Chapter Six
Her job of helping rescued humans proved as hard as expected. The people she got saddled with at the inn were damaged goods. The younger ones maybe possessed more hope, but older ones simply had set views, unable to understand that life could be different. They didn't get that they no longer needed to worry about keeping their voices down, or expect punishment for every minor transgression. They flinched like awful, shattered animals who had been kicked one too many times.
Honestly, it became exhausting. But at the same time, seeing the first spark of hope, no matter how rarely it came, made the whole process worthwhile.
Travelling the lands on Kalgrin's back was pretty fun, too.
The first time she did it, she marvelled at the world from atop. Not being encased in his claws made her beam and want to throw up her arms in excitement, except if she did, she'd probably fall off and break everything in the fall.
“Must be different for you now, eh? Instead of staring at everything through my claws.”
“It helps I'm not covered in shit, either,” Anya said, grinning. Her hands curled around Kalgrin's spikes. She rode at the bottom of his neck, finding it the best place to not accidentally fall off. He'd let her try a few positions before settling on this one. “How must you feel, Kalgrin? Seeing the world like this? What I wouldn't give to fly like you.”
Kalgrin let out a rumbling laugh. “You get used to it after a while. But you know, if you want to fly so much, you can just ask me. I might be able to find some spare time here and there to take you into the skies. Visit some nice places. The wyrms can't touch us there, after all.” He then let out a theatrical sigh. “Apparently the drakes of old used to be able to breathe fire. If we still had that ability, I'm sure the wyrms wouldn't have such a strong foothold on everything now. Hey, did I ever tell you about the time where I nearly lost my life trying to protect people on a supply run?”
“Did you now?” Anya deliberately enthused her voice with as much interest as possible. She caught about every second word he said with the winds whipping past them.
“Yes. I'll have you know I was very heroic.”
“I'm sure you were,” Anya said, now smiling, though obviously he couldn't see it. Her mother had warned her about this. Boasting. Men liked to boast of their achievements, to impress women. Because they didn't know any other ways to impress.
It probably wasn't anything like that, but the description did give Anya some amusement.
“There were about fifty humans on the food wagons, escorting them to one of the barren northern towns. It's hard to grow crops up there, so they rely on the nearby farming villages, the ones run by drakes for sustenance. We were almost there, before two hundred wyrms set upon us from the hills.”
“Two hundred?”
“Yes. Two hundred. And there were just twenty drakes, expected to protect the humans from those bastards. Twenty! Can you imagine the odds?”
Anya let out a complimentary mm hmm, and Kalgrin continued talking about his heroic efforts to save the food caravans. How they helped pick up the humans from almost three hundred wyrms – the number kept increasing for some reason – and protected most of the caravan from being destroyed thanks to the sheer ferocity of how Kalgrin fought.
When he'd finished his astonishing tale of ardor, Anya waited a moment. He held his head up high, wanting her to see how heroic he was.
And then she asked, “So what really happened?”
At first, Kalgrin blustered. Then, with a little more teasing, he admitting it was just twenty wyrm guards, and they'd already been forewarned of the attack. They did have ballistas like he mentioned, but none came close to hitting the drakes.
“It just sounds boring if I describe it as a routine rout, you know.”
“I'm sure,” Anya said. “How many times have you told that story to others?”
“Probably a few dozen times,” he said, sounding rather sheepish. “But it was scary. We don't usually get attacks so far north.”
Anya shook her head, smiling because he'd so clearly been trying to make her admire him. Not that he needed to do that, because she admired him already.
“Kalgrin. I'm sure you've done some spectacular, amazing things in your life. Things I could only dream of.” That soured her a bit, because the words stung of truth. She'd never done anything past the plantations except dream. Other places felt like clouds hanging over her head. Unseen, unknown, except for that city they once visited. Wherever it was. She cleared her throat, banishing the mood. “And I'd love to hear about all your exploits. I could do with some more color in my life.” She discreetly checked over his red scales. Yes, this definitely added extra color in her life.
She grinned, rubbing his scales, knowing his tough hide wouldn't feel it. What a wondrous creature Kalgrin was. Soaring through the skies like this. Covering grounds that might take humans days in a matter of hours. Seeing the entire world from above, nothing stopping his flight.
“Oh, well, I guess I can tell you about that time where I nearly got cursed by a strange old witch in the forest.”
“There are no witches. There is no magic.”
“Isn't there? Oh, you'll be surprised at what kind of things we have in this world,” Kalgrin said, the smile in his voice. “And you know, there used to be magic. Lots of it. Practically as common as breathing.”
“Why don't I believe you?”
“Well, how do you think we can turn from humans into dragons and keep our clothes, thereby disobeying logical laws of conversion? It's because we're magical. We don't have any other powers, obviously. Except the fire breathing thing some centuries back...”
He continued talking about the magic, and Anya simply shook her head, enjoying the sound of his voice and the wind in her hair.
Their first proper flight ended with her meeting a small, frightened group of slaves who had been released from a slave cage. They were on their way to being sold to a distant mining company, until Kalgrin's group intercepted them. They were too nervous to talk to the drakes, though, which left Anya negotiating with them. Trying to push through that sullen despair to let them know life would change for the better.
That they deserved it.
After that, she returned home, not exactly triumphant, but better off than before. Knowing her arguments did punch through to these people. Because she shared their experiences. And she held within her a burning passion. Sometimes, she saw Kalgrin interact with that Leoch person, though she didn't like him. Not at all. Just some brash drake who helped humans, but at the same time liked to remind them that he didn't have to, but he assisted them anyway.
It rubbed her the wrong way, somehow. Kalgrin seemed to like him, however. And she liked Kalgrin. So she kept her mouth shut.
The biggest boost to her independence came from living in her small house. She stocked it up with supplies, making it something that felt like a home. And she had one person to thank for all this. Kalgrin.
That smug, boastful, garrulous drake had done everything possible to give her a better life. Rescuing her and the rest of the family. Securing her a job helping others. Securing her independent living in a little house with objects of her own that she had bought. Because money jangled in her pouch. Money she never formerly held.
Coins did have that lovely musical clink when a lot of them were squashed together in a bag.
Her heart also liked to do that stupid lurching thing when she looked over his way. When he transformed from his drake form to that astonishing human with those storm-gray eyes. When he smiled. When he laughed at something she said. When they both made up an excuse to hug one another on meeting and departing.
Everything she kept expecting him to do, he didn’t. When she thought Kalgrin would just absorb her into his life without any chance for protest from her, it didn’t happen. When she thought she might be forced to stay on with him, she got the option to work and live in her own place instead.
She did see wyrms visit Tarn every now and then. Thankfully, they ignored the humans who lived here and didn’t try anything funny with them, respecting the drakes enough not to encroach on their space.
She suspected things wouldn't be like that forever. Not when you had someone as cruel and destructive as the wyrms. Those bastards never stayed away for long. They broke people, crushing them so often and so hatefully, that emotions stopped existing. They became something you longed for. Crying and pain was better than the feeling of being dead.
Then there was Kalgrin. Her vague ideas of independence virtually disappeared around him. She liked the idea of striking out on her own, of being here without someone's foot in her face as she tried to sleep. She also liked the idea of being close to Kalgrin, to the point where she practically stalked the poor guy. She found herself anticipating his visits. Talking to him about anything. What the drakes were doing, how her family was doing, if he’d like to help deliver a letter to them or let her ride him to visit.
She made excuses to go over to his house for his cooking, just so she could see him smile and laugh in her presence, and admire her openly with his deep gray eyes, which brimmed with wisdom. She liked the way his light brown hair tumbled carelessly about his face, like a living mop. She even liked sometimes the awkward pauses between them in conversation as he stared, before trying to fill the empty space with words, to make her at ease, or to ask how her job was going.
It's going fine. More than fine. It's going like a dream. And I can't shake him out of my head.
On one of her days off, Anya visited Seon at the inn, enjoying the friendship they'd developed. Drakes and humans filled up the place. Some of them turned keen eyes upon her.
“You know,” Seon pointed out, as one gray-eyed drake kept glancing over to Anya's table, nursing his tankard, “you're really taking your time on your love life.”
Naturally, Anya decided to turn crimson and splutter a bit. “I'm not delaying anything! I'm just happy being by myself. Doing things. By myself.”
“Uh huh. Is that why you specifically chose a house one street away from Kalgrin's place, despite having better, cheaper offers? You had the pick of the town with your wages, and you choose one of those run-down, thatch-roof buildings that no respectable person would be seen in.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Anya said, the blush now transitioning to her voice. How did a voice even do that? She might as well be wearing her heart like a badge.
“I think you do. And you keep getting excited whenever you end up working directly with him. You keep wearing that stupid lovesick grin on your face. And you make these moony eyes that clearly tell me you'd like him to mean something more to you.”
Drat. Seon didn't miss a beat, did she? Nosing around in Anya's feelings like they weren't hidden at all. Her brain really tried to jump around the subject. She liked him. She even dreamed about him and thought admiring thoughts. She lived near him, and yet, somehow, her brain malfunctioned. It didn't step any further ahead and link all of the incidences together into one tangible fact.
She wanted him. Not just as a friend, but someone to keep in her life. Someone to share her bed with. She'd never even had sex before, but she knew she wanted it with him.
A drake. Someone she shouldn't love.
I shouldn't like him. It's all wrong, surely? All wrong and twisted.
“You're right. I do like him.”
“I knew it,” Seon said, thumping her hand on Anya's shoulder. “It's one thing to know it, another to hear it... sorry.” The blasted woman grinned like she'd done something clever. “So why not just... say this to him?”
Anya gave a helpless shrug. “I don't know if he likes me that way.” Even though her mother said Kalgrin did. Even though Kalgrin treated her with reverence. “And if he did, I might have left it too late.”
“Anya. You need to stop making excuses for yourself. Just stop. You know as well as I do that you want him. And you also know that until you ask, you won't know.”
Yes. And that thought sent a shiver of fear inside Anya. “What if... what if,” she mumbled, “he rejects me? And I look like a fool for thinking... for thinking that I had a chance with him?”
“Then he rejects you and you look like a fool. But you still have a nice job. And you're not going back to that plantation of yours. You need to take risks, Anya. You won't get anywhere in life if you don't take risks.” Seon glanced over to the window, her eyes going distant for a moment.
You won't get anywhere in life if you don't take risks. Anya sensed the truth in those words. It applied to her former life only too well. No one took risks. And nothing happened. She took a risk instead. A huge one. And it made something happen. Unfortunately, it would have led to her demise. Until Kalgrin saved her.
If she admitted to Kalgrin she liked him, what principles might she break with herself? The principle of not doing what her mother expected with the drake? The principle of learning to strike out on her own?
A small, manic voice in the back of her mind said excuses, excuses. It's just like Seon said. You're making excuses and stalling.
But why? Why did she stall?
“You're afraid,” Seon said, eyes gentle. “It's something new to you, isn't it? Liking someone in this manner. Wanting them, but fearing rejection. Considering going for that half-life instead, where you'll always harbor those feelings of longing, but you won't ever admit them because you don't want to compromise what you have now.”
“I... yes.” No point in lying. Those words seemed to actively wrench the truth out of her. As if naming the emotions made them opaque and possible to touch. It created a wildness in her, a kind of panic that she struggled to contain.
“From my observations, Anya – I think he likes you as well. I think you should go for it.”
Anya took deep breaths, attempting to calm herself.
“Perhaps I will,” she said.
She didn't, though. Not for another few days. Seon had tried to help in her own way, but she didn't wield the tempest of emotions Anya felt inside. Plus, Anya knew so little about everything. Of love, of the world, and what made people smile.
Maybe I am just afraid of this. And I should stop. She just... she didn't want to lose the things she had gained. It terrified her. And that terror led to the instinct of staying put. Not moving. Hoping nothing bad came to pass.
In choosing that, her life never developed into what it might have been.
She did one more mission with Kalgrin. Another pleasant ride through the air. Another successful run at some far-off plantation where the lord had a rather nasty habit of cutting off workers’ fingers if they disobeyed any order.
Most of the women and men and children on that plantation had an average of three fingers missing. Apparently, few people disobeyed for the fourth. Or perhaps they had simply been killed, judged too unruly.
After the run, she made it back home after leaving Kalgrin. For a moment, she'd been tempted to ask to go into his house, but refused at the last moment.
At her place, in her tiny bedroom, she considered her reflection within the little mirror. Her grave face. The fears eating her up.
Her eyes hardened. Rummaging through her drawers, she scooped out a fresh blue top and knee-length blue skirt.
She grabbed the sponge and scrubbed herself thoroughly down until she smelled like strawberry perfume.
I'm going to do it. I'm going to go over to Kalgrin's house, knock on that door, and just walk in. And stop being such a coward.
Thinking the thoughts bolstered her resolve, and she preened in the mirror, her head held high. Besides, if she didn't do something about the blasted drake soon, her thoughts might be so saturated with his image that she'd end up mad. Her brown hair was frazzled from the brush, so she spent longer straightening out the frantic strands.
With her comfy black shoes on, with their little brass buckles, she nodded to herself. Resolved. Determined.
Walking to Kalgrin's house took a minute.
Blasts. What if he slumbered? The moon rose about a quarter way in the sky. Lights were turned on in the houses, though no light shone from Kalgrin's home. She knocked on the door, her heart palpitating in a mix of fright and anticipation.
Kalgrin opened the door and blinked when he saw Anya standing there with a face like a storm. “Anya? Is something wrong?”
“Iwanttospeaktoyou.” Drat. She’d said that too fast, and enunciated it when Kalgrin frowned in confusion.
“Oh. Right. Sure, you can speak to me, anytime. You know that. Come in.” He wrinkled his nose when Anya passed, taking a deep sniff. “Hmm. You smell nice. And fresh.”
“I try,” Anya replied. No. Don't get distracted. Her emotions were all over the place. Her pulse lurched in her throat, making it hard to focus, to get what she intended. Curses, she didn't want to be a blathering fool in front of him. “It's something that's been on my mind for a while. And I feel like I need to get it off my chest before I explode.”
Kalgrin’s nose twitched as he scented her perfume, and observed her elaborately brushed hair and popping breasts under her shirt. Yes. Perhaps she had been a little overkill with the attire. She might as well have turned up at his door naked. How to begin? Her heart turned craven. “It was just a question I've been thinking of, since, you know. We have so many humans suffering over the world. Are there many places where humans actually live good lives? Or just a few?”
Kalgrin shook his head, though his eyes observed her in faint hunger. Sometimes they dipped in the gap between her breasts. He didn’t look half bad, either, opting for a ruffled blouse, a black waistcoat, and pinstriped pants. He chose to walk around in black socks, though, preferring to leave his shoes at the door. Anya did the same, though she wore no socks under her shoes.
“I’m afraid it’s not common. We send the humans to the north, or to towns run by drakes, but there are more... unsafe places than there are safe. Wyrms are the ruling factions in most countries. And there is a reason for it. A reason I've not fully explained to you. Just hinted at.”
A reason for the wyrms being in power? What more reason than the fact that they were stronger than humans? “Okay.” She waited for his explanation.
He did seem a little puzzled, though. Suspecting she intended to say something else, before she diverted her thoughts. “There was a war. A long time ago, between humans and dragons. Humans used to be the dominant population.”
What?
“They used to live in big cities, practise magic, fight with each other and live off the cream of the land. Hard to imagine something like that, right?”
Impossible to imagine. Anya tried picturing it and failed. Kalgrin spoke about magic. Anya had seen no magic, and Kalgrin simply implied it had fallen into disuse, somehow. Like people had forgotten. “But how could we rule against dragons? They’re so… strong.”
“Humans were stronger, with their magic.” Kalgrin automatically reached out a hand to steady Anya as she stumbled upon his carpet, not paying attention to her walk. The shiver of contact made her blink stupidly for a moment as he gripped her. Her mind started going ahead to certain scenarios. Maybe it struggled to imagine humans being leaders, but it certainly had no issues going through the fantasy of taking off Kalgrin’s clothes, leading him to bed, and having her wicked way with him. Her face flushed, even as Kalgrin continued explaining, apparently unaware of her sudden arousal. “Humans used to have powerful magic. It doesn’t matter if your opponent is a big lizard if you can blast them out of the sky with a rain of diamonds, or with thunderstorms and balls of fire. Humans used to enslave dragons.”
A quiet gasp slipped out of Anya's lips at this thought. No. She didn't believe it. “What? Really? How do you know?”
“History books. We keep information,” he answered. “See, this is why I think you should learn to read. There’s so much knowledge written down!”
“Why should I learn to read when you can just tell me everything?”
“I…” he paused. “I guess that’s a good point.” His frown made her laugh.
“Sorry, Kal. You were saying?”
“Well, I was saying – you guys used to have magic. But something happened to your magic a while back. A sickness. Magic users caught some kind of disease; no one knew where it started. But it targeted magic, and your magic died. And, without magic… you became easy prey to the wyrms and the drakes. And ever since then, the roles have been reversed.” He gave a shrug. “But I suppose just as it suddenly vanished, it can find a way to come back. What if I told you that I know humans who wield magic and who are alive today?”
Anya shook her head. “I need to see it to believe it.”
Kalgrin smiled. “There's a school in the mountains. They take magic users if they find them, and train them. I haven't found a user myself yet. I don't have the ability to seek them. For all I know, half the humans in Tarn have magic, but because I've never seen it directly, they're just uncut gems, walking around. For all I know, you have magic. It's a strange thing.”
No. No one had magic. Except, he appeared adamant that the possibility was there. That he'd seen them.
She forced herself to accept his words for now. She'd still want to see one for herself... but he had no reason to lie to her. However, something bothered her.
In his story about humans once enslaving dragons, which she had issues processing as it was – then why did drakes bother helping humans at all? If humans had done this thing, then in a way, the dragons were justified in doing what they did. It sickened her to consider.
How could you justify anything like this?
“Why do drakes help us, then? It doesn’t sound like you have reason to.”
“Don’t we?” Kalgrin smiled. Affable. Maybe a little weary, too. Perhaps he'd experienced this type of discussion with others. “Times change. There are no excuses for suffering. Not when you’re punishing people a thousand years later, who have no memory of before. It makes us no better. And maybe one day, we’ll find the tables turned again. And it'll just keep going on in some big, bloody cycle.” He licked his lips, his eyes distant. Seeing something Anya didn’t understand. “We don’t have excuses anymore, little human. But we like to keep making them all the same.”
There was some truth in that. Anya thought the same thing about her people. How could they excuse such treatment? How did they keep allowing it year after year? Surely there reached a point where the excuses stopped?
Surely there came a time when people faced reality, and realized it’d never get better, not unless they did something about it? Surely... they could find a way to stop being the kind of broken that never picked itself up again.
Anya reflected on Kalgrin's words for a little while. She'd done this to distract herself, really, but the information was valuable all the same. Something she needed to know.
But now, she needed to face that tempest inside herself. The one that wondered if things might be more. If she could reach out to Kalgrin and touch him upon his face, and kiss those lips.
Anya sure made a lot of excuses for not confronting Kalgrin. Excuses like she wanted to be independent, she didn’t want to be beholden to a dragon, she didn’t feel ready…
Why bother distracting herself any further? She was here. Dressed up for the war to figure out Kalgrin's heart, and discover her own. She hovered at the edge of that emotional cliff, terrified to jump down. But she needed to.
Time to stop with those excuses, then.
“Kalgrin. You know I came over, wearing these nice clothes, and putting on this nice perfume?”
“I had noticed that,” he said, with a rather amused expression. “Why?”
“Well… it might be related to the fact that I have a house near you. And I enjoy excuses to go with you to those places. And I enjoy... talking to you. And... I don't want to leave you.”
Yes, she was babbling. Extending it. Her heart wanted to leap out of her mouth. Just get to the point! Kalgrin seemed frozen, like a statue.
“Okay. Kalgrin. I like you. And I want you. In every sense of the word.”
“Oh.” His eyes blackened. His nostrils flared, and his body trembled in pleasant shock. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Though I'm not sure what it might feel like. You know. Having a person you can wake up next to and smile at. My mom never had that. So many people I’ve known don’t get that happy ending. But I think with you… I’d like to try and taste it for myself.”
His smile softened. “It’s the least you deserve. To have some measure of happiness. You should never have been denied the chance in the first place.” A flicker of worry then consumed his face. “But, are you sure? I mean, I’m a dragon. I recall that you might have some issues with that fact.” His tone sounded like he was preparing for something. For her to retract her statement, or confirm it?
“That doesn’t matter to me anymore.” The truth.
Those words cleared the doubt in his eyes and settled the fluttering nervousness in her stomach. She didn’t know what she was saying, if she’d said it right, but she seemed to be hitting the right notes so far. It flowed naturally from her, when she let go of the excuses and let the truth trickle out.
I should have admitted this as soon as I began to feel it. Not entirely fair. She didn't understand it. And the fear... it ate at her. Insidiously, without her usually being aware it did so.
This, though. This was perfect.
He folded his arms neatly over his lap, and leaned forward, feet pointing to her. Those eyes of his seemed to twinkle now. They shared smiles, the kind that threatened to burst out of their bodies. “May I kiss you?” He waited, earnest, not making a move without her say-so.
How polite. She took a deep, glorious breath, which flooded her body with light and life. Maybe also a hint of excitement. “You may,” she said, pasting on a mock formal expression. It made her giggle, before her heart lurched further, since Kalgrin had stood up, his face hard with intent.
“Kissing in three, two, one…” He leaned forward and planted his lips on hers. That first contact came awkwardly, clumsily. Nothing like what Anya had imagined, where she thought stars might burst around them and the heavens then fell – the things they only told you in the best stories when love flourished and didn’t have to worry about the grind of everyday life. Of being crushed to the point where nothing remained.
Few people in the plantations became whole families, so they had to rely on the run of the community, and elected leaders within that community. Feeling strong bonds of love was considered dangerous, but people made those connections anyway. Some deep, primal part of them craved closeness. Craved affection.
A kiss from Kalgrin at first felt disappointing, likely because she didn't know how to kiss. She half expected fiery explosions and melting feelings in her, but really, it was just the unusual, smooth texture of the lips and the heat of their breaths that confused Anya. Did she keep breathing? Did she hold her breath until she couldn't anymore? Did she keep her eyes open or closed?
Open seemed rather awkward. Closed helped heighten the sense of the moment. Kalgrin worked at kissing with her, being patient with her lips, and it got to a point where the pressure they placed and the movements they conducted became natural and pleasant.
Sure, the countdown Kalgrin did might have been strange, but then again, the whole thing could be construed as strange. What mattered was the rapid beating of her heart, and the gentle way he touched her, and the patient affection he showed. Being embraced in such a way embarrassed and pleased her at the same time, tinged with a hint of sadness. She should have known something like this before. Not spent eighteen years of her existence barely making it above water.
Sometimes she wondered if she was doing the wrong thing when it came to the touches, the kisses. Those thoughts cleared away when she lost herself in the moment. They slowly led one another to bed, taking the time to stop, to kiss, to caress.
The treatment made Anya want to cry – she couldn’t remember the last time someone held her with so much love. Not wanting to start blubbering her eyes out, she dove deeper into the kiss, into ruffling his floppy curls, into sharing herself with him. Just to stay in the moment, and to remember that Kalgrin wanted this as much as her. One by one they peeled off one another’s clothes, until both were naked – her skin had the hardened tan of working on the fields, and his was as pale as snow.
What a wondrous thing.
He stood back to admire her body, all the way from her freckled face to her soft, rounded breasts, calloused hands and strong thighs. She admired his body, too, the sculpted build, with broad, toned shoulders, not bulging with muscles but hinting at the power that lay within. He had a flat, hairless chest with the hint of abs showing – not quite a muscular demigod, but certainly an arousing sight to behold. Everything was just right.
He reached for her hand and kissed the rough underside, not caring if her skin was hard and lacking in softness. She had other soft parts to make up for it. She also couldn’t help but notice his growing erection, from the way it uncurled from small to big. She liked the way he always asked her if it was okay, though it eventually reached a point where she simply whispered into his ear, “Just shut up and fuck me.”
That worked pretty well. He lowered her down onto the mattress, those gray eyes dark and his body quivering in excitement. Anya’s cheeks flushed, her whole body raised up its temperature, making it feel as if she were about to burn up. Nothing else mattered at this moment except him.
He kissed her neck, warm air wafting onto her skin. He braced his arms on either side of her, sliding into position between her legs. His erection pressed against her stomach in a promise. A shivering, tantalizing promise. Would it hurt? Would it be pleasant? Would she let out a sigh from her lips and arch into him, or stiffen in pain?
He crawled backwards slightly, and rested his length upon her entrance.
Heart beating in a frenzy, Anya let out a whimper as he moved inside her for the first time, the first time for anyone in her life. She knew something of masturbation and got urges like anyone else – she just didn’t want to risk having children in such an impoverished, cruel place. Even though the others didn't care, and just went for it, Anya restrained herself.
But here, it didn’t concern her. Not with someone who showered her with affection, who helped raise her life above the mud it had dwelled in, who helped save her family, and for some reason, loved the soul inside her. Not when she didn't have to worry about her child growing up on a miserable plantation, knowing nothing but the slash of a whip upon their back, and the sad, gibbering voices of the humans around them. Or the musk of dark that followed people, like an evil that had attached itself to their souls.
People used to think she deserved punishment for being so outspoken.
Now, allowed to be who she was, she felt nothing but happiness and gratefulness for her new position. She whispered her love in his ear, perhaps encouraged by the feel of him so close to her. Maybe the feeling would vanish afterwards, when the tension wasn’t knotting up in her stomach, getting ready to spread out in a warm, delicious wave of bliss.
He sped up his thrusts, continued snatching kisses from her lips, breathing harsh, his heart thundering at the same pace as hers.
When he came, her heart soared at his pleasure and sounds, and she moaned as well. She noticed the drop in pressure inside her, and would have been perfectly happy leaving things like this. Then he reached down with his fingers and fumbled around her slit, until he hit the right spot. The electricity bolted through her like a thunderstorm, the feeling came hard and intense, and within moments, she found herself shuddering and moaning her way into orgasm.
“Didn’t want to keep all the glory to myself,” he whispered in her ear, before kissing it, and allowing themselves to arrange into a comfortable embrace.
Exhausted with happiness – who knew such a thing could wear you out? – Anya fell into a deep sleep, breathing in Kalgrin’s musky scent, secure in the wrap of his arms around her.
Security. What a strange thing to feel, and to know you had it. Her family were tucked away safely in that fort town which she didn't remember the name of. She flew the skies with Kalgrin, spoke to the broken, the people who had forgotten what hoped looked like, who had been reduced to animals, simply living for themselves and their own survival, not caring about anyone else. Anything else.
It needed a special kind of work to coax these people out of their shells. Words didn't work. Not really. Attitude did. Showing them the reality of their new world did. And giving them the chance to step out on their own.
She couldn't blame them in the end. Depression settled like a heavy blanket, smothering those it touched. Clouds followed them, brewing their storms. And their night terrors filled dark silences. They lived, but not really. And Anya had tried to live, but she was stagnating, withered away by the years. She would have died in that place.
She woke up once in the night, sweat coating her face. A half-remembered nightmare, of being chased, the wyrm's feet pounding the earth beneath her as she ran. There had been mud upon her arms and legs, but it dried up, caking her, making it harder to move forward. Maybe if she could fly, hop up into the air...
But those wyrms would never stop. The sound of their feet somehow always clattered in the distance. The vibration of each footfall carried the taste of hate.
Kalgrin slumbered like a babe at her side, his arms sprawled out, taking space under the pillows. Half the bed covers wrapped itself around his lower half, leaving his chest exposed, which rose and fell in a peaceful rhythm.
Anya watched this for a while, relaxing in the calm of Kalgrin's deep sleep. Reminding herself that somehow, this drake had become hers. She didn't want to risk waking him up, so she left him untouched.
It made her heart ache to see how beautiful he was, even cast in shadows. Sometimes in the dark, people's faces took on frightening visages. She didn't know why, just that the dark increased her level of fear. No fear lingered here. Smiling, she soon fell asleep again.
Waking up to an empty bed, Anya stretched out languorously, the sheets slipping over her bare skin. She didn’t regret a moment of her choice. She didn’t regret staying with Kalgrin, with sharing her heart and soul with him, or falling in love with him.
Yes. It was love. Such a tiny word. Such a powerful feeling.
Her family existed in a better place. But many more families didn’t. And as long as she stayed by Kalgrin’s side, she actively helped contribute to the cause he followed. It became her cause, her calling. And she fell that little bit more in love.
Kalgrin smiled at her when she walked into his kitchen. The smell of cooking food lured her, and she lifted her nose to sniff. Eggs and toast and sausages. Simple but filling. And exotic, compared to the slops she tasted at the plantation.
“A good, hearty breakfast is the best way to start the day,” Kalgrin declared. “Though I usually prefer honeyed porridge. I work better in my day when I have a full stomach.”
Anya agreed. She skipped meals in the past, but if you headed off to the wheat fields without food, you found yourself drained so fast that you could barely stay upright.
“I could get very, very used to this. Having you cook for me in the mornings.”
“You can do the same for me. When I go over to your house.” He winked at her, before flipping the egg over in the little pan over the hearth. The sausages were already cooked. The heat from the hearth radiated through the room, warming up the cool space. Anya stepped outside for a moment, inhaling the cool air, before she noticed that there were those little envelopes on the ground. The ones with the letters that she couldn't read.
Taking one last glance out into the crisp late morning, taking in the bustle of people going about their business and the calls of stall owners trying to attract people to their wares, Anya ducked back inside, clutching the letters.
“Kal. Some letters for you.” The messy-haired drake took them from her and inspected them.
“Huh. One's for you. From... your mother, I believe.”
“Oh!” Right. She hadn't passed on the new home to her mother yet. Kendra still thought her daughter lived here, so of course the letters would come to Kal. “I can't read it.”
“I know. I'll do it for you, unless you want to get a scribe?”
Anya shook her head. She wanted Kalgrin to know the contents of the letter as well. The drake opened the envelope and examined the squiggles all along the page.
“Actually, let me finish the cooking. We don't want it to get cold, do we?”
He cooked the last of the eggs and spilled them over buttered toast. Anya sat at his little table, grabbed a fork and knife, and tucked into her delicious breakfast. The smell of the food lingered in an appetizing way, saturating the air around them. Kalgrin wanted to finish eating first before starting on the letter, and he wolfed down the food fast.
“Wow. You don't waste time when it comes to food, do you?”
He let out a belch, which made Anya blink, half in amusement, half in disgust.
“Sorry. My digestive system can be a bit odd at times. Okay.” He cleaned his hands and dried them off, before taking the letter and settling back into the seat. “Dearest daughter. I hope everything's well with you, and you've gotten around to a relationship with Kalgrin at last. I know you were stalling, but I'm telling you, you'll be hard pressed to find better.”
Kalgrin paused. “Huh. Did she try to foist you off on me?”
“Yes,” Anya admitted. “But I didn't want to think of her as being right that we were attracted to one another. She'd likely chase me to the ends of the world until I got into a relationship with someone respectable. She always had hopes I'd break the cycle.”
“Well,” Kalgrin said, grinning, “you might just have done that, haven't you?” Then he frowned. “Though should I be concerned that your mother wanted to shove us together?”
“Probably not. Just watch out for the grandchildren queries.”
Kalgrin chuckled before reading more of the letter.
“I named all the children proper. Your two sisters are now Jeyna and Daisy, and the two little ones are Bodrin and Kallen. Named in honor of the wonderful drake who saved us, of course.”
Kalgrin's expression grew soft at the mention of a child being named after him. Meanwhile, Anya felt little stabs of irritation because her mother didn't say which sibling was which. The rest of the letter mainly focused on when Anya was going to come and visit, or when Kendra might be able to visit her. She wanted to know all about everything, since although the fort town was a nice enough place, there weren’t a lot of humans there, and she still struggled at times to snap out of what the plantations had done to her.
Five children, and she didn't want to lose a single one.
That was Kendra for you. Yet, for some reason, Kendra had risked all her family to get Anya away. She wanted to include that question in the next letter.
“I've never had people praise me like this,” Kalgrin said, still wearing that soft expression. He passed the finished letter reverently to Anya. “Don't tell anyone, but I feel like crying big, manly tears.”
“Manly?” Now it was Anya's turn to raise an eyebrow. She plucked at her food, finishing off the rest of the egg.
“Of course. If I plan to keep you around, you'd rather have someone reliable to support you, right?”
For some reason, this statement seemed to darken the mood. Anya wondered why her emotions had sunk. Perhaps it came because of her need for independence, instead of being constantly supported. She let it go, however. He meant well.
And he'd found that place in her heart. They spent the morning together, just talking, considering her mother. Kalgrin wanted to understand better why the children hadn't been named until now. He never asked their names when he'd saved them. Just Kendra. Anya explained, and Kalgrin reacted as expected – saddened by the reality of the serf's situation.
Back in her house, Anya aimed for another quick rest.
She planned to go with him next week to one of the plantation areas. She wanted to see if all plantations were the same, or if some had more or less cruelty than hers.
“It’s dangerous,” Kalgrin had told her when she had first asked, “but I can see you've got that determined glint in your eyes. I'll say this: If you want to get involved with infiltrating these areas, you’ll need more training. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go to those places without some kind of basic self-defense.”
“So, teach me,” was her response.
“With pleasure,” he replied, bending to kiss her hand. He looked so proud in that moment, standing by her side. Admiring the spirit inside her body. Allowed to be a part of her life, by a choice of her own making.
She knew full well the path she now chose wouldn’t be easy. She knew Kalgrin, despite his jovial manner, his casual way of dipping himself into dangerous situations, might die any day. One mistake when he crept into an isolated lordling’s home, and she’d no longer have a lover returning home. But, well, if a bloody dragon wanted to risk his life for humans, then surely, she could do the same in return. And support him in any way possible.
A few of the former plantation slaves had chosen to settle in Tarn, enjoying the simple, vibrant life of a small town where people ended up sticking to one another like glue. Others had run away into the wilderness, not being able to handle the truth. Likely they would have died or been recaptured.
Something, Anya decided, is very wrong with everything. If what Kalgrin said was true, if humans once used magic to rule the world, then lost it... had the wyrms originally started enslaving humans out of revenge? And did they never let go of that hate, even though the humans born centuries later no longer remembered what it was they did?
She really didn't like that the wyrms might have a valid justification for what they did. No. It's not valid. It's never valid to treat people like they don't deserve to live.
But it did feel like fighting a difficult, uphill battle. One where she wasn't sure if humans could ever reach the top.
He said humans had magic, though. And it might be possible that many under our noses can use it, but never reveal it. She decided that for Kalgrin, she'd pay attention to the serfs and slaves they helped, and see if any of them had the spark of magic.
She scheduled a letter to send to her mother. Just her general thoughts and feelings, and confirming that she did get together with Kal, and worked closely with him on a number of projects. The scribe had glanced at her a few times, a little surprised to hear she came from a plantation, but otherwise kept impartial to the matter. Likely she heard all sorts of interesting things in her effort to transcribe speech.
Anya wandered through the little town of Tarn afterwards, thinking hard on where she wanted to aim her life. Perhaps she could go to the northlands in time, without fear of the wyrms. Maybe not to a fort town – she suspected life in those to be uniform, with everyone having their set routines and cautions in place.
She settled at the inn once more and saw Seon, strangely morose, taking her time cleaning out the insides of an already glistening jar.
“What's wrong, Seon?” Anya ventured over to the bar counter, and sat with her arms folded as Seon continued polishing the glass.
“Oh, nothing.” She gave a wry smile when Anya appeared less than impressed with her answer. “Okay. It's something. I'm just a little worried because I've been seeing more of a wyrm presence in the area lately.”
“Really?” Anya had only seen a few in the whole time living here.
“Yes. You just don't get wyrms here, you know? But for some reason, they're insisting on regular patrols through the streets. Drakes and humans might hiss at them, but we can't legally stop the idea of community protection from the city. But it seems like they're looking for something.”
A chill went through Anya's heart. Are they chasing me? Kalgrin? The feeling lingered, before Seon said, “Don't worry. I don't think it's anything to do with you or Kalgrin. That happened far away in some little rural place nobody cares about. They'll likely assume the slaves revolted. So don't worry about that.”
Anya deflated slightly. “Sorry. I keep thinking... having nightmares that they're still coming after me.”
“I suspected as much. No. I don't know what they want. Guess we'll just have to wait and see.”
The way Seon kept polishing that glass, though, told Anya that maybe she did have an idea of what they wanted, but didn't plan to tell Anya. Perhaps in time, with some more trust.
“So,” Seon said, “did you do the thing with Kal yet? I'm waiting.”
Anya blushed brighter than a ruby. “Uh... yes? We did the thing.”
The barmaid cackled in delight, now finally putting that glass away. “Okay, this I have to hear. How did you get around to it?”
“We just... did. I turned up at his door, dressed in a way so he saw a hint of what I looked like under the clothes... and I guess we're a couple now.”
“Good. You two make a good one. He's a good man. Drake. Whatever. You have enough spine in you to not let yourself be completely walked over. And you're going back to places that you have every right to not even want to touch, ever again. I admire you. Just keep at it, okay?” Seon gave Anya a pat on the back, and the two women shared a smile.
She returned back to Kalgrin's house later in the evening, giving a small knock, hoping he'd be in. When he answered, she stumbled into his arms and planted her lips upon his.
“Mmf,” Kalgrin said, gray eyes amused. Anya removed her lips from caressing his. “I could get used to that. I'll feed you if you want, just don't expect anything more than tomato soup.”
Anya smiled. “That will be perfect.”
“Obviously. I'm a perfect guy. Well, since you're here, I don't have to knock on your door about it. Fancy coming to see my parents tomorrow?”
“Uh...” Anya blinked rapidly. “Is that necessary?”
“They don't bite. My mother, I bet, would love to see you. She sent me a letter a few days back, asking when I'd be coming over, asking if any nice ladies had wandered into my life. Bet she'll love to hear how we met.”
Anya laughed, though she ran a hand nervously through her brown hair. Kalgrin's parents wouldn't be like human ones in the plantations. Likely they gave him a wonderful upbringing, a balanced one without him needing to work before he became the right age to do so. “Sure. But I admit I'm kind of terrified they won't like me.” Or me them.
“I don't mind. I want to introduce you to them eventually. It can be tomorrow, or it can be a little longer if you're uncomfortable.”
She grasped his hand with her own. Steeling her stomach. This is Kal. If he turned out like this, his parents aren't likely to be monsters. “I'll do it. Can't be scarier than running from a wyrm, right?”
He grinned before ruffling her hair and seizing her in another kiss. During the kiss, Anya forgot how to breathe. He looped his arms around her waist and pulled her up with him until her feet left the ground.
“Hey,” she gasped, the sound vibrating on Kalgrin's lips. “Put me down.”
In response, Kalgrin lifted her higher, pretending not to hear. She flailed her legs and he grinned, holding her at arm's length before him.
“Look at you. Small thing.”
“I'm not that small,” Anya grumbled. She wasn't – she hit about average height with other women. Kalgrin wasn't even that tall, either. He just wanted to show off his strength. Anya punched the air ineffectually.
“Oh, what fun we’ll have together…” Kalgrin purred, giving her a rather sultry gaze, gray eyes darkening in lust.
Anya twitched a smirk of her own.
That seemed to be the trigger, for Kalgrin hugged her close and dashed towards the bedroom, the tomato soup apparently forgotten. Clothes found their way to the floor fast, and their naked bodies entwined with one another as they lost their minds to the moment.
Anya wanted so much more of this. Her body had a lot of catching up to do, sure, but now that she knew for certain that Kalgrin desired her, and she desired him back, she needed to make up for lost time.
She arched her body, shivering as he glided into her, his length hitting her sweet spot, over and over. She gasped and moaned, and his hands seemed to be everywhere. Touching her cheeks, neck, breasts, hot and leaving a ghostly trail in her mind. She imagined all her skin that had been touched by his hands to glow a different color.
His mouth grasped her neck, licking and sucking hard, until a dull throb spread across it, next to where her pulse beat madly. Marking her. Those gasps of pleasure kept eliciting themselves out, and she wanted him to never stop.
Not just to feel his body moving over hers, to see those eyes dark and glazed, to see that smile upon his face or to hear those soft grunts of pleasure. She wanted him to never stop loving her.
Maybe a tall order, but she clutched him as if he were a life raft. In a way, he was. The one who pulled her out of that dark sea, before it swallowed her below water and snaked into her lungs.
The one who brought her the keys of freedom, allowed her siblings to be named early, and wanted her with all his heart.
The orgasm hit her hard, spreading a heated path through her veins, sinking her into bliss. Her contractions caused him to orgasm with her as well, and they lay side by side.
Yes. Anya snuggled up into him. Still not intending to eat just yet. I could get used to this...
The End
Seon’s Freedom
Found by the Dragon – Book 2
by Lisa Daniels
Chapter One
The wyrm stomped through the streets. His huge, scaly lips curled into a sneer, and his sinister yellow eyes scoured the shadows. Gas lamps lit the streets, but they provided no warmth from the cold atmosphere and little vision in the fog.
Seon watched through her house’s little window on the second floor, breath frosting over the glass. Curse these dragons. Couldn't have a night of peace with them stomping about. Her heart beat fast, nervous at the thought of being discovered.
Of course, none of the wyrms had any reason to suspect a thing. She kept all her activities under lock and key, worked a respectable job serving ale at the nearest inn, and had never given wyrms any reason to track her movements. Yet, somehow, she couldn’t help but feel the wyrms were here for her specifically. Her friend, Anya, worried about being caught all the time, but Anya didn't know that the woman she sometimes spoke to at the inn had her own fears of being caught.
The wyrms didn't look specifically for Seon. They just wanted someone like her. Someone who knew the old ways. Someone who had something forgotten for centuries. Even if Seon’s gifts were less than impressive, they still touched at the magic no human was supposed to have.
No one knew about it. Not the people at the inn. Not Anya from across the street, or her drake partner, Kalgrin.
Seon didn't tell anyone. She didn't want to risk discovery. Didn't want to lose the life she'd forged here, away from the slums of her former home, with the stench of stale beer and dirty floors. With the alcohol-filled breath of her mother. That past was long since gone, and good riddance.
Anya and Kalgrin trusted Seon with knowledge of their jobs, though. Even asked her to put up some of their rescues in the inn whilst sorting out where to place them. Each rescue resembling a pathetic, broken and trembling thing. In a town mostly inhabited by drakes and humans which promoted neutral and fair trade, the wyrms tended to get jumpy at the idea of humans living a serf-free life.
Went against the grain for them, made them snort fire out of their ears and secretly plot in their twisted little wyrm heads of enslaving all the humans. Wyrms didn't see humans as worthwhile living creatures. They saw them as lazy beasts that needed to be whipped into shape and bred like rabbits.
Seon continued to watch through the window as another wyrm joined the prowl. She mimed spitting and closed the curtains, moving away. She turned down the gas lamp so only a tiny light shimmered from the side of her bed. She spent fifteen minutes boiling a kettle on the stove to pour herself a hot drink of chamomile tea, and yanked out a few strands of her long, jet black hair which seemed out of place. Tugging the hair hurt, but she liked the pain. It provided a distraction to her thoughts and helped calm her down when the paranoia threatened. She also liked drinking the chamomile to keep her body healthy, her skin smooth and pale. She didn’t look a day past twenty.
I'm twenty-three. Though I already feel much older than those years. For those in the plantations and the mines, twenty-three would be an impressive age, even more impressive if you didn't have at least two children by this time. Average life expectancies varied. The longest Seon had ever heard of a human living was maybe around sixty, but they tended to be ones in towns and areas of less conflict. In areas of hard labour, the age drastically lowered itself. Once people became too physically slow, the wyrms found excuses to bump them off.
At least Seon had never been born in one of those places. She lived in the town of Drakehill until she became old enough to separate from her mother.
Seon's mouth puckered at the thought of her mother, before she pushed it from her mind. No sense thinking about that now. I'm not there. I don't have to be like that anymore.
Normally, she spent the time concentrating on working the magic. The thing she wasn't supposed to have. It might be useless now, but maybe with some practise, she might find something else. Without any reference to magic, without any clue really what it was or what she was doing, progress went at a glacial pace. Seon started to think that maybe this was the limit of her magic. With the shadows.
However, with the presence of the wyrms from the city, she didn’t want to risk incurring their wrath. She knew the punishment if magic was found. Even though wyrms and humans both claimed magic didn't exist, the fact that the punishment of execution was stated so publicly in their laws meant that magic did exist. Just people didn't talk about it. Or maybe they forgot about it for a while, before trying to pick up the pieces of a lost past.
The wyrms prowled the streets, following the rumors that magic had been spotted in Tarn. They wouldn't find magic like that, though. No self-respecting human wanting to keep their hide would dare openly practise. They were uneducated, maybe, but not insane.
Which meant the wyrms had recently taken to knocking on doors. What did they expect, exactly? To find magical paraphernalia dotted about the place, shrunken heads and flickering candles arranged in a ritualistic circle? Seon traipsing around in black clothes and cackling like the witches of old?
Honestly, if Seon had her way, she’d vanish away to a safe place where no wyrms existed, and live out a life of happiness. Just a shame that humans were allowed to do shit fuck-all in this world. Had less rights than a damn dog. Work a life on the plantations and be lucky to make it past twenty, or live in the city and hope you escape notice long enough to have children to carry on your legacy.
Kalgrin had offered her to go in one of the fort towns, or the mountains to the north, but Seon didn't want to live in a cold place. She'd have to walk around bundled in furs all day long, trying not to freeze to death. At least here she had the freedom of a good inn job and lively conversation, as opposed to the more reserved people in the north.
She sipped at her warm tea, swirling the pale yellow liquid around, taking in the warm, comforting scent. Yes. This helped with relaxing. She'd be alright. She had started drinking the tea upon arriving in Tarn, and now associated it with her increased freedom.
Seon’s heart leapt into her throat when she heard a loud, hard knock on the front door. She might have jumped out of her skin a bit as well.
Oh no. That must be the wyrms. Can they see my light? No. I turned it down. Gathering herself together, she considered not answering, until she heard, “Open up! We know you’re in there! We’ll give you one minute, or you’ll be accused of obstructing justice!”
Fuck. Obstructing justice was just an oily phrase for the wyrms to have an excuse to arrest you, repossess your home, and bang you into slavery. They itched to take away what little rights remained to a human in a drake-dominated town. And they tested drake authority at every step, knowing they were more numerous than drakes, but not quite wishing to instigate war.
Entering her calm place, she went to open the door, lifting her long skirt in a curtsey as two yellow-eyed men stood outside.
She also resisted the impulse to bare her lips in a disdainful sneer upon seeing the wyrms. Horrible, vicious brutes.
“Hello, good sirs,” Seon said, smiling in an ingratiating manner. “How may I help you? Would you like some tea? I’ve boiled some now. It's good chamomile, it is. Takes the fire right out your bones.” She deliberately adopted simple country slang, so the wyrms didn't think her in the least bit intelligent.
“No,” one of the wyrms said, staring at her with obvious contempt in his eyes. The other wrinkled his nose, as if she smelled foul, even though Seon put extra effort into washing every day, wanting to look good for the customers she served a few doors down. Obviously she didn't have the luxuries of the richer ones in this place, with their fancy baths and pre-heated water. She made do with a bucket and water boiled over the fire.
Without waiting for any express invitation, the wyrms barged in. No manners at all. No respect. Hard-eyed creatures wearing the faces of men, though their faces held little mercy and little love. They began rifling through her house, flipping through the belongings. Murder flared in Seon's heart.
“What on earth are you doing? Why are you coming in and looking through my stuff?” Seon puffed herself up. Part of her “stupid” persona had slipped. “How dare you!”
One of the wyrms, sporting dark brown hair, gave a snort. “We’re looking for evidence of criminal activity.”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit criminal, pushing past me and tearing through my belongings late at night?”
The wyrms ignored her, continued to rifle through her belongings. Just as well what Seon did needed no physical material to do the thing she shouldn’t. She suspected they wanted to catch her in the act of magic, somehow, or perhaps were just trying to catch a human in the act of something illicit. No contraband existed in Seon's house, either. She kept herself as clean as possible, unwilling to risk herself in case the wyrms did something like this.
They stormed into her bedroom. One pulled out the bag of money she kept there.
Oh no. Don't you dare steal my money, you cretin.
Seon pointedly watched him, and the wyrm gave her a long stare, before emitting an evil grin, pouring all of the coins onto the floor.
“Really?” Seon said. “That’s what I need to pay the rent. Why would you do something so petty? It's not enough for you to ransack my house, you have to be cruel as well?”
“Watch your tongue, filth,” the taller of the two wyrms snarled. “We can arrest you for obstruction.” Even as he spoke, the other wyrm began tearing up her bedcovers, before yanking all her clothes out the wardrobe, carelessly ripping them in the process.
“Has to be a thorough search,” he said, smiling malice. “Can't leave a single thing unturned, you know?”
Seon's blood boiled. One hand closed in a fist, trembling slightly, white at the knuckles. She knew she couldn’t do anything wrong than to exclaim when they destroyed her goods, because the bastards wanted a reason to arrest her by goading her into action. Wasn’t there some stupid law that a wyrm could take a human as a slave if the human was found guilty of criminal activity or something? Seon supposed it was smart that the wyrms suggested through their laws that good humans might be able to stay innocent and free. Otherwise things might be a lot worse than they were now. After all, it wasn't the wyrms’ fault if they found something off in a human's home, was it? Certainly wasn't their fault if a human gave them lip, either. Should have had more self-control.
Seon carefully stepped out of the way, memorizing their faces to report to the other humans and drakes in the town for later. Reprehensible monsters who would wreck your home and potentially steal your money. She bit back any insults, and her eyes clung to their backs as they finally left the house. But not without kicking over the living room table that her cup of tea lay upon. The ceramic shards shattered, along with a splodge of yellowish liquid. The wyrms laughed as they left.
She bit her knuckle to stop herself screaming. Seon didn’t want to draw attention. Her cheeks burned red, her eyes itched from frustrated tears. With a heavy, leaden body, she spent the next two hours cleaning the mess they left behind.
I’m already so tired. Working for long hours, working on staying out of sight.
At least life is better in the towns, people said. Or maybe they said, the drakes protect you, right? You’ve got it made. You’re not being beaten on a daily basis, or cowering in some tiny village in the middle of nowhere.
Ha. As if. Maybe living in a town was marginally better than, say, being whipped to death on a plantation, or catching disease in the slums and losing large chunks of population at a time. Maybe the drakes offered some kind of buffer against the full wrath of the wyrms – but it was clear who held the power.
The drakes and humans hung onto Tarn by the skin of their teeth, and the casual wyrm “inspections” were rumoured to be increasing by the month. Scare tactics, some said. Trying to frighten the humans and drakes into moving elsewhere, so wyrms could buy up property and take over the town. After all, Tarn was a little too close to the wyrms' capital city. They probably saw the town as a rat's nest, a filthy eyesore upon their rule.
Just when Seon finally sat herself down, planning to brush her long black hair to calm down and fixing her green eyes in the tiny mirror in the bathroom, she heard another fucking knock at the door. She practically dropped her brush in fright.
Her stomach gurgled in unease. If it was those wyrms again… she’d only just tidied up the damn place. Didn’t need any more trouble. She also now held the pouch of coins in her skirt pocket, considering it a better hiding place for them. Please don't let it be them. It means they're suspicious of me. It means I might be arrested.
“Open up,” the voice said, gruff. No nonsense.
Seon cleared her throat, trying not to sound scared, but forceful. “It’s late at night. What reason do you have for knocking upon my door?”
“A good one,” came the blunt answer.
Seon pinched the bridge of her nose before thinking fuck it and opening the door. It wasn't the wyrms from before, at least.
“Hello,” the stranger said, examining her with gray eyes, a common drake coloring.
Oh.
“I’m afraid we don’t have much time.” She examined him for a few seconds. Short blond hair, a rounded face accentuated by blond sideburns. Ears that seemed taped to his head, and a crooked nose that looked as if it’d been broken more than once. He stood quite tall, with a strong, puffed out chest that Seon suspected would break her wrist if she tried to punch it.
Handsome, really. Just a shame he was a drake. Although she knew drakes to be friendly towards humans, the fact that he knocked at her door this time of night with this mysterious, brusque manner put her on edge.
Like the wyrms, he stepped past her without waiting for an invitation, and it sent Seon’s nerves past breaking point.
“What is it with dragons and just stomping around my property? I already had two wyrms here. What do you want?”
The drake smiled darkly at her. She noticed his nostrils flaring slightly. “Yes, you’re right. I still smell their stench. They already know something’s up.” He stepped closer to her and gave a long, conspicuous sniff near her ear.
“What the actual fuck?”
“Interesting,” the drake said, his nostrils flaring. “It is you they’re looking for. I detected your scent when I was in town earlier. I knew I had to find the owner of it.”
Instantly, Seon’s whole body froze. Her mind whirled to a standstill, and her jaw dropped open. “W-what do you mean?”
The drake gave her a disarming smile, adjusting his blue collar. “And to think I was only here visiting when I smelled you by chance.” He paused. “I think you know exactly what I mean, if we judge by your sweaty palms and white face. I’m a Sniffer. You know what one of those is?”
“Someone who… sniffs?” Hell if she knew.
“Well, yes,” he said. “But it’s something a little more special than just sniffing. We can detect magic contained in a living creature. And you, my little human friend, have it radiating from every pore. Oh, you are in trouble.”
Panic seized Seon's brain, stopping it from working properly. No. No way. He couldn't possibly know she had magic. This had to be a bluff. “What do you mean? No one has magic.”
The drake’s expression turned wry. Seeing right through her bluff. If Seon wasn’t veering close to hysterical panic, she might have admired the way the muscles moved upon his face. Right now, she could only think of escape, and how to get away before things got worse.
I can't be discovered! I can't!
“The wyrms are currently trying to root out all humans with even a drop of magical blood in their veins. You don't think those random inspections are just for show, right?”
At this, Seon gave a dry laugh. “Magic’s been gone from our kind for centuries.”
“And it’s coming back. As is proven by your scent. So, please, spare me your lies. I can smell you. You can keep protesting the fact that you have it as much as you want, but you can't hide the truth from me.” He paused a moment, and Seon considered grabbing something to hit him with. “The wyrms fear a return of the old ways. It won't be long until they employ Sniffers of their own.” The drake sucked at his teeth. “I’m Artiz.”
When Seon didn’t provide her name in return, Artiz sighed. “Like that, huh? That's no way to treat your rescuer. Given that I've kindly come to warn you and everything.”
Rescuer? “You call breaking into my house and threatening me a rescue?”
“Threatening? Is that what you see this as? Okay. First, you opened the door. Second, I’m warning you right now that you're in danger. I’ve not got to the third part yet. Which I will, once you kindly give me your name. It might interest you, since it involves you living for slightly longer – and being able to master whatever magic you happen to have. And yes, although I can tell you have magic, I don't know what type it is.”
Every instinct in Seon screamed at her to not trust any dragon. No matter how friendly they appeared on the outside. Her silence made Artiz sigh again.
“Always so stubborn, you humans. Won’t know a good thing even if it comes and beats you over the head. Look. You’re going to have wyrms coming through your house every week. Do you want that?”
Seon shook her head. Of course she didn’t, but she also didn’t want a great thumping drake stomping about the place, telling her what to do. No one told her what to do. Unless they asked nicely, and she saw the logic in it. “I have absolutely no reason to trust you, and I still don’t know why you’re here.”
Irritation flashed across his face. He appeared one step away from strangling her. “I just said. I’m here to rescue you.”
Seon scoffed. “I’m not a damsel in distress. I have a job, money, a life, and I live in a neutral town. What part of any of that means I need rescuing?”
“The part where when the wyrms find out you can use magic, you’ll be flayed alive and your skin used as a carpet. Trust me. They have Sniffers as well. And they will send them here, once initial efforts are exhausted. They’re on the hunt through the nearby towns for anyone who might be guilty of magic. And tavern-goers have been talking about seeing shadows in this place.”
A chill rippled through Seon.
The people in her tavern whispered of the shadows that slithered along the roads at night, or the lights that flickered on and off, without a soul in sight. They spoke of feeling a sensation as if someone had walked over their grave, and of feeling so cold inside, they wondered if they could ever be happy again. They also only spoke of it after Seon saw the slithering creatures in person.
It was because Seon saw things out of the corners of her eyes. And upon seeing them, if the shadows seemed to realize she could observe them, they became a little more substantial. And even normal people felt them. She always got nervous that if she observed them for too long, they'd grow into something monstrous.
“I have heard people talk about these things.” She hardly was going to mention that they may only see them in the first place because of her.
She didn't think her magic caused them to appear. Simply that her magic allowed her to see them. Her actual ability was far less impressive. Sometimes, when she stared into space, without any distractions cluttering her mind, without any emotions claiming her body, she could… feel things.
She sensed objects around her, picking up on the thing that made them true and real. And sometimes, when she delved hard and long enough, she sensed the mind that went with them – usually a mind formed by the perception of those who observed them.
All objects were living in some form, though not in the way a human normally understood. All objects had a place, and a conviction of their duties. Take the table. The table was strong, solid. It felt stable, brazen and proud of what it did, of the things it supported, of the elbows that rested upon it day after day. The pride came from usefulness. Of a simple life without worry, or fear, knowing that Seon depended on it being stable, as did the objects that rested upon it. That “mind” came from how everyone thought a table to be. They created its personality.
Fantastic magic power, right? Knowing a table liked being used as a table.
Definitely could change the world with that. Also why Seon worked so hard to discover if she could do anything else. No luck so far, though. Listening to tables liking being tables was pretty much it.
“So,” Seon said, pretending to humor Artiz’s advance, “say I agree to let you rescue me. What will happen?”
“You hop on my back, we take a nice flight to a distant training school in the mountains – and then you get to learn about your powers. Alternatively, you can keep working for your pennies until the wyrms trash your property one too many times, and you get pissed off enough to warrant them arresting you.” He gave her a winning smile. As if knowing she had no other choice.
Seon scowled. She always had choices. Life was full of choices. Go out, stay in. Talk back, stay silent. Sometimes the options seemed limited, but whatever the situation, the choice remained. She always had one.
She considered Artiz. Tried to drill into his mind, consider why he’d bother helping her. Certainly not out of the kindness of his heart. Oh no.
Everyone had motives. Even handsome little blondie here, with his sideburns and punched-in nose.
“Do you really think I’ll give up my life in this place? I’ve spent years here. Years working, living, learning to be by myself. Do you know what my life was like before this? Do you? Of course you don’t.”
Seon trembled as she said these words. She didn’t want to think about the past, not even for a second, but it haunted her sometimes, caught her unawares. Before this town, being little more than scum floating upon water. Being a human. Being near that wreck of a mother, who paid her upkeep by allowing men between her thighs.
“We’re not here to start opening up to your past, woman. And I’m telling you, if you don’t think about coming with me soon, you won’t have a future to look forward to. Never mind what you have now.” Artiz folded his arms, gray eyes hard. “And if you’re really going to be stubborn about it…” a wicked grin leapt upon his face, “then I can go and call the wyrms back right now. And tell them that you use magic.”
Horror forced Seon’s mouth open. “You wouldn’t!”
The drake gave her a cold smile. “I’d rather have you dead than out with rogue magic. Uncontrolled magic can be even more dangerous than a wyrm. Try me.” The smile crystallized. “Unless you have enough magic to stop me? Just like you stopped the wyrms?”
Seon hissed through her lips, shaking in incandescent fury. How dare he? How fucking dare he do this to her? Force her into a place she didn’t want to be. Force her to bend the knee to him.
He saw her simmering rage, and knew he had won. He didn’t show joy in it, didn’t rub it in her face – perhaps sensing that on a whim, or out of spite, Seon would change her mind. She might die to defend her pride.
She would have loved in that moment to strike him down, summon lightning out of the sky like a primeval god, and lay waste to all the creatures that had inflicted such misery upon her. But she had nothing. Between the choices of dying or living, Seon would choose to live. Generally.
“Can I send word to my boss, to my friends? Or will I just vanish off the face of civilization?” Seon stood straight and proud, black hair flowing, green eyes like agates. Just then, she thought she saw something flicker behind Artiz. A shadow. A brief distortion in the gaslight. She knew she shouldn't, but her eyes wandered to it anyway. When she focused completely, this time it vanished. As if frightened of being spotted.
Why did she discover these things? She wondered sometimes if she was being taunted by demons. They came out to play whenever her emotions took a dip. These flickers at the corners of her peripheral vision came too often to be mere coincidence, dismissed with the bat of an eyelid.
No. She definitely saw something. She just didn’t comprehend what she observed. Artiz peered at her with a curious expression.
“I’ll give you time to write them letters. I’ll be gone in the morning. Is that a problem?”
“Obviously.” Seon bared her teeth at him, before going to her living room to pull out a quill and what remained of her ink. She set herself to writing. Asking Anya to take care of the property here. Apologizing to her boss and Kalgrin. Hoping one day to see them again.