That did not stop her, however, from watching Dagna as well. The bard was clearly enamored with Raine despite no signs of interest from the other woman. Raine was ineffably polite but did not offer the least bit encouragement. Elyara thought perhaps some open discouragement might be in order, but maybe Raine was just too courteous.
Feyden kept to himself but Elyara noticed that he often fell in beside Raine. The two were about the same height, had a similar build, and had the same length in stride. They even moved very much the same, with the athletic grace so characteristic of the Alfar. Although the two rarely spoke, there seemed to be a growing level of comfort between them. Elyara was a little envious over the fact that Raine moved more like her people than she did as Elyara tended to be more awkward than most elves.
Elyara, ever observant, noticed that Raine had been glancing toward the sky on a regular basis. Once again she saw the gigantic hawk that she had seen before and wondered if there was some sort of communication passing between the two. Raine began scanning the land in front of them, and Elyara grew nervous.
“What do you see?”
This question caught the attention of the others and the band slowed as Raine continued to scan the valley in front of them. “I don't see it yet,” she murmured.
She came to the edge of the small cliff they were walking along and knelt down. She looked for even the slightest movement that would betray the presence she was looking for. Feyden knelt to her right, also scanning the forest below. Elyara kneeled to her left, for some reason holding her breath.
“There it is,” Raine said, nodding.
Feyden looked in that direction, but even with his exceptional vision he saw nothing. Then a slight movement caught his eye.
“Hyr'rok'kin,” he muttered.
“Yes,” Raine said quietly, “probably a scout. I imagine they're out looking for us after our little stunt at Vicar's Pass. I am guessing his troupe is not far.” She glanced over at the elf. “Can you hit him from here?”
Feyden looked at her in disbelief. She was talking about a distance that was twice his normal range. “No,” he said, “not a chance.”
“Hmm,” she said.
Gunnar and Bristol kneeled behind them on the cliff edge. Feyden was by far the best archer so they themselves had no chance of striking the target. Lorifal didn't even carry a bow. Bristol turned on his haunches to speak to Idonea, who had also lowered herself to hide. Unfortunately, in his heavy armor and awkward position, he lost his balance and fell against Gunnar, who tried to regain his balance by reaching for Lorifal, who had a low center of gravity and maintained his position but slightly bumped Elyara from behind. But Elyara was leaning precipitously over the edge, trying to see what Feyden and Raine were looking at, and the gentle bump was enough to send her pitching headfirst over the edge.
Or she would have had Raine not reached out and grabbed her by the back of the collar, hauling her forcefully back with incredible strength. Elyara's feet kicked the air before she was grounded once more, but the maneuver dislodged the loose shale at the cliff's edge, which then went clattering down the side of the mountain. The Shard scout glanced directly up at them, startled, then turned to run.
Raine muttered an ancient profanity and stood upright. She pulled the bow from her back, snapped the limbs into place with a violent twist of her wrist and pulled a long arrow from the quiver with her other hand. In a fraction of a second, the arrow was notched. She took aim as she drew the powerful string back, and let loose the arrow with such force it slit through the air in a blur. It flew impossibly true, striking the fleeing Shard square in the back and causing him to go down in a tumble of limbs. A second arrow flew just as quickly and just as accurately, this one impaling him through his throat and ensuring his death. The prone figure twitched a few times, then went still.
“By the gods,” Feyden said, looking from Raine to the dead Shard who was little more than a speck at this distance, then back to Raine again. “By the gods,” he sputtered.
Lorifal gazed at the weapon and the person who had unleashed it. In a way, this feat was just as unlikely and unachievable as the decapitation of the Marrow Shard, the skill just manifested in a different way. Raine kneeled back down and motioned for them to be quiet. She wanted to make certain that the Shard had indeed been alone and that no others had heard the minor avalanche they had caused.
“Sorry,” Bristol said under his breath when Raine indicated they were clear.
“Mmmm,” Raine said in response, although it was difficult to decipher exactly what that meant. She did not appear to be angry, however, and her demeanor appeared as unruffled as always. Bristol wondered if anything was capable of agitating her. Events that would send most into all sorts of emotional states barely seemed to register on her.
“May I see your bow?” Feyden asked.
“Of course,” Raine said, handing the weapon to him carefully. “The edge is quite sharp, so be wary.”
Feyden examined the beautiful weapon with great interest. He had eyed it curiously from the first day Raine had joined the band. It was as much a work of art as weapon, appearing very ancient but in immaculate condition. He could see the latch on the riser that would release the tension, allowing the bow to be folded in thirds once more. And he could see why the folded position was necessary. The leading edge was so dangerously sharp it could easily slice through someone's hand. It also made carrying the weapon much easier. But he had no idea how she had deployed the bow, snapping it out to its full length. It was a long bow and the entire weapon was very tight and taut. It seemed the force required to complete such a task would render it impossible. He handed it back to Raine.
“I have never seen a weapon like this.”
“It was my father's,” she said.
He watched as she skillfully folded it into its retracted position. “It is not a weapon that allows any room for error,” he commented.
Raine grinned. “I try not to make any.”
The twinkle in her eye caused a slight tug in Feyden's chest cavity. It was a most extraordinary sensation, somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. He was going to have to be careful or he would start mooning over this one like that foolish bard. Still, it was a comfort to him to admit he was starting to admire the young woman. She really was quite amazing.
“Thank you,” Elyara said, finally recovering her breath, “you are very strong.”
“I couldn't have you bouncing down the side of the cliff and giving away our position now, could I?”
Elyara blushed at the teasing and Raine turned to Gunnar. “I am not sure where that scout's troupe is, but we may want to camp here and descend through this pass when the sun is fully on this side of the mountain.”
Gunnar glanced to the sun that was getting lower in the sky. “That is a very good idea.”
Despite the near disaster earlier in the day, the mood around the camp was relaxed and jovial. Raine, as usual, seemed lost in her own thoughts and did not engage much in the conversation. Dagna was explaining to Lorifal and Elyara why she had left the Order, specifically that she had great difficulty with the vows of celibacy. This caused considerable merriment with that small group, which drifted over to Gunnar and Bristol while Idonea and Feyden looked on with mild disdain. Apparently the encouragement she was receiving emboldened Dagna and she addressed Raine across the campsite.
“And is there no one special for you, Raine?”
The group fell silent as the answer to this question was keenly anticipated. Half just wanted to know anything about Raine, who had thus far been nothing but circumspect. The other half had some vested interest in the answer. Idonea was quite interested in what Raine had to say whereas Feyden doubted that she would respond at all. She was silent for so long it appeared Feyden would be correct when she raised her eyes slowly to the group.
“My heart,” she said simply, “is owned entirely by another.”
It was a breathtakingly romantic expression, unexpected yet somehow perf
ectly consistent coming from Raine. Although it was deeply disappointing to Dagna personally, the words were so expressive, the tone so matter-of-fact yet filled with such great longing, it touched Dagna to her core. She was, after all, a bard, and love is love even when it belongs to someone else.
The admission seemed to affect Raine and she stood. Without a word or backward glance, she walked from the circle of light and disappeared into the darkness. All watched her go and Bristol was reminded of his earlier thoughts. Apparently there was something that could affect this one deeply.
Raine walked through the forest, willing the tightness in her chest to go away. Her longing for her lover was like something alive, twisting inside of her, causing her to ache with need.
“It seems you have many suitors.”
Raine caught her breath and her eyes went instantly to a deep violet. The voice behind her was low, sensual, gently mocking but with no malice towards her.
“No,” she replied, “I have only one.”
Warm breath whispered over her neck and into her ear. “She must be very fortunate.”
“No,” Raine said, shaking her head, “she deserves no less. I worship her.”
And with that, Raine turned, fearful that she was imagining the whole thing. But Weynild, was there, her golden eyes gleaming in the night, her silver hair reflecting the moonlight, her full lips parting as she pulled her young lover to her. Raine kissed her desperately, hungrily, gasping from the desire and need that this one inspired in her. But reality intruded, and Raine grasped her arms, pushing away just enough to look into her eyes.
“But you are here!”
Weynild understood. “Yes, but we are not in any danger.”
“But how?”
Weynild pulled her close. “Your band is at the crossroads of meridians.”
“Meridians?”
“Yes,” Weynild continued, adjusting her hands about Raine's hips so there was no space between them. “The lines of power that crisscross the world, invisible to all but the birds that migrate by them.”
Understanding dawned in Raine's eyes. “And visible to dragons as well?”
“Yes,” Weynild said, smiling so that her teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “To dragons as well. And where the lines cross, the light is so bright that I cannot be seen within it.”
Raine clutched her close, drinking in her beautiful face, the breasts framed so perfectly in the fire-red scaled armor that hugged the curves of her body. “Is there a meridian line I can walk all the way to my destination?” she asked.
“If only your path were that straight, my love,” Weynild replied. “But you will pass meridian crossroads several times, and each time I will come to you. And tonight, you are mine.”
They went to the ground together, unmindful of the damp earth. Raine tore her own clothing from her body as the magical armor that encased Weynild retracted, revealing the suppleness beneath. Weynild kissed her everywhere, her hair, her ears, her throat, her breasts, her stomach, her inner thighs. She settled on the softness between her legs, expressing pleasure at the warmth and wetness.
“I see you missed me,” she murmured.
Raine moaned and twisted beneath the onslaught, but the dragon held her tight, the strength of her lover exciting her to an even greater height. Her climax came quickly, her need and desire for the one holding her too overwhelming for her to toy with the idea of restraint. Weynild held her hips, pushing her passion beyond the physical so that it encompassed all of the longing of their separation. Although the beginning of the climax came quickly the end did not as waves of pleasure shook Raine's slender frame.
Finally, Raine collapsed, her body trembling and her breath coming in ragged gasps. Weynild pulled herself atop her, gazing down into her violet eyes with great pleasure. Raine touched her cheek, tracing the cheek bone that defined her beautiful features. Weynild's breasts were pressed against her, creating a warm and wondrous sensation. Slowly, Raine's breathing returned to normal although her heart still pounded in her chest.
Weynild sensed her companion's recovery. She shifted her weight, causing another groan of pleasure as she contacted still-sensitive areas. She smiled, knowing that they still had hours and that the stamina of her Arlanian would consume them all.
“Let's try that again,” Weynild said, her golden eyes gleaming, “this time with me inside you.”
Raine returned to the camp at first light and although she was still quiet, she seemed in a better mood than when she had left. Idonea examined her suspiciously, because to her eye, more accustomed to the subtleties of Raine's behavior, the woman seemed in a much better mood than when she departed. And that could have only one explanation.
“So how is my mother?” she said under breath, sidling up next to Raine.
A grin tugged at the corner of Raine's mouth. “She sends her love.”
The sardonic response was all the confirmation Idonea needed. It made her wonder all the more at her mother's motivations. Obviously there was some larger reason why Weynild would not accompany them because clearly she could not keep herself from her little toy. And Idonea wondered at the significance of the location, knowing they were at a meridian crossroads. This thought angered her for reasons that had nothing to do with Raine. Her ability to see the meridian lines was truly useless since she had inherited nothing else of value from her mother. Raine began a quiet little hum, the pleasant tune aggravating Idonea even further. She moved up in the band to Bristol's side, who welcomed her company.
After a while, Lorifal engaged Gunnar in quiet conversation.
“My people, the Dvergar have always been bitter enemies of the Hyr'rok'kin, but why have you chosen this quest?”
Gunnar was sober for a moment, then lightened. “I think we will all have to fight the Hyr'rok'kin sooner or later, but personally, I am the fourth son of a tradesman.”
“Ah,” Lorifal said, nodding his understanding. “Your father has his heir and his spare, and your other brother is clergy?”
“Yes,” Gunnar said, “so I joined the military and have been far more successful than I ever dreamed.”
“And you, Bristol?” Lorifal asked.
“I am a first son,” Bristol said self-consciously, “but my father, and his father, and his father, all were soldiers.”
Lorifal had already noticed a certain awkwardness in the giant of a man and surmised that Gunnar and Bristol served each other well as friends. Bristol probably had numerous connections within the imperial army and Gunnar probably made up for some of Bristol's weaknesses that were gradually becoming apparent.
“And you, Dagna?”
Dagna laughed merrily. She seemed in perennial good humor, even under the worst of circumstances. “I hope to write an epic ballad from this adventure.” She nudged Elyara in the ribs.
“And you?”
“Our shaman had a vision, and our tribal chieftain determined that I should go.” Elyara shrugged. “I didn't quite understand any of it.” She turned to Feyden.
“And how about you?”
A grim look settled on Feyden's features and he did not at first reply. As the silence lengthened, several glanced in his direction until finally he spoke. His tone was quietly bitter.
“My people were attacked by Hyr'rok'kin and my youngest sister was killed by them.”
“I'm sorry,” Elyara stammered.
“Don't be,” Feyden said, “I was a child and my days of mourning are long over.”
The group again fell into silence, although now it was heavy and uncomfortable. It was Idonea that broke it.
“And how about you, Raine? Why did you agree to come on this quest?”
The question seemed loaded with significance but Raine's answer was mild, as if the answer was self-evident.
“Because you asked for help.”
That seemed to end the conversation although one question remained unasked. Raine did not think Idonea would answer truthfully, so she did not bother asking her why she had come.
Gunnar set about visiting with the village elders, trying to find any news of the Hyr'rok'kin or the empire's response to the growing threat. Elyara sought out the local healer, seeking to trade for herbs or recipes. Bristol followed Idonea about, in his mind protecting her from the lustful looks of the male townfolk, in her mind, annoying her endlessly. She was not interested in any of these bumpkins and could likely fry them from the inside out were they to attempt anything. She thought perhaps she should just sleep with Bristol and get it over with, but was afraid he would then declare his undying love for her and complicate the entire mission.
Much to Idonea's amusement, Dagna went to visit the local temple. Apparently habits of the church, at least those that were easier to maintain than chastity, lingered even after the excommunication. Idonea herself did not care much for the church as they sought to control or exterminate most mages. And black magic was considered a grave offense against the Divine.
Feyden and Raine sat quietly at their campsite, Feyden smoking a long pipe and Raine smoking a short cheroot she had made with the pungent tobacco Feyden had offered. They were quite content, seated in a small patch of sunlight that would soon disappear as the sun dipped below the mountains. Neither was inclined to move or talk, and the silence, broken only by the chirping of birds and the thrum of insects, was comfortable.
A muffled crash drifted across the fields from the general direction of the village. Neither seemed perturbed by the commotion, which was joined by muffled shouts that also drifted their way. Finally, reluctantly, Raine acknowledged the fracas.
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