled. We find true mate now.
The snort from his symbiot told him a different story. He had prolonged the inevitable as long as he possibly could in good conscience. That brief glimpse had shown him that his symbiot was trying to absorb his and his dragon’s despair. The negative emotion was slowly killing the creature that fed on their essences.
“We are killing our symbiot, dragon. He can only live on our negative essences for so long before he dies a slow and torturous death. What honor is there in that? Once he dies, so will we. Why should we be so cruel as to push all the weight of our despair on him in the hopes of finding a true mate who does not exist? We are old. What female in her right mind would want a dragon warrior like us? No, it is time to do the honorable thing and acknowledge our time is at an end before we lose control – which will happen when our symbiot is no longer with us,” he said with a deep sigh.
It not time. We find mate who likes old dragons, his dragon stated stubbornly.
“I need to take care of the Pactor before we can leave,” Asim said, ignoring his dragon.
Asim’s dragon muttered under his breath before pulling away. Asim had to give his dragon credit for not giving up hope. He wished he could believe there was a true mate out there for them as much as his dragon did.
Unfortunately, now that he knew how sick his dragon and he were making his symbiot, he couldn’t deny that they had been deluding themselves and each other. No, tonight he would tell Mandra that it was time for him to move on to the next life. He would order his symbiot to return to the Hive, and he and his dragon would die an honorable death in the ways of the ancient warriors. For now, though, he would enjoy the last of their time here in this world.
“Well, maybe not completely enjoy it,” he muttered, staring at the huge piles of Pactor dung in the corral that would need to be shoveled before he could leave.
This is something I will not miss in my next life, he thought as he reached for the large shovel leaning against the fence.
2
Pearl St. Claire gazed around her. A part of her wanted to pinch herself again, while the other part remembered that it hurt like hell when you weren’t dreaming. There was no denying that she was on an alien world. If the tall purple grass, unusual plants, and even stranger men running around in the shape of dragons and tigers weren’t enough to convince her, nothing would.
“Vox, you…!”
Pearl turned in time to see her new grandson-in-law, Vox d’Rojah, King of the Sarafin cat-shifters, pull her oldest granddaughter, Riley, into the large fountain where their son Roam, along with a small burgundy and gold dragonling named Bálint, and he were cavorting. Pearl swore if she tried to say that out loud, either her tongue would get twisted or she would end up in a padded room.
The sound of laughter echoed through the garden. Pearl shook her head and couldn’t keep the soft chuckle from escaping her. For the first time in her life, she felt like everything would be alright for her granddaughters.
“I think they’ve broken the St. Claire curse,” Pearl said in a soft, satisfied voice.
The St. Claire curse was what her mother had called the St. Claire women’s long line of bad relationships. Eloise James St. Claire had blamed the curse on Pearl’s great-great-grandmother, who was said to have passed down the curse from one daughter to the next. Pearl had never believed in all the hocus pocus until she had her own daughter. The thought of Teri sent a familiar twist of pain through her. If only….
“Remember rule number eight,” Pearl said to herself.
Pearl had developed a list of rules to help remind her when she started to lose her way or forget. Some rules had changed over time, and she had no doubt that more would, but some rules had stayed constant. Rule number eight was a reminder that everyone makes mistakes in their life. Mistakes were okay – as long as you learned from them and moved on. Learning from the past was all right but living in it was not. Pearl had learned that sometimes it was hard to distinguish between the learning and the living, though.
That life lesson occurred when Teri passed away. Pearl had woken in the middle of the night with her heart pounding and tears streaming down her face. The shadowy image of Teri hugging her and smiling before letting her go still burned in her mind. The dream
had ripped a cry of denial from her and deeply shaken her.
Unable to go back to sleep, she had slipped out of bed to check on Riley and Tina. Fortunately, both girls were sound asleep, oblivious to her panic. The next morning, the sheriff’s office had contacted her. Pearl had quietly made the arrangements for Teri’s funeral, unwilling to subject her granddaughters to the darkness and grief that had been their mother’s life.
Deep down, she had always known the girls would find out. She just wanted them to be old enough to understand. She didn’t know she had made the right decision until a few years later. Riley had called her and told her that she knew about what had happened to her mom. When Riley thanked her for leaving them with only the good memories of Teri, Pearl had choked up. At the end of their conversation, Riley had quietly asked her not to tell Tina yet.
“She doesn’t remember much about mom. I think it would be better to wait until she is older, like me,” Riley had suggested.
Pearl had agreed, never really finding a good time or way to tell Tina. Of course, like Riley, Tina had eventually discovered the truth – thanks in part to her biological father. That, of course, opened another can of worms that Pearl didn’t want to think about.
While Teri’s death initially left a gaping hole inside her heart, having Riley and Tina had quickly filled her life to overflowing. Pearl had sworn she would do everything in her power to give them the home she had struggled to give their mother. It hadn’t been easy, but Pearl had trusted her gut and persevered. Oh, she had to learn a lot of hard and painful lessons along the way. In fact, she reckoned that she had done enough self-reflection over the years to fill several volumes in a self-help textbook.
