by J. C. Owens
Daren glanced over at him, lip curling. “So you can take over with Andon? I don’t think so.” He followed in Lasrem’s wake with head held high, feeling the stares of the whole hall on his back.
His riders would be concerned, and he hoped those around them did not make their evening miserable. This place seemed to reek of the negative, and he was quite sure that Vatner and Byrant were the source, along with Habnin.
He entered the room and closed the door softly in his wake. Commander Lasrem stood in front of the fireplace, arms folded over his chest, eyes narrowed as he met Daren’s gaze. Daren settled into a respectful stance, hands clasped behind his back, staying silent, but meeting Lasrem’s stare with equanimity.
“It is custom here to report a mating immediately. Neither you nor your riders came to tell me of this.”
Daren inclined his head slightly. “My apologies, Commander. We were not aware of this custom. In Anisstor, we have forty-eight hours to notify the proper authorities.”
Lasrem paced across the room and back, obviously attempting to calm himself.
“I am to assume this mating is the reason that Andon is not present tonight?” His tone was dangerous in its intensity.
“Before you ask, Commander, no, I did not move into the wing house with the intention of being first in line for Gretnel to mate Ceris. I knew it was possible, I knew Gretnel was interested, but that was not my primary focus. I was there to protect Captain Grazon, as I told you. The events of last night are completely separate from that original intent.” He met cold eyes with calm implacability. “My time with Andon was nothing violent, nothing harmful. I would never do that to any sexual partner, much less a man of Andon’s caliber.”
Lasrem stopped, something in him easing a fraction. “He came to no harm?”
“I am not certain what he thought this morning. He woke before me and was gone. I have been searching for him, wanting to speak. I wish to ensure that he understands that, for me at least, if this is indeed a true mating, I am more than willing to seek a future with him.”
Lasrem blinked, Daren’s honesty obviously surprising him. “You would claim a true mating then?”
“I will know by tomorrow. Gretnel says it will take that long for the bond to settle enough to tell whether it is true or not.”
Lasrem nodded slowly, the anger draining away, leaving him looking weary and older than his years.
“Andon will not take this well, I warn you now. He has no trust within him, never has. It takes all my diplomatic skill to keep him on the right side of his position as weapons master. He wants nothing to do with others, and this will cast him in the spotlight. He will assume the worst of you.”
“I am not a man who harms others for my own pleasure, sir. I have never understood such a thing and will not condone it among my own riders. I have seen Andon’s mannerisms and know they come from a very negative place. I can only do my best to show him who I am. I have no intention of forcing him into anything at all.”
Lasrem sat, gesturing for Daren to do the same. “I apologize, Captain, for my behavior. I have listened to whispers and gossip swirl around the hall tonight, and I admit to feeling defensive on Andon’s behalf.”
Daren nodded amicably. “I can well understand that. I have been protective of my wing. They are often the targets of gossip and speculation because they are different, because they stand out in mind and manner. People always distrust differences.”
“You are a wise man, Captain.” Lasrem’s faint smile was wry.
“I would not count myself wise, sir. I am a watcher, and I have grown to understand people’s motivations.”
“A good thing for a leader.” Lasrem tapped his finger upon the table for a moment and then met Daren’s eyes squarely. “If he is upset, as he will be, he will have found sanctuary in the old temple, where others are too superstitious to follow. Good luck.”
The temple was outside the walls of the base. Daren insisted the others hold back just outside the ruined structure. They subsided reluctantly, their grifs scanning the darkness protectively. There were many creatures besides wyverns to fear in these lands. At least wyverns were only active during the day…
The fact that Captain Grazon was out here, unprotected, his grif still back in the base, was particularly troubling. Daren found himself annoyed that Ceris seemed to be caught in some sort of mating haze, unable to dredge up concern for her rider. They could use her influence at this point, and this separation of rider and grif could not be doing anything at all positive for Andon’s state of mind.
Daren held the lantern high, watching his footing as he trod through rubble where portions of the vast stone roof had collapsed. In the places where it was still intact, he could see faded murals upon the protected walls, glimmers of times past, when grifs had been worshiped as avatars of the gods. Before riders had even existed. A time so long ago it seemed more legend than fact.
The light from the lantern swayed and bobbed as he moved, and the murals seemed to gain life, almost appearing to move, become real.
He shivered a little. It was no wonder others did not wish to invade this place. It seemed to hold a power that Daren could feel sparking along his nerve ends. The old ways had always been rumored to hold the power of the gods themselves, a link between the gods’ domain and the world below.
Modern as he was, Daren did not find such a thought comfortable.
His footsteps echoed eerily in the vast, empty space, and he wondered whether Andon would hear him and vanish into the darkness. It was very evident the other man did not wish to be in his presence, and yet they must find a way to deal with each other.
A giant column lay shattered before him, pieces of the roof lying upon it. He had to duck under a slab, praying fervently that the pieces, balanced so precariously, would remain in place. It felt like a breath could bring it all down on top of him.
On the other side, the temple was remarkably intact, and he held the lantern up, staring in awe at the massive columns and ornate carvings that edged the walls and ceiling. Here, the murals were more preserved, and he moved closer, fascinated. The paintings of grifs showed the creatures as free, majestic, unfettered. Nowhere was there portrayed a grif being ridden. The people had begun as worshipping the grif-salant so long ago. So much had changed. Now the grifs were kept bound, tamed, viewed as lesser beings, under man’s sway. Bound to the military, kept under control by the throne. His lips thinned, eyes narrowing. Here, surrounded by the past, he felt guilty for ever having set foot on Gretnel’s back.
He shook off the introspection with annoyance. The past was just that, the past. There was no way to return to that time. In the here and now, though, they could make changes. Improve the lot of grifs and change attitudes for the future.
The next mural caught his eye and he moved toward it, holding the lantern closer.
A black grif, stark against the light-colored sandstone. Further, another, then another, in evenly spaced increments. It was difficult to say if they were the same grif or representing several. Portrayals of several gods were depicted, emphasizing the importance of the scenes. So real that he almost heard whispers of sound…
He took another step, then his attention wavered as he saw the spill of faint light coming from up ahead. He remembered his purpose here, and he left the murals in the darkness.
Andon had heard him coming. He made no move to escape, remaining cross-legged upon the floor with a lantern by his knee, heedless of the dirt and dust, his attention wholly upon the immense statue before him.
He had discovered this place shortly after his arrival here and made sure to come as often as possible. Here, he felt safe. The why and how did not seem to matter, only that he found a kind of peace here that was available nowhere else.
He knew the dangers that lurked outside the base walls at night. Despite all common sense, somehow he knew that they would not enter here, that he had nothing to fear. All others had avoided this place, seen it as haunted and dangerous,
with its state of decay and the feeling of power and reverence that still lingered.
For the first time, someone was invading this sacred space, and a part of him knew that it was a sign. Captain Phalnir was not anything to fear. He did not know where the thought came from, only that knowledge, understanding of both the present and the past were possible in this place. His fears of the morning seemed far away and vague.
Footsteps sounded, then stopped abruptly in the ornate archway that led to the shrine. Captain Phalnir’s breathing was loud in the complete and utter silence of this place, and Andon slowly opened his eyes, looking over his shoulder to meet green eyes.
For a moment, their gazes stayed locked, before Andon turned away, his eyes once more fixed upon the statue, the gargantuan grif-salant carved in black stone. Crouched, it still rose to the ceiling far above and far back into the recesses of the shrine. Its golden eyes shone in the semi-darkness, seemingly alive.
Andon assumed they must be glass or perhaps some polished stone, but they had startled him greatly when he had first seen them. No doubt, Captain Phalnir was having the same reaction.
He did not look to see. Despite the peace of this place, he was fighting to stay calm now that Captain Phalnir was here. He was trying to thrust aside the resentment of having this last bastion tainted by another’s presence.
He let out a breath, bringing himself under control. This was not a place for his negativity.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the captain step forward. He even caught a glimpse of the man’s expression, the awe, and yes, reverence.
His tension calmed further. He should have trusted that the gods would not allow anyone unworthy to enter this sanctuary. Tonight he had half expected to be rejected himself, with his emotions in tatters and his blocking of Ceris. But, as always, he had felt nothing but welcome, a warmth of body and spirit.
Phalnir went to one knee, his fist over his heart, and the gesture startled Andon. Just such a thing was portrayed at the base of the statue, too far away for the captain to clearly see in this low light. Yet he had just given an ancient form of respect.
Andon’s attention sharpened.
Phalnir rose, the fascination on his face sharp and clear in the lantern light as he stared up at the stone grif. There was only the sound of their breathing within the chamber, the outer world completely cut off.
The captain finally turned and approached Andon slowly, almost cautiously, as though he were a wild beast that might flee—or attack.
Andon admired the man’s perception, because at this moment he felt equally ready to run or fight. If this meeting had taken place anywhere but here…
The Anisstor rider sank to sit exactly as Andon was, putting them on equal ground. They sat quietly for some time, and Andon appreciated that the man understood the quality of silence.
“I have decoded some of the writings here.” Andon’s voice was a mere whisper, as though loud voices held no place within this sacred space. “They speak of a black grif that will appear, change the ways of men, bring back the old ways, of true bonds and respect between grifs and riders.” The curl of his lips held no humor. “I want to believe it, want to trust that Ceris is the one they speak of, but I have no faith in my heart. No ability to see this as truth.”
He fell back into silence, his emotions close to the surface and dangerous to his stability. He could not believe he had just told Daren about such a thing, something he could be mocked for. Something that would be considered treason by the crown.
When Daren did speak, his voice was pleasant, well-modulated, and with no lack of respect in his tone.
“If such a creature could exist, I believe it would be Ceris. She is already different. You are different as her rider. Both of you a little legendary.” He smiled slightly, grasping a bit of rubble and rolling it between his fingertips. “I would love to see such a thing, a rebirth of our past, when saner minds ruled and people respected grifs as equals. I pray it is possible.” He glanced sideways at Andon. “I have been wishing to speak to you all day.”
Andon remained motionless, hardly blinking, but listening more than he truly wanted to.
“Last night was no trick, no attempt to bind you to me,” the other man continued. “I knew the possibility was there, but I assumed the grifs here would be more to Ceris’s liking. On the other hand, I was not going to turn away. You and Ceris are beautiful, strong-willed and remarkable. I would be a fool to ignore that.”
Andon felt a blush rise in his pale cheeks. He could not remember ever having a mating partner give a compliment and with such calm sincerity. He had never given the least thought as to having gentleness in a mating; it had always been fierce and often painful. Ceris’s mind was so powerful during that time that it seemed his own mind, his own strength, faded in comparison. He was left vulnerable, and others took advantage of that without mercy.
Yet, he could remember the night before with details he had never cared to examine before. The fierce heat of it, the need and want. The touches—firm and yet with no pain. The taste of the captain in a kiss that had held no degree of possession, only pleasure. The weight of Phalnir’s body above him, rubbing, the feel of a calloused hand upon his shaft, perfect pressure, the way they writhed together, sweat and seed intermingling as they reached completion…
He sucked in a harsh breath, realizing, to his own astonishment, that just those memories had made him hard and full of need. Such a thing had never occurred before.
His hands clenched into fists as he fought down the unfamiliar urges, praying that Phalnir was not capable of realizing how he had affected him.
“I wish that we could have been better acquainted before such a thing occurred.” There was a faint hint of humor evident in Daren’s words.
Andon gave a jerky nod, swallowing hard. “I thank you for telling me this. It really changes nothing though. I have never wanted nor needed a relationship. I am a solitary creature, as you will find out. I have nothing to give you, if this mating is true.”
He cursed his halting speech, his inability to speak articulately. He felt Captain Phalnir’s gaze upon his face, but refused to meet it, keeping his stare fixed firmly upon the comforting presence of the stone grif.
“Tomorrow, we will know. Our grifs will be able to tell by then. For now, please don’t see me as an enemy.”‘ There was a pause. “Would you come back with us? We were going to share some wine in my quarters. I would be honored if you would come, meet my grif, meet the other riders.”
Andon gave a twisted smile. “I have no abilities in that direction, Captain. It is best you understand that now before your illusions are shattered. Our grifs might have chosen each other, but I see no future for anything between us.”
Phalnir rose and dusted off his pants with slow, considering motions. “I see a lot more in you. Perhaps more than you can realize. I am a patient man, and I respect your decisions. I hope, with time and proximity, that we can become closer.”
Andon nodded, but would not meet those beautiful green eyes.
“I look forward to working with you, Captain Grazon. I think we can both teach each other of many things.”
Andon listened to the receding footsteps, feeling his tension subside. That had gone better than he could ever have hoped for.
If someone had to find him here, he was glad it was Phalnir. For no reason he could discern, he actually knew that the man would never disclose this place to those who would misuse it.
That degree of trust and faith was concerning in itself.
CHAPTER TEN
Daren stirred in his bed, rising to one elbow as he glanced blearily around the room. The lights were burning low, but he could clearly see Gretnel and Ceris twined together in the nest that was now far too small for two full-grown grifs. He smiled at them, a warmth in his chest at his grif’s happiness, a feeling that curled around him comfortingly.
A movement by the door made him glance that way. Andon stood, shoulder against the door f
rame, watching the grifs as well, but there was no wonderment in his expression, no happiness in his eyes. Instead, he watched them with grief, an air of loss and sadness that made Daren’s heart clench.
It was then he understood that Andon saw this very differently. He was going back to an empty room, and if the man had never known any other sort of caring beyond Ceris, then it made sense that he was going to distrust this situation, perhaps even believing that Ceris had abandoned him completely.
He pushed back the covers, preparing to rise, and the movement caught Andon’s eye. He glanced Daren’s way, then was gone, swift and silent, as though he had been merely a figment of Daren’s imagination.
He paused, unsure, then rose to dress. The grifs had not stirred, evidence that Ceris still could not feel her rider. By the expression on Andon’s face, what he was feeling should have been turbulent enough to wake her. He must still be blocking her. How that was possible was beyond Daren’s understanding.
He padded barefoot across the floor, not minding the cold stone. His body ran hot, something his lovers had always enjoyed on cold nights. Silently, he made his way down the short distance to Andon’s room.
The door was open a crack, perhaps in the hopes that Ceris would return for the night. That small, telling action revealed much about the other captain’s state of mind. To endanger himself, knowing that Vatner and others could take this opportunity to…
He shook off the thoughts, rapping softly on the door frame. Damned if he would invade the man’s privacy without permission.
Andon whirled, clutching his shirt closed with one fist, eyes wild.
Daren gave a shamefaced grimace. “Sorry. I truly didn’t mean to startle you. I saw you had returned and wondered if you wanted to spend the night with Ceris in my room. You can have the bed if you wish. There are plenty of blankets for me to sleep on the floor.”
