Through A Dragon's Eyes_A Reverse Harem Fantasy

by Marissa Farrar

  At least her discomfort from her thirst helped to take her mind off losing Layla and the sort of turmoil her parents would be in now. They wouldn’t know yet, she guessed. In fact, it might be a week or more before they learned what had happened. It all depended on whether anyone had survived and made it back to Anthoinia to tell their tale. If no one survived, the City Guard would have to send a search party out to find them, and put together whatever they learned to create a story of their own. Of course, she doubted they’d ever figure out what happened to her, unless she made it home herself.

  Dela gave herself a mental shake. Not unless she made it home. She would make it home. She had to. She needed to be there for her parents, and tell Layla’s family exactly what had happened. It had been one of the things she’d struggled with so badly after losing Ridley—the not knowing. If she’d known exactly what had happened to him, would it have saved her the sleepless night after night of turning over the possibilities in her mind? Or would it just have given her something different to obsess about, and the knowledge of exactly how he’d died would have kept her awake instead?

  Warsgra was well ahead of them now. He stopped and froze for a moment, and she wondered what he’d seen, but then he turned back to them and yelled, “I can hear running water!”

  Dela looked to Orergon, who’d been walking by her side the whole way, his handsome face serious, and she saw the first hint of a smile touch his dark eyes.

  “You were right,” she said.

  “Yes,” he replied, as though he’d always known he would be.

  The promise of water made her pick up her pace. Every muscle in her body ached, and a headache had formed right behind her eyes, but she knew rehydrating would make her feel a million times better. It wouldn’t change anything about their situation, but at least she’d be able to think clearly again.

  They hurried forward. Warsgra had waited for them, and Vehel reached him first, and then waited for them to catch up. He hadn’t mentioned the carrying incident again. He seemed like a gentleman, as did Orergon—though Orergon was more attuned to nature—completely unlike Warsgra.

  They stood still, and her ears strained. “I can’t hear anything.”

  “I can,” said Vehel. “I heard it while I was some way away.”

  Orergon nodded. “I can hear it, too, but I’ve learned how to pick up on such sounds.”

  “Human hearing is never going to be as good as any of ours,” Warsgra joined in. “You’ve forgotten how to use your natural abilities.”

  By the Gods! What was wrong with this man? It was as though he took any and every opportunity to have a dig at anyone around him, including her. She hated that, despite his brutishness, he was actually extremely handsome. Full lips, a strong nose, bright green eyes, and a strong jaw covered in a scruff of beard. His long hair fell around his broad shoulders, and sometimes she found herself staring too long at the size of his bicep. It wasn’t far from being the size of her head.

  Dela tried not to be disappointed at her useless hearing—it wasn’t her fault she was made the way she was. The most important thing was that they were near water. Her parched mouth and throat wanted to scream out for it, but she didn’t think she even had the energy.

  “Use your great hearing and take us to the water, then.”

  “This way.”

  They passed one tree, and then another, then a couple clumped together. The ground started to dip and grow softer. She smelled it on the air, a dampness where there had only been heat before. Hope lifted her heart. It was such a simple, basic thing to hope for, but that was what her life had been reduced to for the moment. If she didn’t find those simple things in order to survive, she’d never make it back to her parents.

  The men had already started in the direction of the water, and she hurried after them. The ground became dappled in shade from the trees, and she was grateful for the break in the endless sunshine. But then she realized it wasn’t only the trees that created the shade. The sun had reached the point on the horizon where it still offered light, but was no longer completely visible.

  Night was upon them.

  “There!”

  It wasn’t much, a babbling brook a mere couple of feet wide, but it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. A cry of delight burst from her throat and she stumbled forward, landing on all fours on the bank. She didn’t even care that the water seeped through to her knees. She leaned forward, so her face was only inches from the water, and cupped her hands. She dipped into the cool liquid and scooped the water up to her mouth and drank deeply. It was the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted, and she gulped it down, before retrieving another handful, and another, and another.

  A hand on her shoulder made her pause. “Take it slowly,” a voice said from behind. “Or you’ll make yourself sick.”

  She turned to see Orergon behind her, frowning at her in concern. She wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but then her stomach did a strange, loud gurgle, and she put her hand over her mouth. When was the last time she’d eaten or drunk anything? It had been the morning they’d set out on the final leg of the trip down the Southern Pass, and that felt like a lifetime ago now. With her thirst quenched, her thoughts went to food. Maybe they’d be able to find something here. Fruit in the trees, or perhaps Orergon would be able to put his spear to good use and hunt them a couple of those birds they’d seen.

  She glanced over at the others. Warsgra had planted his hands and knees in the mud on the side of the bank and drank from the brook by lowering his head to the water. Vehel crouched, scooping water with his hand, in much the same way she’d done.

  “You haven’t drunk anything yet,” she pointed out to Orergon.

  “I was waiting for everyone else to finish. We couldn’t all take our guard away while we were drinking. It would make us too vulnerable, and we have no idea who or what might also have taken up refuge here.”

  He’d been watching out for them all, she realized. What kind of mental strength did it take to be dying of thirst, and yet hold yourself back? He didn’t really know any of them, and didn’t owe them a single thing, but still he put their safety before his own needs and protected them while they took care of theirs.

  “Drink,” she told him, pulling her dagger out from its place in her belt. “I’ll watch out now.”

  He nodded his understanding, and she got to her feet and took a couple of steps away from the water, giving Orergon room to crouch at the water’s edge. She straightened and looked around, staying alert for any sign of movement that might indicate something larger than a bird.

  Sudden splashing came from the water, and she spun, brandishing her dagger. Her heart thumped, not knowing what she was going to find. She’d expected something to have lunged out of the water to try to pull Orergon in, but instead she witnessed Warsgra stomping around in the shallows, his head bent over the water.

  She frowned at him in confusion. “What, by the Gods …”

  But he lunged down, sinking his hand beneath the surface, and the next moment he pulled up a good sized fish in his fist, its scales glinting purple, blue, and green under the late day’s sun. He whipped around with surprising grace considering his size, and smacked the fish’s head on a boulder, before throwing it, barely flapping, onto the shore at Dela’s feet. Her stomach growled in hunger even as the fish flailed in its final death throes.

  Warsgra’s head darted from side to side, his green eyes bright, his hair damp at the ends and in scraggles around his shoulders. Even Vehel had stopped what he was doing to look up and watch the mesmerizing show of the Norc fishing. It was like watching a bear in its natural territory—fearsome but beautiful. He darted down a second time and snatched up another fish, repeating the process of knocking it almost unconscious and then throwing it to the bank.

  Dela whooped her joy and jumped up and down, clapping her hands. Only an hour earlier, all had felt hopeless—they’d been dehydrated, without shelter and starving, but now they’d sated the
ir thirst, had the shelter of the trees, and they’d be eating well tonight. It didn’t change how she was swimming in grief at the loss of Layla, and she didn’t think anything would ever ease the ache in her heart, but at least the physical side of her pain was taken care of.

  The thought of what was still to come towered over her, overwhelming her, but she knew she couldn’t give in to it. If she did, she’d give up, and she had to make it back to her parents. She couldn’t let them go to their death beds believing they’d lost both of their children.

  Warsgra caught a third fish, and then ploughed his way back out of the river, the water sloshing around his muscled thighs.

  “We don’t have a fire,” she said. “Can we make one?”

  “We don’t need a fire to eat. Fresh fish is good, and its flesh has plenty of water in it. It’s good to eat like this.” Warsgra picked up a flinty piece of rock and got to work on one of the fish, scraping the scales from its body, and then opening its belly with the sharp side of the rock. He scooped out the inside, and then picked up a dark, shiny, fleshy part.

  “Ah, the liver. Best bit.” He threw it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed.

  Dela wrinkled her nose, but her stomach did gurgle. She’d eat the raw fish if she had to, but the idea of it roasting on an open fire was far more appealing. She looked around, spotting fallen twigs and leaves from the trees on the ground.

  “I’m sure we can get a fire going.”

  She set about collecting what she could find, picking twigs up from the ground. The temperature meant everything was dried out, and she was even able to scrape brittle moss from the side of a rock to use as a bundle of fibers for the kindling. The men watched her for a moment, and then set about helping, snapping the larger branches down to a better size, before setting them up in a teepee shape.

  She didn’t have a flint and steel to create a spark, and so would need to use friction, which was a long and tiring way of setting a fire.

  Dela put her hands on her hips and sighed, suddenly exhausted and not sure she had it in her to create a flame. “Surely one of you must have a flint and steel on your person?”

  Vehel stepped forward. “Allow me.”

  He glanced over his shoulder, as though to make sure no one else was around who might be watching them, though she had no idea who he thought that might be. They hadn’t seen another single soul since they’d been brought here from the Southern Pass. Then he held his hand over the little bundle she’d created. His eyes slipped shut, his hand trembled slightly, and then a small flame burst in the center of the kindling. The flame quickly ignited the rest of the wood, and within a minute it was crackling and burning bright.

  “I thought you weren’t able to do magic on demand?” she said to the Elvish prince, grinning up at him.

  He shrugged. “Transporting four people through the ether is a little different than a parlor trick. And no, I’m not supposed to use magic, but I figure the worst of the damage has been done.”

  Orergon brought over one of the fish Warsgra had cleaned. He’d speared it through the body with a larger stick.

  “Wash away those entrails. We don’t want to attract larger animals.”

  “All the more to eat,” Warsgra grinned.

  Orergon smoothed down his braids. “Not if they eat us first.”

  The Norc laughed, deep and full-bellied.

  Orergon looked to Vehel. “Do you really believe your use of magic in the Southern Pass might cause a second war?”

  He nodded. “If the news gets back to the king and queen, yes, I believe they would use it as proof that the Elvish broke the Treaty, giving them reason to invade the Inverlands.”

  “That’s only if news gets back,” Warsgra said as he leaned in to turn the fish over the fire. “If everyone died back there, there won’t be any news to get out.”

  Dela looked around at each of their faces. “So, we’re hoping everyone died?” The thought caused a tightening in her chest, making her feel as though she couldn’t breathe.

  The Norc shrugged but didn’t look at her, preferring to concentrate on turning the fish as he spoke. “Those few lives lost in the Southern Pass will be far less than what will be lost if a second great war is started among our people. You know how many died the last time? Each of our races lost over half of our people. Thousands of lives lost.” He finally glanced over at her. “You want that to happen again?”

  She shook her head, frowning. “No, of course not.” But at the same time, she couldn’t hope for everyone to have died. Doing so would mean wishing her best friend and all her traveling companions dead, too. “You must have had people you were with who you loved and trusted. You can’t possibly wish them dead.”

  She watched the look in each of their eyes change and knew they, too, were thinking of the companions they’d lost.

  “Of course,” said Orergon eventually. “We all have people we’ve lost, but hoping for survivors when it might cause an even greater issue won’t help anything.”

  “It won’t matter, anyway,” Warsgra said. “I doubt anyone survived those things in the Long White Cloud. We all saw them. They weren’t letting anything get away.”

  They fell into silence as the truth of his words sank in, and yet still Dela couldn’t help hoping. Maybe it would mean the start of a second Great War, but she also hoped that if Layla had survived, she wouldn’t say anything about the use of magic. But it was an empty hope, and if her friend had survived, others would have, too, and stories would be told, just as they’d always been told, and people would learn what had happened, and that was bound to get back to Anthoinia.

  The scent of fish cooking filled the air, and Dela’s mouth flooded with saliva. It was all she could do to stop herself dribbling when she spoke. When the skin was crispy and the flesh grew white, Warsgra took the fish from the fire and divided it up onto leaves to share between them.

  They ate heartily, wolfing down the meal. Fish grease made their lips shiny, and Dela didn’t even care that she might have pieces of fish or scales sticking to her face. It was possibly the best thing she’d ever eaten, and she found herself grinning around at Warsgra, Orergon, and Vehel. They might be in one hell of a situation, but at least their bellies were full now.

  They didn’t need the heat from the fire. The temperature here was already balmy, and Dela wished she was able to strip off some of her clothes. She wore only a vest under her tunic, and wasn’t sure how comfortable she felt undressing to her underwear in front of the others. Her hands and face were fishy, so she got to her feet and went back to the riverbank. She leaned over the water and rinsed off her hands and face, and then sat back again. She worked her feet out of her heavy boots, and then bathed her aching feet in the water’s silky coolness. Her blisters had blisters, and the skin around her heels and soles had hardened and thickened. They weren’t pretty feet, but she didn’t need pretty right now. That would serve no purpose. No, she needed practical, and if callused feet would mean she’d be able to walk for weeks to come, then she’d embrace them.

  The daylight was waning, throwing shadows across the water.

  The others all washed off, and remains of the meal were thrown into the water to keep any larger predators away.

  It was an unspoken agreement that this was where they’d be spending the night. They were all exhausted and needed to rest. Even though it would be cooler at night to travel, they wouldn’t be able to go much farther that day.

  It felt strange to Dela to sleep so exposed, only the night sky above them. But she lay back on the ground, her arms pillowed beneath her head to try to give her some sort of comfort. The men had all found their own places around the fire, and the talk had died off as sleep tried to claim them.

  Within minutes, her arms were already stiff and aching, and she shuffled around, trying to get comfortable.

  Movement beside her made her jump, and she turned to find Warsgra looming over her, his massive shape even more threatening in the moonlight.


  “Here,” he said, gruffly, holding something out to her.

  She frowned, but reached out and took it. It looked like a dead fox or something similar in the dim light, but then she realized it was one of the shoulder protectors he wore.

  “For your head,” he said, before turning around and going back to the spot he’d picked out as his own bed.

  A small smile touched her lips. “Thank you,” she hissed over at him, but he’d already turned his back on her and didn’t reply.

  Dela placed the item beneath her head and shoulders and gave a thankful sigh. The shoulder protector smelled of earth, and animal, and something masculine, too. It gave her comfort in a world where there was very little comfort to be had, and she was finally able to close her eyes and sleep.

  Chapter 18

  Warsgra

  That night was one of the longest of his life.

  Despite what he’d said to Dela about hoping everyone had died, each time he closed his eyes he was back in the Southern Pass, watching his men fight and die, while he’d been able to do nothing.

  He’d watched Jultu fight like the warrior he was until he could fight no longer, swinging his axe at those demonic creatures, even though it never seemed to harm them. He’d swirled on his heels and cut low, and then high when a second creature was coming at him, screaming. Warsgra had wanted to get out and help, but the light around him prevented him from doing so. He’d seen the human woman struggle with the same thing, desperate to get out to save her friend and her fellow travelers. He’d admired her for that—she hadn’t cowered away, frightened, but had stood, brandishing her dagger and ready to take on whatever was coming for her.