The Dragon's Lover

by Samantha Sabian

  “I don't know,” Raine said, “and I don't know what it is. But she's hiding something.”

  “That does not surprise me,” Weynild replied. She rolled onto her back, finished with the conversation, and pulled Raine on top of her.

  “Sit up,” she commanded, and Raine sat upright, straddling her hips, and now it was Weynild's turn to enjoy the view. The taut stomach, the firm breasts, those violet eyes darkened with desire. She concentrated, and Raine felt the penetration between her legs as she shape-shifted.

  “That really is not fair,” Raine said, biting her lip at the startling pleasure.

  Weynild held the slender hips tightly as her own rose upward. Raine clung to her, much as she clung to her neck when Weynild was in flight in dragon form.

  “So, little dragon rider, let's see how long you last this time.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Once again they were leaving a pleasant village behind, weighed down by the knowledge that the nearer they came to the Empty Land, villages would be fewer and far between, and most likely with far fewer amenities. Not many chose to live outside the bounds of the empire for many reasons. The land itself was inhospitable, unfit for farming and wildlife was scarce. Although there were areas rich with minerals, there were few resources available to support full-scale mining operations. A few of these mining camps bordered the Empty Land, but none set root too far inside the harsh landscape.

  They had fortified themselves but it was a balancing act between carrying adequate supplies and overburdening themselves. They had traded out their horses for a set of pack mules, hardy little burros that would last longer in the rough conditions. It meant they would have to travel on foot, but could carry more with them to make up for the longer time it would take them to cross the desert.

  The denizens of the Empty Land were small, grotesque creatures particularly suited to the harsh landscape. Various hard-shelled beetles and insects made a life burrowing in the sand. Certain snakes and rodents also thrived amongst the more rocky terrain, creating their own little dynamic of predator and prey. Nothing much larger than that survived in the Empty Land.

  The days were hot and the nights were freezing cold. The heat bothered Lorifal and the four humans whereas the cold bedeviled the two elves. It was difficult to tell if either bothered Raine, who set a steady pace, eyes steadfast on the horizon. They had limited supplies and had to reach the Edge and pass through the Veil before they ran out.

  The “Edge” was a place where cliffs bordered the Empty Land, and, well, someplace else. Intrepid explorers had found the Edge centuries before, referring to it at that time as the Edge of the World. More intrepid explorers followed them, daring to descend the steep cliffs into the mists below. No one ever returned. Some speculated that it was because there was nothing beyond the cliffs, that they descended into a gaping hole, a swirling vortex of emptiness. The only problem with that theory is that the Edge seemed to produce the Hyr'rok'kin. They would spew out from its depths every few decades or so, wreaking havoc until they were put down by whatever powers could defeat them. Because of that, most were firmly convinced that the underworld was on the other side of the Edge.

  Now, of course, the Hyr'rok'kin seemed to be spewing forth without end. Raine was surprised they had not come across any more armies of the creatures as they crossed the Empty Land. It made her suspicious, as if perhaps they were now being drawn in.

  They tried to keep moving later into the evening, in that space where it began to cool down but was not yet freezing. As much as she wished to keep moving, she was wary of overtiring her companions and always watched Elyara closely as she was something of a bellwether. The wood elf never complained so Raine was always watchful to gauge her fatigue. And she was showing signs of fatigue right now.

  “I think we should stop here,” Raine said.

  No one would say anything, but they were all grateful. They were very tired. And as anxious as they were to reach the Edge, they were also experiencing that peculiar reluctance one feels when a theoretical goal begins to become actual and the reality begins to sink in.

  Even the fire they lit seemed to bring little warmth and Dagna motioned for Elyara to move closer, putting her arm around the slender elf and drawing her near. Idonea would have said something sarcastic, but she was huddled next to Bristol, sandwiched between him and Gunnar. Lorifal was obtaining warmth from his flask, and Feyden was wrapped in furs, drawing on his pipe. Only Raine sat in the open. Although her breath came out in heavy vapor and her skin was bluish from the cold, she stared into the fire, seemingly oblivious to the deep chill.

  Idonea examined the beautiful features, the high cheek bones that seemed even more pronounced in the light from the fire. The eyes were a pale blue, but it was not difficult to imagine them the deep purple that gazed upon Weynild. Idonea wondered if Raine controlled the color of her eyes, having noted that when Raine fought, her eyes were very pale, almost gray like a stormy sky. She wondered what Raine was thinking about at the moment, since her eyes were nearly as pale as when she was fighting. A question occurred to her, and she wondered why she had not asked it previous to this moment.

  “Have you ever been to the Edge before?”

  The question caught everyone's attention and Raine knew it was directed at her.

  “Yes,” she replied, “I have.”

  The silence had already been present but now it seemed fuller, more weighted. Idonea tried to assess Raine's expression, but it had taken on that guarded impassivity that was so frustrating.

  “And have you been beyond the Edge?”

  The silence was now complete. It seemed that even the cold wind scuttling across the sand had stopped, and the fire flickered but no longer crackled or hissed.

  “Yes,” Raine said again, “I have.”

  A startling number of emotions flooded through Idonea, mirrored in the faces of those around her. Shock, disbelief, anger, indignation, and chief among them, fear.

  “Were you ever going to tell us about this?” Idonea demanded.

  “You didn't ask,” Raine said, her tone calm but firm. “And my guess is that had I volunteered this information early on you would have dismissed it as you dismissed me.”

  “What is beyond the Edge?” Feyden asked.

  Raine's response was dark and thoughtful. “The original name of these cliffs was the Edge of the World. And the early discoverers didn't know it, but the title was apt. Just beyond the cliffs is an area that does not really exist as we know things to exist. It is the Veil, the transitory world between life and death, between our world and the underworld. When the Veil thins, Hyr'rok'kin and Demon'ai can make their way through from the underworld into ours. But in order to do so, they have to overcome the Gatekeepers, and the Arond'ai, although few, are formidable foes.”

  “And what will we face in the Veil?” Gunnar said, his concern bordering on fear.

  “All sorts of creatures thrive there, feeding on black magic. Reaper Shards are quite common because the Veil mimics their normal state of being.”

  “We don't stand a chance!” Bristol said, and for once, Gunnar was inclined to agree with him.

  “Were you ever going to share this information with us?” he asked accusingly.

  “Yes,” Raine said. “In three days’ time. That is how long I estimate it will take us to arrive at the edge of the cliffs, at which time I was going to inform all of you of the perils you face and give you the option of leaving.” She raised her eyes icily to the dark-haired beauty sitting across from her. “Except Idonea.”

  Feyden glanced from one woman to the other. He had thought Raine's comment would have generated an outburst or protest from Idonea, but instead she kept her tongue and merely crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Why Idonea?” Dagna asked, “And why wait until we reach the Edge?”

  Raine addressed the second question first. “I did not think Idonea would accompany me clear across the land on her own accord, and I did not wish to carry her k
icking and screaming the entire way. It was easier for us to travel as a group.”

  “Still,” Dagna said, “why Idonea?”

  “It is not Idonea herself,” Raine said, “but rather what she carries with her. Something I myself could not carry, and in fact, could not even touch.”

  All eyes turned from Raine to Idonea, whose dark eyes glared at Raine. Raine disguised the small surge of satisfaction she felt. It had been a guess, but it had been a good one.

  “Yes, Idonea,” Raine said, “what is it that you carry?”

  Idonea's reluctance was evident. “It is a soul catcher,” she said at last.

  “A soul catcher?” Elyara said, “What is significant about that? I have a small one I keep as a souvenir.”

  Raine's eyes narrowed. Soul catchers were gems that had the ability to store life energy. There was great debate amongst scholars whether or not they actually stole one's soul or merely acted as a reservoir for power. Even the most common were fairly rare. The blue and green ones could store a small amount of energy, generally leeching it from the smaller creatures. The yellow and violet could store a greater amount of energy, perhaps equivalent to a small dog. The red soul catchers were extremely rare, and only they could leech energy from a human-sized being. Fortunately, not only were soul catchers rare they were inefficient. Although they could sicken or kill the creature they leeched upon, making them a potential weapon, that effect was unpredictable. And once the soul catcher was filled, many times it would crack or even explode. There was no known way to do anything with the power the gem had absorbed and soul catchers were thought to be fairly useless, more of a novelty than anything else.

  “What color is the soul catcher you have?” Raine asked quietly.

  Idonea's jaw clenched. She could continue her ruse, but there was no way she could continue this journey without Raine.

  “It is white,” she said.

  Elyara gasped and both Feyden and Lorifal jerked their heads around to Idonea.

  “Ah,” Raine said, at last beginning to understand. She had never seen a white soul catcher, nor met anyone who claimed to. Their existence was believed to be a myth grown out of some alchemist's speculation. But as someone who herself was considered to be a myth, she would not dismiss the claim. It did explain a great deal.

  “And I am guessing this is no ordinary white soul catcher.”

  Elyara was baffled by Raine's words. There was no such thing as an ordinary white soul catcher.

  Raine was now certain. “You have found Elkar'Anon.”

  Idonea was like a child who had been caught in some clever misdeed, somehow both proud and ashamed, apologetic yet unrepentant, the artfulness of her act at war with its wrongfulness.

  “Yes,” she said, “I believe the gem I have found is Elkar'Anon.”

  “I don't understand,” Bristol said.

  Raine and Idonea merely stared at one another, so Feyden filled the gap in conversation.

  “Elkar'Anon,” Feyden said, “is a mythical soul catcher that has no limitation on the amount of power it absorbs. And unlike other soul catchers, it is said that the gem can transmit that power back to the one who wields it in a singular transfer, at which time the gem will be destroyed.”

  “So it is a weapon, right?” Bristol said eagerly, missing the larger ramifications, “it can be used against the Reaper Shards, right?”

  Raine said nothing but continued to examine Idonea. It was her opinion that Idonea was going to use that soul catcher on something much larger than a Reaper Shard. And if that was the case, then Idonea, too, suspected that something very powerful was holding open the gate to the underworld. Perhaps she sought to absorb that creature's power, an incredibly dangerous act to attempt. But it would finally put her on equal footing with Weynild, at least in her mind.

  Raine's thoughts followed the various threads and possibilities, trying to determine Idonea's motivations and intent. Did Idonea think the creature was an ancient, as Weynild did? If so, she greatly endangered Weynild by asking for her help, perhaps even hoping to lead Weynild into a trap. This thought caused Raine's anger to burn, which reflected in her eyes. Idonea had watched the calculation on Raine's face and quite rightly assessed her current train of thought.

  “If I had wanted to do that, I could have used Elkar'Anon on her directly,” Idonea said with quiet bitterness.

  All looked from one to the other, aware that there was a far deeper conversation going on between the two, even when no words were being spoken. No one knew the “her” Idonea spoke of, but no one was willing to ask. It was evident Raine knew exactly of whom she was speaking.

  “You could have tried,” Raine said, just as quietly. Weynild was clever and wise and sensed things across time and distance that even the gods missed. But Idonea's words did make sense. It was more likely that Idonea sought to use Weynild as a distraction, knowing that despite the dragon's outward cynicism, Weynild's nobility would require her to put a stop to the Hyr'rok'kin invasion.

  “Well,” Lorifal snorted. “I don't really know what the hell is going on here. And I'll take an ax any day over some bauble. But if you think you're going into that hell-hole without me,” he said, turning to Raine, “you're out of your mind.”

  “Thank you, my friend,” Raine said to him, “I welcome your company. But I encourage all of you to think through your options. You have three days to decide.”

  Silence settled on the camp once again. Dagna pulled Elyara close, and despite the intense conversation and startling revelations, the two were soon fast asleep. Lorifal followed suit, as did Bristol and Gunnar, the latter's thoughts still spinning as he drifted into an exhausted sleep. Finally, only Idonea, Raine, and Feyden were awake and Idonea leaned against Gunnar, falling into slumber.

  Feyden blew out a thin stream of smoke, and the wisps were carried away on the chill wind. “So why did you enter the Veil before?” he asked quietly.

  A look of pain crossed her features and Feyden regretted the question. “It was a rescue mission,” she said. She seemed at war with herself for a moment, as if she were two people fighting for control, and then she settled into her impassivity once more. “And it failed.”

  CHAPTER 13

  The Edge of the World was as breathtaking and ominous as its title. There was no sensation of height or depth as one approached. It seemed the Empty Land was nothing but level ground, something close to the level of the sea. But it precipitously dropped into nothingness at the edge of the cliffs, yielding an instant and disorienting sensation of immense height. Alternately, by a simple shift in perspective, one could have the sudden sensation of immense depth, as if the ground beneath them disappeared into a gigantic hole. The two perspectives seemed to cycle, further increasing the sense of disorientation. It was hard to say if they were on the edge of a mountain looking downward, or on level land gazing into the bowels of the earth.

  Raine stopped at the edge of the cliffs and picked up a stone. She tossed it over the edge and it disappeared into the swirling mists. There was no sound of it ever striking bottom. She sighed and turned to the group.

  “Now is the time for you to make your decisions.”

  Lorifal stepped forward without hesitation. “I already told you I was going,” he said gruffly.

  Feyden was right behind him. “And someone has to keep the dwarf in line.”

  Gunnar squared his shoulders and also stepped forward. “I started this quest with the goal of stopping the Hyr'rok'kin. I won't stop here.”

  Dagna looked down at Elyara, and they stepped forward together. “We're in.”

  Raine's eyes fell upon Idonea. “I told you before that you didn't have a choice, but in reality you do. You can stop here if you wish.”

  “Oh no,” Idonea said, “I will do what I came to do.”

  It was not a particularly reassuring response as Idonea had revealed her motivations were selfish, but if the ultimate goal was achieved, few seemed to care how it was accomplished.

 
Raine turned at last to Bristol, who stared over the side into the abyss. She spoke to him gently.

  “There is no shame in fear, Bristol. It's been my experience that stupidity often masquerades as fearlessness when the fearless don't recognize the threat they face.”

  Bristol's jaw clenched. He knew full well what they faced and he was very afraid. But he could not turn back.

  “I'm in,” he said.

  Feyden murmured an Elvish saying, and Raine translated it for him.

  “The brave are merely brave, but the heroic fight despite their fear.”

  She nodded to the group as a whole. “Then into the abyss, my friends.”

  There was a network of narrow ledges that traversed the cliffs downward at a steep angle. Some of the paths appeared old, worn smooth over eons. Some, however, appeared very new, jutting from the rocks as if they had been cut very recently. It had been over two centuries since Raine had descended into the Veil and there had been only a few paths at that time. The new trails were wider, as if they had been constructed to move a larger contingent of people. Raine realized the ledges were not designed to move people at all, rather they had been constructed to move the Hyr'rok'kin. The paths weren't for those descending into the Veil, they were for those coming out of the depths of the underworld. This realization was troublesome as it meant lengthy planning for a large scale invasion. It also explained the increasing number of Hyr'rok'kin in the imperial hold, at least the how if not the why.

  It did, however, make their descent less treacherous. Raine had not relished the thought of clinging to the side of the mountain with her companions. Although they risked meeting the Hyr'rok'kin head-on while occupying one of their thoroughfares, it was likely they would hear them far before they would see them, giving them an opportunity to divert to one of the narrower paths.

  They had been descending for hours and it did not seem they were making any progress. Their thighs burned with the steepness of the terrain. Although the mists would thin in places, they did so only enough to see the adjacent paths of the cliff, all of which were beginning to look the same. Nothing below them was visible and after a while of descending, nothing above them was visible, either. It was a suffocating feeling, as if everything around them outside of their visual range had ceased to exist. The light had subtly altered as well, and illumination seemed strangely diffuse, as if it did not come from any singular source like the sun. It was dim, and day seemed to have capitulated to the beginning of night, as if it had compromised to a perennial dusk.