Callie's Guardian: White Tigers of Brigantia (Book 1)
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Kalgrin spat out globules of red, checking for any other wyrms. There were none.
Thank skies for that. All it took was one mistake on his part to end the whole thing.
Come on, Leoch. Fly your stubborn ass over here.
Surely it must be midnight by now...
A few minutes later, dark shapes converged in the sky, descending to the ground below. Kalgrin went to greet Leoch by the right side of the mansion, who gave him an elaborate bow, eyes grim.
“Was it hard for you, Kal?” Leoch watched with Kalgrin as the drakes wandered along the human village, spreading the news. At first, the humans were sluggish on the uptake. Most, like Anya, had never seen drakes, so having these winged beings waddling amongst their homes made them gape in amazement. More of the humans came out of their huts, staring at the winged drakes and witnessing the dead wyrms for themselves. Letting it sink in that they'd been rescued.
Kalgrin doubted many would cheer. A lifetime of soul crushing did that to a person. He chewed his bottom lip, considering Leoch's question. Hard? Not really. Nerve-wracking? Yes.
“Easier than the last one. The lord there insisted on the kill order for his serfs when the alarm was raised. If he couldn’t have them, neither could we.” Kalgrin only managed to save half the humans. He wondered sometimes if the dead ones were better off in the ground, rather than living in a wyrm regime.
“Tragedy,” Leoch murmured, shaking his head. “Did you rehome the girl you saved yet?”
“No. Not yet. It's not been that long.” Kalgrin didn’t want to admit he intended to keep her if possible. “She wanted to know if her family were alright. She overheard the wyrms threatening to kill her grandfather if they didn’t give up her location, so I’m not looking forward to giving her bad news. You know what these bastards are like. I wouldn't mind giving some good news for once.”
“Yeah, I do know what they're like,” Leoch nodded, before patting Kalgrin on the back. “That's good of you, Kal. You go check on the girl’s family. We’ll take care of the rest.”
Kalgrin thanked Leoch, slowly walking through the village, heart heavy. He checked through every rescued human, staring with filthy faces, their new situations slowly dawning upon their minds.
He mentally prepared himself for the worst. He knew how to shut himself off, to be cold and cruel, and forget that other people existed, that others had lives. Even with the wyrms. No room for weakness here. Not whilst he needed to send a message to the political establishments of their country. Not as long as humans got treated as beasts, killed without mercy, hunted for sport and whipped for work. Not as long as they continued to ignore the growing murmurs of dissent, and tip the balance of power further.
Not as long as Kalgrin's own people got treated as barely worth the effort.
No. Things needed to change. Being passive did nothing. Using reason got ignored. Only action, blood, and fear worked for these creatures.
Nothing else.
Chapter Four
Walking through the streets of Tarn felt off to Anya. She still couldn't get used to the fact that she could actually do so, and people didn't intend to throw her in a jail cell, or flog her for roaming past her boundaries. No plantations existed for miles. No serfs picked their way through wheat fields and lay crippled on their mats at night. People slept in houses. Thatch and wood and stone.
She saw humans and drakes chatting to one another, laughing, smiling. She saw humans running bars and drakes selling wares to humans. She even saw a drake selling flights to humans to other towns and cities, or doing it just for the joy of flying around. Selling flights? What a novel concept.
Everything struck her as bizarre and surreal. How was it all even possible? How could she walk down these cobbled lanes, dressed like a woman, without a layer of mud over her face, hair allowed to tumble to just above her shoulders?
Not only that, but people smiled, and waved, and didn’t look as though they were about to collapse or starve to death. It pretty much felt like being dumped on an alien planet.
The freedom didn't sit right with Anya. Perhaps she was like one of those kittens she once rescued from drowning. Some lout decided to keep three kittens stuck in a tiny cage. He didn't want them roaming away, and they lay there in their own wastes, mewling, until eventually, they gave up and just crouched listlessly.
Anya snuck into his hut one night and opened the cage, and the kittens still sat there in their cage, unmoving. They didn't seem to comprehend they'd been freed, or perhaps they'd forgotten what it felt like.
Anya didn't even know what freedom felt like. It took some coaxing for those weak kittens to stagger out. Two of them ran into the wilderness. One stayed within the village, and visited Anya for years afterwards, until one day it disappeared. She still thought of that kitten with some fondness.
I am like it. My cage is open, but I still don't understand that I'm free. I still don't comprehend that my life will never be the same again.
She wished desperately in this moment that she could share the newfound freedom with her family, whose fate still remained unknown. As did Kalgrin's. He said he'd be back by early morning, but she woke up to an empty house.
Gods, if she lost Kalgrin as well...
No, don't go there. You know nothing yet. It might be taking him a while to fly back.
She quelled the anxiety in her heart as best as she was able. Just because she could, Anya wandered into a shop selling beverages, and three women and two men greeted her.
“Hey! Come over here, new girl. Let me introduce you to the rest of the crew.”
Anya smiled at the speaker, Seon. She looked around twenty or so years in age, in the perfect picture of health, smiling with fabulous white teeth. It made Anya more self-conscious of her own yellow teeth, and she licked her tongue nervously over them. She intended to find some kind of whitener to help her smile become glossier. Kalgrin had rather obviously shoved Anya in Seon's direction, so the barmaid was in a position to watch over her. The babysitting embarrassed Anya a little, but secretly, she appreciated it as well. She needed the guidance. Still hadn't gotten used to life in the town. Didn't know if she would. Kalgrin intended her to adapt to it, of course. He wanted her to learn to settle down and not keep looking over her shoulder for death to descend.
Maybe she even could settle down in time. Maybe she'd learn to fit in, and not act like a twitchy slave. Not whilst she kept worrying about her family, though. Kendra left a hole in Anya's heart. Along with her four siblings, and her near toothless grandpa.
Her grandpa was covered with scars. Her mother had a fair share as well, hidden under her tattered shirt. Once, Kendra suffered punishment from the wyrms because she didn't respond fast enough to one of their orders. It gained her two cracked ribs which never quite healed right.
Anya chewed her bottom lip, thinking of Kalgrin. Wondering if he would find her family, if he had succeeded, or if he lay dead. She didn't think such a powerful creature would die, but... the wyrms. They towered taller, thicker. Held a reputation for viciousness. Nurtured cruelty in their hearts like campfires.
What caused a creature to be so twisted? Why did they endorse senseless violence with reckless passion? How in the world did they think such treatment worked long term? It built up in the soul. Memory after memory passed down. All until it accumulated in a melting pot of rebellious despair. People who already felt dead, deciding that they may as well just fight.
How many human rebellions had been put down over the centuries? And how many more would rise? Surely something like this didn't work in the long run. Resentment had a way of festering. And even though Anya might have been crushed down over time, she held a lot of it inside, simmering. Because all the problems in the world boiled down to the oppression of the wyrms.
They needed to die. But she had no power. No form to transform into, no forbidden magic to wield at her fingertips. Perhaps she might make a better life for herself in a place like Tarn. But could she settle for a job, a hom
e, without thinking of the plantations, of where other humans toiled miserably until they expired?
She wrenched herself out of these thoughts, knowing they formed a scowl upon her forehead.
“Cloud covering your sun, I see,” Seon declared, now flicking her jet-black hair dramatically over her shoulder. “You know, Kalgrin's put me in charge of making sure you don't trip over your own shoelaces.” She glanced at Anya's new shoes, which reflected some of the sunlight streaming through the windows into the inn. “But you always walk around like a wyrm ate your mother.”
Anya started at the comparison, before reassuring herself that Seon meant it in jest. “That's actually part of my issue. A wyrm might have done that.”
The dark-haired woman scowled, tapping her fingers upon the table. “Oh? Is that why you sit here like this? You're worried?”
“Yes. Kalgrin went to the plantation last night. He's not back yet. My family... I don't know if they're alive. The last I heard of them, wyrm guards were threatening them to reveal my location. I barely managed to escape out of there.”
“Skies,” Seon said. She glanced over to the side, as if seeing something there. Anya peeked as well, but spotted nothing. The woman appeared nervous. “I don't have much of a family connection myself. But I understand that leaving people you love behind, not knowing if they're dead... no. No wonder.”
The other women nearby Seon had silenced. Anya tried to recall their names. Harriet. A Krissy. Jalyun? Jaljun? A name that began with a D? The recollection muddled in Anya's mind. Always had trouble with that blasted memory. She didn't want to keep asking for their names, when they all knew hers by heart.
“I still don't know how to handle the idea I'm free. I don't even know if I am free, and this isn't all just some dream I'll soon wake up from.”
The raven-dark woman grimaced at this. “Messed with your head, living like that, right?”
Anya closed her eyes, not bothering to respond. Seeing the life unfold before her again. Smelling the wheat fields, the rain upon the soil, along with the stench of human waste and despair in the village. She saw the ramshackle huts that barely withstood a sneeze, let alone a storm if it raged above the region, with the growl of thunder and tendrils of lightning. That image suited her former life, somehow. A field under a purple dark sky, the pressure low and heavy in her lungs. People toiling even as the storms lashed over them, bolts flickering in the shape of wyrms. Despair whipping over them. Evil sinking their bodies to the ground, until they died and became part of the soil and the grass and wheat grew over their bones.
“I heard that the rural areas, like the mines, the plantations, the lumberyards and coastal regions had it the worst. They say that without the calming influence of civilization, it allows cruelty to run unchecked.”
“I don't think it's anything to do with the region,” Anya whispered then. “I think it's something to do with the fact that the wyrms just hate us. But I don't understand why. What did we do? Hate doesn't come out of nowhere. I know I hate them because of what they did to us. So what did we do to them?”
Seon paused at this question, her eyebrows pinched together, her lips tight. Something about the woman let Anya think that she understood things about the world. Probably hosted quite the mind under that pretty exterior. Probably held onto her secrets as fiercely as anyone she'd known.
Who didn't? The world was full of secrets, after all. What interested her mildly was the fact that the two men were drakes, and partners to Seon’s friends.
“I don't know. They say it might have been something to do with the past. But no one seems to know exactly what that something in the past is. Maybe we offended their king or something.” Seon placed a friendly hand on Anya’s wrist. “You’ll need to stop these gloomy thoughts, Anya. You’re free. You’re not a prisoner anymore. If you keep dwelling on your work on the plantations, you're still a prisoner in your mind. Be careful of that.”
True. She was a prisoner in her mind. But not in the way Seon thought.
“Come,” Seon said. “I'll show you around the bar, get you used to how things work. You can start with cleaning the dishes and tidying the bedcovers before you progress to becoming a barmaid and needing to interact with people. I expect you'll need to build up some self-confidence before that.”
Anya sighed, but she agreed. She didn't think she'd be able to deal with hundreds of people demanding things of her at once. She didn't think she had the force of will to handle others.
I'm so weak. Why am I so weak? How do I stop being weak? She stared at her calloused, rough hands. Slave hands. Hands that had been bruised, cut, torn and left exposed to the sun. Her arms were a darker shade then the rest of her body. And the shadows under Anya's eyes dug into her skin, refusing to let go their grip of exhaustion.
Going into a chore, like cleaning and washing dishes, was easy and mechanical. Anya knew how to work, to switch off her mind and just focus on nothing else. Work could take away the gloom for a while. Just the pure, physical task of swinging her muscles, concentrating on the thing ahead of her.
Briefly, her mind skimmed to Kalgrin. His gray eyes had that quality of stealing attention. Well, the quality was nothing to do with the color of his eyes, but from the soul that hid behind them. Something earnest and true burned there. This was someone who cared.
Someone who also seemed to be dragging his heels on letting Anya go. She strongly suspected that he wanted to keep her around for as long as possible before letting her into that shadowy organization which helped deal with people who had escaped the worse aspects of their lives. He likely could have done it on the first day, and taken her off his hands.
Except he didn't.
Why?
Why did people do anything? Her blood gave a peculiar lurch in her system. As if something inside had upset the usual rhythm.
I think I might be sad when I have to leave him, she decided. And sad to find out if he died during his attempt at the plantation.
That made more sense to her befuddled brain. Foam covered the dishes she washed. Her hands puckered up in the lukewarm water, becoming supple, knobbly at the tips. Easy to wash. Easy to forget like this. Maybe she could settle here.
Right now, if her mind wandered off the work for even a second, the worry settled in her mouth like charcoal.
She worked for a few hours, before Seon released her for the day. Still in training mode. Anya loitered in the street for a few minutes, absorbing the hectic bustle of the markets, full of people who always seemed to be busy doing things. No blanket of oppression existed here. Just people living lives, drakes and humans.
Eventually, she meandered back to Kalgrin’s house. She couldn’t call it home yet.
She didn’t know where home existed. Even with the time she had interacting with Kalgrin, she still felt out of place. His smiles, his kindness felt out of place. Everything did, because people just didn't do that to her.
How did he not look at her with contempt or lust? How did he not just reach out and take her whenever he wanted, knowing there was fuck-all she could do against him?
It continued to haunt her on the way back.
He doesn't act like I thought he should.
Part of her liked that revelation. Most of her didn't know how to deal with it.
His little house was wedged in between a row of other builds, same design, uniform in nature. Still a better living place than where I used to be. She pushed through the door after turning her little iron key in the lock. Wondering if he'd be there. Hoping, even. The door creaked shut behind her, pushed by her palm.
Her heart leaped into her throat.
Kendra and her grandpa sat on two of the three armchairs in the living room. She also spotted her two little brothers crawling around the floor. Both younger girls seemed to be sleeping in Kalgrin's bed, which could be seen through the open door there.
“Ma!” Anya slammed her hands over her mouth, heart palpitating wildly. “You’re okay! Ma! You’re… here?”
“Mom!”
Kendra patted Anya on the back, like she used to when Anya cried as a youngling. “You’re looking so well! Been so long since I saw you without your muck.” She kissed Anya on the cheek.
Anya stared at her grandpa, who gave her a gap-toothed smile and a wave. Tears welled up. She had heard the guards threatening to kill him. Yet here he was. With a broken wrist, maybe – she fixed on that with a glint of anger, seeing the bundle of rags that held it together – but alive.
Everyone lived. What a miracle. Somehow, the wyrms had restrained themselves, not slaughtering her family like squealing hogs.
“How are my brothers and sisters? Did they get hurt?”
“Fine, fine,” Kendra assured her. “You can see them for yourself. Two out like lights in that nice bed, two squirming like bugs on the floor. What a nice young man that Kalgrin of yours is. Who would have thought you had nice dragons? Oh, I never knew. Never in all my years. But it’s true. They came, him and his dragons, all of them came, took us out of there. Couldn’t believe it. I’m still in shock now!”
Anya gave her mother a wry smile at her excitement. “Did it go alright? Did he take care of the wyrms?”
“Yes. Him and his drake friends. Most of us just stood dumbly outside our huts. Didn't understand what was happening. Didn't know why the guards were dead. It took him some persuading, mind.”
“I can imagine,” Anya said, her heart impossibly light at the realization that everyone was okay. No one had died for her dreams of being something more. She pictured it now. Their captors dead, and the drakes prowling through the dirt lanes, calling out that the humans were free. That they didn't need to work another day on the plantations again.
Imagine that relief when the information finally sank in. That elation spreading across people's faces, or the humans sitting down and weeping, struggling to process the good news. Maybe they regarded the drakes with reverence, awe, or fear.