by M. D. Grimm
"That is what you get when you try to take what isn't yours!" I shouted, elation brimming in my voice.
The mage barked a strange word and flung his hand in my direction.
That was what I get for my arrogance.
A large, cold gale of wind many lengths wide and many lengths tall, stormed toward me, and I had nowhere to hide. I barely had enough time to hunch my body when the wind picked me up and threw me violently off the ground. I tumbled through the air, slamming into tree branches, bouncing off trunks as I went. The wind roared against my ears and tried to rip my clothes off. When I hit the ground, it was worse.
I tumbled again, slamming into everything, my muscles, my bones, my skin screaming in agony. I barely remembered coming to stop, and I didn't know what finally stopped me. All I heard was a haunting howl of anger and concern before I fell into darkness.
Chapter Twelve
Many years earlier
He was gone. He was gone. I didn't want to believe it. I lay on my bed, listening to the activity outside the tent. I didn't care what they were doing, or what they thought of me. I was alone. How could he leave me? How could he when I loved him so much? He said we were meant to be together, so why didn't he stay? I didn't care about the rules of time travel. I didn't care that the Mother had written that he must leave and I must stay. I didn't care!
He was mine, and I wanted him back!
I shoved my face into my pillow, tears flooding my eyes once more. It had been two days since he left, and I could barely move. I could barely eat. He was all I thought about, all I dreamt about. He was my mate; we shouldn't be separated.
His last words haunted me. He told me his life was dangerous. He wanted me to train, to become a warrior. But how could I? I was awkward, clumsy. Why would he ask the impossible of me? But he said he loved me. He was the first, the only, to choose me above anyone else. He chose me to be his mate. A powerful mage wanted me. But, Mother, how could I do what he asked of me?
I suddenly heard the tent flap rustle, but I didn't move. Why couldn't everyone just leave me alone?
"Aishe." It was my mother. "It's time for you to get up. To move."
"No."
"Aishe, enough is enough." She sat on my bed and touched my back gently. "He would not wish to see you like this."
"Don't speak of him!" I cried and sat up, facing her. I stared defiantly as she looked at me with cool eyes the color of periwinkle.
"He is gone, Aishe. He had to go back to his own time. You know that."
"But he's mine!" I rubbed my face free of drying tears. "He shouldn't have left me. We are mates."
"You will be." She nodded. "But not now. You need to live, Aishe, to grow. Go back to your training. Go back to your life."
"I don't want to."
She winged an eyebrow. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared stubbornly at the wall of the tent.
"How are you to become the mate of such a powerful mage if you continue to be lazy?"
I opened my mouth to yell at her, but then I stopped. "I..."
"What did he tell you?" my mother asked quietly. "Before he left, he took you aside. What did he say?"
My shoulders slumped. I lost all my energy. "He said I had to train and become a warrior. An expert archer and swordmaster. He said I had to live and..." My throat threatened to close. I cleared it. Once again his voice echoed through my head, instructing me on what to do. "He wants so much from me."
My mother was silent for a moment. Then she gently rubbed my arm. "Aishe, listen to me. He told you what you had to do, to become his mate. But this is still your choice."
I blinked, sniffed. "Choice?"
She smiled gently, her eyes filled with compassion. "My love, do you want to become his mate? Do you want to grow and train? Do you want to be a warrior? The choice will always be yours."
"I do want to be his mate, I love him." My voice raised several notches. "But you know my training is useless! You know I'm hopeless. I trip over my own Mother forsaken feet!"
I covered my face with my hands. My mother touched my head. "I never said it would be easy. And neither did Morgorth. To become his mate, you must work, and work hard. Do you think Morgorth never worked for the power he has? Do you think anything was ever handed to him?"
I shook my head. I remembered our conversations together. I remembered his scars. He never told me much about his past, but I could tell he had fought for what he had. He had earned it. And he continued to fight.
"The only things worth having are the things we earn for ourselves. So," she tapped my head, "what is your choice? Will you choose him or another path? He told you what you need to do, to become his mate. Will you do what he asked of you? Or will you lay here, bemoaning your failings, choosing no path at all?"
Her words were brisk, honest, and they sparked my energy. My mother was right! He told me he needed me. He told me what I had to do to become his mate. So why was I just lying here crying over his departure? Why was I wasting time?
I sprang to my feet and grabbed my bow. I realized I only had three arrows left.
"Mae, could you tell Pae I would like him to show me again how to make more arrows?"
She nodded, a small smile on her face.
"Where is Master Slyvor?" He was the archery master.
"On the southern field with the other students."
I ran out of my tent and headed toward the field. I dodged around other dialens and ignored their surprised looks. I had a mission to complete. A goal to accomplish. Why'd I waste those two days? I'd need all the time I could spare if I was to exchange my awkwardness for a warrior's grace and agility.
Then my mind hit on a wonderful thought, one that made me stagger. I have accomplished grace and agility. Or I would. Morgorth said we were together in the future. That meant I will become a great warrior and healer.
What the Mother has written, let no one unwrite.
My face bloomed with a large smile, and I ran faster. I tripped. I fell. Several times. But I kept going, my bow and my arrows held tightly in either hand.
I found my archery class. I jogged onto the field, panting. They'd left my usual spot open. I stood there, surrounded by dialens my own age. They glanced at me but said nothing. They knew Morgorth had favored me, and I thought some were jealous of that.
"Aishe, so good of you to join us," Master Sylvor said dryly. "You have missed two lessons. You will need to catch up quickly."
I nodded even as some of the students snickered. Heat burned my cheeks, but I looked straight ahead at the round targets, set in a long line on the field, my mind set. Training had been nothing but a prolonged torture for me, and I could never wait for my lessons to end. But now I had motivation to stay, to work hard. There was now a reason for this torture.
I held that reason, his face, in my mind, and when Master Sylvor told us to raise our bows and nock our arrows, I did just that. It took me two tries, but I managed to lock the arrow in place and stood tall. Master Sylvor walked around the students, adjusting their stances. He finally came to me and helped me. He widened my stance, lowered my arms a little. I paid close attention to how he helped me. I had to remember everything. I had to know all of this.
Then he walked away, behind us all.
"Shoot."
We all let our arrows fly. But before I did, I suddenly heard Morgorth's voice in my head. His words about archery. A small bit of advice he gave me carelessly. I loosened my shoulders and took a deep breath. I held it. I let my arrow go before exhaling. The arrow flew straighter than it ever had before. It kept going, not up into the trees or down into the ground, or even sideways into my fellow students. No, it shot straight. It hit the target.
The bull's-eye.
I gaped. Shock shuddered through my body as every eye turned to me. The bow nearly dropped from my hand. How did I do that? That was the first time I'd ever even hit the target itself! And I hit the dead center.
I stood straighter.
I looked at Master
Sylvor. He met my eyes, and I saw some of the derision leave his gaze. He saw potential in me. And for the first time in my life, so did I.
Chapter Thirteen
Present day
I came back to myself to feel a wet nose pressing against my skin, sniffing my cheek. I grunted. The nose retreated. Wichtln.
"He is alive," a voice said. It was growly, strangely feminine, not Grekel.
"Good." Grekel.
I focused on breathing even as my mind whirled with memories from along ago. I hadn't thought about that day in a very long time. The day I found potential and worth in myself. The day I decided to do anything and everything needed to one day become Morgorth's mate. He'd truly changed my life. His interest in me had been something I'd never experienced, and only now did I truly understand how lost I had been before he came along.
The amethyst pendant dug into my chest.
I knew now, what Morgorth had meant about his life being dangerous. His words hadn't been about worthiness or deserving him, they had been about being prepared. Not just anyone could survive being his mate. Only someone with skill, who'd been in battle, who'd killed and sacrificed and was familiar with pain, could survive as Morgorth's mate. That someone was me. It was the choice I had made all those years ago. Perhaps Morgorth had been my main reason, my prize, but he hadn't been the only one for my training. It wasn't long before I'd done it for myself. I'd earned a place in my tribe and he'd been the catalyst.
He needed me, and I needed him. We deserved each other.
I took a deep breath, then pushed aside thoughts of the past. I forced my eyes open even though every part of me wanted to huddle into a ball in the dark and whimper. But my pride, that brutal dictator, forced me to swallow my nausea, my pain, and push myself to my knees. After a quick inventory, I realized with relief that nothing was broken. Yet.
I should have seen that wind blast coming. I could see him getting pissed. I'd seen Morgorth train enough to have guessed.
"Commander." Grekel pushed his head underneath my arm and helped me straighten. I was still on my knees. If I stood I would only fall over, I was so dizzy. And that would be too humiliating.
I then realized I wasn't where I had fallen. I was in a cave.
"Grekel, where are we?"
"The pack's cave," he said simply. His body was warm and vibrated as he panted. I looked around, my eyes adjusting to the dark. Pairs of eyes that were seemingly endless gazed at me out of the darkness. Little wet noses suddenly touched my hand. I looked down to see those two puppies staring up at me, their tails wagging. I smiled and petted their heads. Then I glanced at Grekel. His yellow eye glowed, focused on my face.
"The mage?" I asked.
"The trees made him retreat."
I grunted again. Now I had to separate him from his soldiers again... or did I?
"Has he found his way back to his unit?"
"No. They seem to be lost." Humorous derision colored Grekel's words. I smiled. "The trees have obscured paths, blocked off routes. The truls are keeping him too focused to blast away the trees."
"Perfect."
"And a storm is coming," he added. "I smell it."
As he mentioned it, I realized I could smell it as well. The air was heavier than it was this morning, and there was a certain buzz in the air, which preceded a lightning storm. I had to finish this quick before the storm hit. Who knew how long it would last. Some part of me wanted to wait for the storm to take care of the army, but I had the strong desire to take care of them personally.
The dizziness was slowly passing as I continued to lean against Grekel, and while I was still shivering in pain, I started to box it away. My mission wasn't complete yet. My mind replayed recent events, and I finally comprehended the fact that Grekel had saved me. That howl I'd heard right before passing out had been his. I looked at him again, his profile fierce, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the cave.
Was this why Morgorth trusted the wichtln so much? He knew the horror stories told about them were false? Their loyalty to me was mostly due to their loyalty to my mate. And it was little wonder when I thought about it. Morgorth gave these creatures, who otherwise would have been pushed out of this territory had one of the kings claimed this place, a home. He'd given them security and more importantly, freedom. He was their master, but he was never cruel or overbearing. He didn't demean them. He respected them, accepted them for what they were. They knew that -- these creatures of dark tales followed him because he treated them well. He'd given them a place to belong. And now this mage and his king, and the blasted Council, wanted to take that away -- not just from Morgorth but from all these beasts. And from me.
I hardened my will and stood, my legs weak, but I slowly, methodically walled away my pain. I became stronger, my mission clear once more.
Protect. Defend. My home. I looked at Grekel. Our home.
I noticed the wichtln had found my bow and quiver. My swords were still strapped to my sides. But my rope was gone. Damn. I sipped water from my canteen despite the urge to gulp. I then grabbed the supplies they recovered and turned to Grekel.
"You have wichtln on him?"
"Yes."
"And his unit?"
"The gargoyles have them surrounded."
"Lead me to them."
Grekel swung away, and I had to jog to keep up. I was going to be in a lot of pain after this battle was done.
***
Grekel led me back to the soldiers. They were where I'd left them, but this time the injured were in the middle of a circle of soldiers who were eyeing the gargoyles that flew in a lazy circle above their heads. That, more than anything, made me take a second look at the soldiers. It made me doubt my initial plan to kill them all.
I crouched in a tree, Grekel below me, his eyes intent on the soldiers. I was sure he considered them a meal.
There were still some soldiers who looked eager for a battle. But the majority were scared, cowered by a king who didn't know when to give up.
"Will you leave or will you stay?" I said, projecting my voice once again.
The soldiers fidgeted, and all eyes began to look at one soldier in particular. He had big brown eyes, a strong stature, and by the many sashes he had tied around his waist, I guessed he had a higher ranking than mere foot soldier. His pointed helmet obscured most of his face but I could see his grimace as he realized he had just been unanimously nominated as the speaker for the soldiers.
He lowered his sword slightly before taking two steps away from the others, deliberately identifying himself as the one the voice should speak with. His eyes kept flickering up at the gargoyles, but he was also eyeing his surroundings, trying to find my location. He seemed capable. His stance was steady, though he must have been just as frightened as the rest of his troops. He wasn't as tall as me, but his broad physique compensated for his lack of height.
"Who are you?" he asked. His voice was strong, calm. He spoke simply, indicating his lower class. Higher class seela, like King Serpen's mage, spoke more formally. Morgorth called it flowery crap that made no sense and sounded stupid.
"A guardian," I answered vaguely. "Will you answer my question?"
"We have told you," the soldier said. "Our lives will be forfeit either way. We will either die here and keep our families safe, or we will go back and die there, and bring shame on our families. Our choices are few, but we will die with honor."
I could see many soldiers cringe at that, but it was only from the desire not to die. I tapped a finger against the branch of the tree, considering my options. I looked at the soldiers, then the gargoyles, then over my shoulder, back in the direction I left the mage. I didn't have many qualms about killing in general. Especially not killing in battle. But I'd rather save a life than take it. A warrior not only had to know when to pick up a sword, but when to put one down. My swordmaster, Master Talym, told me that. It had taken years before I'd fully understood.
Being a warrior wasn't easy. And every time I killed, it tainted
my soul, if only just a little. But should I kill enough times, the taint would go deeper, grow darker. It would contaminate me, and it wouldn't be long before I discounted the need to deliberate before killing again. One of my greatest fears wasn't that I'd grow to like killing, but that I would become numb to it. I wouldn't see it as anything more than a chore that needed to be done.
I stared at the soldier who acted as the mouthpiece for the others. I considered his words. The smell of the incoming storm filled my nose, and the air grew chillier. I hunched my shoulders. A sudden idea planted itself in my mind, and I only deliberated on it for a heartbeat.
"What if you had a third choice?" I asked.
The soldier frowned, his eyes narrowed. "And what would that be?"
"Leave. Find your families. Come back here and live under the Dark Mage's protection."
Stunned silence met my offer. By the Hunter, even I was stunned by my offer. Morgorth would not be happy with me. I cringed, easily imagining his rage, the fire flaming from his hands, his glowing eyes. But, once he had calmed, he would see the logic of my choice.
"You jest."
I raised an eyebrow. He would think that.
"I do not. There is a village not far from here. A village under the Dark Mage's protection. It is prosperous, and you might live there should you mean no harm to it. The Dark Mage does not destroy what is his. You and your families would be welcomed there should you renounce your loyalty to King Serpen and pledge your lives to Lord Morgorth."
The soldier looked around him, his eyes still narrowed. But was it just my imagination or did I see hope in his eyes? His sword certainly lowered a little more.
"I humbly ask for a moment to discuss your offer," he replied.
"A moment, then."
The soldier bowed his head politely before backtracking two steps, never presenting his back as a target. I increasingly felt sure of my choice. We could use someone like him on our side. One of these days Morgorth might need an army of his own. Especially if the Council kept throwing mages and invasions at us.
