The Dragon's Lover

by Samantha Sabian

  Raine was doing her best to remain unapproachable, but knew it was only a matter of time before someone in the group attempted conversation. To her great surprise, it was the meek little wood elf.

  “Are they with you?” Elyara asked.

  The question surprised Raine even more than the timid approach. But it was not unexpected as the wood elf would be the one most attuned to nature.

  “Yes,” Raine said without elaboration.

  Feyden overheard the brief exchange, glancing about. “Is who with you?” he asked.

  Raine did not respond, nor did she break stride. Elyara felt the need to explain.

  “The wolves that have been following us since we broke camp.”

  Feyden peered into the brush, still seeing nothing. “What wolves?”

  “There are a pack of wolves traveling abreast of us in the forest and brush. Three, maybe four of them.”

  Raine shook her head. “There are actually eight of them at the moment. It's just that three of them are little more than pups and not very stealthy.”

  Feyden looked from one to the other, uncertain if they were joking. He peered again into the surrounding brush and still saw nothing. The entire conversation was annoying him. He snorted his disbelief and continued walking.

  “And the hawk?” Elyara said, whispering to Raine.

  Raine smiled. The wood elf was very good. “Yes,” she responded quietly, “that one, too.”

  Elyara glanced upward in wonder. The bird was huge, a wingspan as wide as a man was tall. She did not know how the others had missed it since it had been following them for hours, disappearing to scout ahead, then returning. Her initial disappointment with the stranger was turning into a mild sense of wonder. Even the wood elves did not form such powerful bonds with the birds and beasts.

  It was clear the other woman did not wish to continue the conversation, so Elyara slowed her pace, content to follow a few steps behind.

  CHAPTER 6

  It was decided that Vicar's Pass would cut weeks off their journey, although the path was treacherous. It wound its way through a mountainous region, the steepness of the terrain eliminating the option of horseback. A few mules would carry their supplies, but the journey would be on foot until Eglin's Reach. This brought much complaining from Lorifal, whose shorter stature made it feel as if he traveled twice as far as his longer legged companions. The route was debated at great length by all except Raine, who seemed content to participate as little as possible. This lack of participation furthered the unease of Gunnar and Bristol and deepened Feyden's disdain. Idonea eyed her without surprise as Raine seemed quite passive about the whole affair. Dagna, although usually gregarious, had yet to generate the courage to approach the stranger, and even she seemed a little disappointed in the woman's seeming apathy. Only Elyara looked to Raine for any type of confirmation, yet was not really surprised when she received no response. Raine was content to walk at the back of the pack, loping along casually as if she were out for a stroll.

  “Elyara.”

  Elyara jumped, startled that Raine had spoken her name, startled that she had spoken at all. She turned to look at the woman.

  Raine's tone was even, her words conversational, her manner unconcerned as she scanned the area around them and in front of them. They were approaching a curve in the path, one that descended into a hilly area.

  “You need to stay to the rear.”

  Elyara wrinkled her brow. She saw and sensed nothing. Raine's manner was so casual it was hard to decipher her meaning or generate a response. But something made Elyara take Raine's words seriously and she slowed her pace.

  Raine also slowed and the band of companions was strung out on the path as they rounded the curve. A blood curdling battle cry split the air and Hyr'rok'kin materialized from every direction. Gunnar, Dagna, and Bristol drew their swords, Lorifal pulled his enormous ax from his back, and Feyden removed his bow. Idonea removed her staff, as did Elyara. The wood elf looked to Raine, wondering how she had sensed the ambush, and was shocked that Raine was simply standing there.

  The battle exploded and the small group was outnumbered ten to one. Feyden began firing in all directions, his arrows flitting through the air and taking down the blackened monstrosities. Lorifal began cutting swathes through the horde that began piling atop him. Dagna swung her light sword with great skill, cutting off limbs, and Bristol smashed his broadsword down into a teeming mass of attackers. Gunnar looked around him, his eyes falling on Raine with disgust. The woman appeared to be frozen in fear; she had not even drawn a weapon yet.

  Feyden, too, noted Raine's lack of effort and was unsurprised, muttering imprecations under his breath. It merely confirmed his impression of her. Elyara was casting spells of fatigue upon those Hyr'rok'kin nearest her and when she caught sight of Raine, her heart sank. She had hoped the impressions of the others were not accurate, but it appeared they were. Gunnar fought his way to Idonea's side, furious.

  “Is your friend even going to draw a sword?”

  Idonea smashed her staff on the head of a Shard, then sent a blast of fire towards another. She, too, was furious, not to mention embarrassed that she had inflicted this coward on the group. She pushed her way through the melee towards Raine, who was standing at the edge of the fight, examining her fingernails.

  “Are you even going to do anything?” Idonea demanded. She ducked the incoming blow of a jagged club, shoving the Shard backward with her staff.

  Raine seemed satisfied with the condition of her nails. “I thought I would wait for the big one.”

  “What big one?” Idonea fairly screamed, her anger and frustration boiling over.

  A great rumble vibrated across the battlefield and the earth seemed to shift beneath their feet. A gigantic Hyr'rok'kin erupted from the ground, sending dirt and rocks in every direction, a primal, horrifying roar exhaling from his lungs. The Hyr'rok'kin army screamed in response, a terrifying howl of joy. The monstrosity unfolded to his full height, towering over the tiny figures at his feet. The panicked companions froze in horror at the unexpected and devastating sight.

  “That one,” Raine said, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

  And in a most unlikely turn of events, the one who had been motionless before was now the only member of the band moving. Raine sprinted toward the gigantic creature, her double swords appearing in her hands as if by magic. She used the bodies of the fallen Shards as stepping stones, moving to the heads and shoulders of those still living as one long ramp to her goal. The gigantic monstrosity turned toward the creature flying at him, dumbfounded. With a great leap, Raine landed on the giant's shoulder, catching his thick neck between the two wicked swords. And with a vicious and impossibly powerful twisting motion, she sliced deeply into both sides of the throat until the swords passed one another, decapitating the monster. The humongous head tumbled from the shoulders, landing with a bloody, wet splatting noise on the ground. Then the body began to fall in slow motion like the collapse of a tower. Raine rode the monster's body to the ground, leaping lightly off and landing in a crouch as the corpse thudded into the dirt, setting up a small dust storm.

  The battlefield went utterly silent. The monster had appeared at the leading edge of the fight, leaving Raine's companions behind her and the vast majority of her enemies in front. As she rose from her crouch, a sword in each hand, the dust settled around her. The Hyr'rok'kin looked at her, and she looked at them. A few of them took a step back.

  Raine smiled.

  The entire Hyr'rok'kin party turned and fled. They were not intelligent creatures but nor were they stupid. This “thing” facing them filled them with more fear than they had ever felt in their lives.

  Lorifal watched the feat in stunned amazement. But now his blood boiled and he hefted his ax, preparing to chase after the defeated horde. But he did not make it past Raine, who caught the jerkin of the stout little dwarf and reeled him in without effort.

  “There are thousands of Hyr'rok'kin between u
s and where we are going,” Raine said, her tone as casual as ever, “I suggest we fight the ones that come to us.”

  Lorifal flushed, embarrassed. She was right, of course. He gazed at her, his misplaced disgust having entirely disappeared into disbelief and wonder. A half-dead Shard twitched nearby and one of the swords flashed in the sunlight, rendering him fully dead. Raine hadn't even looked his way in order to kill him.

  Feyden watched the casual dispatch of the fallen Shard and realized he had completely misjudged the beautiful woman. Her nonchalance was not a result of apathy but rather from a total lack of fear. What he had interpreted as indifference was in reality a serene and utter self-confidence. He now had a very different set of misgivings about Raine, and as she glanced at him with intense blue eyes, a smile played about her lips as if he had spoken his thoughts aloud.

  Idonea stared at the decapitated monstrosity. The beast was enormous, a miniature army in itself. Few Marrow Shards had ever been seen outside the bowels of the earth. Their quest might have ended on that spot had it not been for the quick death Raine had delivered, seemingly with negligible effort. Idonea, too, began to mentally revise her opinions of the woman. What had seemed before an inappropriately languid manner was now seen for what it was: minimalist efficiency.

  “Well, that explains one thing,” Idonea said under her breath.

  Raine glanced to her. “And what's that?”

  “How you manage to survive my mother in bed.”

  Raine grinned, sheathing her swords in a fluid motion. She began walking in their original direction of travel. “Oh I assure you,” she said over her shoulder, “your mother is far more of a challenge than that.”

  Idonea gritted her teeth. She did not know why she continued to invite these conversations she really did not want to have.

  The mood around the campfire was decidedly different that night. Raine had resumed her distant air, much to the disappointment of her companions. Gunnar had dozens of questions he wished to ask her, but something about her demeanor was unapproachable. Whereas before he had thought her cold, now she seemed to him merely distracted, as if her mind and thoughts were very deeply elsewhere. Bristol shared Gunnar's curiosity, but he, too, was hesitant to intrude upon the woman. He was just grateful she was proving to be such an extraordinary addition to their band. He had quietly apologized to Idonea for doubting her judgment in the matter and Idonea had given him a strangely irritated look.

  Dagna no longer bothered to hide her open appreciation. She gazed across the campfire longingly, but Raine was either oblivious or was studiously ignoring her. Feyden was sitting back from the fire, partially in shadow, and he also was examining Raine, although more discreetly than Dagna. Even so, Raine was aware of the scrutiny and her eyes drifted to his gray ones. She held the elf's gaze for a moment, then lowered hers to study the markings on his jerkin. He was surprised. Few could read the ancient language of his people, yet he had the impression that she fully grasped the history that was woven into his clothing. She returned her gaze to the fire.

  Idonea studied the chiseled features that were highlighted by the flickering flames. Normally she would have been jealous of such beauty, but something about Raine did not inspire that jealousy. Perhaps it was the fact that the woman was so clearly enamored with her mother, eliminating her as any type of competition. Idonea's eyes slid to Dagna. She wondered if Raine would remain faithful under the assault she would likely soon get from that bard.

  A movement from Lorifal broke Raine from her spell. The dwarf was removing a flask from his pack which immediately piqued her interest. Dwarves always carried the most excellent spirits. Lorifal caught her head movement and proffered the flask in her direction.

  “Would you like a drink?”

  Raine was touched. It was a great honor to share a drink with a dwarf, far above any other act of friendship. She nodded formally. “I would welcome it.”

  She took the flask and took a deliberate, thoughtful drink. Not too long, which would be greedy. Not too short, which would be insulting or cowardly. But the perfect drink which indicated her appreciation of the gesture and her savoring of the liquor.

  “Ah,” she said with satisfaction as the warmth spread through her cheeks. “This must be from the flatlands. I can taste the anise.”

  Lorifal was impressed. Both by her knowledge of the liquor, which was a special brew, and by her ability to consume it without reaction. Most humans and in fact a good many dwarves, would have choked or even collapsed writhing on the ground from the alcoholic content in that drink. She merely settled back into her pack, a look of contentment on her features.

  Surprisingly, it was Elyara who gained the courage to ask anything of Raine. She was thankful that the woman had thought of her protection in the battle.

  “And how is that the wolves obey you?”

  A short laugh came from Raine. “Oh, they do not obey me. They do exactly as they will.”

  “Then how is it that they follow you?” Elyara asked, unwilling to let the matter rest.

  Raine hesitated, reluctant to disclose much of herself. But sometimes the truth was so unbelievable it would most likely be taken as a lie.

  “I came across a wolf in a trap in the forest. It is the typical story, I freed him and in gratitude his kind follow me, offering me companionship and protection.”

  Feyden cocked his head to one side skeptically. “The wolf spoke to you?”

  “Yes,” Raine said without much elucidation, “he did.”

  “What kind of wolf?” Elyara persisted.

  “A very large one, one whose shoulder stands higher than the head of a man.”

  “You are talking about Fenrir,” Elyara said in astonishment.

  This drew everyone's attention. “Fenrir” was a forest deity worshiped by the wood elves, one of the immortals who generally manifested in the form of a wolf. Although the sons of men had a different, more ominous belief about Fenrir and his place in the Aesir hierarchy, the elves believed him to be a neutral god, capable of both good and evil depending on his whims.

  “How could Fenrir be caught in a trap?” Elyara asked.

  Raine thought back to the incident which was now almost 200 years past. The gigantic wolf had been trapped in a web of spells and magical totems, creating an almost impenetrable tangle of sorcery. It was only due to one of her unique abilities that she, and only she, was able to free him.

  “It was a very complicated trap,” Raine said, knowing she could never explain and unwilling to do so even if she could. She abruptly stood. “I am going to stretch my legs.”

  It was obviously an excuse as all they had been doing for days was “stretching their legs.” Lorifal nodded as she left. He didn't care if she told outlandish stories or not, Raine was his new drinking companion. Dagna started to urge her to take more of a weapon than the dagger at her side, then held her tongue. Raine probably didn't even need the dagger. All watched as the woman disappeared into the night. Each was occupied with their own thoughts. Finally, Dagna leaped to her feet.

  “I should take her a sword,” she said.

  “Yes,” Feyden said drily, “why don't you go do that?”

  Dagna blushed at her transparency but did not care. She followed Raine into the night as Feyden turned his attention to Idonea.

  “Does she use magic?”

  “You mean Raine?” Idonea asked.

  “Yes,” Feyden said, “I have never seen anything like what I saw today.”

  Lorifal agreed, nodding sagely into his flask. “I have never even heard of anything like I saw today.”

  Bristol propped his chin onto his fist. “I'm not even sure I could dream of what I saw today.”

  The matter had occupied Idonea's thoughts all afternoon. “No, she is not using magic. In fact,” she said, turning to Elyara for confirmation, “strangely I do not sense any magic around her at all.”

  Elyara nodded. “It is strange indeed because she seems the most magical of creatures.” Sh
e blushed at her own characterization.

  The pronouncement relieved Feyden. Although he traveled in the company of two mages, one who professed to dark magic, he disliked it intensely. Although he was still uneasy about Raine, he was pleased to know she did not practice the black arts. It made him even more curious about her unusual abilities.

  Dagna entered the campsite, the quickness of her return indicating her lack of success with Raine. Idonea smirked, although she was slightly disappointed. She would have enjoyed holding the infidelity over Raine's head as the woman was proving to be irritatingly perfect.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Idonea said sarcastically.

  Dagna seemed oblivious to the sarcasm as she was stunned by what she had just seen. She had not been rebuffed by Raine because she had not even dared approach her.

  “She is already fast asleep,” she said, her voice filled with wonder, “surrounded by her wolves. And she is lying curled up with her head pressed against the largest wolf I have ever seen.”

  CHAPTER 7

  The band continued and for a few days the mood lightened. They were still days from the more difficult part of the journey. Lorifal was quite taken with Raine and was content to chatter at her side despite her minimal reciprocation. She did occasionally laugh at his jokes, which was all the encouragement he needed. Elyara watched with interest as Bristol attempted to romance Idonea, who seemed to vacillate between minor interest and minor annoyance. Elyara thought that Idonea would probably bed the knight in a heartbeat; Idonea just did not want the resulting emotional entanglement. Elyara felt that Idonea would be better with Gunnar who had a similar temperament and they could just have sex. Elyara then wondered why she was spending so much time thinking about everyone else's business.