Dragul Dawn

by Marie Treanor

  His voice in her head was still calm, matter-of-fact, but despite his veiled mind, she recognized it was a delicate point, a difficult and still raw one.

  “We split the tribe, rejected the old king, and led our people up here. Even the toxic dusk you had brought to your world was better than below -- and now that we have the sun… our life approaches that of the ancients.”

  “When the Dragul ruled the world?”

  “Don’t misunderstand me. Those days are gone. We have no desire to rule the world. But to live in peace, in the sun, in this land, is good. We won’t be driven underground again.”

  Abruptly, he threw off the grim mood, smiling at her. “Come on. I think you need some air.”

  Chapter Five

  The Keeper of the Laws, she understood, was far more than that. In his mind resided the entire history of his people, which his underlings were now busy writing down. In the uncertainty they had brought on themselves by leaving the rest of the tribe, the knowledge needed to be stored in more than one mind. Even Avram, whatever the older Dragul thought, knew less than Aurel.

  He told her more, as they walked among the hills above and between the Dragul dwellings. Tales of long ago, magical and heroic and often very funny. Telling stories, he spoke aloud, entrancing her with the sound of his voice and the ever-changing expressions on his face, as much as with what he said. It was a gift he was clearly born to.

  “All very well,” she said, as they began to walk back down into the town. “But you still haven’t told me how you know I’m Max’s daughter.”

  “It’s not time yet.”

  “You’re infuriating. When will it be time?”

  “Later. When we know each other better.”

  Her skin began to flush under his gaze. What she could see there looked like lust. She wanted it to be lust. She was terrified that it was.

  “Aurel, are you married?” she asked abruptly. “Do you have a wife, a mate, children?”

  “No.”

  Reluctantly, it seemed, he turned to meet her gaze. “We only have children with our One.”

  Again, his mind shut down on her, but not before she caught another glimpse of that grief.

  She blurted, “Your One died.”

  “Yes, but she wasn’t my One. Nor was I hers. Caught up on the euphoria of rebellion, we -- made a mistake.”

  Somewhere buried inside him, where even he didn’t care to look, she knew there was a torrent of rage and grief, guilt and blame, unexplored and unreleased. Even through her upsurge of pity, she found herself wondering what it would be like to peel away the layers of this strange, restless man.

  “Your One chose to die because of that mistake?” she said hoarsely.

  A ghost of a laugh, vocal and bitter, broke from his lips and vanished. “Not because of that mistake. There were others. Do you want to see the weavers?”

  Clearly, the subject was closed. And because she saw how raw he was, she let it be. Yet she knew, with a rush of indignation, that Aurel’s One had let him down long before she had chosen death.

  * * *

  In a whirlwind tour, Beth was introduced to various craftsmen and women, weavers and carpenters, potters, sculptors, builders, dress-makers -- one of whom presented her with a specially made, two-sided garment in beautifully embroidered turquoise.

  “For tonight,” she said, with a flashing smile. Touched but a little dazed Beth took it from her, catching the roguish grin cast at Aurel by the female Dragul.

  “Was she flirting with you, or implying you should flirt with me?” Beth demanded as they left.

  Aurel smiled faintly. “Both. Though as you know, I need little encouragement to flirt with you.”

  “With anyone,” she said lightly. “Where now?”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Not really -- though I wouldn’t mind a drink.”

  “That, we can do.”

  All over the village were gurgling streams, rushing along streets and gardens and in between the buildings. There were several running down from nearly every hill, so many, in fact, that Beth came to the conclusion they had to be Dragul-made. Or at least Dragul-diverted. For the Dragul lived not off the lives of other creatures, but on energy -- on fast flowing streams, rushing air, warm, pumping blood…

  “You really live off wind and water?”

  “And warm, pumping blood. You are half-vampire. I expect you could too.”

  “I eat food!”

  He crouched by the road-side stream. “No need to be indignant. The only shame is in making something die for your nourishment. We are not so different, you and I.”

  Dipping his cupped hands in the water, he raised them toward her. She met his steady gaze, very conscious of the beat of her heart. Then, slowly, she knelt beside him. His hands held quite still, letting no water escape. She bent her head, touching his forefinger with her lips. Delicately, he tipped the water into her mouth and she drank, swallowing and sipping some more. The water was cold and fresh, the feel of his skin exciting in her mouth. With conscious bravery, she lifted her gaze and saw a slow, warm smile spread through his eyes.

  Something dissolved inside her. She had to stop drinking to breathe. Still Aurel held her gaze. Slowly, he turned his cupped hands, twisting his wrists as he lifted them to his own mouth and drank. His lips covered the place her own had just left.

  Corn! she thought desperately. Cheese! But cynicism didn’t work. His gesture moved her, made her want his mouth directly on hers, drinking from her…

  Fortunately, before she could dwell on the other desires clamouring for recognition, he rose to his feet, saying lightly, “Home for a rest, and then you can change before we return to the palace. If you’d like to.”

  The choice was laid out in front of her. Back out now, before you get in any deeper. Or take the chance, find out more about us, risk closeness with me… He didn’t speak the words in her head. She couldn’t even be sure he thought them, yet they lingered, echoing.

  It seemed as momentous as moving into his arms to fly here in the first place. Like another irrevocable step.

  She said, “I’d like to.” And didn’t know whether the upsurge of joy came from him or from her.

  The step was taken.

  * * *

  After bathing in a stone bath, where the warmed water gushed out of the wall, constantly replenishing as it drained through the tiny holes in the bottom of the bath, Beth felt both tingly and refreshed.

  When she stepped through into the room Aurel had given her, she caught sight of her reflection in the still, glass-like pool that appeared to double as a mirror, and paused without meaning to.

  She looked… glowing.

  A trick of the light, no doubt, but her reflected skin was flawless and translucent, a hint of warm color in her cheeks. The frown she used to repel the world had smoothed away, leaving her face soft and open under her tumbled hair.

  What did he see when he looked at her? A pleasing enough alien, intriguingly different if inferior in beauty to the winged Dragul women? He did seem to like her well enough to flirt, but she found it hard to imagine that she had the same electric effect on him as he had on her.

  She wondered how long it would be before she found any man attractive again.

  But she couldn’t go through the evening thinking like this. This was an exciting night, a night of Dragul ritual and celebration. And she would have the escort of Aurel, Keeper of the Laws.

  Smiling now, she picked up the garment the Dragul girl had given her and pulled it over her head. Soft and silky, it fell about her thighs and knees. It was a simple shift shape, slashed at the throat and embroidered down the front, the color highlighting the shade of her eyes.

  I could be beautiful…

  The thought came unbidden and she laughed at herself before turning swiftly for the door and going barefoot in search of Aurel.

  She found him in the big, light room he’d shown her before, covered in beautiful murals depicting the local countrys
ide. He had his back to her as he stood looking out of the big, glass window, yet her heart still lurched at the sight of him. The cloak of his wings ran from shoulder to knee. She itched to touch them.

  He turned, and her heart skipped another beat. This was getting ridiculous. He wore a different black tunic, this one heavily embroidered in silver, adding a new splendour to his distinction. Worse, he smiled, melting her bones.

  Run, you idiot, run, you’re in too deep already, far too deep!

  No way.

  She smiled back, going forward to meet him, basking in the admiration she read in his gaze, that he let her see in his mind.

  He said, “You make a beautiful Dragul too.”

  Her body heated, flushing her skin. “So do you,” she returned cordially, and was delighted when he laughed.

  He took her hand, drawing her toward the big window, which looked out over the village and the hills beyond. She tried to take it in, tried to think of something to say, but her thoughts all seemed to be obsessed with the feel of his fingers on her hand, lightly stroking.

  “Your wings,” she blurted at last. “Can I touch them?”

  Surprise registered in his eyes, and something else, quickly hidden. “If you want to,” he said evenly.

  Sliding her hand free, she lifted it to touch the wing tip at his shoulder. Hard and leathery. She thought his breath caught at the touch of her fingers, but he stood very still. Slowly, she slid her hand around the edge and underneath.

  Now he definitely hissed. She glanced at him, afraid she was hurting him, but what she read in his smouldering eyes was not pain. Abruptly, she remembered the dreams where touching the soft, delicate underside of his wings brought him close to orgasm…

  “Why did I dream about you?” she whispered. She didn’t withdraw her hand, just left it there on the silk mesh, quite still.

  “I’ll tell you tonight.”

  She let her hand drop, caught his mingled relief and disappointment as clearly as if he’d spoken. “You are much too mysterious,” she reproved.

  “I’m trying to intrigue you.”

  Laughter trembled in her throat. “Oh, I’m intrigued, Aurel.”

  Their eyes met. His were too beautiful, too deep; showed much too blatant a lust. She had to move away, look for something more innocuous to discuss.

  “Your murals are beautiful,” she said politely. And yet she meant it. The colors were vibrant, natural, showing a deep love of the country as much as technical skill.

  “Thank you.”

  “Who was the artist? Would he -- or she -- paint me something to take back?”

  “Of course I would.”

  Her gaze flew back to him. “You painted these?”

  His smile was a little twisted. “Don’t sound so surprised. I love this land, especially in the light. I won’t go back into the darkness.”

  Reality intruded. “Aurel, even if I could, I would never make you go back.”

  “I know. Shall we go to the king? You’d better put your shoes on…”

  Halfway to the door, Beth paused, frowning, and glanced back at him. “The king said that bringing me here was Plan B. What was Plan A?”

  He didn’t want to answer. It was there in the tension of his body. “To contaminate your samples.”

  She stared at him. “You would do that? You could do that?”

  He shrugged. “Easily enough. If the land is too poisoned, your people won’t want it. There are less contaminated regions than this one would have seemed.”

  She said slowly, “That’s what you were doing when you came into my tent.”

  “I thought you were asleep. You have quite an efficient mind-block, more than I gave you credit for.”

  But it felt as if something already frail was falling in round her. He hadn’t pretended anything. He’d said in so many words that he wanted to persuade her to see things his way. Yet stupidly, she had never imagined the flirting was part of that. Why the knowledge should suddenly click into place, she didn’t know, unless it was the calculation behind the terms Plan A and Plan B. She was just a plan to be carried out by the Kingdom’s efficient Law Keeper.

  So what? It had no right to hurt. No right at all.

  She spoke in a small, hard voice. “I’d like to go home immediately after the king’s party.”

  Pride kept her gaze locked to his, but he showed no trace of emotion.

  “As you wish,” he said evenly.

  Chapter Six

  The main hall had been converted into a place of festivity, decorated with flowering plants and long, brightly colored strings of baubles. Adding to the late daylight, lanterns hung from walls and ceilings, candles burned on all the long tables that filled the room. The tables surrounded a central, circular floor space like a circus ring from the pre-war days. Beth had seen them in books.

  At each table a central well bubbled up from a pipe rising from the floor. And a plentiful supply of fruit -- apples and raspberries that appeared to be more for decoration, since no one but Beth seemed to eat them.

  She and Aurel were placed together at the king’s table. At first it was easy to be aloof, since she felt genuinely dazed and baffled by the noise and talk surrounding her, both inside her head and out.

  A harpist played in the ring, beautiful, lively music, like nothing she’d ever heard before -- like bird-song rather than human music, yet with more rhythm, more melody, more -- urgency.

  Gradually, as Aurel’s attention was taken off her by other guests, she relaxed, and found the music to be strangely compelling, tugging at emotions and memories without dragging them too far into the daylight, just enough to heighten sensitivity and awareness.

  As if she wasn’t aware enough of Aurel, sitting so close to her that she could feel his body heat, that when he moved, his knee or his elbow brushed against her. She thought she wanted him gone, away from her so that she could get herself back together. His presence was too overwhelming. And yet when he stood up, she felt suddenly lost, bereft, as if her only lifeline were walking away from her.

  I need to get out of here. I need to go home, very, very badly…

  A tall, elegant Dragul woman in the ring spoke loudly with her mouth: “It is the time of Aurel, Keeper of the Laws and Stories of the Dragul!” And all but the king rose to acclaim him. Even Vasil inclined his head.

  Ignoring it all, Aurel walked out into the ring. The harp was silent. The whole room was silent, even thoughts were no longer broadcast. Aurel stood in the centre, perfectly still, eyes closed.

  And then he spoke.

  From then on, reality became elastic. Aurel spoke aloud, in the beautiful, resonant voice he had used earlier when quoting from books or story-telling. It was a voice that evoked emotion, had been trained to do so. But more than that, it also spoke in her head -- not in words as she had grown used to, but in vivid visions, in utter empathic feeling as Aurel told his tales of past kings, of magic dragons and deeds of great courage, of great loves won and lost.

  Only at the beginning was Beth capable of staring wildly round her to see if others were so affected. Everyone gazed at Aurel, totally rapt. It’s the water! There’s some hallucinogen in the water…! But she lost the thread of this desperate reasoning along with the rest of her grasp on reality. All that existed for her was the story, no fairy tale but true history of real Dragul, past and present. Along with them, she felt the pain and humiliation as they retreated further into secrecy in the face of human arrogance, still bearing humiliation and cruelty rather than punishing the foolish weaklings that were Beth’s ancestors.

  And Beth finally understood why the Dragul would not share with humans again. Human nature could not bear to acknowledge more powerful beings. It was hard enough integrating stronger mutants of their own race… Oh, they could worship God, or gods, but they could not live in peace with physical entities so superior to them as the Dragul clearly were. And the Dragul would not go back into the dark…

  “Harrowing, isn’t it?” The voice
spoke aloud, beside her. She jerked her head round, almost shocked to see Avram, Aurel’s assistant, sitting in his boss’s chair.

  “It’s not pretty,” she said huskily. She cleared her throat.

  “You must find all this somewhat -- overwhelming.”

  “Somewhat,” she agreed, flickering a small smile at him. It was the best she could manage right now.

  In the ring, the story moved on, grieving for the sun and the open spaces as the Dragul took to their new life below the ground. Aurel flew through a tale of underground heroics, and then with blatant relief took his listeners back into the light, and Beth heard the story of how her father had brought the sun back. She even saw her father in the tether, his normally cool, serious face lit with triumph.

  “That is a story you know already,” Avram observed. She nodded. “So now your people want the land surrounding the tether for their own?”

  “It would be convenient for us. We need a place to grow food.”

  “So your people sent one girl to check it out?”

  For some reason she didn’t like being called a girl in that way. She said tartly, “In fact, they sent two scientists, one from each city which has an interest in developing the place.”

  “You did not bring your colleague with you?”

  “We split the land to be tested between us. He went west toward the sea.”

  “And he is from the Dome, while you are from the so-called City of the Damned?”

  “I’m afraid so,” she said. She wanted him to shut up so that she could concentrate on Aurel’s story, which seemed to be altogether different from the others, raw with passion, both erotic and tragic in tone…

  “Then you are in competition for the spoils?” Avram said.

  Beth dragged her eyes away from Aurel to stare at him. He didn’t like her. He didn’t like her at all. Well, if she was truthful, the feeling was mutual. “Actually, that is one outcome I am keen to avoid. Excuse me.”