by K. G. Wilkie
"I hate those freakin` dragons," an iguana man grumbled. The others growled their assent.
"And the girl?" Layel asked.
"Well," the mountain lion woman said. "Those sisters work for one of them, you know?"
"It's that dratted Aeron," a voice in the crowd chipped in. "I hate that guy." There were dark mutters in response.
"Anyways," the woman said, obviously aggravated the others had interrupted her, "we want to annoy them somehow, and this stood out as an easy way to do that," Ortek answered.
"I just want the bounty from that wizard bloke," the iguana chimed in. "It's nice to help out the shifter alliance, but I have bigger priorities than politics at stake," he added.
"Silence!" Ortek called out to them all. "Now we must act, and not argue!" There were murmurs of assent, and it was clear that they all agreed that it was time to do something. Nonetheless, they continued to argue how, precisely, they should act. Should they capture the girl and bring her in live for the bounty, or to their people? Should they kill the vampire and be done with it? The vampire, of course, posed new problems. Should they ransom him to his kinsmen, or skip the bother and possibility of retribution by killing him then and there? The idea that retribution might still come from his kinsmen more fiercely than ever before if they killed the man never seemed to enter their heated debate.
Layel simply ignored it all and walked across to the girl that had been dropped on the ground in the heat of debate. "Name is?" he asked, gently helping the wounded girl to her feet.
"Umm," she whispered, voice cracked. "Priscilla, of the Nymph race, a nyad," she continued. She was still shivering in fear. He dug around in his pocket, eventually revealing a crumpled scarf. She received it gratefully, wrapping it up like a shawl and tucking herself into it as well as she could. "The flowers are gone," she observed. "They had voices. And now they are gone." A single tear fell down her check. "They're all dead, and it's all my fault for leaving home." She wept softly, clutching onto Layel`s lapel and holding his comforting warmth close.
He held her back tightly, a murderous glare storming his features as the inept war party continued arguing the merits of various plans. Layel lifted Priscilla into his arms, the better to hold and comfort her. He mustered a gentle smile while he used his handkerchief to dab at her tears. He whispered, "Have peaceful dreams," and gently blew into her face. She seemed relieved to leave reality behind, swiftly slipping out of consciousness from the spell on his breath. He gently laid her back down on the crushed stems.
Swiftly dropping into a warrior`s crouch, he took a twisted dagger from a sheath hidden in his sleeve, and a broadsword squirreled away between his two shoulder blades. He held a guard position in front of the girl when the shifters stopped their arguing long enough to notice he had stolen their captive. The shifter warriors took out their own weapons and charged him. He sliced, pivoting at the heel, dragging the sword through the closest enemies ringed around him. His dagger was an impenetrable guard. Those behind him who swooped in for the kill died instantly. He flicked his hand out, oh so swiftly, and his dagger flew around the circle to kill the last of the remaining fighters, as Ortek and Arlec ran away from the battle. In twenty minutes of fighting, he had over a hundred warriors whose hearts were sluggishly pumping their last drops of blood and lungs were giving their very last breaths.
A man gasped, his own rattle-like breathing shallow. "You won't beat us all," he croaked. "Even if all of our group are felled by your hand, there will be others. We are all," he gasped, "united by hatred for your monarchy." His voice was rough and cracked, worn away by life and battle.
With one last desperate move, he clung to Layel`s sleeve. "I want mine away from this. Take mine away," he pleaded.
"Yours?" Layel asked thickly. "Your body?" The warrior shook his head. "Of..." he croaked, "mine, not mine." One more breath, and he spent it on the word, "Love." His eyelids fluttered and closed. Layel popped them back open, looking, but the irises had already rolled back in his head. He checked the pulse, and it was silent. Closing the eyelids again, he turned away. There was a flash of movement, of glowing eyes only a few feet from the ground, and then nothing.
"Who... "Layel stumbled over the word, "Who's there?" No one responded.
With a sigh, the warrior turned back to the child, the scent of her crushed fireblossoms permeating her hair. He picked her up and put her in his pack. Priscilla was still small enough to just barely fit as he carefully hefted the pack on over his sheaths. She murmured softly, sleepily, and he craned his neck to look at her. She was still in the midst of some happy dream, smiling even in sleep. Her hands twitched, and the field of flowers rustled. Small sprouts sprang up. There were buds, then leaves and blooms. The wondrous fireblossom blooms had been fully restored in a second. The blooms carpeting the clearing were thicker and lusher and brighter and more intense than they had been before her interference. Layel looked at her again in shock, and was surprised to see that she truly was still asleep. So powerful, he thought, even when she sleeps. Even as a member of a different species he knew the basics of their kind. Everyone knew a nymph's power was directly connected to its contractor`s health and vitality. A nymph had to concentrate on connecting with the heart of its tree or stream directly. The average nyad could easily call forth and manipulate such a large field of flowers, and the average dryad could control a similar volume of water with ease. To see one use its power while unconscious made him question if the shifters might have had another reason for their actions.
Layel carried her sleeping form out of the meadow, taking her into his own home and depositing her on his own plush bed.
He knew he should contact someone, get the word out that she was with him. Surely, someone was in charge of this girl; surely, someone was missing her. But he held the scrying spell in his hand, hesitant to finish connecting the spell to someone--his king Cillean, his prince Aeron, the captain of the Nymph Guard, really anyone would do when it came to letting the world know a lost child had been found--but still he hesitated. He didn't really want to share her with anyone else. And he couldn't help but be concerned that she had been out there by herself in the first place. Did that mean her people didn't keep close watch on her? That her parents didn't care about her welfare? What other reason could there be? For she was surely a child, even in nymph years. She looked like she still hadn't entered her teens, though she hovered close to it. Perhaps she was still in her forties, such a young girl in nymph years. She was far too young to just casually be living out in the world all alone. Had she run away? But then that made him wonder why she'd run away. If she'd run from an abusive tribe, he couldn't give the girl back and send her to live like that again after she'd tried so hard for freedom. But what if she had no problems at home, and was just a foolish child going on an adventure for the fun of it and had ended up in trouble by accident as a result of her own lack of caution and not her poor circumstance? He looked at her face while she slept, and then he pulled the covers up to her chin and smoothed her hair back. Whatever her reasons for being out in the world, he would discuss them in the morning with her when she woke up, and in the meantime, he'd do what he did best--keep the visitor to his house safe and secret from the rest of the world.
A sound from the bed startled him. The girl was awake, though her normal, innocent smile was replaced by a bloodthirsty expression. "Who are you and why am I here?" she demanded.
Layel frowned. The voice definitely came from her body, but it was the sound of a man, an adult, and clearly did not fit her. "Are you an enchantment?" he asked. He held the girl's arm. "What are you doing possessing this girl?"
The speaker shook him off. "I belong in her and with her always; she is a nymph and is of course contracted to me. The question, bloodsucker, is not what I am doing. The real question is what you are doing here." He held up a hand in warning. "If you do not answer me well, I will be forced to cut out your throat so you cannot answer to anyone ever again. I just thought it would be fair to
warn you."
Layel smiled, somehow cheered by the message. "I am glad to hear someone is watching over her. I had been c-c-concerned before. She is here because I thought it was unwise for a young child to be traveling on her own, but clearly I was mistaken." He thought back to how they'd met and frowned again. "You are not a perfect caretaker, though. Some shifter thugs were about to," he gulped, "take the child. I do not think you took over her at that point. I did save her, but I can't approve of you leaving her alone."
The child's body nodded. "Yes, it's an unfortunate downside to being a contractor. I do not have control of her body and can only take over when she lets me in. She is usually very good about that, but she is still young and still new to this arrangement, so the child does not always remember that she is supposed to keep our connection up at all times, just so I can watch out for her if I need to." He sighed. "She's a good girl and more than happy to have me on board; she's just a little forgetful. I am Dürin, of the Düster Downs. Feel privileged that you have had the chance to speak with one of the greatest contractors in this world."
The vampire shook the girl's small hand, which still did not suit the masculine spirit of a swamp, but one had to get used to these sorts of spirits sharing the body with a nymph that was often quite different from them. "Layel," he replied. He couldn't help but think of what the creature had just said and nod thoughtfully. "I can see how that might be difficult." His stutter had faded away during the conversation without either of them noticing. "In fact, this is the youngest I've ever heard of a nymph being contracted. How did you come to meet her so soon?"
Dürin looked aside. It had been a few decades, but he still remembered that first day so clearly. He shared the story with the vampire.
"It was a calm day, similar to many others. Priscilla had wandered off from her sister, chatting with the flowers and trying to get to know them better, as she had been doing since she could speak out loud. It was a sign of particular power for a nymph to be capable of such a thing before puberty, and as a consequence, she was likely to form a contract with one of them easily, while the rest of her peers might spend years trying to build a relationship and convince a contractor to bind with them to boost their power. That she could speak with them all so easily already meant she had the abilities most nymphs longed for without the need for a boost, and it scared the village children.
"Those same children were out exploring the fields themselves as well. Soon they caught sight of the girl sitting alone. She was often alone, as she never really spoke to the children. Today they saw a great opportunity with her sister finally gone from her side for once.
"All the villagers knew that she had greater powers than the others her age, and she rarely spoke with any of them. It led to the village children being resentful and jealous of those skills she had, and all their parents felt the same about the half-breed girls, so this day they didn't have to worry about parents or Priscilla's sibling interfering with them.
"'Look, it's a daemon," one whispered. 'Maybe we should grab her and see if we can take her horns,' another said. They closed in on her with their grubby faces and hands touching her. One of them held a sharp knife. A pair of small boys pinned her arms back, and a girl stepped forward with the dagger. Priscilla kicked and struggled relentlessly, but their grasp was too firm. The knife was raised and came down to slash at her hair. Then the blade was harmlessly floating away as a tall and menacing man joined the circle.
"What are you doing to my friend," I asked them. The children guiltily backed away. One tried to escape, running off into the trees, but I caught him at the back of his collar. I gave the boy a solid shake and a spank, sending him off into the trees with a flea in his ear.
"The young Priscilla drifted over to me partially hiding behind my back and squeezing my hand as she looked out at the other children.
"'Why are you here, so far from your home,' one of the little boys complained grumpily. 'We aren't due for the ceremony for a few more years, and she can't have done her tour yet and met you in your home.'
"All nymphs were required to set up a relationship with a contractee, which could be either a plant or body of water of some variety. As such, a preteen nymph`s parents would take them on a tour throughout the Eastern Woods, and even further afield if necessary, in order to find a possible contractee who had not already teamed up with a nymph. It could be a difficult task, because the most powerful contractors that could take a solid form and move about the world without a nymph's help tended to disdain taking on a lopsided relationship with one of them.
"'We have met,' the man said firmly. 'It is not wise for children such as yourself to be so rude to your elder,' he chastised. The children grumbled, pouting when he refused greater explanations.
"'My mother took me around to tour her people`s homeland,' Priscilla whispered from behind his broad back. 'I t-t-talked to him there,' she stuttered.
The other children took a single step away from her in unison. 'Her mother,' one whispered. 'The daemon,' another said. 'I hear they like to burn the trees,' another muttered in disgust.
"Hey! Don't be so rude," I said. They looked at me in surprise, then her.
"'It's not rude if they're monsters,' one shouted. 'Everyone hates her family, even our parents,' the little girl with a knife added. When I glared at them they ran away like a flock of startled starlings, ready to return whenever the coast was clear.
"Priscilla stood by, suddenly, convulsively squeezing my hand harder than ever before. I looked down at her face, even paler than usual. I instinctively caught her up into a giant bear hug. Kneeling, I set her down again and looked her straight in the eye. 'I can stick with you,' I said seriously. "How about I be your contractor and stay by your side?" I smiled, holding her hands in kind.
"'Are you sure about that,' she asked. I nodded. 'Okay,'" she whispered.
"I mean, people who are as good friends as us shouldn't be anything else," I said, standing and twirling her around. She giggled, a smile finally splitting through her frowns.
Dürin blushed, breaking off from his reminisces. "I was determined to stay by my friend after that. Since we started the bond when she was so young, part of her identity is dependent on my nearness anyways, so we are connected even more strongly than most. It doesn't hurt her, mind you," he added. "Besides, my contractee is one of the most powerful of her race."
The girl blinked and shook her head in confusion, blond hair falling on her golden skin. "Was he talking to you," she asked casually. The vampire seemed a little surprised that she was so nonchalant about the whole matter.
"Injured?" Layel asked. He brushed a hair off her face. With concern he leaned in to inspect how well she was doing. She blushed scarlet, leaning away from his presence. "Scared?" he asked in concern. She silently shook her head emphatically, staring at the floor. He nodded and handed her a cookie. "Eat if you like. Please wait to leave until I am sure the shifters are gone from the area," he added.
She nodded solemnly.
He smiled at her as he went out into the rest of his home.
CHAPTER THREE
Dark Foretellings
Layel's Hall was soon filled to bursting with more than just young Priscilla taking up his guest rooms. The vampire king, Cillean, and his right-hand man, Daerick, had stopped by as well with Priscilla's big sister, Jackie, knocked out on their shoulders.
Cillean and Darien went in to the guest suite to check on their charges again. Jackie was still passed out in her room. Normally, the effect of vampire breath would knock a Mundane human out for half an hour or so, but a nymph was another matter altogether. Their species was prone to sleeping decades away in their contracting trees or bodies of water, so the short-term sleep spell tended to be a little too effective on their bodies. Cillean busied himself setting a damp cloth on her brow, while Daerick was tasked with setting a time-delayed enchantment that would switch her old clothes, worn from weeks of traveling, with fresh ones once they had left the room.
&
nbsp; "Um, sirs," a tentative voice from the doorway came. Both of them looked to see the owner of the Hall standing in the doorway. He swept his hair out of his face to see them more clearly, revealing his features, much darker than the other two vampires. It was clear he had been Latino when he was still alive, though centuries serving his king had given him a strongly Eastern European accent. "I have something of great importance to speak with you about, your majesty." Both of them turned to face him. He wrung his hands. "Well, you see...," he started to say.
"An old friend has come to visit," Aeron interrupted, stepping into the room by pushing the subordinate blood sucker aside. The vampires both jumped in surprise, then dashed forward to greet the man.
"Aeron my man! Come for a drink or two?" Cillean asked, his fist rubbing the dragon's head.
"Nourishment is necessary on extended journeys," Daerin chipped in.
"Search and rescue was my plan for this trip, but it didn't end up being such a long journey after all," Aeron responded, smiling. "That said, some lunch wouldn't hurt," he said. Cillean gave a great guffaw, slapping the dragon on the back. Daerin was silently excited as well.
"I always thought dragons were meant to be speedy and breakable, but you're pounding as heavy as a bear claw, and I've seen before that in battle you're faster than a leopard. It's not fair or decent for you to be so energetic," Aeron complained.
"You didn't know?" Cillean asked. "I`m the first of my kind, a half-breed vampire. Paving the way for future generations. Huzzah," he said dryly.
"It is this trait that makes him so important," Daerin agreed.
"I thought it was because he was ancient," Aeron joked.
"Nah. There's plenty of ancients among us, and he certainly isn't the oldest. He has led us for so long because of his charming disposition." They smiled at each other and started to walk out of the still sleeping girl's chamber.
The smaller vampire tried to pop his head into the middle of the group again. "I'm glad to see you, my prince, but I still have something urgent to speak about with my king," he protested. The other vampires patted him on the shoulders and shooed him away with promises of listening to his story once they'd completed their talk. Layel finally sighed and trudged back to Priscilla's room to get out of their way.
