When Dragons Die- The Complete Trilogy Box Set
Page 18
He returned two hours later with a jungle doe hanging, neck broken, from his mouth. He dropped it by Tiberan’s feet. Eat.
Tiberan sat up and cut into the carcass with his knife. The flesh was still hot, and he relished the fresh taste of blood. When he was done, the tiger took his fill before dragging the remains away from the cave.
Over the next forty days, the tiger fed and nursed him as the elf healed. He was so quiet when he departed and returned that Tiberan called him Ghost. When the elf could walk once more, he brought Ghost back to the blue crystal lake. The shelter had gone unmolested in his absence, and the two of them made their home there.
On a hot afternoon, Tiberan tracked a troll hunting party. It was unusual to see women among their number. He and Ghost stayed in the trees, watching them from out of sight. The trolls had ventured farther away from their usual hunting routes and had been in the area for hours, arriving in the dark of night and searching for something. He kept his distance, but wanted to know if they had discovered his treetop home. There were many of them, fanned out into knots of smaller groups.
He didn’t get the impression they were hunting raptors but were here for some other purpose. Regardless, a pack of raptors had noted them and now stalked the trolls. No strangers to the jungle, the trolls refocused on what was now a deadly game between the two groups.
He watched a troll squad of males and females. The men wore goggles and held rifles with scopes. The women had knives with raptor-claw blades strapped to their waists at the top of skin loincloths. It seemed the women were in charge, and he could understand why. Their hips and chests had a pleasing shape. He felt desire to both please and possess.
Raptors darted through the underbrush at the hunting party. The women reacted immediately, throwing stones at the ground in front of their feet. The stones glowed a yellowish green, and the raptors’ movements slowed as time itself grew sluggish in the light that surrounded them. The lead raptor leaped into the air, and his speed too was slowed when he hit the field of light. He flew through the air at an impossible crawl. The troll men trained their rifles on the raptors and fired, killing the beasts that only moments before thought themselves the masters of the hunt. The women retrieved their stones and the men went to work cleaning the kills.
Another raptor lay behind in wait, just like the one at the riverbank had. It saw its companions die and its prey drop their guard as they focused on their work. It leaped towards the throng of troll women, who had just retrieved their stones and weren’t expecting another attack. Up close and unprepared, rifles were useless. The raptor would make short work of them.
Instinctively, Tiberan nocked an arrow into his bow, drawing and releasing before a single thought of maintaining his cover crossed his mind. He realized his folly, but the shaft already flew towards its target.
In midair, the arrow pierced the raptor’s eye and penetrated through its head to emerge from the other eye. The shaft stopped midway through the skull, and the dinosaur fell to the ground with the arrow protruding from both bloodied sockets.
The trolls crouched and looked around, searching the underbrush for the owner of the arrow. One put his fingers to his lips and gave forth a series of whistles that might have been birdcalls had not Tiberan seen him utter the notes. Caution and worry shaped their faces, rather than relief.
Tiberan slunk back into the canopy, hopping to another limb and traversing back several trees. Answering birdcalls rose around him, and he realized the various hunting parties were closing on his location. He froze for a moment to listen. The answering chirps came from beside him as much as from below.
The trolls were in the trees.
He ran swiftly and quietly, but the whistling calls pursued.
Ghost flitted beneath the leaves below, weaving in and out of grass and underbrush. They haven’t seen me yet.
Tiberan came to a limb’s edge and dropped to the ground. He froze, sensing danger. His form became clear, and then disappeared entirely as light passed through him. He knew he would lose his invisibility if he moved.
Ghost stood at the edge of the clearing, taut and ready to pounce. His nose pointed to the grasses, right at the face of another cat, a beautiful white leopard with black spots and blue eyes. The leopard stared first at the tiger, and then met Tiberan’s eyes.
She’s with them, Ghost said. She will reveal us.
Tiberan took the risk and moved, stepping back into visibility. He reached out to the cat, sending his green light forward in an attempt to bond with her.
I mean you no harm, he sent, but I must fade away. I do not wish confrontation.
Her head twitched when she saw him. His green light touched her, and he gasped as he felt another, equally powerful green light already within her. Instead of linking with her, the shock of his energy loosened her animal form. Her body shimmered, then she stood before him as a woman with beautiful silver hair, cut short before it touched her shoulders, and brown eyes lined with penetrating striations of luminous green, dressed in gold chains and jewels over a green-scaled loincloth and top. Red markings ran the length of her body from her neck down her sides and hips to her ankles.
His breath escaped him. The desire to possess and to please overwhelmed him.
Scores of trolls emerged from the clearing, guns and spears pointed at him. The troll women came up behind her and grinned.
The female elf stood transfixed, face in serene beauty echoing the rapture in his heart. A single tear fell from her eye, glistening in her eye’s light on her cheek. She opened her mouth and uttered words filled with profound sadness, “Oh, Odoune…!”
18 - House-Brothers
Tiberan stood surrounded. Troll men kept their rifles trained on him, but it was the women who came forward to join the female elf.
“You found him, Aradma,” one of them said. “We will take him to the Matriarch now.”
Ghost growled.
Go, now! Tiberan commanded the tiger. Do not throw your life away here!
Ghost looked back at him for a moment in protest, then leaped past the men before they could react, disappearing into the jungle.
Tiberan tensed, ready to turn and flee. He would come back for the elf woman later.
One of the troll women threw down a stone in front of him. It made a strange crackling sound and bathed him in warm light. He grew lightheaded and his muscles relaxed. Suddenly filled with good cheer, he smiled and let himself be led away by the hunting party.
His giddiness wore off before reaching the Vemnai dwellings. Surrounded by trolls, he decided it was better not to attempt escape. They had taken his weapons, and he walked naked among them. The elf woman walked behind him, but whenever he turned to try to see her, the trolls hit him with the butts of their rifles, forcing him to look ahead.
They came behind the waterfall, passing many cavern entrances and stopping before the last. All of the men and most of the women waited outside as the elf woman and the lead troll female entered the cavern. Their eyes crawled over him, openly staring. They seemed both fascinated and offended by his nudity.
After many minutes waiting, a dark-skinned female he had not yet seen emerged. The elf woman followed behind her, frowning, with arms crossed over her breasts in dissatisfaction.
“What is your name?” the new woman asked.
He thought for a moment, considering whether to answer before he spoke. “Tiberan.”
“Do you know where you come from?”
He considered this for a moment. “In truth, I’m not entirely sure.”
“You come from the Green Dragon.”
He flashed a feral grin. “I slew her and ate her heart, along with the rest of the Fae.”
The trolls gasped. Even the elf woman seemed taken aback.
“You address the Matriarch!” one of the men burst out. “Watch your tone!”
“What has she to do with me?” Tiberan could not help but provoke them. “I am more interested in her.” He pointed to the elf. “Who are y
ou?”
“She is my Virgin Consort,” the Matriarch answered. “You will not concern yourself with her.”
The seelie woman stared at him intently, as if not hearing the Matriarch’s words. “Aradma,” she answered.
The Matriarch’s face flashed with a moment of irritation warring with loving patience for her consort.
He considered the sound of her name for a moment and then nodded. “It is a good name. You did not kill your dragon.”
Aradma slowly shook her head, her stare unwavering. “I did not.” Her voice was deadpan.
The troll man struck the back of Tiberan’s legs with his rifle, and the elf fell to his knees.
“Peace!” the Matriarch commanded. “He is our guest, though he knows it not. Our ways are strange to him. He will learn them in time. Help him to his feet.” She glanced at Aradma in such a way that made Tiberan think that if the seelie woman had not been present, the Matriarch would not have been so gracious. Was the troll seeking Aradma’s favor?
The troll man glowered but did as she commanded.
The Matriarch addressed Tiberan. “You must forgive our strange behavior. We embrace you and your kind through the grace of the Virgin as one of us. You will learn why, in time. First, please understand. Our people have thrived for thousands of years based on prescribed and highly proper roles for men and women, roles that are distinct but complement each other. We need this as a people, and I believe you will learn to value this as well. Before I have my people release your bonds, do I have your word that you will not threaten us, or try to escape?”
Tiberan inclined his head. He met Aradma’s eyes, but could read no expression in her face, one way or another. But from her, he smelled fear. Fear for him.
“I will cooperate,” he said.
The Matriarch beamed. “Wonderful. Unbind him,” she commanded her men.
As Tiberan’s bonds were cut, she added, “Follow me. I will integrate you into one of our most honored houses. They will teach you the ways of the Vemnai.”
* * *
Troll families were organized into houses of several husbands belonging to one wife. Houses honored enough to live in the cliff caves surrounding the cloister had large living spaces, with each man having his own sleeping chamber, all connected to a common area. The wife, of course, did not live there, but instead lived in the cloister with her sisters. She would visit from time to time, depending on her relationship with her husbands.
Couraime was a respected priestess in the Matriarch’s hierarchy, with a house in the cliff caverns suitable for five husbands. She had only two left. One husband, Courin, had been careless in the jungle, eaten by a pack of raptors. Belloran had gone with Odoune on his expedition to find the elf girl and had not returned. Ouran, her favorite, had committed adultery with another woman, and was banished for his crimes after the intercession of the same elf girl, rather than be put to death, as was his due. Now this elf girl was seated at the right hand of the Matriarch, raised above all the other priestesses.
Couraime’s stomach churned with warring emotions when she thought of the elf. She wished Suleima and Ouran had both been put to death for their betrayal. She resented the elf, who had been rewarded with honor despite challenging the ways of Rin. In the most secret spaces of Couraime’s heart, however, she had loved Ouran. It made his betrayal all the more bitter, but she also felt gratitude that his life had been spared. Beneath a calm, controlled demeanor, she felt nausea every time she looked into the eyes of the Virgin.
Two husbands remained, Tidot and Ghiel. They were acceptable enough, both able hunters and both expert marksmen with ratling weaponry. Ghiel was one of the chief traders with the ratlings, providing the Vemnai with gadgetry that kept them protected and offered some quality of life. The Matriarch forbade the Vemnai from developing or building their own devices, but she made dispensation for their use in protecting their people.
Two husbands were not enough. She had yet to bear any children. She was rather fond of her men, although she didn’t let them know it. She ached at the loss of the other three and felt ashamed that such loss should cause her pain. She prayed to the goddess to give her strength to overcome such weakness and hoped for the day when men would no longer be needed—and she would no longer feel desire for them.
When the Matriarch came to visit, she was sitting in the common room on the wife’s chair. Her two husbands sat on sofas to the left and right of her, updating her on the business affairs of the household. Couraime immediately stood out of respect, and the men scrambled up to kneel, keeping their eyes planted on their feet. The elf girl and two other attendants accompanied the Matriarch. More curiously, they also escorted a naked elf man, not even wearing jewels or harnesses. With his furless skin and feminine nose, he looked like a woman, save for his angular form and a great blond mane that covered his crown and jaw. His blue eyes held curious gold sparks.
“Mother,” she said, bowing in a slight dip and extending her arms in greeting before returning straight. “You grace my household.”
“You have suffered much recently,” the Matriarch said, “and you are most favored of my priestesses, honored in the sight of Rin.”
Couraime beamed. “It pleases me to hear you, Mother.”
“The Virgin is the first of her kind,” the Matriarch continued, “but all of her people are to be joined to the Vemnai. It is most important their men learn our ways. The goddess has sent a male as the second to us. He will serve as an example and lead his kind to our embrace.”
“I understand, Mother. What would you have of me?”
“You and your house are to teach him his proper place in the Vemnai. If he becomes worthy, you may take him as a husband.”
Couraime cringed internally. He was not the idea she had for a new husband, but then she saw the elf girl biting her own lip, jealousy in her eyes. An acceptable payment, then, for denying her vengeance on Ouran.
“And if he isn’t deemed worthy?” she asked.
“Then he will pay the price Ouran should have.”
“It is said that elves and trolls are not capable of offspring, Mother,” Couraime noted. “We are only to take husbands so that we might have children.”
The Matriarch stood still in thoughtful silence. Finally, she answered, “This is true. These are not sidhe, however. It is unclear what the goddess intends with these men.” She paused again, and her gaze passed from the elf man to the Virgin and then back again. She added, “I know you desire a child. The goddess’s ways are not always clear to us. If he proves worthy, I leave it between you and the lady whether or not you try for a child by him.” Another pause. “But do not try too long lest you fall to sin.”
Couraime nodded. She curtseyed again. “The goddess’s will be done, Mother.”
“If you have need for help, let me know.”
“I will not need help with him,” she assured the Matriarch. “But there is another matter.”
“Yes?”
“Suleima has yet to provide me a husband to replace the one she stole.”
“Ah. I will see that it is done.”
“Thank you, Mother,” Couraime bowed as the Matriarch and Virgin departed with their attendants.
* * *
Tiberan stood in the center of the room while the three trolls examined him.
“He looks like a woman,” one of the men said. “An ugly one.”
“Don’t be rude,” the other said. “I am Ghiel, and this is my house-brother, Tidot.” He had green fur and bright yellow hair wildly jetting up in a vibrant mass.
“Welcome, house-brother!” Tidot said, extending his palms face up. His fur was a tawny brown, and his bright green hair was trimmed short into a tufted mane.
Tiberan stared at them, unsure what to do.
The woman interrupted. “Do not call him that yet. He is not a house-brother. He is a house-child. Less than a house-child. Maybe someday he will be a house-brother.”
The men grew solemn, chastened.
He felt desire for her, but it was a desire of his body, not his heart. His heart burned with the image of Aradma.
“Listen,” she commanded, “and learn. You live for me, as they do. They are my husbands, and so they are brothers to each other. If you do not live for me, if you cannot become of my house, you will die.”
Then she released him and turned to her husbands. “I leave him to you for now,” she said. “Clothe him and teach him.” She then left them alone.
Ghiel and Tidot chuckled. “Don’t worry about her,” Ghiel said. “She has the tongue of a raptor, but she has a warm heart.”
“But don’t let her know you see it!” Tidot warned, laughing again. He left for a moment and returned with a raptor-skin loincloth.
“Come, come, enough of that now,” Ghiel motioned him to follow. “Let us sit. Let us dine. Let us get drunk.”
“I am not interested in drinking,” Tiberan said. He tied the loincloth around his waist, which covered his front and back but left his hips exposed. “Tell me what I need to know of your ways. You are supposed to be teaching me.”
“Yes! We are teaching you! What, you think you leave the house now or even tomorrow or the next day? First we teach you how to be Vemnai with your house-brothers. Then we teach you to be Vemnai with men who are not your brothers. Then we teach you to be Vemnai in the presence of women. Only after that will you learn what it is to be Vemnai with your wife, if she takes you.”
Tidot waved a hand. “She will. Did you see how she looked at him?”
Ghiel responded, “Do not speak of our wife such! We will see, in any case. Her heart is broken from losing our brothers. I hope and pray the goddess mends her heart that she might take you. It would be a cruel fate for us to welcome you only to have you die.”