Farfall

by J. C. Owens

  The light was coming from Vren’s room, and his heart clenched, hands curling into fists. When Vren had been alive, Andon had returned from patrols or teaching, to just this scenario. Light, sound, life. It brought back a painful longing for his friend to still be here, the other half of himself. Since his death, there had been only shadows and whispers of sound, like wisps of the past, that haunted him. So often, he had automatically turned to go into that room, to tell Vren something, only to be shocked anew at the emptiness, the gathering dust. He had always been alone, that was nothing new, but somehow Vren had made himself necessary, needed. His loss had torn a hole out of Andon, with nothing to fill it.

  It made him weaker, the emotions that surged through him at random and inconvenient times. He did not understand them. He had stood by himself for all his life, how could one person change that so drastically? It made no sense. All he knew was that his return to solitude had been painful, more so than he could ever have imagined.

  He and his grif passed the room like ghosts. He refused to look in, refused to view someone else in Vren’s place. He entered his own area with caution, wary, suspicious.

  They would have inspected the building, and his room along with it. Ceris’s mane was bristled out, a low, almost inaudible rumble in her throat. This room was her territory, and wild grifs fought for territorial rights. She would not take kindly to any intruders, and that fact was what had kept him relatively safe within these walls.

  She prowled the area, sniffing every corner, rubbing her body over the walls to refresh her scent within the room.

  Then Ceris stretched out a wing, curling it around him and pulling him close, hissing.

  He froze when a familiar voice spoke behind him.

  “We touched nothing, Captain. I made sure to ensure that your privacy was respected.”

  Andon whirled, glad for Ceris’s possessive hold. He had not heard the man’s approach, had not seen him standing within the arch of the doorway. Such inattention in this place of hostility could see him suffer for it.

  The Anisstor captain remained in place, keeping his distance, yet did not seem intimidated by Ceris’s attitude.

  Not many could claim to be that brave. It was very evident that Ceris did not posture. If she threatened, it was completely possible that she would attack.

  Captain Phalnir remained completely calm, his body loose and relaxed. Whatever he was projecting, Ceris slowly backed down, her mane slowly lying flat, her wings folding against her back, although they were restless, twitching repeatedly, as though she would flare them at a moment’s notice, part of her need to protect her rider.

  “I apologize for the stress that our presence is causing you,” he continued. “It is not our intention to make an already miserable situation worse for you. You have shown yourself as a man who treasures his privacy, his solitude. We are not here to change that.”

  “Yet you will.” Andon’s words were bitter. “The improvements you will create, the changes you will make, can only lead to others moving in here after you, and they will have none of your respect. In the end, this will worsen things, not eliminate them. In your moral fervor, you will do more harm than good.”

  The captain eyed him in silence, then nodded, turning on his heel and disappearing into the half-light of the corridor.

  Andon watched him go, feeling change in the air, change that could not possibly lead to anything good.

  Daren lay awake, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. The fire burned low in the freshly cleaned fireplace, snapped softly every now and then. The coals glowed faintly, casting odd shadows that tricked the mind. He mused on them briefly before letting his mind return to the earlier encounter with Captain Grazon. The man was right. Daren had leaped into the fray with good intentions, moral outrage. But had he actually considered the rights of the man he wanted to protect?

  One moment he felt shamed, as though he were intruding. The next he swore that Captain Grazon was wrong in his perceptions, that he did not realize that protection could serve him well.

  There seemed to be no meeting ground between the two. Right or wrong, he had set this in motion, and it remained to be seen whether this was moral high ground or something not nearly so clear-cut.

  Silence had fallen upon the ancient wing house after his riders had left to return to their grifs. There had not been a sound from Captain Grazon’s quarters since their confrontation.

  The silence pressed upon Daren, made his mind whirl with conjecture and worry. Normally, he would fall asleep as soon as he entered a bed, but for some reason, tonight, he could not find such peace.

  Gretnel was sound asleep, head tucked under his wing, his newly constructed nest cradling his bulk. A small shift and he began to make soft snorting noises, perilously close to snoring, and Daren had to smile at the familiarity of it. It broke the quiet, making his nerves settle.

  He was not used to being away from his riders, and this separation made him restless, ill at ease.

  He could not ever remember being so alone. He had been part of a large family, then gone to the academy. From there to the corps. Always there had been plenty of people around him.

  This feeling of solitude was foreign and uncomfortable. He could not imagine living permanently in such isolation, such as Ceris’s rider seemed to covet. Whether that was because that was all Andon had ever known, or because he simply had never experienced any good side of humankind, was difficult to say.

  Either way, it seemed a sad sort of existence.

  No wonder the man grieved the death of his friend. That loss had changed far more than a friendship, it had taken away the only link to humanity that the captain had ever known.

  By everything that Commander Lasrem had told them, Andon was a solitary man, because of his childhood perhaps, but certainly because of the treatment he had endured while in the corps. To think that they originally wished to separate him from Ceris because he was not considered “appropriate.” Who could possibly have conceived such a ludicrous and cruel plan? A true bond with a grif was a bond for life. How had they expected to sever the link, and what would it have done to both grif and boy? Such stupidity.

  He shook his head in disgust. All this was part of the foolishness arrogance that had blindly followed tradition, rather than seeing the intelligence and independence that characterized grifs. There were reasons the rebellion had begun so long ago…

  So much to change…

  One step at a time. He and his riders had made substantial inroads, and being here, seeing Farfall and how things used to be, made him more aware of how far they had come.

  He rolled over, determinedly closing his eyes, courting sleep more firmly. His endeavor was thwarted almost immediately as Gretnel went from asleep to awake within a heartbeat, his head raised, body tense and alert.

  Daren reached for his dagger beneath the pillow, rising silently to his feet, blade in hand. He had not undressed, too uneasy in this strange place with unknown threats.

  Gretnel rose, huge and looming in the half-light, the dim firelight catching his copper-tinted fur and lighting it to flame.

  A rumble shook his chest, very low, very powerful, a sound that echoed through Daren’s body, making him gasp with a surge of lust that shook any memory of sleep from his thoughts.

  Ceris was in full heat then.

  He had considered this when he insisted on staying here. Considered it and chosen to stay regardless. Better Gretnel than some other grif who might have a rider who would harm Andon.

  He stepped to the side as a huge, dark shadow filled the doorway.

  Gretnel rumbled again, his wings flaring, the blood vessels clearly delineated by the firelight.

  Ceris watched him, sniffing the air, her posture alert and yet wary, as though her mind had not yet been made up whether he was the one she desired.

  Gretnel took a single step forward, a purr vibrating in his throat.

  Her wings extended, then folded, in a clear sign of unease and ind
ecision, but her piercing gaze remained fixed upon the large, male grif.

  She edged closer, a faint trill sounding, a hopeful sign.

  Gretnel puffed up even more, golden eyes fixed upon this possible mate.

  Daren watched them with fascination and a degree of awe. No matter how long he spent around the creatures, watching grifs interact with each other, naturally and without human interference, was a wonder he would never tire of.

  There was nothing submissive about Ceris’s stance. Unlike domestic grifs, her size and ferocity made her a complete equal to Gretnel, unlike any female he had encountered before.

  Gretnel folded his wings back, taking another step forward. Daren could feel the male’s fascination with her, the differences that made Gretnel desire her completely, as a mate, with the possibility of more than a night’s pleasures.

  Daren was not sure how to feel about that revelation, but his mind was rapidly losing all sensible thought. His grif’s lust was driving his own.

  Gretnel edged closer, a single wing opening in a clear invitation.

  Ceris watched him, proud and regal, deciding…

  She slipped forward with uncanny grace for a being so large and ducked under Gretnel’s wing.

  The male made a soft sound in his throat, and the wing covered them both.

  Daren stumbled from the room, heat and want and need thrumming through his veins. The night was suddenly too hot, pressing upon his senses. Without true thought, he found himself at the doorway to Andon’s chamber.

  They had cleaned the fireplace here as well, and obviously the captain had decided to warm the chamber in anticipation of his grif’s heat, when he would reject all clothing in the cold night. A fire burned there now, cheerful, lighting the area with an orange glow.

  Andon.

  When had he become Andon, not Captain Grazon?

  He thrust aside the thought with annoyance.

  The light flickered, shadows dancing along the walls, forming a backdrop for the beauty of the man upon the bed. He could see Andon’s pale skin glow, the man naked and writhing upon the bed. A faint gasp reached his ears, and his need rose higher, a growl rivaling Gretnel’s own escaping his throat.

  There was a pause as Andon became aware of his presence. Wide, startled eyes met his, a flinch as though he wished to retreat, flee… Then he moaned, head falling back, hand running down his own body as Ceris’s heat overcame all resistance.

  Daren began to remove his clothing with haste, leaving a trail of them leading to the bed. Close now, he could see Andon’s eyes blown wide with need, all rational thought obviously slipping away as he reached for Daren, long fine fingers wrapping around his wrists and drawing him down.

  Their lips met, the spark of lust growing to full flame as they touched for the first time. They kissed, hot and wet, tongues tangling, licking, biting, mindlessly drawing each other closer as they wrestled for position, one dominant, then the other, rolling, rubbing sweat slicked flesh together.

  Daren sucked in a deep breath, drawing in the scent of his new lover. Like rain and forest and a summer day all twined together. Heady and potent. He could almost taste the scent upon his tongue, and chasing it, licked down Andon’s throat, biting softly at a collarbone, before encircling a nipple, drawing it deep.

  Andon cried out, arching, clutching at Daren’s shoulders with desperate fingers, a choking whine echoing through the room.

  Daren glanced up, his body tightening at the sight of Andon’s eyes rolling back in his head, the way his mouth worked soundlessly, his jaw clenching tight, then releasing in an endless cycle of need and want.

  Daren could feel those lean hips surging against him in mindless urgency, the hard bar of flesh rubbing against his own, making him whimper, his teeth closing around the sensitive flesh he suckled.

  Andon hissed, then reached down to grasp Daren’s shaft, the grip so perfect in pressure. Daren raised his head, licking his lips, all his senses focusing on that touch, his eyes half-lidded.

  He let his hand trail down, pushing Andon’s hand aside, as he enclosed both their shafts in his fist and began to pump firmly. The man beneath him made a choking keen, a grif sound, twisting, eyes wild and white-rimmed.

  Daren felt his body tighten, his breath come in gasping pants, so close… Gods.

  His hand squeezed tighter, moved faster, his breath faltering…

  He came with such force that he felt his senses fade for a moment, hot seed flowing over his fingers. Beneath him, Andon bucked twice, wildly, before Daren felt the man’s shaft pulse, felt seed join his own.

  He collapsed to his elbows, trying not to crush the smaller body beneath him.

  Bliss, pure primal bliss sent him into a torpor, so that worries and rational thought were far away and dim.

  Eventually, he found the strength to move, and twisted to lay down by Andon’s side, pulling the painfully thin body to him, tucking him into safety in his arms, Andon’s head fitting perfectly beneath his chin as though they had been made for each other.

  There was no resistance, and after a moment he heard the soft sounds of even breathing.

  Asleep.

  Somehow, Daren did not think this had happened before, Andon being held and losing his wary defenses enough to sleep.

  It made something warm grow in his chest.

  Smiling, he let his own senses drift away.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Andon woke slowly, sweet lethargy leaving his limbs limp and without the intention of obeying any command he might give them. Blinking, he lay staring blearily across the room, mindless and content to stay that way for the foreseeable future.

  He could hear birds in the rafters, their familiar sounds soothing. Vaguely he pondered on the fact that once the wing house was renovated, the birds would be out of a home.

  Renovations.

  He froze, consciousness returning with a rush of cold realization.

  The pleasant warmth along his back, an arm around his waist, the sense of lassitude…

  Ceris had gone into heat.

  He swallowed with difficulty, cautiously turning his head. Relief mingled with confusion, and then a rush of anger.

  Captain Phalnir. Was this why he had insisted on being in the wing house? To be first in line for a good fuck?

  His lips drew back from his teeth in a snarl. He wanted to punch the man, show him exactly how strong he really was. Not weak, not a victim. Not a fucktoy.

  He slid from under the arm, reluctantly chasing away his violent fantasies. He would not lie here like a willing sacrifice to face the smug superiority that would surely arise from this encounter.

  The madness had passed, as it always did, and he was left with cold reality.

  He dressed, flushing at the sight of his clothing flung hither and yon, along with the captain’s.

  Once more armored by cloth and attitude, he gathered some food in hand and slipped from the room. It was only an hour or two until his first class, by the angle of the sun gleaming dully through the filthy windows.

  As he reached Vren’s room, he could hear Ceris’s prolonged purr that told of her contentment, something he had never heard from her after any mating.

  He glanced in, eyeing the tangle of grifs, necks resting on each other’s backs.

  “Come. Meet my mate.” Ceris’s tone was fond and soft in a way Andon had never heard before.

  He took a step back. “Do you want to fly at the lunch hour? I want to get away, far away.”

  “No.”

  The single word froze him in place, and he stared at her in disbelief. She had always wanted to leave as much as him, a solid partner in his escape.

  “I want my mate today.” She rubbed her head in affection over the sleeping male grif’s neck. Her attention had veered away from Andon, and he had the feeling he was distant in her concerns at the moment.

  Far distant.

  He clenched his jaw until his teeth ached.

  “As you wish. I am…happy…that you enjoyed
this mating.”

  She gave another purr, her eyes closing, not asking about his own experiences.

  Closing him out.

  He stepped back, turned to walk away. Stepping out into the sun, he felt nothing of its warmth, his chest tight and painful enough that he rubbed at it with a fist.

  For the first time since his arrival at the base, he felt utterly alone.

  * * *

  Daren woke with a start, sitting up in the bed and staring around him, fingers clenched in the bedcovers. For a moment, he could not imagine where he could be, until the night’s images flashed into his thoughts. Wonderful heat-tinted memories.

  He grinned a little, ran a hand through his tousled hair before glancing around the huge room.

  Andon was gone.

  He frowned, trying not to be disappointed. It pointed to the other man not being quite as happy as Daren felt. Or had he simply not known how to act after their intimate encounter?

  He threw the covers back and rose to his feet, stretching, contentment returning. He would simply speak to Andon, make sure the man knew how much Daren had enjoyed this mating. He wanted it to be clear that it had been wonderful, and perhaps they could come to a sort of friendship. In time, perhaps more than that, but Andon was such a prickly character that Daren could not truly gauge what his reactions would be.

  Perhaps only time and proximity would tame the weapons master to Daren’s presence.

  He could only hope so. On his part, he would quite willingly pursue further intimacies. Certainly he would hold the images of the night close. He had felt more in that short encounter than in all his previous liaisons.

  He smiled as he dressed. Perhaps coming here would lead to something he had always searched for. A true, deep relationship of the sort his parents had. As for Andon’s past, they would not care, as long as Daren was happy.

  With a spring in his step, he left the room and entered the next one, feeling a surge of pride and love as he saw the two grifs entwined.