by Shea Malloy
The dragon shivers with pain with each blade I pull free, its blood spilling from the open wounds. Was this the right choice? I’m not a medic. I am—was—a simple baker’s assistant. What if it dies from blood loss?
There’s one more blade buried in the joint where its wing meets its body. This is why the wing hung lower than the other. Why the dragon didn’t fly away after the attack.
When my fingers touch the blade’s hilt, the dragon growls at me, its eyes flashing with anger. My heart gallops and I rear back.
“You can’t fly if it’s there.”
Making sure our gazes remain connected, my movement slow and deliberate, I free the blade.
The dragon roars and bucks, pitching me from its back. A grunt escapes me when my body hits the ground hard. Pain blossoms in the side of my head and spreads throughout my body.
Temporarily winded from the fall, my chest is tight. My body demands air. I gasp and roll onto my back. Despite the pain, I can appreciate the irony of my situation.
In an effort to help my enemy, I hurt myself.
The dragon stomps toward me, looms over me, its fearsome visage blocking out everything else in sight.
If this beast wants to kill me, so be it. I deserve it for being so stupid. What’s the point of fighting to live in this world when there’s no-one left who wants me?
Its eyes are like twin torches, scorching me with its gaze.
Cold acceptance envelops me.
I wait for it to take my life.
But the dragon recedes. Not just away from me, but in size. Its towering frame morphs and diminishes into a male Andrasari in his primary form. His golden eyes shimmer before they’re shuttered away behind closed lids, and he sinks to the floor.
My life is spared.
Unaware of my own movement, I sit up and push to my feet. I wipe away the tears I didn’t know I cried from my face and hesitate drawing closer to the prone Andrasari male.
I’ve helped him as much as I can, right? I’m sure he’s able to heal on his own from here. I played the game of chance with my life and yet, somehow, I’m the winner.
Wouldn’t it be foolish to play another turn?
Ikkon once said that what I should fear above everything else was the consequences of selfish actions and how they might hurt others. That I should help when it was within my power to do so, because to turn someone away in their worst moments invited unrelenting guilt in my chest.
And you wouldn’t want to live with that feeling, Seela. It gives you terrible indigestion!
So, I approach the prone Andrasari and kneel beside him.
Darkness creeps in as evening cedes to night. The bit of light from the dying fire fades.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen a naked male—my lone encounter with an Andrasari farmer’s slave in a barn made sure of that—but I’ve never seen such visible strength encased in a body like this.
His flesh is bronze, his ribcage and upper arms covered in a network of golden half-circles. Scars mark his flesh too. His abdomen is grooved and defined from years of physical activity, his upper arms and thighs powerful muscle.
I intentionally avoid looking at that part between his legs. Warmth suffuses my face and the tips of my ears. The gash on his left shoulder is closed but it’s an angry red against his bronze skin.
Grabbing his arms, I intended to roll him onto his front so I could inspect the wounds on his back when my gaze shifts to his face.
Whatever breath I had left over from the smoke disappears.
His eyes are open, capturing mine. In that moment, it’s as if we are connected by more than just our stare. Warmth coils in the pit of my stomach like the beginnings of arousal. Surprise briefly flickers in his eyes before it’s replaced by fury.
I recognize his face.
I know who he is.
Nai Theron Visclaud, the Konai’s nephew.
He is the Overseer of Andrasar. The one who enforces the enslavement and perpetual misery of humans.
My initial thought is to flee, but horror immobilizes me. He lurches up onto his feet in one fluid motion leaving me on my knees before him. His gaze is like an unseen hand, lifting my chin so that my attention is focused solely on him.
“Were you a part of this group, human?” His voice is silken, his eyes gleaming with hatred.
I swallow, willing words to my lips.
“I wasn’t. I travel alone.”
He amber gaze bores into me and searches my soul. I guess he’s seen me for what I am, a scared human who poses no threat to him, because he smiles. It’s not warm or friendly. It’s sinister in its triumphant curving of his lips.
“If you had known my identity would you have helped me?” When I attempt to stand, he points at me with fingers lengthened into claws. “Stay where you are and answer the question.”
Tense silence hangs between us. Would I have been a traitor to humans by saving the life of our oppressor? With Theron Visclaud gone, the rebellion would be strengthened considerably.
Freedom from slavery would no longer be a distant hope, but a possibility. The courage to fight for a positive change would surpass the fear of consequence.
Would I have knowingly crushed this opportunity?
But I was taught to cherish life. Every life has value was Ikkon’s belief, and to an extent, I adopted it too.
It didn’t matter that our species were enemies, Ikkon took me into his home and raised me like his own daughter when I lost my family as a baby. Through his example, I’ve always sought to show a similar kindness to others.
My gaze level with the Andrasari’s chest, I speak softly. “Some humans believe in a spiritual principle called…” There’s no translation for the word in Rur language, so I speak it in Human Standard. “…karma. It means both good and bad deeds are rewarded, whether in your current life or in a reincarnated life. Good actions reward you with happiness and bad actions reward you with suffering.”
Darkness cloaks us like if we’re a secret it must hide. The moonlight and last bit of fire still awards enough light for me to see his face.
He remains silent, his features indecipherable.
“I believe in karma, too. I would still have helped even if I had known who you were. Saving your life prolongs the suffering of humans in the present, but maybe this good action might bring about future happiness for my people.”
3
Theron
—
Humans may resemble a Rur being when we are in our primary form, but they are nothing like us.
They are weak and cowardly. Dishonourable. I have read their books Aphat confiscated from their spaceship several enur ago. In those books are their history, and it is rife with selfishness, greed, and destruction of their own kind.
They do not belong on this planet, let alone in my home region, Andrasar.
The great Kahafura took my kaha and toha’s life for blighting us with the presence of these foreign creatures. In retribution for my parents’ death I have facilitated their misery. Yet, they continue to survive and grow in numbers.
Ambushed by a group of humans who almost took my life, I found immense satisfaction in taking theirs.
But kneeling before me is another human. The female with skin the colour of desert sand, her hair as wild and curling as tree vines, her eyes as dark as the night surrounding us, their depths filled with unsettling sincerity.
She saved my life. She boldly approached me in my dragon form. Risked her safety to remove the blades from my body. Admits that despite what I’ve done to her kind, she would save my life again if given the chance.
This human is not weak or cowardly or selfish, but an anomaly that contradicts my long-held beliefs of her species.
She is also the one my dragon claims as my asafura. My fire’s half.
There must be a mistake. She is not a Rur being. How can she be my asafura if she does not possess fire inside her?
Yet my dragon insists she is mine. Heat builds in my stomach the lo
nger I look at her. I fight against the arousal and my dragon’s demand that I push her to the floor and take her.
“You are foolish,” I say, outraged by my treacherous thoughts. “As long as I am alive, your worthless species will never find happiness.”
Her eyebrows draw closer together, her eyes narrowing. “You’re the one who’s foolish. Holding on to so much hate for beings you consider inferior only makes you weaker than them.”
Her insult will not be tolerated regardless of what my dragon says she is to me. I lunge for her, grabbing the front of her shirt. She withdraws a Rurium blade from the waist of her trousers and points it at me. Her eyes are alight with a similar fury residing in me.
“Just because I saved your life and said all that shit about karma doesn’t mean I’ll hesitate to hurt you, you ungrateful bastard.”
I sneer at her. “You’ll never succeed. I’ll rip that insolent tongue out of your head first before I take your life.”
“Maybe you’re right, but I’m willing to try.”
The blade surges forward and I shove her away. Her body barely touches the ground before she’s on her feet, sprinting away from me through the trees.
I chase her despite the pain from my injuries and grab her before she can get far. With angry snarls, she fights me and manages to stab my arm twice with the blade’s edge.
Stinging heat surrounds where the blade penetrated and I hiss. Holding her wrists, I shove her body against a tree trunk and squeeze her wrists until she cries out. The blood-covered blade slips from her fingers to the grassy floor with a dull thump.
Pressing my front to hers, I use my weight and strength to prevent her from kneeing me or squirming free. The poison that coated the blades from my earlier attack weaken me, but I am still much stronger than her.
Belatedly, I realize this is far too intimate a position to be in with a human. Especially the one who Kahafura has incorrectly chosen as mine.
Her heat seeps into my flesh and she pants from her struggle, her breasts rising and falling against my chest. The fire has died, but moonlight softens the darkness. Her eyes glitter with anger and dislike.
Our faces are close.
Too close.
It is forbidden for an Andrasari to lay with a human. But it isn’t unheard of that some have broken this rule. To lay with a human is unnatural. I have never considered any of them attractive because to do so would be to see them as an equal and worthy of my attention.
Yet once again, this human female is the exception. My reaction an aberration. She smells like the forest and mild sweat. Every being’s unique scent is reminiscent of their personality and hers is gentle but edged with determination.
Her warm breath fans my skin forcing my gaze to her lips. A foreign voice in my head whispers a question that disturbs me.
What do her lips taste like?
“Why don’t you get it over with already?” she demands, which disturbs me even further because it’s as if she’s asking me to actualize my sick thoughts about kissing her.
No, she wants me to hasten her death. She struggles to project fearlessness but the scent of her terror fills the air between us. And just beneath that terror is the wisps of lust.
This human female desires me.
The urge to take her, to rip her clothing from her, to press my face between her legs and inhale her overcomes me stronger than before. I release her as if her flesh has become scalding, as if touching her is the reason this new demon inhabits my body.
My wings unfurl from my back as I shift into my dragon. She remains where she stands pressed against the tree trunk, her eyes wide as she regards the beast before her.
What a shame. This is her lone chance to run, to escape, to save herself from the wrath that is me.
When she does, it’s too late.
“No!” she says in alarm as I grasp her and take flight.
She screams. Her useless noises die when we are airborne, and she trembles.
She hugs my claws tight to her body as if it will prevent me from releasing her and letting her plummet to her death. Even though the wind tries to steal her voice, I hear her pleas that I put her down and let her go. I ignore her.
Most Andrasari prefer to fly in the day when the sun’s heat is at its strongest. In the warmer seasons, festivals are held celebrating the high temperatures as a blessing from Kahafura. There are ice-covered mountains in Andrasar, but we rarely endure freezing temperatures. Unlike the region, Seca, the land of perpetual ice and cold.
I like to fly at night. The cool wind buffeting my wings, pressing against my face, and gliding along my scales. At night, it’s quiet and peaceful, the sky an endless stretch of indigo speckled with light.
When I was younger, my kaha would say that those speckles were the souls of dead loved ones. They were preserved by Kahafura to spare us from the despair of losing someone you loved.
Perhaps this is why I favour flying at night. It’s my only chance to be close to her and toha after all these years.
The glittering city lights speed toward us. In the center, is the Andrak’s towering spire. I maintain altitude above the marked path of speeding air cruisers, my reflection a dark ghost on the sides of glass buildings.
Landing in the Andrak’s courtyard, I release the human and shift into my primary form. Guards approach us with querying looks and the human female sidles close to me before she remembers that I am an enemy too.
She lurches away, her shoulders hunched, her arms away from her body in a defensive posture. Her widened eyes dart about her surroundings in fear.
“Why am I here?”
No longer secluded in the dark forest, I can assess her fully. She is not dressed as a zevyet should be and her neck is devoid of a collar of ownership. How did she remove it without her master’s authorization?
“To be imprisoned for your crimes.”
“What crimes?” she spits, glaring. Her fear evaporates. She is a perfect ball of indignation.
“You have abandoned your duties to your zevyena and you wilfully attacked a member of the Konai’s service.”
“I am not a slave. I’ve never had a master to abandon.”
She’s never had a master? Impossible. All humans are either property of an Andrasari or work as a slave in whatever capacity that serves Andrasar.
“Take her to the cells,” I order the guards.
I don’t derive the usual satisfaction from panic twisting a human’s features. An unpleasant feeling nags at me. My dragon bristles when the guards seize her arms.
No-one else should touch her but me.
“I didn’t have a master, I had a guardian,” she says, tears brimming in her eyes as she fights against the guards dragging her away. “And I didn’t abandon him. He was murdered.”
4
Theron
—
The moment the human disappears with the guards, the tension in my body eases and my mind clears.
It’s unacceptable how much of my attention her presence consumed. As I stand in the courtyard, I question my sanity for bringing her to the Andrak.
The charges I’ve laid against her are punishable by death—which I could have executed in the forest without this much fuss.
But if it’s true that she is my asafura, I can’t kill her.
So what am I to do with her? I don’t want nor can I have a human as my mate.
Forcing my thoughts away from the human and her parting words, I make my way up to my home.
As I shower, I ponder on my attack. Earlier today, I was approached by a human notifying me that Ronan wanted to meet in the forest to ‘discuss a private matter’. However, Ronan never showed.
Instead, a group armed with Rurium blades coated in poison attacked me. Those weapons aren’t easily procured by humans. When the group encountered me, they hadn’t seemed surprised by my presence. They charged at me like soldiers given an order.
An order given by who? It certainly wasn’t Ronan. General Ronan Coya is like
family to me. He was my toha’s closest friend and grieved his death like a brother. The years of pain and misery I’ve endured in my childhood beneath Aphat’s hand would have been worse without Ronan’s protection.
Someone wants me dead. No doubt, the humans. To think they almost succeeded. I have been taking the rebellions too lightly, it seems. Complacent in the knowledge that their silly, haphazard revolts will be crushed beneath the heel of Andrasari’s strength.
Perhaps they have acquired a leader. An intelligent one with access to dangerous weapons.
My vision blurs as I dress. I become dizzy. Blinking rapidly, I sink onto my bed. Sudden weariness turns my limbs to lead. I had a lengthy shift in my dragon form and I have not eaten in some time. My body still heals from the attack and battles the poison.
My movement is sluggish as I touch the small metal circle of my communication implant just behind my right ear.
“Theron, where have you been all day?” Eyin asks as soon as her holographic image blooms in front of me. She furrows her eyebrows, her amber eyes filled with concern. “You look unwell.”
“Poison,” I say. “I am in my quarters.”
“I’ll be there shortly.”
Eyin disconnects and I lay back on the bed, the sheets cool against my skin.
My eyes drift shut and the human female’s face fills the darkness behind my closed eyelids.
I was ready to burn her alive the instant she stepped out of hiding. Her courage despite her visible terror intrigued me. She spoke to me honestly. The first of her kind to challenge me and live to see another day.
How could such a dynamic presence be contained in a small creature like her? There is a long-standing joke that Kahafura’s humour is dark and filled with incredible ironies.
It’s not a joke anymore. Not for me.
Finding one’s asafura is rare and an occasion that merits celebration. Yet I can’t enjoy this moment when a union with a human is verboten.
The door to my living area opens and slides shut. Eyin’s footsteps pad toward my bedroom. I’m thankful for the distraction from thoughts of the human.
“Are you dead already?” she asks, her voice light.
