by M. D. Grimm
“How many in this most recent litter?”
“Four. A small number, comparatively, and they’re all healthy.”
“I would like to see them.”
“When we return from the inquiry. They’re very protective of their pups, even among their own pack.”
I nodded as I began to wash his hair. He leaned his head back, eyes closed. I remembered saving Grekel’s two pups months back, though I hadn’t know their parentage at the time, during the time when Morgorth was training with Master Ulezander. That was when I truly earned Grekel’s trust. I already had his loyalty and respect after leading him and others in battle, and now I liked to think there was a modicum of affection between us; similar to the affection Grekel gave Morgorth.
“When we come back, then. How many are in Grekel’s pack, now?”
“Fifty adults, maybe ten or so adolescents, I think.”
I whistled.
“Yeah,” he said. “I think his pack is the largest in the territory. Other places don’t let wichtln packs get so large. They’re hunted down. Made as trophies.”
“You encourage their size, though.”
“Damn right.”
Unable to resist, I kissed him. He opened one eye and peered up at me. “You know, this bathtub is big enough for two.”
I grinned. “Not this time. You need rest.”
“I need you.”
Warmth flooded my heart as it always did when he grew affectionate. “That goes without saying, my love, but right now, what you need is to be pampered.”
He snorted, then sneezed when soap got into his nose. I chuckled.
“Dark mage’s aren’t pampered,” he said. He turned to face me, his hair still soapy and dripping down his face to his shoulders. He was adorable.
“Well, my dark mage is.”
He scowled. “I have a rep. You’re making me soft.”
“No one’s here to see,” I said, gesturing at the bathroom where only he and I resided. “As for making you soft, I dearly hope not. I like you hard.”
He rolled his eyes. “If you like me so hard, then why don’t you join me?”
“Nice try,” I said. I grabbed his shoulders and turned him around so I could finish scrubbing his hair.
He sighed. A few minutes past before he spoke again, this time his tone was serious. “I never could be soft before you. I didn’t know how to be. I think that was wearing me down. Maybe that was part of the frustration and boredom I felt before you. Same ol’ same ol’—no challenge, no change, just the dark mage. The villain. That was all I was.”
I washed the soap from his hair before planting a kiss on the top of his head. “But that’s not all you are, anymore.”
“I’m still that mage.”
“Not all the time. Not with me.”
He looked at me over his shoulder, his eyes holding a quiet intensity. “No, not always. But I have been. I might still be in the future.”
I met his gaze boldly, never looking away. “I love you.”
His lips quirked. “And that’s your biggest flaw.”
I lightly punched his shoulder. “Enough of that. Dry yourself, I’ll get some food.”
“But you haven’t washed all of me.” His eyes held mischief.
“I think you can handle the rest on your own.”
“I don’t know, I’m not feeling sufficiently pampered.”
I smirked and rolled my eyes even as my pulse thrummed. “All right, if you want to play that game, then lay back and spread your legs.”
His eyes brightened, and his grin was triumphant. I grabbed the cloth as he followed my orders.
***
After the bath and good food, Morgorth looked like himself again. We sat in the smaller front parlor again, and though I knew more about shape-shifting now because of his explanation weeks ago, I still had some questions. He seemed to know it and smiled at me.
“I can see you’re dying to ask. Go ahead.”
I blew out a breath. “Are you sure? Do you need more rest—?”
He waved away my concern. “I’m fine, now.” He leaned back against the couch.
“Why didn’t you speak in wichtln form?” I asked.
“Well, it was all I could do to hold tight to the spell and let a steady stream of energy keep it going. You try juggling swords on one foot blindfolded while reciting an epic poem.”
I laughed. “No thanks.”
“It was basically the same process as when I shifted into a fasion. Same visualization techniques, yet, the energy flow was different, and I had to modify the spell. And you saw I didn’t get the wichtln form exactly right.”
“Was that the first time you managed to be a wichtln?”
He shook his head. “I managed it twice before, but that was the longest I kept the spell going. Grekel also said it’s my best imitation of a wichtln so far.”
“You are certainly a fast learner, when you want to be.”
“Had to be. To survive.”
I touched his hand as I saw the shadow of his past flash over his eyes.
“Have you tried dreamwalking, yet?” I asked, trying to distract us both. I couldn’t think of our time in Zentha, with his father, with Elder Elorn, without wanting to cry and rage and break things. I couldn’t protect Morgorth from his memories, from his pain, I couldn’t go back and shield that poor young boy from violence he should never have known. I hated that I couldn’t stand as an unbreakable wall between his past and present. While it was true the past made us who we are, sometimes it was a burden that dragged us down. I would know better than most.
He winced. “I hate that more than shape-shifting, if that’s possible.”
“Why? It sounds like fun, to me.”
“I thought so, too, until I did it when I was younger and nearly died.”
My eyes widened. “What? How is that possible?”
He leaned back and met my eyes. “Dreamwalking isn’t only about controlling your dreams, Aishe. There’s an entire dimension sandwiched between the one we live in and the Mother’s spiritual realm. There are... things... that live there, as well. Some friendly, some hostile. We often enter a portion of that realm when we dream, but we’re protected because we’re in our own bubble inside the realm. Our glimpse of that world is limited and we can’t traverse it, and we’re safe. Dreamwalking through it, though, there isn’t a bubble. We step outside our protective sphere and wander around. We can see the entire realm, at great risk to ourselves. If you become lost in Dreamworld, you’re essentially dead even though your body still breathes.”
I gaped at him. I never knew any of this.
He nodded at my expression. “See why I’m not so eager to jump feet first into that? I did once without Master Ulezander’s permission, and it was only with his quick thinking he found me and yanked me out. I got a couple of well-deserved slaps for it.”
He sat up straighter. “So, the thing with Dreamworld is there isn’t magick. Not like there is here. Mages depend on magick, it’s what we are and what we do. But in Dreamworld, it’s all about imagination. The realm changes and morphs constantly. It’s never stable, and it often shows us what we’d rather forget. Dreams do that, sure, yet when you’re in Dreamworld, this is magnified. You can control your journey through the realm only if you can control your imagination and force the world to take the shape you desire. It takes skill, courage, and loads of practice.”
I watched him as he spoke, saw the fear behind his eyes. “What did you see when you went in there the first time?”
He frowned, hesitated. Then he sighed. “I saw Lazur and all the shit he put me through. It paralyzed me, and I had a...well, mental breakdown, I guess. I don’t remember much except that I was a child again, being tortured in my little cell under the house. I thought I hadn’t escaped my family, and Master Ulezander was a fanciful dream. It turned out I’d been lost in Dreamworld for a full day before Uzzie found me. If that went on any longer, I would have been completely lost. Then even if he
managed to find me and yank me out, my mind would have been broken.”
I swallowed hard. “So, it’s the mind that travels?”
He nodded slowly. “It’s hard to explain. You’re still connected to your body because basically you’re still in it. At the same time, your mind travels into another dimension while your body sleeps. It’s like you’re at two places at once.” He paused. “There are rare cases that it’s not only your body that travels, but your core essence. If that happens and you become lost, or don’t return to your body in time, you die. Your essence doesn’t travel to the Mother, it becomes stuck in Dreamworld.”
“That’s awful!”
“Damn right it is.” He ran his hand over his hair, looking troubled. “Like I said, there are things in Dreamworld. Some of them are those whose essence became lost. All they want is to have you join them.”
I shuddered.
“That’s a rare occurrence. Very rare. There are also demons there. Badass dream demons. I’ve never met one of them and praise the Mother for that. Thankfully, they don’t play with mortals much. They’re content to remain in the farther reaches of Dreamworld, doing whatever demons do.”
We fell silent. I realized I’d gripped his hand sometime during his Dreamworld explanation, and I had no desire to let go. Now I was afraid to dream, fearing I might lose my bubble of safety and become victim to a dream demon or lost spirit.
I shook myself, not wanting to dwell. “Let us go into Happy Valley. We could both do with a break.”
I expected resistance from him. He might care for the village on the north side of Vorgoroth’s borders, though he’d never admit it, but he didn’t always like to visit. He didn’t want to care too much for others, for fear of loss or betrayal. It was one of the main reasons why he’d kept himself isolated for so long. Before me, that is. I liked to think I helped him open up a bit more to the possibility of allowing others into his life. I had an argument in place if he decided to resist.
“That sounds like a good idea.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then snapped it shut. “Pardon?”
He smiled at me, a knowing look on his face. “I’d like to see my village before I leave, and make sure everything’s in order. You got a problem with that?”
“Not at all.”
***
Morgorth teleported us to the top of the hill overlooking Happy Valley. I didn’t like teleporting, but apparently he was in a hurry. I smiled at the quaint village with the thatched roofs and merchant booths. Communal farming land stretched around the exterior of the village center where homes and businesses were concentrated. There were a few outlying homes but the majority was set close and stacked on top of each other. Most visitors to the village came from the north, since any other direction meant they had to travel through Vorgoroth. I knew Morgorth ordered his minions to allow most to pass through unscathed, but he also allowed for killings. I didn’t approve, and yet I understood he had a reputation to keep, and it was mostly his reputation that kept headhunters away from him. Yet, it was also his reputation that made him so many enemies. It was a two-edged sword.
Morgorth walked down the hill, and I followed. A realization hit me.
“Won’t you disguise yourself?”
“Not this time.”
That was it. He didn’t say anything more. I frowned but didn’t push. It didn’t matter to me one way or the other, and yet on previous visits he disguised himself. I wondered what was different about this one. Although many wouldn’t notice, there was a change in Morgorth. I sensed it, saw it, but it was so subtle that if I hadn’t been looking, I wouldn’t have noticed. I knew part of it at least was the result of killing his father and his reconnection with Olyvre. I couldn’t yet determine if the change was good or bad. Sometimes he was more at ease and playful, then other times he’d stare off into the distance, brooding and grim. I wondered if it had to do with what his father told him before Morgorth killed him. He’d yet to tell me what Lazur said. I didn’t want to push, and I had to believe if he unburdened himself he would feel better. Then I would know how best to comfort him.
It was hard to comfort him when he didn’t allow me to.
The citizens of Happy Valley began to notice our approach. The fear on their faces as they looked at their resident dark lord was expected. They backed away from him and even shot fearful looks at me. There was also confusion as they stared at me. They weren’t very clear on my role with Morgorth, or if I was good or bad. I never gave them reason to fear me, yet my place at Morgorth’s side did give them reason to wonder.
Members of various species made their home at Happy Valley. Along with seelas, there were gVattaren, flayn, and even a small family of morag who loved writing morose poetry. There were a few other clans of creatures living within the borders, as well. It was odd for so many varying species to live cooperatively alongside each other, and to prosper so near a forest full of deadly beasts. It was mostly due to the fact the village had a stone of power within its borders. A peridot named Puejuek granted the blessings of the Mother on the possessor, or in this case, the town where the possessor lived. Morgorth and I only discovered the existence of the stone when another mage had stolen it. We retrieved it and returned it to where it belonged.
Morgorth told me the stone was very different from the others he encountered, and yet it still shouldn’t be trusted. The stone, however, protected the village from hostile invaders and allowed for bountiful harvests and a general feeling of ease and happiness to permeate the air. There was even a constant rainbow arched over the village, no matter the season. I felt my tension ease as I walked farther into town, and I knew he felt it as well. I wondered if the peridot was the reason he’d spared Happy Valley when he claimed this land. I suppose I’d never know. I wondered if he knew the reason for his mercy.
Morgorth stopped walking, and I looked around to see a small band of seela males approach us. I smiled when I recognized the leader. Several months back the Cwaylin king had sent a mage and a unit of soldiers into Vorgoroth, intent on claiming the territory. I managed to foil their attempts with the help of Vorgoroth’s residents, and even struck a bargain with a few of the soldiers. Now they and their families had made homes in Happy Valley, and I was pleased to see them doing so well. By the state of their clothes and dirt on their hands and boots, it looked like a few had taken up farming. A couple wore the leather vests of blacksmiths, and one held a hammer. Perhaps he was now a carpenter? The speed of their gathering and approach meant word certainly traveled fast in Happy Valley when the dark lord appeared.
In unison, the former soldiers knelt on one knee and pressed one fist to their chests over their hearts. I looked at Morgorth, wondering what he’d do. He hadn’t been too pleased with my decision, but he accepted it and claimed the soldiers might prove useful one day.
He stared at them silently for a moment before speaking. “Rise.”
They did so, standing at attention. They looked odd without armor and swords at their sides. Their clothing was simple but I could still see the training in their stances and unflinching gazes. They’d sworn an oath to be his soldiers and they would hold to it. Of course, they’d also sworn an oath to their former king and had changed loyalties, but Cwaylin’s king was unjust and cruel. No creature should be made to follow one so selfish and greedy.
“You are the soldiers from Cwaylin,” Morgorth said.
I swallowed with some difficulty.
“Yes, my lord,” the lead soldier said. He was the same soldier I negotiated with during the invasion. I never learned his name, and I was pleased to see he was still a brave and sensible seela.
Morgorth nodded slightly. “At ease, soldiers, I have no need of your services today. But I expect you to be ready when I do.”
“Yes, Lord Morgorth!” they said in unison.
I smiled, relieved. The soldiers departed and I stepped closer to Morgorth, glancing at his face. He appeared thoughtful.
“They fear me,” he said s
oftly. “And they stand in front of me nonetheless and give me their loyalty.” He shook his head. “I understand loyalty from creatures I make with my magick or crush into submission. I don’t understand this...freely given loyalty.”
He must be thinking of the boygle clan residing in Geheimnis, and his stone gargoyles that roosted on the towers, the ones he made with magick. There were times he truly thought little of himself. He put on a good show of confidence and arrogance, but underneath it all, he really didn’t think he could inspire loyalty any other way but through force and fear.
“Yes, you do,” I said softly. “You have the wichtln’s loyalty, as well as the truls, and the fasion. You have my loyalty. You have our love and respect, and you neither made us nor crushed us. You gave us a home. You know as well as I that predators such as wichtln and truls aren’t welcomed anywhere and are driven out of their territories or hunted to the point of extinction. You should remember too, my love, the boygles follow you precisely because you crushed them. They only follow the strongest and most ruthless.”
He glanced at me. “True. It’s still odd.”
I wrapped my arm around his. “Come. Let’s have a drink.”
“I could use one.”
We walked into the only pub in the village and it was packed. It was a round building with a thatched roof and wooden walls. Tables were crammed from wall to wall and each was crowded with customers, all laughing and shouting over each other. It was the end of their work-day, and they apparently coveted their social gathering. It warmed my heart to see.
As we entered all conversation stopped, all eyes turned to us. Morgorth stiffened beside me. I was about to speak when he beat me to it.
“What’s this, now? Are you going to deny your dark lord the pleasure of your noisy pub? Talk! Laugh! Get us a drink.” He directed the last to the barkeep, a portly seela male, who jumped and scrambled to fill two tankards full of ale.
