When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  Aradma spent the next ten days sequestered in the cloister. They made sure she was never alone, always surrounded by priestesses who were ceaseless in their questions about her origins, how she was found, and the outside world. Aradma relayed all that she could repeatedly, leaving out the part about her broken faerie memories. One by one, the troll women revealed their myths to her, and a new understanding of history and the pattern of life unfolded before Aradma’s eyes.

  On the morning of the tenth day, a priestess approached the Matriarch and whispered into her ear.

  “Come with me,” the Matriarch turned to Aradma with a grave note in her voice. “I would have you see this.”

  Before leaving the cloister, they stopped, and an attendant helped them tie dinosaur skins to cover themselves. They left the caverns and went to a circular chamber that opened on one side to the waterfall and open sky. “This is the circle of judgment,” the Matriarch whispered to her. “It is in this space that I rule over women and men. Thus, men may approach me for judgment without entering the cloister.”

  Three seats were placed in the center, each made of smooth, interlocking driftwood, one higher than the rest. A priestess was already seated on the left. The Matriarch sat on the center chair and bid Aradma sit to her right.

  A male troll was brought before them, bound by ropes around the wrists and leashed by two other male guards. Their large eyes stared down at their captive in baleful disapproval.

  A second trio entered. Two priestesses escorted an unbound prisoner with pale green skin and a smooth-angled face, dressed in white skins. Her cheek tusks were tiny, only inch-long nubs.

  “What is your crime, Suleima?” the Matriarch asked.

  The woman in white answered, “My crime is loving this man.” She kept her gaze fixed straight ahead.

  Her escort clarified, “They met in secret and shared sex for pleasure.”

  “Is this man your husband?” the Matriarch asked Suleima.

  “He is not. He belongs to our sister, Couraime.”

  The Matriarch frowned. “And you granted him the grace of seeing your pleasure?”

  “I did.”

  “You disappoint me, Suleima. You are one of our most skilled midwives and have helped many of us bring children into this world. You have sinned against your sister for taking his seed when it is hers to grant life, and you have sinned against the goddess for seeking love and fulfillment from a man and not one of your sisters.”

  “I have, Mother,” Suleima bowed her head.

  Aradma felt the rage in Suleima, buried deep behind a well-disciplined composure. The man was not as controlled.

  He growled. “This is wrong. We love each other. My wife does not care what I do.”

  “Silence!” the Matriarch snapped. “How dare you address me so! Do you think you have a say in this?”

  The man dropped his gaze, but his upper lip curled into a snarl. His shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths.

  “You have betrayed your wife and risen above your station. You have presumed to take the fruits of the goddess, and profaned that which is sacred. You know the penalties for this.”

  Fear shot through the man’s heart so intensely that Aradma felt it. His knees trembled, and his eyes shifted to the woman. Suleima lost her composure for a brief instant, and her eyes darted to the right to meet his. Her face twisted in anguish, and then she regained control.

  The Matriarch turned to Aradma. “What would be your judgment?”

  The seelie woman looked deep into the Matriarch’s eyes. “I choose mercy.”

  The Matriarch raised an eyebrow. “Because you ask it.” She turned her gaze back to Suleima. “Soorleyn’s scion has chosen to grant mercy. Learn from this and do not sin again against your goddesses or your sisters.”

  She then addressed the man. “You retain your life but are dead to us. You are hereby banished from the Vemnai. You will charter a ratling ship and leave this island behind, never to return. Any Vemnai who encounter you will kill you on sight.”

  Then she turned back to the accused woman. “As penance, you will give one of your husbands to your sister to replace her lost husband. In the meantime, you will cook, wash, and do whatever other menial chore or punishment any priestess lays for you, after which time you will be forgiven and welcomed back into the sisterhood.”

  Suleima bowed her head. Sadness mixed with relief that her lover would not die wafted from her, but she kept it concealed. “You are gracious, Mother.”

  “Don’t thank me. Thank Soorleyn’s handmaiden. In time, you may come to call her ‘Mother’, too.”

  Suleima gave Aradma a long, hard stare. Gratitude and hope filled her eyes before she was led away by her escorts.

  The Matriarch was finished with the matter. “Make the arrangements for him,” she instructed the priestess to her left. Then she rose. She held out her hand to Aradma and waited for her to take it, leading the seelie from the room back to the cloister.

  The Matriarch dined with Aradma that evening on her private balcony, away from the other priestesses. They delighted in a meal of fresh fruits and berries, boiled roots, and strips of raw deer. Aradma remembered that the people of Windbowl had always cooked their meat, but she found the raw flesh immensely satisfying.

  “Trolls were not always thus,” the Matriarch said, “living as we live now, with women guiding our clans and the men kept in balance. The Obsidian Throne was made by our ancestors when we had a civilization.”

  “What happened?”

  “We built these structures and our civilization seemed on a bright course. But then our men acted and fulfilled the inevitability of their nature. Coveting the wealth and power of other nations, they brought in a foreign goddess, Athra. They sterilized her as a virgin queen and sought absolute control over women by controlling our central mysteries: life and joy. Men ruled, and we became nothing more than cattle. It was much worse than we treat them today. We were kept in cages and not even allowed to speak words. All joy was lost. Art. Beauty. Even the pleasure of sex, for we were used for their desires alone. All children were conceived through rape. At the height of their depravity, they circumcised us to ensure we could experience no pleasure, even between ourselves or alone. Their paranoid need for control sequestered us from the world as the Darkling Empire grew to rise against the Elven Imperium. Over time, the men lost their magic, for such rule cannot sustain itself. It was only a matter of time before the Darkling Empire would discover our island and extinguish us with their wolven armies.

  “Rin came to us and gave the women the secret of her runes. She revealed our true nature and our true history, that we were her children, born out of the love of sharing Soorleyn’s womb. We were made in the divine image, and it was men who were Yamosh’s lies made flesh.

  “We rebelled. With the magic she gave us, we slew most of the men, sparing only the youngest of our sons. We beat back the wolven armies from the island and established a new order. Our order. Rule by women, where we control life, we own our own pleasure, and it is in our power to separate or join the two.

  “We realized Athra was nothing more than a corrupt aspect of Yamosh. We returned to a simple way of life, the old tribal ways that keep harmony with nature. We do not trouble ourselves with trade or politics, with few exceptions.

  “Rin’s daughter, Graelyn the Green, taught us the ways of druidry and initiated the order to keep watch over Rin’s domain. The druids stand apart from our society. They guard and protect our way of life and speak to us of the will of the jungle, but they hold neither power nor station in our clans.

  “To be a druid is to be apart. You give yourself to the jungle, and you cease to be woman or man, living somewhere in between in nature’s balance. It is an elevation for men, for they are no longer men. For a woman, it is a loss, for you are then no longer a woman. You would cease to rule and enjoy Rin’s bounty. Instead, you would be Rin’s protector, forbidden from mothering a child or lying with a man—just as male druids wil
l never be with a woman. Druids are dedicated to Rin first and the community second. I know Odoune intends to initiate you into his ways. Druidry is a noble path, but I do not believe it is your path.

  “However, the path you choose is between you and Rin. I would have you at my side, but I would have your love freely given. Train with Odoune but take no vows until you are ready to become a priestess. Then make your choice. I have faith in you.”

  Aradma contemplated the Matriarch’s words. With each passing day she felt more love for the woman, giddy with the adoration the Matriarch heaped upon her, and more kinship with the other priestesses who accepted her as a sister.

  It was under the next full moon that the Matriarch brought Aradma through a cloistered tunnel that opened to the top of the cliff and out under the night sky. Thick trees surrounded the clearing, and a high wooden fence with no gate ensured this space was only accessible through the cloister. It was a garden forbidden to men. They climbed a rope ladder that led to the treetop canopy and a small wooden observation post open to the sky above, high enough to look down over the surrounding jungle. Aradma breathed in the open sky and smiled.

  The Matriarch took Aradma’s hands. “To see you smile warms my heart.”

  “I’m glad,” Aradma replied, thrilled by the troll’s words. “I like pleasing you. I want to be with you.”

  “Our love is growing,” the Matriarch affirmed. “You have been with us a full cycle, but you are not ready to commit to Rin and Soorleyn yet. You must be tempted first. I release you tomorrow to Odoune’s training. His art and knowledge will serve you well, regardless. If you choose to be a druid, you will still fulfill your role of guiding your people to me and help me find the true priestess of Soorleyn. But I hope you will choose to be at my side. I have grown fond of you. Your insight and compassion fulfills me, and we would find balance together that would benefit the Vemnai.”

  “I will choose you,” Aradma said. She cupped the Matriarch’s face in her hands, her thumbs hooked beneath the troll woman’s cheek tusks.

  The Matriarch closed her eyes and sighed contentedly before opening them again. “One more thing I must tell you,” the troll said. “You will be leaving the cloister and passing through the world of men. You must never take pleasure in them. Their sex is for life alone, and you do not yet have a husband. That may come later. When you have a husband, you must never grace him by showing pleasure, even if you feel it. It is the temptation of Yamosh. They will show pleasure; it is in their nature and cannot be helped. Do not indulge in it. Be pure to your sisters and reserve your heart for them alone. In such purity, the goddesses will lead us to the time when the seed of men will no longer be needed for life. The Vemnai shall be women alone.

  “As you undergo Odoune’s teachings, know that the greatest fruit of becoming a druid is removing yourself from a husband’s temptation of pleasure. You would be released from the duty of bearing children and would never have to share your body with a man. Because of this, I will accept it should you choose to become a druid. I once considered choosing that path.”

  “But if you had,” Aradma said, “we could not be together.”

  “And for this, I am grateful.” The Matriarch smiled. She pulled Aradma’s waist forward to meet hers, drawing their faces close to each other. “I should wait until after your time with Odoune, but my love is too great.” She kissed Aradma’s lips, slowly and timidly at first, and then lingered more deeply.

  Aradma returned the kiss. Her heart fluttered and her knees trembled. “You say pleasure with men is forbidden,” Aradma whispered. “But between us?” She swooned, overwhelmed and intoxicated by the troll’s adoration.

  The Matriarch caressed Aradma’s face and hair. “For us, love is the greatest virtue. It celebrates the mystery of the goddesses together.”

  She urged Aradma to the floor of the observation post, all the while kissing the elf. The Matriarch’s fingers slid between Aradma’s legs, parting her knees. The seelie woman felt a warmth and sweetness fill her. They tugged at the clasps of each other’s chains until they lay naked together, legs intertwined. The two women lost themselves to their lovemaking beneath the open night sky.

  14 - Rending the Veil

  Aradma studied Odoune’s face deeply when they met the next morning. She looked past his great tusks, beast-like nose and feline mouth to see if she could find Yamosh’s touch in the dark pools of his eyes. She couldn’t. On the other hand, the Matriarch had said that druids stood apart, and were no longer men or women. Considering this, she realized that any taint of the evil god must have been erased when he ceased to be a man and became a druid.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You stare at me curiously,” he stated.

  “It is nothing,” she brushed it aside. “I am ready to continue my training.”

  “We go into the jungle,” he said, and shifted into his raptor form. He chirped at her, and then headed into the underbrush.

  She took a brief look back at the cloister, hoping for one last glimpse of the Matriarch, but she did not see her. Turning to run after Odoune, she shifted into the white leopard and darted into the foliage.

  They ran together, side by side. She had forgotten how good it felt to be a cat. Her muscles were taut, filled with explosive power, and her energy seemed limitless as she sped between tree trunks. She saw more details and heard more life in her feline form, and her surety of footing amazed her every time she thought she might fall but caught herself. Even better, she found that in her cat shape she was able to hold her invisibility as long as she moved slowly. This proved a great advantage in hunting. She and Odoune brought down prey and ate the kill together, exulting in the raw flesh, both as animals and in their natural forms.

  After hunting and living by tooth and claw, he taught her to heal. She learned to reach into an animal’s soul and sense where it was out of balance. She channeled the flow of Life to the hurt aspects of its essence, returning its being to wholeness. They spent time searching for the sick and wounded, restoring plants and animals to health. She quickly surpassed the healing insights of her mentor, filled with the knowledge and power of the Dragon.

  “You have a great ability to see something for what it is,” Odoune told her. “You see how something is out of balance and how to make it right.”

  “It seems druidry is the art of learning to restore something to the truth of its being,” she said. “Sickness is a lie against one’s nature. When I see a diseased tree or a suffering fish, I try to understand its true nature and return ownership of it to itself.”

  “You are wise,” he said. “It is the Dragon who speaks within you. The heart of druidry is about seeing the truth of things. What about when we shapeshift into the creatures of the jungle? Are we not lying to the universe?”

  “No,” she replied. “It is not a deception. We accept the universe’s trust to allow a larger truth for ourselves. The power to know the shapes of animals, to become them, is a truth the universe grants to druidry, as long as we never lose the truth of our own selves when we shift.”

  Odoune nodded.

  Then they flew. For days they remained as birds of prey, soaring over the jungle tops. Even the mountains were not closed to them. They hunted rodents and fish until Odoune landed on a tower of rocks and returned to his natural body. Aradma did the same.

  They stood at the pinnacle of a spire of orange rock that had been eroded over time into a smooth pillar of squat spheres, climbing high above the treetops. The sun warmed the surface from a pure blue, cloudless sky. Aradma closed her eyes for a moment, putting her face to the sun and taking in the heat on her body. After a few moments of silence, she turned her gaze to the expanse of the canopy. Birds flew from treetop to treetop, and an occasional rustle of leaves announced the movement of a great hunter below.

  “Odoune,” she began, “the Matriarch says I must choose between this,” she stretched her arms to encompass the expanse of the jungle, the sky, and the sun, “and dwelling with her as a priest
ess.”

  Odoune nodded. “I suspected she would try to claim you.”

  “Is that bad?”

  The druid sighed.

  “The Matriarch is the keeper and protector of the clans,” he told her. “She is the conduit to Rin for our people. But we druids stand apart, and our concern is the garden of life itself. The jungle is Rin’s will made manifest. To us, the Matriarch and the clans are a drop in the wider sea of Rin’s realm. She sees herself as the pinnacle of all the Vemnai, but we are outside of that.

  “Yet she is Rin’s priestess, and we are in harmony with her. When we enter the clans, we defer to her will. Her word is final on all matters of the Vemnai as a people.”

  “Is it true you have never been with a woman?” Aradma asked. “You will never father a child?”

  He raised his eyes at the question. “It is. We are wed to the jungle and to life itself. Follow me.”

  He became an owl again and flew into the trees, where he alighted once more as a troll on one of the great limbs. Aradma followed him, flying as a falcon and then balancing on the limb as an elf on the balls of her feet. Odoune pointed. Three arm-spans away, two parrots fed three chicks in their nest.

  “Isn’t this the way of the jungle?” Aradma tested him, whispering. “Life itself is sexual.”

  “It is, but it is much more than that,” he answered. “Remember your vantage point from the rock spire? These two birds are beautiful, and the life they have created is miraculous. But Life is so much larger than this small family of birds. All life comes from Rin, but if we were called to participate in the waves of the river, we would not be able to help guide and tend its flow. It is a sacrifice we make to serve the jungle. Come over here,” he beckoned her, walking to the heart of the tree. “Place your hand on the trunk.”

  She placed her hand on the bark beside his.

  “Reach out to it. Feel its life and its spirit. Connect to her.”

  Aradma closed her eyes and touched the tree. She felt its life pulse beneath her fingers. Her heart connected to its core, and it felt as if a breath of fresh air filled her soul.