Lost in the Dawn (Erythleh Chronicles Book 1)

by Catherine Johnson

  On the day of the Twelfth Moon, Serwren, Ulli and Jorrell had taken a selection of offerings to each of the four temples, in accordance with the annual tradition of the country. A large silver salmon, that Ulli had caught, and carried in a bowl of water barely big enough to contain its length, had been sacrificed to Doohr with a ceremonial silver knife at the temple. Serwren had sacrificed a dove at the altar of Aweer, and all three had laid a selection of fruits and vegetables at the altar of Thyar. Jorrell had tossed the bloody heart of a stag into the pyre that engulfed the stone altar of Taan. The smell of burnt flesh from the multitude of offerings, almost too dense to stand, had caught obstinately in the back of Serwren's throat and had threatened to derail the whole day's arrangements.

  Jorrell had suggested that they spend some time outside, before preparing for the ceremonies and celebrations that would take place in the evening. Despite the cool temperature, Serwren had been only too happy to breathe some fresh, untainted air. She had wondered what Jorrell was about when he had begun to guide them to the barracks, until she heard a wild screech and realised that his destination included the gryphons that the En Dek had brought from the Isle in honour of the matrimonial occasion.

  Ulli had been frightened by the harsh noise, and had not been much calmed by the sight of the beasts. Although Serwren had no fear of the gryphons, she was nervous when Jorrell suggested that Ulli might like to try sitting on one, after all, a fall from such a height could easily result in a broken bone for her son, but she had put her misgivings aside when she recognised the gryphon that Jorrell pointed out to Ulli. It was the same one that had set the dominoes of fate in motion so many years ago. Its sense of humour was no less caustic, but it did appear to be rather better behaved. That the animal seemed to recognise her, after so many years, was a source of amazement for Serwren.

  Cael had interrupted the strange reunion to remind all three of them that they were required to make some preparations before arriving at the Feast. Cael had pulled Jorrell in one direction as Serwren had practically dragged Ulli to their rooms. Ulli had not stopped chattering about how he wanted to visit the Isle and join the En Dek all the while that he was being washed and dressed by Aileth. Serwren listened to her son's excited chatter with a light heart; there were worse ambitions to aim for.

  Eventually, after much fussing and primping from both Mara and Aileth, Serwren had stood on the dais, showered with the glittering prisms of the shining candlelit ballroom, and had counted herself blessed. The long ago night that had heralded her betrothal to Bornsig was little more than a dim memory. This night could not be more different.

  Ulli had stood proudly by Serwren's side as the High Priests and Priestesses of the four temples, the same ones that had performed her inauguration as First Mother, had intoned the words of the ceremony that would bind her and Jorrell to each other, cementing their developing family.

  Jorrell had been a breathtaking and distracting sight. He had worn his full armour for the ceremony, with the intention of removing some of the more awkward pieces for the celebrations afterwards. The bronze scales had been polished to a blinding shine and the metal had made him even more imposing, seemingly somehow broader and taller. Dressed in his battle garb, even readied for ritual as it was, Jorrell had looked deadly and inherently dangerous, but Serwren had no fear of him. In fact, his stature had proven most distracting.

  From the moment she'd first seen him that day, Serwren had felt her body grow heavy with desire. Her reactions only strengthened in the heat of his proximity. Jorrell's scent, the musky rosemary and lemon that conjured memories of a time when they'd both been innocent of life, distracted her until she was unable to speak.

  After so many years, it was still almost strange and new to feel desire rather than fear or confusion at the prospect of intimate contact. That she could trust Jorrell was inarguable, a simple truth. His feelings for her, his intents, were written clearly in his blazing gaze, which was intense enough to make Serwren shiver.

  She knew that he preferred when she dressed simply, without adornment - or was naked - with her hair loose, but she also knew that when she was dressed in more complex, structured garments, with her hair in elaborate braids or rolls, that he very much enjoyed being the one to tear such careful preparation apart. On this night she had dressed in a glittering silver shift, simply cinched at her waist with a thin ribbon. She had arranged her hair artfully, knowing how much Jorrell would enjoy pulling the pins from it. She wore no jewellery or any other adornment. She had given up the habit of wearing the silver cuffs. The small scars that Seddrill's attentions had left on her wrists were barely noticeable. Altogether, it was a much simpler ensemble than the one she had married Bornsig in. That night, her dress had been as black as her despair, and the yards of material had been an abyss between her body and her husband. Now, she felt like one of the stars shining in the night sky, bright enough to compete with the bloated moon. Her heart was light, and the thin material would not even be a moment's barrier to Jorrell.

  The rooms that had always been occupied by whoever held the office of First Father had been cleaned and refurbished, and the works had been completed in time for Serwren and Jorrell's wedding night. Aileth had decreed that Ulli would stay with her in her rooms for several nights to give Serwren and Jorrell more privacy. Ulli, knowing that he would be spoiled with stories and sweet treats by the woman he considered to be a kind of grandmother, had enthusiastically agreed.

  Although they had been intimate for several moons, Serwren felt herself blush with inexplicable shyness as Jorrell locked the door to the rooms that they would now share. The expectancy of the situation, the assumption that they would purposefully make love, rather than snatch a rare opportunity of privacy, left her unsure how to proceed.

  Serwren retreated to the bedroom, leaving Jorrell to follow her, but the sight of the massive bed, an ornately carved monolith with posts at each corner draped in snowy white gauze, made her pause just inside the doorway. She was still for several heartbeats, then took a few tentative steps into the room. Just as she was beginning to master her nerves in favour of wondering what was taking Jorrell so long, he appeared in the doorway, holding two crystal goblets full of ruby liquid.

  "Here." He passed one of the cups of wine to her and she took it. "We should make a toast."

  "What to?" Serwren tried to hide the tremble in her limbs as she held the glass.

  "To obstacles overcome..." Jorrell lifted his drink.

  "And a lifetime of opportunity to be embraced." Serwren lifted her own cup in response.

  "I'll drink to that" Jorrell grinned, a guileless smile of enjoyment, then drank half the wine in his goblet. He placed the glass on a convenient surface and approached Serwren.

  Suddenly there did not seem to be enough air on the room. For the eating, drinking and dancing that had followed their formal wedding, Jorrell had removed almost all of his armour, and the few pieces he'd left on must have been discarded as he was pouring the wine, because they were absent now. Serwren was suddenly aware of the fragility of the few garments they were wearing, the insubstantiality of the fabric barriers between their bodies.

  "I have a gift for you."

  Serwren had to physically shake her head to make her ears accept the sound of the words. She had been lost in memories that had the taste of premonitions.

  Jorrell caught her wrist and pulled her hand away from her body. He took her goblet and reached to place it next to his own. He turned Serwren's hand to face upwards, and held a small black bag over it that he'd produced from who-knew-where. He upended the bag over her fingers and the contents fell into her palm. Serwren found herself looking at a ring, cold and heavy against her skin. An oval diamond, the size of her finger nail, was set into silver, and flashed fire with every ray of light it caught.

  "Jor..." Serwren had to remember to drag air into her lungs. The giving of gifts between the bride and groom was traditional, but not always rigidly adhered to. "It's beautiful."
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  Jorrell plucked the ring from her palm, turned her hand over, and slipped the jewel onto her longest finger. It fit perfectly. It was on her dominant hand; she would see it almost every moment of every day.

  "A diamond is unbreakable, just as you are. It seemed fitting."

  The stone was so startlingly luminescent, Serwren wondered if she would ever be able to tear her eyes away from it. Certainly at the moment, she found it difficult to lift her eyes from the stone to Jorrell's face. She had been preparing a gift for him for a little while. The origin of her gift had been borne out of an injustice that, even as s First Mother, she could not rectify, but she had not been able to think of anything that she could give to Jorrell that would mean more to him, save the baby in her belly and the son that they were enfolding in both their hearts.

  "Jor," Serwren raised her eyes, and found Jorrell studying her. He wasn't smiling; he looked a little worried at her pause. Serwren decided that there was little to be gained from being circuitous about the matter. She plunged directly into the speech that she'd been turning over in her mind.

  "Jor, I've sent emissaries to Dorvek to enquire after Elthrinn. If they report to me that she's unhappy in any way, I will cast Felthiss into war to free her, but if she is content, there is little I can do to bring her home. For the present, I am negotiating for the opportunity for us to visit her."

  Jorrell seemed as stunned by her offer as Serwren had been by his gift. His brow creased, and then he cupped Serwren's face with both hands and held her still whilst he kissed her, thoroughly and completely, until her knees were weak.

  When he pulled back, he whispered against Serwren's lips, "Thank you. Thank you. To see my sister after all these years... to know if she is happy... content... I would like to be noble, to say that I could sacrifice her happiness for the good of Felthiss and that I would leave her be, even if she was in pain, but I can't, I won't. If Felthiss goes to war to free her, I will ride at the head of the vanguard. But, if Elthrinn is satisfied with her life in Dorvek, I won't put you in jeopardy. You can't travel that distance."

  "I'm not made of glass," Serwren argued gently.

  "No," Jorrell pressed his lips to hers. "You are infinitely more precious."

  Serwren sighed. Sometimes there was just no way to argue with Jorrell's endearments. Sometimes, there was just no need to.

  "I suspected you'd say something like that, which is why I'm proposing that introducing her to her new niece or nephew will be the purpose of the visit."

  They were standing so close together that Serwren saw the tear that trembled over the edge of the lid of Jorrell's eye. She freed her hand from his, and reached between them to catch it on her fingertips. The movement, the touch, seemed to startle Jorrell out of his thoughts. His face remained set in stern lines, but his eyes lit with intent, with need. Serwren let out a girlish squeak when Jorrell suddenly dipped, caught one arm behind her knees, and swept her legs from under as he lifted her into his arms.

  As Jorrell carried her over to the bed, Serwren laid her head against his broad chest to listen to the thump of his strong heart. They had both been tested to their limits. Their love had endured years of separation. If it could survive thus far, Serwren had no doubt that they could only be stronger together. Whatever their stars foretold, they would face those challenges, and the resulting failures and victories, together, forever.

  The End.