The Dragon's Lover

by Samantha Sabian

  “Yes,” Raine replied, “there were a dozen here but a few days ago, chasing a woman from Havershire.”

  The soldier was shocked. So the rumors were true that they had come this far east. Raine confirmed his thoughts.

  “It was an advance party, a small group out scouting. But they are unusually far east.”

  The soldier was troubled and in his distraction did not think to ask the obvious. His scout, on the other hand, was troubled more by the unseen than by that which was spoken. She was particularly attuned to the ebb and flow of magic which permeated all things. But there was something distinctly wrong with both the individuals standing in front of her.

  The old crone was clearly in disguise and magic hummed and throbbed in the air about her, but the scout could not get a sense of the magnitude of that power. That could mean two things, that the power was insignificant and merely uncontrolled.

  Or, the scout thought, eying the crone, that the power was enormous and skillfully hidden. And when the crone turned glowing gold eyes upon her, she leaned decidedly toward the latter.

  The second figure, in her own way, was just as disturbing. Outwardly, the scout saw what the others in the troop saw, a strikingly beautiful young woman. But beyond that, the scout could feel nothing, which was quite impossible. Every creature had its own field of magic which could be directed outward by the being or inward against it. But this woman seemed to exist in absolute emptiness, in a solid field of nothingness where no magic entered or exited.

  Raine's eyes drifted over to the scout, apprising her. The fair-haired young woman had a sudden sense of the absolute lethality of the blue-eyed one examining her, although she knew there was no danger to her personally.

  “What is your name?” Raine asked the scout.

  “Isolde,” the woman answered.

  “Isolde,” Raine said, trying out the name on her tongue as one would try an unfamiliar drink. The woman was a Tavinter, a nomadic people known for their stealth and scouting abilities. She wore the nondescript leather armor of her people, but Raine had the impression she was far more important than her companions knew her to be. And she was a mage, or perhaps not, but by choice and not out of lack of ability. Magical power surrounded her, another fact her companions were oblivious to. Raine’s gaze slowly, deliberately drifted downward, settled briefly on the scout’s midsection, then flitted away.

  Isolde nearly started but controlled her reaction. No one knew of her unborn child, not even her husband, yet impossibly it seemed this stranger had just divined its presence. Her heart quickened but it seemed the woman had no intention of doing anything with the knowledge she had gleaned.

  “Your scout is quite skilled,” Raine said, addressing the troop leader once more.

  The comment seemed very random to the leader and the whole exchange was making him a little uneasy. “Right,” he said, baffled. The previously ignored “obvious” finally made its ponderous presence known.

  “So what happened to the Hyr'rok'kin?”

  “I slaughtered them” Raine said simply.

  Such a claim would have provoked laughter under any other circumstances. Even their heavily armed band would have struggled against a dozen Hyr'rok'kin. But something in the nonchalance of the words and demeanor of the speaker gave the claim a verity that the boldest bravado could not.

  “Right,” the soldier again repeated. He struggled for words beneath the unwavering gaze of the two cottagers and came up empty. “Right. Well, we will be off then.”

  The band wheeled about and after one last lingering look from the battle scout, she joined them and the troop disappeared into the valley.

  Later that evening, long after a blood red sun had melted into the horizon and the stars had appeared in the moonless sky, Raine was curled about her lover once more. A fire crackled in the hearth and other than the occasional howl of a wolf or hoot of an owl, it was utterly quiet. She was just about to drift off to sleep when she felt a change in Weynild. It was brief, fleeting, and was less a movement than a shadow passing over the two of them. The light itself in the cottage, however, had not changed.

  “What is it?” Raine asked quietly.

  Weynild paused, sensing, assessing. She was silent for a long moment before answering in what was clearly a lie.

  “Nothing,” she said.

  Raine raised her head to look at Weynild. Her silver hair and gold eyes gleamed in the firelight, and it gave her skin a luminous quality. The lie was so obvious it was not meant to deceive and Raine accepted its intended deflection.

  “Mmmm,” was her only response, and she lowered her head back down.

  The dragon was grateful for her lover's understanding, but could not prevent the deep sigh that followed.

  CHAPTER 4

  It was less than a fortnight before the events that Weynild foresaw began to unfold. The day had begun typically enough with Weynild transforming and launching herself into the sky to hunt. Raine watched with pleasure, the spectacle never failing to impress her. Off in the distance, a herd of deer bolted into a stampede as the enormous shadow passed over them, but Weynild was not in the mood for venison and instead began flying low over the forest, her leathery wings skimming the tops of the trees. She wheeled in a hard right and disappeared from view.

  Raine returned to her task. Shortly she would work on her weapons and armor, maintenance she did every day, but for the moment she was happy to till the small garden next to the house. Her efforts had yielded results in the small patch as the earth was moist and fecund. They already had carrots, potatoes, leeks, and squash. Raine was considering asking Weynild for a ride to the south to see if she could find and transplant some of the berry bushes that grew there. This thought brought a warm smile to her face as she thought of the potential flight. It was not too far, so possibly she could make it without succumbing to the ecstasy Weynild's flight invariably provoked.

  Raine paused. A figure was coming up the path. It was a woman, a rather voluptuous one to judge by her gait. Raine leaned on her spade as the figure came nearer. She had dark hair and brown eyes, possessing a smoldering beauty to accompany the seductive lilt in her walk. Her gaze held suspicion tinged with uncertainty as she took in the unlikely prospect of someone farming this land in the middle of nowhere. Her shirt was open nearly to her navel, barely covering the breasts that threatened to spill forth. It was warm this day, but not sufficiently so for that attire. Raine gave her a cursory once over, her eyes lingering not at all.

  “You must be Idonea,” Raine said.

  This pronouncement caused a hitch in the perfect swing of those hips because it was both surprising and accurate.

  “And you are?” the woman asked with annoyed arrogance.

  Raine stuck the spade into the dirt. “I am a friend of your mother's.”

  Idonea laughed. “Then I know you are lying. My mother does not have friends.”

  “Quite right, my dear,” Weynild said, coming around the corner of the cottage, once again in human form. She brushed by Raine so close their lips nearly touched, “We are far more than friends.”

  Idonea could not hide her astonishment at her mother's pronouncement, nor at the obvious intimacy between the two. Her mother was not known to openly display affection, and actually was not known for much affection at all. The girl, for that was all she appeared to be, seemed as enamored with Weynild as the woman was with her and did not seek to hide it in any way.

  “Close your mouth, Idonea,” Weynild ordered, “you'll attract dragon flies from the stream.”

  Idonea's mouth snapped shut, but it did not have the discipline to remain in that state. “Don't you think she's a little young for you?” she whispered furiously at a volume sufficient to be overhead by everyone as intended.

  Weynild reached her and gave her a peck on the cheek, a gesture far colder and more mechanical than the mere brushing of Raine's sleeve. “In theory,” Weynild replied, unperturbed, “everyone is too young for me.” She turned back to Raine
who was leaning on the shovel, an amused look on her face. “But I assure you, she is older than you are.”

  This caused Idonea's gaze to swing back around to the other woman. “Then she is not human.”

  Weynild shrugged, starting back towards the cottage. “Not exactly.”

  Idonea's eyes narrowed. The woman did not appear to be elven, which would explain her youthful appearance and long life-span. She did not appear to be altered by magic, nor did she have any influence that might suggest a half-breed demon or sprite. The girl looked perfectly human as she stood there gazing at her with dark humor in her blue eyes. But she knew from her mother's indirect response she would receive no further enlightenment on the matter. She started up the path after her mother.

  “Raine?” Weynild said over her shoulder.

  “Yes, my love?” Raine responded, hardly able to contain her laughter.

  “Would you bring some wood for the fire so we can prepare a meal for our guest?”

  “Of course.”

  Idonea could barely contain her questions but did so only because she did not wish the indignity of having them unanswered. Her mother busied herself about the hearth and when Raine came in, she set about doing some chores as well. Idonea watched in equal parts disbelief and bafflement as the two smoothly coordinated their domestic duties. She knew nothing about this stranger but she had never seen her mother like this. A meal was quickly prepared and the three sat down at the wooden table.

  “So,” Idonea said, pausing for effect. Unintentionally, the effect became pronounced as she spooned some broth to her mouth and became lost to its flavor.

  “So,” she said, recovering her focus, “how long have you two been…?”

  Idonea again stopped, this time at a loss for description.

  “Lovers?” Weynild helpfully provided.

  “I was going to say 'together,'” Idonea said irritably, “but since you're going to throw it right out there, then yes, how long have you two been fucking?”

  Raine muffled laughter but continued eating.

  “It is hard to say,” Weynild said, “I confess I have lost all track of time.”

  Raine shrugged as well. “Months? Years? I can hardly remember. It's all just one, long—”

  “I don't need to hear any more,” Idonea interrupted. She returned to her broth.

  Raine simply smiled. “So your mother tells me you are quite a talented mage.”

  Idonea glanced sharply at Weynild. Her mother seemed to be full of surprises. Weynild was not one to share personal details, not even with her lovers.

  “And do you practice dark magic?” Raine asked politely.

  Idonea bristled, preparing a barbed retort, but then she realized there was nothing judgmental in the tone of the question. Dark magic was generally a volatile subject as most people had strong emotions regarding it. But Raine seemed simply to be making conversation. Still, Idonea wished to test her.

  “And if I said that I did?”

  “Then I would tell you to be careful,” Raine said. “I have no great moral qualms regarding its use.” She sent Weynild a look that would have melted a glacier. “In fact, I have no great moral qualms about anything.” She returned her attention to Idonea, her tone slightly more serious but as even-handed as before. “But dark magic is very powerful, and like all power, it can corrupt.” Her brows lifted as she spoke almost to herself. “And I have never seen anything corrupt quite like dark magic.”

  Idonea did not appreciate being lectured to by someone who looked little more than her own age. But Raine's voice had a ring of experience to it, lending her words both weight and authenticity.

  “I will keep that in mind,” Idonea said, only slightly sarcastic.

  Idonea's tone had no effect on Raine at all. “Can I get your dish for you?” Raine asked Weynild.

  “Yes dear, thank you.”

  Raine set about cleaning the table while Weynild gazed across the wooden surface at her daughter. Raine finished, wiped her hands on the fabric hooked to the wall for that purpose, and made an excuse to leave.

  “I'm going to go for a walk,” she said. She took Weynild's hand, whose eyes did not leave her daughter's face until Raine brushed a kiss across the back of her knuckles. “I'm sure you two have much to talk about.”

  “Thank you, my dear. Do not be gone too long.” Her golden eyes shifted to a pair of smoldering brown ones. “I am sure Idonea will be quite concise.”

  Raine made it only a few steps out the cottage door before she was joined by three wolves. They barked happily, jumping about foolishly in their joy to see her. One rolled over and over in the tall grass before he leaped to his feet, wagging his tail.

  “Well come along now,” she said, rolling her eyes at their antics. “Let's go for a walk and get rid of some of your energy.” She then mumbled under her breath. “And mine as well. 'Tis a small cottage and I doubt Weynild will turn her daughter out at this hour.”

  Raine threw sticks to the young wolves, which they dutifully fetched as if it were some great mission. She skipped stones across the stream and watched the resulting ripples glisten in the moonlight. She caught the flying bugs that hovered above the cattails, their bulbous tails glowing like tiny flames in the night, then released them back towards the stream. Finally, she decided enough time had passed, bid farewell to her canine companions, and returned to the hut.

  When she entered, the air was thick with the conversation that had just ended. Weynild's face was impassive, yet words of import had clearly passed between mother and daughter.

  “I can leave again?” Raine said, more question than statement.

  “No,” Weynild said, “we are finished talking.” She turned to her lover, “and now I just wish to sit with you by the fire. I am sure Idonea is tired after her journey.”

  Weynild moved to the pile of furs in front of the hearth, motioning for Raine to join her. From her corner, Idonea watched as Raine settled down in front of Weynild, then leaned back against her into her arms. Weynild pressed her cheek into Raine's hair as she gathered her comfortably close. The two spoke quietly of small things, with occasional low throaty chuckles coming from one or the other. The fire flickered and cast soft shadows on their faces, highlighting the ethereal beauty of both. Idonea had to admit that her mother was still stunning and the two made a gorgeous pair. Still, she struggled with the domestic contentment that permeated her mother's demeanor. It was so at odds with everything she knew her mother to be, and for the hundredth time that day, she had the thought that she had never quite seen Weynild in this way.

  Late in the evening, the two retired to their bed and only quiet breathing could be heard. Idonea fought the urge to go look, knowing that the two would be intertwined, fast asleep. As she herself drifted into the dreamworld, her last thought, for the hundredth and first time, was that she had never quite seen anything like this.

  “So?”

  Weynild looked to her lover, so fetchingly dressed as a peasant, leaning against the wall of the cottage. The early sun brought out gold highlights in her wheat colored hair. Raine had been ever-so-patient to this moment.

  “Let us walk in the forest.”

  Idonea watched as the two headed down the path. Weynild had not given her a response the evening before. She had merely said she wished to discuss matters with Raine and Idonea assumed she would tell her that she was leaving. She wondered if Raine would ask to accompany her mother, but it was far too dangerous a mission for someone like her.

  The two walked quietly for a ways and Raine leaned down to pick a blood red flower with yellow streaks in it.

  “A dragon blossom for you, my love.”

  Weynild took the flower from her, inhaled the scent deeply, then let out a deep sigh.

  “Idonea has asked for my help.”

  Raine did not like the sound of this but tried to remain light. “I don't suppose it's as simple as retiring a gambling debt or something of that nature,” Raine said.

  “Th
at is what I usually expect from her,” Weynild said darkly. “Idonea is vain, self-centered, hot-headed, and impulsive. Coupled with that in a most dangerous manner is the power her dragon blood gives her.”

  A question occurred to Raine, surprisingly for the first time. “Is Idonea a dragon?”

  Weynild let loose a harsh laugh. “By the gods, no. And that has been a source of contention between us. Idonea has always been bitter that she favored her human father and not her dragon mother. But dragons are only produced by mating with other dragons.”

  “So no dragon babies for us, eh?”

  Weynild eyed the beautiful creature in front of her. “Yes, that is one of the things preventing that from happening” Her thoughts drifted for a moment, then she pulled herself back.

  “Stop distracting me,” Weynild said. “So given what I just told you about Idonea, I find it odd that she has joined a band seeking to undertake a most noble quest.”

  “So she has an ulterior motive,” Raine said drily.

  “Of course, I’m just not certain what that might be.”

  “And so what is this noble quest?”

  Weynild considered Idonea's words from the night before. “An imperial, a knight in fact, is convinced the Hyr'rok'kin are increasing because one of the gateways to the underworld has been left ajar. They are setting out on a most ridiculous journey to attempt to close it.”

  “And where is the imperial army in all of this? Why does a small band seek to remedy the situation?”

  “The inefficiencies of the empire are well known. Although it is said they are massing, I have yet to see it. I have seen small parties, such as the one the other day, but nothing sizable. And even if the army does gather it is unlikely they will venture into the Empty Land. So they will merely stop the forward assault, or at least attempt to.”

  “But they will not deal with the actual problem,” Raine said, understanding. “And so what does Idonea want from you?”

  Weynild stared off in the direction of the cottage. “She wants me to accompany them on this fool's journey, to protect them in their passing through the approaching horde, and then to assist them in closing the rift.”