Agate- Then and Now

by M. D. Grimm

“The Mother is a fool,” she said before nipping my earlobe.

  I growled and rolled us; now it was my hands that pushed her to the ground. No fear showed in her eyes. If anything, she looked excited. Her hands gripped her skirt and slowly bunched it around her waist, exposing herself. She was completely nude underneath.

  I looked—how could I not?—but did nothing. I met her eyes again. “You should be careful what you say, Drenna.” My voice held an edge that hadn’t appeared in years, too many years to count. Fear. What she was saying made me afraid, because I wanted it. I was intrigued by what she said but I couldn’t consider it. I’d given Master Ulezander my word, my solemn vow that I would never return to the monster I’d once been.

  “Think about it, Morgorth.” She slid her hands up and down my arms, rubbed the apex of her thighs against my erection. “Why should we be at the Mother’s whim? So what if we’re her children? Isn’t it the way of things for children to surpass their parents, to inherit everything when the parent dies? Isn’t it our time to rule?”

  What she was saying...by Creations Light, how often had I thought it in my younger years? How often had I wondered and hated at the Mother’s plans? Her contradictory plans for me: her assistance at my escape but also her writings about my destiny? How often had I cursed her, demanded answers? How often had she ignored me? Forgotten me?

  Drasyln’s sneaky hands exposed me to the night’s air but it was only for a moment. Then I was inside her. Instinct took over and I pushed myself harder into her heat. She hummed in her throat, pressing me to her, moving with me. The entire world vanished and it was just her and me. The tribe’s chants disappeared, the night crowded in until it surrounded her and me.

  “Just imagine what power you could command, Morgorth,” she whispered, panting, as I pounded her hard. I wasn’t gentle and she seemed happy about it. “What power we could command. All others would bow, fear, submit to us. We could destroy the fools on the council, and form the world to our imaginings. Destiny would no longer matter. We would no longer be game pieces, moved around by the whim of a heartless deity.”

  Her words fueled old rage and my thrusts became harsher. I wrenched out of her arms, gripped her hips, and rammed into her again and again. She screamed but I could see the light of feral desire on her face. She matched me, taking me, enjoying the pain. We both came violently. I rolled away from her, panting harshly, staring up at the starry sky. I wanted the things she planted in my mind. I’d always wanted them. I would always be the victim if I stayed under the Mother’s thumb, if I allowed her to dictate my future, my actions, my so-called choices.

  Drasyln stretched beside me, unashamed of her semi-nudity. She looked quite pleased with herself. I, however, was distinctly uncomfortable. The tribe’s chanting came sharply back into focus and I was rather mortified that I’d just fucked someone with the tribe able to see everything. Gritting my teeth, I hurriedly retied my trousers, cursing my recklessness. And cursing Drasyln.

  “I knew you were a beast,” she said, laughing softly.

  I scowled at her. Her eyes glimmered in the darkness. “Well? What do you say Dark Mage? Will you join me and join your power to mine? Let us become one. We are far more powerful together than we are apart.”

  I stared at her. The rage wanted her. The rage delighted in her. Part of me wanted to take her again, even more violently than before. Her desires fed mine, called to that old self, that monster I’d indulged in for years. The vengeful, bloodthirsty child who relished inflicting pain on others, who craved something, anything, that would prevent him from becoming a victim again. One who demanded answers, who dared his mentor, the Mother, to stop him. Part of the reasons I’d done what I did, was to illicit a reaction from the Mother or even the Hunter. But there was only silence. I’d begun to wonder if her visitation to me as a child had indeed been a hallucination.

  Why would she protect the seventh son of a seventh son? The Destroyer?

  We were kindred spirits, Drasyln and I. Her bloodlust matched my own. I nearly said yes, I nearly accepted her offer. But one thing stopped me. Just one. The promise I’d made to my old mentor. He’d been a father to me and loved me when I’d given him no reason to. One who’d guided me, taught me, chased after me to stop my monstrous rampage; risked everything, even his life, to rein me in. To give me a choice. To tell me I had choices.

  I trusted him like I trusted no one else. It was that trust and my promise that gave me the strength to turn away from Drasyln’s offer. It gave me the strength to silence her seducing words, her tempting body. Master Ulezander said I had choices. He said nothing was written in stone and that the Mother loved her children and wanted to give them choices, to let them choose their own path in life. I hoped, prayed, he was right.

  “No.”

  Drasyln blinked. She sat up, her body growing tense. “What?”

  I met her eyes, my own hard, emotionless. “I said no, you harlot.”

  She gaped, rage and insult flashing in her remarkable eyes. “You gutless fish! I offer you the world and you spit in my face? I offer you domination over my body and you have the nerve to drop me the moment after you have me?”

  I stood, stared down, forcing my face into a disgusted look. “It would seem that I am, Drasyln.” Her eyes widened as I used her real name. “You have nothing tempting to offer me and, well, I think you overrate your body.”

  Ouch. That must have hit hard. She looked like she would explode. Surging to her feet, she snapped pure force at me. I’d expected that and brought up my shield, easily slapping it aside. Just as I did, I sent my own flash of pure force at her. Rage clouded her focus and she was thrown back across the plain, screaming, cursing me.

  “If you have any sense of self-preservation,” I shouted after her, “you’ll stay away from me and mine.”

  Silence fell. I turned slowly to see the entire Jesllan tribe staring at me. I couldn’t see their faces in the night and the bonfire was to their backs.

  I smoothed out my clothes and cleared my throat. “Mage business.” I inclined my head to their chief. “Please pardon my abrupt departure but it cannot be helped.”

  The chief raised his hand in farewell. “May the Hunter bless future hunts.”

  I smiled bitterly. “May the Mother bless future births.” It was the correct answer to his own customary farewell. I turned around and sped away.

  Chapter Seven

  Aishe was certainly bubbly the next morning. He woke me up with a bright smile, his face inches from mine. I sucked in a breath and jerked away. Looking apologetic, Aishe pulled back, his cheeks slightly red.

  “When do we head back to camp?” he asked.

  “After I get my heart rate back to normal.” I scowled. “You scared the magick out of me, kid.”

  He chuckled. “Sorry.”

  I scowled again. We ate a little bit of the food in Aishe’s pack before starting on our way. I kept my magick at the surface, determined to detect Drasyln the moment she made an appearance. I also kept us both invisible. I was able to pass that ability onto Aishe by holding his hand. I really didn’t think he minded.

  I didn’t teleport us since I didn’t get a very good look at the camp before I left, never thinking I’d have to return. I didn’t want to risk ending up somewhere I didn’t want to be, like with another tribe. That would be horribly awkward. Aishe guided us back to his tribe, and I managed to speed us most of the way there. But, despite the invisibility, I realized Draslyn could easily follow us back since Aishe wouldn’t shut up. It was like some sort of dam had burst and a flood of words came tumbling out. He just...talked. And talked. Sure, his voice was soft, low, but by the Mother, he gave me a headache. At least my Aishe knew when to shut up.

  “Aishe,” I said through gritted teeth. “My magick may make us invisible, but not soundproof.”

  Catching him mid-sentence, Aishe had his mouth open. But once my words sunk in, he slowly closed his mouth, lowered his head. His palm became sweaty against mine. I blew ou
t a breath. Good. Now I could think. He was a sweetheart but bless the Mother, he was a bundle of never-ending energy.

  With no clue as to Draslyn’s whereabouts, and with my only advantage being I knew her target, my options were few. I had to stay with the tribe. That was her goal and she would not rest until she got Rambujek, and that meant I had to use the Ravena tribe as bait. My stomach burned just thinking about it. I might hate myself for even considering it but it was the best and fastest way to capture Drasyln and get back to my own time. I didn’t want to be with Aishe’s tribe. Being around them, knowing what the future held for them was constant pain. To see the children’s faces, to hear the laughs and easy banter, it was like a punch in the gut. I wasn’t a sentimental mage, not by any measure, but ever since Aishe...things touched me deeper. He’d begun to talk about his tribe more, about his parents, brothers, his sister. The affection and grief were always in his tone, his looks when he did. But I was able to keep a distance emotionally from what he felt. His tribe was faceless to me, and all I could do was comfort him when he spoke. But now, should I spend more time with the tribe, I knew I would feel for them. I would grieve.

  I took a deep breath. Suck it up, mage! You’re the Dark Mage of the North. A bad ass. The terror of the Council of Mages. Harden your heart! Easier said than done, especially when I was even now holding the much smaller hand of a young Aishe; when I had seen with my own eyes Amyla, his innocent, beloved sister. I cursed under my breath. Now that my decision had been made, though, I couldn’t back down from it. But now I wondered how much I would tell Aishe’s parents. I also had to be constantly on my guard with my words. I couldn’t let them know I was from the future.

  But should Aishe know? I glanced at the young dialen beside me. He stared straight ahead, his jaw tight, his eyes pensive. Dammit Aishe! Why didn’t you tell me?

  We walked in silence, stumbling now and then over uneven ground. We weren’t following any trail, and there were many fallen trees, thick vegetation, and ditches in our way. But we managed well enough. It was near midday when Aishe finally pointed ahead of us.

  “We’re nearly there,” he whispered.

  I was alternately relieved and anxious. I began to hear the sounds of voices, movement ahead of us. The trees finally parted and the camp came into view. Louder voices and the clashing of swords in mock combat filled my ears, the forms of males and females of all ages filled my vision. Scents from freshly baked bread and cooking meat met my nose. The sun shone cheerfully through the leaves, turning them into vibrant jewels hanging above us. I sighed.

  “Looks like another hunting party,” Aishe said. I released the magick that made us invisible but didn’t immediately drop Aishe’s hand. He didn’t let go either.

  Five male dialen, all mid-age, stood off to one side, checking their bows and knives, and supplies before they left for a hunt. I grew anxious. I didn’t know how close Drasyln was but they would become more vulnerable to Drasyln’s tricks if they left the camp before I could inform the chief.

  I finally let go of Aishe’s hand, turning to him. “I need to see the chief.” I turned to leave and Aishe made to follow me. I stopped so abruptly that he ran into me, bouncing off my back. I scowled. He blushed.

  “Don’t follow me.”

  Aishe’s face tightened. “He’s my father, I can see him if I want.”

  “I need to talk with him privately, Aishe.” I made sure my tone was hard and authoritative. “I’m asking you not to follow me. Or eavesdrop like last time.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said with dignity.

  I raised an eyebrow, unwilling to argue. I turned again and walked away, once or twice glancing over my shoulder. But Aishe seemed to listen; I couldn’t see him anywhere. I strode quickly to the chief’s tent but was suddenly waylaid by a tall, broad, young male dialen who looked oddly familiar. His hair was long and white, framing a face with familiar bone structure. His eyes were periwinkle and their shape helped determine his identity. He must be one of Aishe’s brothers. The lad had Nunya’s eyes.

  “Would I be correct in assuming you’re the mage who saved my brother?” the lad asked. He spoke in the common tongue but with a heavy accent that made some of his words strange to my ears.

  “I am,” I said, my heart pounding with impatience. “I’m Morgorth. To whom am I speaking?”

  He smiled at my overly formal nature. He seemed to find it amusing. “The name’s Wyndell. But everyone calls me Wyn.”

  I inclined my head. “I was looking for your father, Wyn. I must speak with him immediately.”

  “He’s on the training field.” Wyn pointed past the tents to his left. “He said to send you his way if you returned.”

  “Thank you.” I turned sharply and nearly ran to the training field. It took me a moment to realize Wyn was following me. What was it with children following me? Was I a magnet for them? Though, I couldn’t say Wyn was a child. He was in his early adult years, and already had a warrior’s build and confidence.

  The ground gently sloped down to a small clearing. Several males, and a couple of females, stood in a ring around a single dialen. The chief. He held a long sword in his hand and the dialen around him took turns attacking. The chief talked through each battle, encouraging, giving advice, or criticism. Anticipation and excitement hung in the air as I approached the crowd. I could smell the sweat; hear the ringing of steel against steel. I pushed into the crowd, and they parted for me easily. I had curious or annoyed expressions tossed my way but I didn’t have time for diplomacy. I had to speak with Brelyn now. Wyn came up to stand next to me. I glanced at him and he smiled back. It seemed curiosity was not only a trait of Aishe’s.

  Once Brelyn finished with his opponent, I stepped forward to gain his attention. “Chief! Pardon for the interruption but I must speak with you now. It’s urgent.”

  Brelyn swung toward me, his sword still lifted in a battle stance. “Cynner! Give the mage a sword.”

  The crowd hooted as someone shoved a sword into my hand.

  “What? Wait—I—” But before I could put up any protest, several hands shoved me in the back, and I stumbled into the fighting ring. Brelyn brought down his sword, and I instinctually brought mine up to block it. The force of his blow vibrated down my arm and I gritted my teeth.

  “I don’t have time for this. We must speak!”

  “After.” Brelyn swung at me and I dodged, swinging back. He blocked my blow. “So you know the ways of the blade,” he sounded impressed, “but how much is the question.”

  The need for battle was in his eyes, and I realized right then I had to prove myself to gain any more of his time. So be it. Master Ulezander not only taught me the ways of magick, he’d taught me how to fight the ways others fought, without magick. I was no stranger to the blade, but my expertise was limited. Brelyn, in contrast, was a master. It took all I had to keep up, to strengthen my stance and my guard. We moved around the field, blocking and thrusting. I used his age against him, moving quickly, keeping distance between us. He’d already fought others that morning but despite his exertions, he seemed to never lack energy.

  His tribe cheered him on, for predictably, others came to join the ring, once they knew that their chief fought a mage. I tried my best to ignore the crowd and to focus on survival. I gripped the sword handle tighter, lengthened my stance, and firmed my foundation. I was going to show him I was worthy of his time. And in a strange, twisted way, it felt like I was fighting for the hand of his son.

  Our swords rang out and the crowd became more filled with bloodlust. I didn’t use my magick. I had to see if my own skill could match up with a creature trained from infancy in the ways of combat. Our swords locked and we strained against each other. He was physically stronger than me but I had a good stance, my legs locked. Our faces were close and sweat shone on both of us.

  “You fight well for a mage,” Brelyn said, panting, his voice low. “I would never have guessed one born to magick would know a
nything else.”

  “I’m full of surprises.” My voice was barely more than a murmur.

  Brelyn smiled with genuine amusement. “I never doubted it.”

  I found myself smiling back, though it was guarded. We pulled back at the same time, disengaging our swords. We paused for a moment, each judging the other, wondering when and where to strike. But, it was during that slight pause my attention shifted. It was like some strange force moved my eyes and my gaze left Brelyn, and traveled over and past his shoulder. My gaze locked onto Aishe where he stood behind his father in the crowd. His eyes were big with excitement, and he was cheering with the crowd, but I knew, I just knew, he cheered for me. His eyes met mine and he looked startled for a moment, but then he beamed.

  My moment of distraction was my downfall. Brelyn brought his sword up, and cut it at my hand. I couldn’t react in time and my blade swung out of my grip. I gasped and ended up crouching to avoid his next swing. Then I rolled toward my blade, and I heard the crowd give a collective gasp. I grabbed the grip, spun around on my knee and barely managed to lift my sword above my head to block Brelyn’s downward swing.

  “Do you yield?” he asked.

  I was exhausted, stressed, and knew if I continued this fight without magick, I would lose with humiliation.

  “I yield,” I said with all the dignity I could muster.

  The crowd roared in triumph. Their chief had just bested a mage. It didn’t matter that in a real fight with a mage, Brelyn would’ve been set on fire or smashed to bits by flying boulders. Or worse. The tribe didn’t care. They didn’t know the ways of magick, other than healing.

  Brelyn pulled back and his expression became puzzled. He looked behind him, where Aishe still stood, laughing with the crowd, and cheering for his father. Then the chief looked back at me, his expression hardening.

  Shit.

  I wouldn’t have been surprised if my face revealed something when I’d looked at Aishe. Brelyn must have seen it, and being the warrior he was he would’ve used it to defeat me. But once he learned my distraction had been his son...he didn’t seem mighty pleased. I made sure my face was stone as I stood. The crowd swarmed around both of us, patting their chief on the back. I even got some pats and some encouraging words. But Brelyn and I stared at each other, almost facing off in a way far more dangerous than the sword fight.