by C. Swallow
“Yet a Keeper in a Venatores is the pre-chosen mate, only she can choose who that is.”
“Well, I chose for her,” Zarcar buds in, stating this firmly and protectively.
“Brother, you care for her in that way?”
“…to a degree. My heart originally set with a Draconess called Aisha, as was his heart… and his,” my heart nearly leaps out of my chest.
What?
“Was?” Torrent thanks a server for bringing in more wine, “And who was that, a beguiling Queen that manipulated all of you against one another?”
“Precisely,” Lixar buds in, and I hear them all poor more alcohol.
“So, Chyronex is your humble, obedient little pet… is she?” Torrent questions this with specific tones to his voice I do not understand.
“Humble?” Zarcar bursts out laughing, “Not at all. And obedient enough.”
“I assume she has a temper.”
“No, she is quite tame….” Zar’s answers are so off. Tame?! He’s crazy! “…unless provoked.”
“How old is she?” Torrent asks.
“19,” Rey, Zar and Lix all answer.
“Young enough to bend, brother,” Zarcar adds this and I focus on Andoll.
She’s watching my reaction, she genuinely looks worried.
I shake my head at her and I turn. I’ve heard enough! I head down the hall.
Andoll follows me to another window on the adjacent side of the mini castle.
I look out and there are plenty of vines. I stand on the sill and Andoll growls from behind.
“You run?” Andoll asks.
“Yes,” I snap.
“You’ll die.”
“No,” I turn to her and Andoll pauses, considering the fire in my gaze, “I won’t.”
I look up to the sky, as thunder clouds continue to roll in after dispersing all day.
Moon guide me.
“…then… do not die…” Andoll murmurs her simple farewell.
“You’ll not see me again, farewell,” I answer without turning.
I stare at the Moon again and pull on her power.
I am dislodging myself from this place, this prison. I cannot hear my soul be tossed around between brutes. I cannot stay just to be fucked by each one, the cheek of those swine.
They would never see me again!
My Draconess inside doesn’t purr with agreement, she is prowling with utter fury.
Part of me believed I needed to run before I murdered every single one of them!
I do not climb, nor fly, but I feel at that moment, my feet turning into something else. Something so light, my body contorts and becomes the same thing.
I roll forward, as waves of smoke, towards the river. It’s so fast, I’m flying over water and more until I see the edge of the city.
In seconds, I form back together, reappearing under the gates of Swendula.
I find myself leaning over a wooden crate… standing… and swaying.
I hold my breath… I’m on the back of a merchant’s boat!
One man sails upfront and he turns as we head under the gates, out of the city, to gaze back at the tall stone walls.
That’s when he sees me.
I’m hard to miss in my white dress.
“…my lord!” he exclaims, jumping forward, the long bearded man picks up a steel weapon.
“I am a witch and I suggest you lay down that pitch fork or I shall curse you infertile till moon’s end! You do know how curses work, don’t you?” I quickly stand up right and hold out my hands, trying to appear confronting.
“I’ve already looked upon your eyes,” he hisses, scolding himself.
“So you will say nothing and I will depart… when the… fae… call me…” I add the last part without knowing much about my own threat.
The merchant thinks a good minute and finally lays down his fork.
“Be sure to keep to your side of the boat, witch!” he gulps and stands still, waiting to see if I turn into a monster.
“And you to yours,” I drawl, low. I jump forward and I snatch up a half burnt torch. I smack out some ash onto my hands and squat to draw a dramatic line between us.
When I look up, I see the bearded merchant panting in a panic. The next moment he’s jumping onto the edge of the boat and launching himself to the muddy edge of the river bank.
I watch him fall into the water and splash frantically in an attempt to get out.
I look for others and see no one on the craft.
The boat is mine.
It’d do!
I look down the river and an uninhabited forest awaits ahead.
It looked like and smelt like the one thing I craved.
Freedom.
From those bastards back in Swendula.
I thank the Moon for her guidance... and then I sit down… but I don’t cry, I bite my tongue.
I would sob my frustration away, only after I found a safe place to do so.
My instincts were already suggesting a place.
A cave.
Aye, a cave far, far away would do just fine.
Chapter 34
Everything about who I am had changed. My monstrous hunter form, was totally bad ass. As a mortal, I was susceptible to vulnerable thoughts. As a Draconess, I had no vulnerable thoughts.
I stalk my way up the hill on all fours, my claws silently piercing the soil as my body remains low, eventually my head pops over the crest of the hill to see the little crack below.
From the red line growing from the split earth, came demons. Fully grown. Only three at a time. They’d sneak out as groups of centaurs, sometimes wicked fae, sometimes goblin monsters. They would shriek when they found the bones of their dead nearby, then I would swoop in and attack while they were distracted.
I watch now as one stray fae pokes their head up from the crack under an overcast sky which blocked out most of the sun. The creature is wisping up quickly into the air the first chance it gets with its long insect like wings; half the size of a mortal, they call to their friends. Two more pull up, covered in red tattoos.
They wear the skin of others, whether it was leather or reptilian scales or beaten dried skin off one another, they always had teeth as sharp as pin pricks and wide beautiful contrasting eyes. These three fae hold up their hands and cry out in disgust at the corpses around them.
We were in the middle of nowhere and no one could watch this show.
So, I had my fun while isolated; I had no worry of eyes.
I launch up into the air and swoop downward, inches from the grass, I head for the fairies.
Two of them see me coming and disappear in a mirage while I snap up the first unwitting fae between my jaws, crushing them easily in my mouth. My saliva acts like acid and they just melt across my tongue.
I spin around, growling and excited to kill more bad demons.
I find the remaining two fae holding up bones of their fallen, sharp centaur legs with the hoofs still attached by tendons. The ends are sharply broken across their knees and the fae throw the weapons at me.
I burn one to dust, but a sharp pain emanates from my chest area as the other makes contact. I ignore it and launch forward, breathing out a fire blast that completely cooks them both until the fae creatures explode in a mist of blood and magic. I snort out my disgust and take off.
After four weeks of living alone in the forest, this was my first real injury from a demon. I fly across a dense forest to a tall cliff. I land at the base and shift into my mortal form. I make my way into my cozy cave, where I have a basic set up.
A little bed, a fire place, a bone fruit basket, bowls from a few demon skulls, stone tools for cutting up meat and fruit, a cooking flat rock in the fire for my meals, rabbit bones for sewing and drawing up my plans on the walls and to remember spells through art. My white dress was ruined and I had replaced my clothes with a fur bra and ripped the dress to make a small skirt.
I sit naked by a skull of water and a cloth, and I look at my ch
est wound that stretches to my collar bone. It’s not deep so I clean it roughly, I lie down on the floor and I decide to sleep. Until it healed.
I dream of nothing and I sleep lightly.
Many hours later I wake up to the smell of smoke in the middle of the night.
Not my smoke.
It’s someone else and it’s more than a small one. It’s more akin to a party of soldiers cooking meat with a bon fire.
I sit up quickly, glad to find I’m still alone. However, the pain in my chest is quite phenomenal for a wound that should have healed by now with my natural pull on demonic power. When I glance down, the wound is bleeding lightly, barely healed.
Cursed horse shit.
I feel light headed and I grab some dried fruit.
I chew on that and slowly stand up.
I may require a potion from a nearby sun priestess to fix this kind of ailment.
But first…
“Who the hell is in my forest?” I growl under my breath as I stumble out of the cliff edge to gaze for the fire.
I see a few blazes in the far distance, many miles away, but from many small fires. The glow of the camp is bright enough to suggest it’s a big convoy.
I don’t risk shifting, I slowly walk up the hill by the cliff, knowing from the top I’ll get a good view.
Once on top of the world, I can see everything of the sparse forest below.
Dipped in a valley by a river, a camp settles. Maybe a hundred soldiers. Not many more.
It wasn’t as large as I first thought.
I can’t tell who, or why, but I know the only way I can check is if I shift and improve my vision.
I turn into my Dragon form upon the cliff top and keep low, my nostrils flaring in annoyance at the close intruders.
I had become protective of my little slice of Eden. I enjoyed the freedom, the absolute disconnect from the place I had previously escaped from.
I had barely thought of them while I had been surviving, learning, growing and becoming my true self.
A Draconess that was powerful, independent and totally liberated from leaning on or assuming protection from anyone.
I didn’t need… anyone… at all.
I was happy on my own.
I was happy in my cave.
I was happy killing demons, making spells and eating raw.
I was happy.
I shake my head – delaying this whole time – what I had to do next.
I focus my eyes and my vision magnifies a hundred times until I see every movement, every man, every tent, every fire.
A small portion of Rey’s army was here.
And I knew who led them.
For a good half hour, I scan everyone looking for a familiar face.
For twenty minutes after I’ve found him, I stare for too long.
Zarcar is looking into the biggest fire after finishing a soldier’s dinner, looking focused but clearly acting short with anyone who approaches him. Lixar leans back on a log all to himself, sharpening a knife while a fine young maiden sits by him and combs his hair while murmuring into his ear. Andoll is there too, sitting behind Zarcar on another log, looking irate as usual. She snarls if any soldier tries to approach her.
I do not see Torrent.
I watch without movement, wondering why a hundred soldiers are here in the first place.
At first I thought it was for me, it was definitely for me. Until I realise they were probably here for the same reason I was.
Cracks in the ground. This was the first place demons were coming back into the realm. They were here to contain the first outbreak. I was not too far from Swendula.
The Surge of Hemon was already beginning. I guess this would be practice for the small army and I guess that’s why Zarcar looked so focused.
I wonder if I was on his mind, or if he was past me running. He could have any woman, just like Lix, if he wanted.
But then Zarcar looks over his shoulder, murmurs something to Lixar, who laughs and Zar snarls. My Warlord is angry. And then he turns to the forest and moves his large belt across his pants, getting ready… to take a piss.
He leaves the camp and he doesn’t stop.
It’s a walk to clear his head.
I find my body slowly rising all on its own accord until I’m no longer lying flat on the cliff edge.
Intercept.
Recruit.
Form.
A Venatores.
I wanted to form my Venatores, properly...
And I can’t stop those initial instincts.
Punish.
Rule.
Obtain control.
Now!
I’m moving before I can stop myself.
I’m moving to intercept Zarcar; while he’s alone.
Chapter 35
I use my nose to track him down as my Draconess. The midnight sky shrouds my prowling demonic beast as I prance around trees and stalk my way to Zarcar’s precise location.
I could smell his body’s scent; daisies, polish, charcoal and sweat. I could hear the dirt softening the heavy step of his boots, the twigs and dried leaves crunching with his walk. Long strides. Angry strides.
I kept believing that one thing. That he was directly angry about something.
As the proximity between us becomes a rather short distance, I slow right down and take each step with silent caution. I wanted to get closer without detection. I wanted to see just how close I could get without my Mystifyer noticing.
In all honesty, I wanted to scare the living demon shit out of his ass. Smack him against a tree, break a few ribs, hear his screams begging for my forgiveness. The feelings I had been left with as I escaped Swendula, were too many too count and too complex to name.
But I needed this.
And I couldn’t wait for this.
I look around a cluster of trees in a dip on the soil, looking for Zar’s presence. I had seen him a few paces down not long before this moment, yet now as I look into the shadows of the night forest – I see nothing.
I hear nothing.
There seems to be no presence.
Maybe he was about to relieve himself behind a tree?
I stay right where I am, unmoving and crouched low, eyes focused and unblinking. I look for any movement, ignoring the beetles and glow worms.
But the bugs – a few moments after that last thought – stop buzzing. Absolute silence. Not even the howl of wind.
A wolf passing through perhaps? But where?
My instincts scream that there is danger close by. But where was Zarcar?
And then I hear it.
A flare of scorching fire burning to life.
I look to the right and I see trees alight in flames from the roots to the low branches, lighting up a hulking, burnt bronze toned scaled beast between them. The black demonic eyes are focused on me. Unlike my absolute beastly, ugly form that I had witnessed in the water’s image – this monster was smoothly designed. Though the teeth and claws were impressive enough to match mine, this Dragon was double my size! That wasn’t fair!
I chuff out a short warning to test the opponent.
In response, the eyes of my enemy focus, the Dragon breathes out fire from between their teeth and it distracts me from the ground frosting over, all the way up to my talons…
…which are suddenly frozen solid in the soil.
A loud growl surfaces from the intruder in my territory, and it quickly turns into a snarl. I snarl back, but as I try to rip my claws from the ground from such a low crouching position, I have to arc myself up – making more of me vulnerable.
The moment my claws crack the icy soil and pull out, they land back down and I slip.
My enemy rushes me, pouncing forward onto the frost – using it to slide into my side and go straight for my neck.
I spin at the last moment and our snouts smack into each other. I sneeze on impact and swipe up violently while I’m on my back, but the other Dragon sinks his teeth into my back leg, crushing down across
a painful nerve. Now, I just go more crazy.