When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set

by K. Scott Lewis

  “I will not die,” Tiberan promised.

  Ghiel nodded. “I believe you, friend. But that is serious talk for later. For now, we drink!”

  “We drink!” Tidot repeated.

  Ghiel brought out a skin-sewn flask and handed it to the seelie. “Try this.”

  Tiberan took a swig. The liquid inside burned his throat and assaulted his palate with the overwhelming fragrance of tree sap.

  “It is good, yes?” the troll grinned.

  Tiberan eyed them strangely but took a second mouthful. Warmth filled his breast.

  He passed the skin to Tidot, who took a full draught. “To our lady!” he toasted. “May she find it in her heart to grace me with a visit this month!”

  “To my house-brothers!” Ghiel called out. “May we always hunt together.” He passed the skin back to Tiberan.

  “To Aradma,” Tiberan said. “May we—”

  “No, no!” Tidot exclaimed, taking the skin from Tiberan. “Put such thoughts away from your mind. Couraime is a beautiful woman, and you will be happy with her. If you want her to accept you, best banish such words to the most silent places of your heart. Besides, I’m told that the Virgin and the Matriarch are for each other alone. The Matriarch has released her husbands, and the Virgin will never take one.”

  * * *

  Aradma followed the Matriarch back into the cloister. She didn’t care that priestesses who might overhear followed her. When she had seen the new seelie for the first time, when their eyes met, she wanted nothing more than to surrender to him. She knew he too had been unable to turn away from her. The music of his soul reverberated over hers, cascading in waves of ever-expanding harmonics that would not be denied. Even now, she still felt the echo of his being within her. Love and desire filled her heart so powerfully she thought she would cry out.

  “Why is he not to be with me?” she challenged the Matriarch. “He is seelie, the only other one of my kind. He should be with me!”

  The priestesses gasped at her outburst. Out of the corner of her eye, Aradma noticed Suleima was among them.

  The Matriarch whirled on her heels, eyes flashing angrily. “Do not question my judgment!”

  In a moment her rage passed and her face softened. “Koris-val,” she said, taking Aradma’s hands. “We should be together in this, but sometimes I forget that you are new to the Vemnai, even though your role with me is ordained. Remember what Rin revealed. Remember that I gave up my own husbands to be with you and you alone. You are the Virgin Consort, and we are to set the example that our sisters will eventually follow, at the appointed time.

  “It grieves me that the first light elf to join us is a man. I see now that you are cursed with the same desire that most of our sisters share. I know this is hard for you, but you must be strong. I await the day when your elven sisters join our cloister.”

  Aradma folded her arms over her chest and breathed in a note of silence. She calmed herself, even though the harmonic waves caused by the music of his soul touching hers still trembled along her bones. Challenging the Matriarch directly would do her no good, and now she had to worry about Tiberan’s fate. Things had become even more complicated.

  “In fact,” the Matriarch said. “It is time we make a point of searching for more of your people.” She turned to her attendants. “Make the arrangements. Send out hunting parties into the lands. Purchase passage on Kallanista’s airships. We must bring Soorleyn’s people to us. We must finish what Odoune started.”

  * * *

  Tiberan awoke the next morning sprawled on one of the sofas. His temples throbbed in pain as he propped himself up. Ghiel had breakfast of fresh cut vegetables and raw meat strips that had been rolled in fragrant herbs ready for him. Tiberan found the blending of herbs and meat to be a new taste but not unpleasant.

  The door opened, and a new troll man entered. He stared sullenly at the ground, waiting to be noticed. He had blue fur and dark blue hair, with orange eyes.

  Immediately, Ghiel and Tidot ceased their activities and approached the stranger.

  “I am Joratan,” he said. “Suleima sent me.”

  “You are to be our new house-brother,” Tidot said. All mirth had faded from his voice.

  Joratan nodded. “My wife betrayed our ways with your house-brother. I am here to be a dutiful husband.”

  Tiberan stood. “You want to be here?”

  The three men stared at him.

  “What he wants,” Ghiel explained patiently, “is irrelevant. Ouran and Suleima betrayed our ways, and he is here to make amends.”

  “Is Suleima not with you?” Tidot asked, looking past him to the open door.

  “No,” Joratan answered. “She would not come.”

  “That is an insult to our lady,” Tidot muttered.

  “It is,” Joratan agreed.

  Ghiel frowned. “It is what it is. Come, let me show you your room. You are of our house now, and we will make the best of it.”

  Tidot turned to Tiberan. “And you, sit here with me. It is time to continue your education.”

  Tidot told Tiberan of the myth of the two goddesses and why women ruled the Vemnai. They had kept the Vemnai safe from the outside world for thousands of years. They lived close to nature, preserving traditional tools and craftsmanship, and were forbidden from building anything new. The presence of ratlings proved beneficial, and in the last thousand years they were permitted to trade for ratling craftwork. It made some things easier and kept them strong against outside encroachment. “The outside world is deluded into believing its civilizations are great things. They are unnatural. The more they grow, the further from their spirits they wander. They are lost souls.”

  “You do not have civilization here?” Tiberan queried.

  Tidot laughed. “Indeed not. We have peace and harmony. This is what we are taught.”

  Tiberan detected a subtle hint in the troll’s voice. “You believe these teachings?”

  Tidot narrowed his eyes, but his mouth retained a smile. “I love my wife, so I accept them. But there are other thoughts among the men, which I will not share with you now.”

  “Your wife is a priestess?”

  “All our women are. She is great among them, second only to the Matriarch. And now the Virgin too, I suppose.” His chest swelled with pride.

  “You are both her husbands?”

  He nodded. “I know that seems strange to outsiders,” he said, “but our way has worked for us for many generations, yielding peace and harmony. We are grateful for Rin’s teachings that keep our lower natures tamed, and grateful that our priestesses honor us to elevate us above the animals we would become. It is not our place to be jealous. We do not possess her. She has us, and we serve at her pleasure. When she deigns to visit one of us in the night, we are grateful.”

  “Does that happen often?”

  Tidot chuckled. “Not yet for me. I love my wife. I hope one day for her visit, even though it is not proper for us to receive the love of her heart. That grace is for the sisterhood alone. Ours is to serve when she desires offspring. She comes to the husband she deems most worthy at the time.”

  “And Ouran and Suleima’s crime was mating outside of the household?”

  “More than that,” Tidot took a deep breath. “Suleima gave him her love, and he desired her only for himself.”

  Tiberan frowned. He thought of Aradma. He knew he desired her only for himself.

  “When Couraime comes for you,” Tidot cautioned, “you must remind yourself that you are for her. Take thanks in what she gives you, but don’t fall into the trap of thinking that she is for you or that she loves you.”

  Tiberan shook his head. “This is not right.”

  “You will come to understand,” Tidot said.

  “You ask that I lie to myself, that I betray my heart.”

  “The Matriarch wills it thus!” Tidot snapped. “If she wills it, the goddess wills it.”

  Joratan and Ghiel returned to the common room.

 
; “Joratan and I will join today’s hunting parties,” Ghiel said. “We will return later.”

  Tidot nodded. “We will continue our discussions.”

  The furniture was primitive but functional. One thing the trolls excelled at was making cushions, which they placed on chairs and sofas. They slept in netted hammocks in their bedrooms.

  The life of a troll man was a busy one, of that Tiberan was sure. He wasn’t altogether certain what the women did, but he quickly learned that men were either hunting, gathering, or doing the limited craftwork they did to meet their people’s needs. He wasn’t sure “village” was the proper term for their home, but city or town didn’t fit either. They were larger than a village, but their beliefs kept them locked in a villager’s way of life. It was only the jungle’s bounty that allowed them to thrive. He suspected that had they lived in another land, like the orcs of the plains, they would have been forced into a nomadic way of life. There were far more men than women, and the women did no labor. They ruled and directed hunting parties and administered daily life, wielding the divine might of the runic powers Rin had granted them.

  He considered his own memories of Ahmbren’s people. He hadn’t been alive for long, but he had consumed the knowledge of the Fae in his vision quest. Among their number were both the savage and the rational, who’d had relations with the mortal realms. He wondered if any Fae had been on Ahmbren at the time of the Otherworld’s shattering, escaping the fate of their people.

  Ghiel was one of the preeminent merchants who traded with the city of Kallanista, making frequent trips for guns, scopes, and other odds and ends as requested by the priestesses. One thing the Vemnai did not lack for was a seemingly never-ending supply of gold. From some hidden hoard in the recesses of the cloister, the Matriarchs of old had learned that they could trade for what they needed from the outside world. Gold held little to no value for them, but they knew its strength over others. It bought them guns, and more importantly, passage on ratling airships when the Matriarch had a special task for them.

  With the orders to form expeditions to search for more seelie, the whole Vemnai city was a churn of activity. Tiberan was not sure his people would be amenable to the Vemnai way of life, but events were unfolding in such a way that he could not control. For now, he accepted it and focused on learning his role as a productive male of the Vemnai.

  None of Couraime’s husbands joined the expeditions. They were trade-masters, staying to oversee the increased demand for Kallanistan goods to make up for diminished production as other men left on the quest for the seelie. A dozen expedition parties of trusted men and women departed with gold given by the cloister to hire ratling ships in Kallanista.

  Tiberan spent the days listening to Tidot and Ghiel as they instructed him in the ways of the Vemnai. They took him out on hunting parties or had him work with the craftsmen of the city. In the evenings, the four house-brothers would have a full meal together. As seemed customary, the liquor came out after dinner and they drank. Joratan’s sour demeanor melted during this time, and he and Ghiel recounted the details of their finest hunts.

  In the mornings, Tiberan usually had a headache from the prior night’s drinking. When the drinking was particularly heavy, his house-brothers used their natural troll ability to become trees instead of sleeping on their beds. They said this helped cleanse them of the drinks’ spirits.

  Tiberan found himself enjoying their company and lighthearted banter. They were happy enough. It seemed a good life for them, but he knew he could not be content. He ached for the open sky and a return to the jungle. He felt confident that once he decided it was time to leave he could realize escape, but for now he would remain where he was. He wanted to see Aradma again.

  One night, after an evening with his brothers, Tiberan wearied of the spirited routine. He announced he would retire to sleep early and made his way to his bed lightheaded, closing the privacy curtains behind him. He fell asleep immediately but woke early in the morning from tossing fitfully through alcohol-fevered dreams.

  Aradma stood over him, lines of green light glowing clearly in her eyes. She started when he awoke and turned to flee.

  “Wait!” he whispered. “Don’t leave!”

  She hesitated, and then knelt beside his bed. They looked into each other’s eyes for a silent moment.

  “Why are you here?” he asked. “It is forbidden.”

  “I had to see you,” she said.

  “So then you have not embraced the Vemnai.”

  She responded in hushed tones that were so quiet that the words being shaped by her mouth seemed to be only light breathing. “I have not, but I keep that secret.”

  “Come with me!” he said excitedly. “Let us leave this place and find the others of our own kind. These are not our people!”

  “There are things I must do first. But you, you are in danger. You must leave.”

  “I will not,” he protested. “Not while you remain here. You too are in danger. I can feel it.”

  “I am not your concern!” she hissed angrily. Then her eyes softened. “You must leave; do not worry about me.”

  “I must stay.”

  She stood and shook her head sadly. “If only you had come a day earlier. I would have forsaken this place for you, but I have set things in motion here that I cannot now abandon.”

  A deep sigh of disappointment escaped his lips as realization came to him. “Your heart belongs to another,” he said.

  Aradma bit her lip. “I—” She searched for words. “No. Yes. I don’t know. From the moment I saw you, I knew I desired you, but I’ve shared my body with another whom I am deeply fond of. A great friend and mentor. I set him on a dangerous path, and I won’t abandon him.” She reflected further. “Nor do I regret my love for him.”

  Pain flared at the thought of her with another.

  “‘Him?’” he tasted the word. “I meant the Matriarch… but it matters not. I would live as Vemnai and be your husband, even as a house-brother to this other man, if that is what you desire.”

  She shook her head. “Were it that simple…”

  “The Matriarch,” he acknowledged. “What they say is true.”

  “Yes. That is different,” she said. “I have affection for her, yes. But she assumes much between us that I do not share, and her religion drives her to a place I cannot follow.”

  He spoke quietly. “She knows nothing of this other man.”

  “No. And she must not if I am to have a hope of helping her. She is enslaved by a goddess, and it is because of my love for her that I must try to release her from this delusion.”

  “Then we too will love in secret!” He stood from the bed and moved to embrace her.

  She backed away and dropped into the form of the white leopard. The great cat faded and vanished into the shadows, leaving Tiberan staring into the dark.

  19 - The Secrets of Men

  When not drinking, Joratan spent most of his time sulking. Tiberan tried to befriend him because the other two had welcomed him, but the new arrival clearly did not want to be there.

  Tiberan observed Tidot approach Joratan one day. “Joratan, we are house-brothers now. We must grow as chalim. Tell me what troubles you.”

  Joratan spat on the floor. “We will never be chalim,” he said. “I will never sire children. My wife denied all her husbands the honor of mating by betraying our ways for your house-brother. What poison is there in your house that one of you would tempt her so?”

  “Women are not tempted by men,” Tidot corrected him. “Besides, Couraime is your wife now. Suleima’s failings should trouble you no longer.”

  “Fah!” Joratan’s brow contorted, and he made a swift cutting motion with his right hand. “I am not of her choosing. I am not of this house and she knows it. She will never visit me.”

  “In truth,” Tidot responded softly, “she has not visited any of us who remain. Ouran was her favorite. His betrayal cuts her deeply. But now, she may yet call upon any of us.”


  Joratan sulked. “At least she is true to the goddess.” Then he added, “I cannot believe the elf talked the Matriarch into letting Ouran live.”

  “Have a care,” Tidot answered. “The Virgin is the favored of the Matriarch and has been raised above all others.”

  Joratan scowled. “I know. It’s just… Ouran should not get away with what he did.”

  Tidot’s voice softened. “I know. Do not trouble yourself. Ghiel and I took care of it.”

  Joratan pulled Tiberan aside one night after dinner.

  “It is said that your kind is a sign that Soorleyn walks among us once more.”

  “It has been said,” Tiberan agreed.

  Joratan smiled and nodded. Tiberan had found that trolls seemed eager to interpret things to fit and support their worldview as they wanted, rather than really seeing what was done or hearing what was said.

  Joratan whispered, “Then this is a wondrous thing! We can help each other.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “All my life I have wanted nothing more than to be chosen as a father. I have followed the rituals and dedications Rin prescribes for men without fail. I have served the women of the Vemnai and embrace the fact that they are made in the image and likeness of the goddess.

  “But the woman who chose me as a husband was the worst kind of priestess. I should be punished for saying such blasphemy but it is true. Her heart was not Vemnai, and I know not when it turned.

  “When I discovered that she and Ouran had been meeting in secret, what was I to do? It was my duty—my commandment—to honor, love, and obey my wife in all things. But she had betrayed me and my house-brothers, choosing to lie instead with a man from another woman’s house.

  “Surely she was corrupted, for what woman would defy Rin on her own? I pity her, but rage fills me for Ouran and the house he comes from! And for my loyalty to the Vemnai by reporting them, how am I rewarded? Rin seems fit to give me to the very house that was the source of such betrayal.