“You callin’ the kettle black?” I tease. He laughs whole-heartedly as we walk hand-in-hand.
We find Gunthreon lovingly embracing a short, stout woman, her gray hair up in a large bun. Her face is round, and the crow’s feet around her eyes only seem to enhance the freshness she exudes. She is a beautiful woman, with a curvy figure, who has most likely only grown more beautiful with age and experience. She welcomes us with hellos and a smile as big as her face is wide. It is only when she hugs me that I feel the slightest bit of tension in her embrace, and in her energy. A strange resonance surrounds her. I don’t know if Gunthreon and Philip notice, but I recognize her as a woman with a lot of weight on her shoulders.
She leads us to a kitchen I can see is truly used every day. The biscuits I was promised are laid out before us, and I cannot hold back the food lover in me. I gobble up three of them, wondering how many pounds heavier I’ll be tomorrow.
Lupa, Gunthreon and Philip talk about the old days: gallivanting, travels, fights, and much more as they promise me that this evening will be the best night I’ve ever had.
After we’re done, Lupa cleans up the table and sits with us. “Ladimer, I cannot get used to you in this body,” she comments. “I keep wanting to ask if you have to use the outhouse.”
“I had to make some adjustments since I was here last. I may make a few more before this trip is up.” Philip smiles at me, and I smile back, all the while thinking of just one more biscuit. “After all, what seven year old drinks mead?”
Lupa smiles as she refills his teacup. “I will be sure to tell Hamm we’ll be stopping at The Wicked Whale tonight.”
Philip says toward me, “Oh, you’re gonna love The Wicked Whale. Hamm has a special ability of his own. You’ll see.” He smiles as I raise an eyebrow at him.
As Kioto hangs with Lupa in her cottage, the next hour is spent meeting all sorts of people throughout the town and eating whatever they have in their kitchens. I end up with five different varieties of flowers in my hair, too, and a beautiful silver-and-gold pendant around my neck that is always cool to the touch. The latter is a gift from a timidly strange metalsmith to whom I take a liking because of his ability to sneeze and forge at the same time.
The day seems to end too fast, but from the look of the town and its townspeople at sunset, nighttime seems really to liven up the place. Music is everywhere, and songs of love and lovemaking drift to my ears. I see musical instruments I’ve never seen, and soon discover that women and men each play their own sorts; women play instruments requiring handwork, while the men play those requiring mouthwork. Throughout the town, I see what is meant by the separateness of masculinity and femininity, but not in a chauvinistic sense. There’s an air of refreshing chivalry. At one point I attempt to open a door for myself and a gentleman runs across the sidewalk, grabbing the door from me. Everyone’s got their appropriate job here; women are cooks and bakers, dealing with delicate intricacies; men are laborers, dealing with all physically exertive tasks. Each couple seems to work together, perfectly.
While walking through one particularly narrow alley on our journey to The Wicked Whale, Lupa holds us all up and huddles us into a corner. “Before we head in, I must tell you something,” she says quietly. She is nervous, and I sense the urgency in her voice, and the strange resonance around her vibrates faster than when I first noticed it. Whatever she is going to tell us really has an effect on her. “Something is going on in Meadow’s Edge—something that makes me afraid of the shadows. I don’t tell you this to frighten you, but to make you aware of the changes. A murder has occurred, here,” Both Philip and Gunthreon inhale simultaneously. “And Greer is awake.”
I notice Philip hold his breath for a moment, which he then lets go ever so slowly. Gunthreon looks up to the dark sky.
“Who’s Greer?” I ask.
“Let’s just say he’s been asleep for a few years, and he breathes fire.” Philip stares upwards.
Gunthreon walks to Lupa and puts his arm around her. “I was hoping it hadn’t reached here, but I guess no place is safe now. Let’s just find the serenity in the simple comfort of each other’s company and enjoy the night.”
Serenity. Spa de Serenite. I feel an overwhelming draw to give my recently discovered information about Devoten to Gunthreon, despite what my mother asked. Conversations with Gunthreon begin replaying in my mind as I try recalling him perhaps suggesting something of the like. “Gunthreon, I have to talk to you about something that happened to me recently,” I say. He turns to me and nods, but the look on his face says that now is not the best time to talk.
We enter the merriment of The Wicked Whale with saddened faces. Fortunately, they don’t last long, for the music, food, and mugs being delivered to numerous tables lighten our moods. There are many people in The Wicked Whale, but it never seems truly crowded, as if the place itself expands with each warm body that enters.
Hamm greets us at the door and hugs each one of us, tightly. He’s a large man, with a big, bushy brown beard and a contagious laugh. Unfortunately, as soon as Gunthreon pulls him aside to talk privately, his laughter abruptly ends and a seriousness consumes his cheerful expression as he speaks to Gunthreon who frowns, then pats Hamm on the back and points to me as they exchange a few words.
Gunthreon wanders back and leads us to a table. He whispers in Philip’s ear and Philip exhibits the same frown as Gunthreon’s. Hamm then walks over and brings me my first cup of mead. As it’s plopped down on the table, they each stare at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Take a few big gulps,” urges Philip.
“Okay...” I then gulp half of the deliciously sweet ale mixture. Then, it hits me, within seconds: the usual alcohol-induced giddiness I once felt, long ago, after drinking. Apparently Hamm’s gift is one for making alcohol that delivers results on Renhalan travelers. “Ooh. Wow!” I yelp as I hiccup. Philip smiles and walks away as I turn to the fellow patrons, smiling.
I am invited to dance by several males in the house, first by Gunthreon—as Lupa discreetly watches his hands—and others anxiously await their turn with a smile on their face. They clap to the rhythm of the music and I feel many a hand exploring a few of my curves, but nothing violating. Roasted turkey legs, small starchy vegetables and garlic keep the tummy full, and I become so engrossed with the fun that I lose track of my friends. I want to live here forever and swallow up the laughter until I burst. Finally, a pleasurable night, with absolutely no hesitation on any actions of my own.
I find Gunthreon and Lupa engrossed in each other and inquire about Philip, for it seems he has disappeared, and he hasn’t had his dance with me.
“You mean you haven’t seen him?” replies Gunthreon. “You must find the prettiest girl—besides yourself and Lupa here—and you will find your man. Search for the commonality.” With that, he turns back to Lupa and whispers something surely devilish in her ear, her cheeks blushing cherry red.
My eyes, meanwhile, scan each smiling, happy-with-life face, carefully. The mead has made my vision a bit on the fuzzy side, but I keep at my goal, finally landing on those seated and standing along the large main bar. It is then that I notice a particularly curvaceous, porcelain-skinned bombshell with long blond hair, holding the arm of a man who is close to her in beauty, but with one small scar below his eye. His hair is also blond, but cut short, and his eyes still an intense brown. He carries an air of authority despite his youthful appearance. He’s tall and lean, and moves gracefully. In time, he turns to me, and his eyes meet mine. His smile loosens and after escaping the fair beauty’s clutch, he makes his way toward me. He is gorgeous, and I blush like Lupa at his attention, for he takes my breath away.
“May I have my dance now?” He holds out his hand to me and I take it. His movements are calculating, but smooth, and I feel light as air as he spins me, then pulls me close. His eyes are glossy from mead, and he stares at me in a way that arouses feelings that I never knew existed. The music then changes to a slower, se
xy beat and before I can lay my head on his shoulder, he is yanked away from me by a gorgeous and tantalizing brunette. Ladimer’s eyes meet mine and apologize as another set of hands take his place. I follow the hands to the arms, and then to the chest, and then to the face. He’s a rugged farmhand-looking fellow, mighty strong and very attractive. We dance to a song of hardships that luck and love overcome, and we sway in time to the flute and the crackle of the fireplace. Several more mugs of mead touch my lips, and I get to a point I’ve longed for with every vodka brought to my lips: drunk. My partner’s hands explore more than the other men’s, but as I glance at Ladimer dancing with yet another woman, I feel a sudden need for someone’s attention, no matter what kind it may be. Conner suddenly enters my thoughts and I think of the possibility of dancing and drinking with him, here.
Things become foggy as the night grows. I barely remember being led out the back door to the alley; the foul stench of stale alcohol wafting on the breeze. As I continue my jig to the music, I trip over my own feet several times, allowing my new farmhand friend to pick me quickly. But when we reach a rather dark and foreboding barn, reeking of animal manure and riddled with pitchforks and nameless rusty tools, my drunkenness is soon overpowered by a sudden anxiety.
I freeze, and before I can say no, or perform the slightest sensible reaction, he whisks me in and covers my mouth with his suddenly rough hands. Evil intentions. The negative energy pouring from this man is enough to choke a horse, and I immediately regret my heavy intake of mead. How could I have let myself ignore the warnings? How could I have been so stupid? My monk’s spade flares up, but he is so strong I cannot move. I hear the ripping of clothes and try to bite him as hard as I can, but he seems to enjoy the pain, for a smile appears on his face as I draw blood. I try kicking him in the groin, but he’s got his weight against my legs. A hand crawls under my bra and I try to scream.
Just as I hear the fear-provoking clinking of an unfastened belt, he freezes mid-movement. His eyes open as wide as they possibly can, and his mouth twists in gruesome fashion. His weight drops heavily onto me, and I see that someone is standing behind him, a hand on his back. I do my best to wiggle out from beneath the man.
A musky voice rises above my whimpers. “You really shouldn’t be doing that, you know. How does it feel to have each of your internal organs slowly pulled away from your insides?”
“Ladimer, stop, please!” I yell. He appears wickedly beautiful in the dark, but I know I have to stop him. “If you kill him, I fear something equally bad may happen to you.” He’s motionless. “Do you hear me?!” I yell.
He takes his hand away, and my attacker falls to the ground. Pain convulsions pulse through him as he breathes sporadically and mumbles some nasty words, evidently still alive.
Ladimer stands above him, lowering his own face to within inches of his prey’s ear. “You’re lucky I only got to your spleen, asshole.” With the last word, his foot meets the guy’s ass, forcing an “oomph” from the man’s lungs.
I try standing before Ladimer, but practically take him to the ground with me. Despite the burst of adrenaline, the mead still has the better of me. I begin crying as I sit on the ground. I can barely speak without slurring, but I manage to get out, “How could I let this happen, again? What have I done to deserve this?” My tears run down my face as I stare at Ladimer, longing for a reason for my suffering.
He brushes my hair from my face as he says, “Don’t blame yourself for what’s happened to you, Kailey. Karma is definitely making a point to enlighten you on the seriousness of what’s going on between realms. All I can tell you,” he raises my face to meet my eyes, “is to dig deep and take her warnings for what they’re meant. Prove yourself worthy of her attention.” He kisses me gently on my lips.
“Please don’t tell my mother. It’ll break her heart. Just don’t tell anybody.” I’m embarrassed that I seem to be so vulnerable. “I attract crazies!” I start crying, burying my face in my hands.
Ladimer then kisses me gently on my forehead and whispers, “I’m not crazy.” He then pulls me up from the ground, lifting me in his arms. “Come on. I know a place where you can rest peacefully,” he says, “though it seems there is no place sacred anymore.” All I hear is “sacred,” and suddenly the world goes dim.
*********
Remnants of dreams melt away as I awaken, a single tear falling from my sleepy eyes. I open them slightly, and see Ladimer’s back before me—my savior. His warmth is inviting, and I snuggle close to him, wanting to soak into the safety of his mere presence. The alcohol affects still lingering in my blood, I sit up slowly and begin kissing his ear. He turns his sleepy face and I kiss his lips, gently. The mere scent of him brings a warm, inviting, and familiar sensation to my senses.
He smiles, but suddenly his eyes open. He holds me back from him. “Kailey, we can’t do this. I’m not who you think I am. I’m...” His breath smells like warm mead. “Believe me, I would like this, but it’s not right. We have both drunk more than our fair share. Things shouldn’t happen like this. And my history...” He seems thrown askew. My eyes search his face for something—something to explain his actions. Then my energy feeler emerges, also seeking an answer. A sense of strong refrain is my only clue.
“Then just hold me, please,” I plead. I turn with my back to him and lie, teary-eyed, facing away from him. I speak no more on the matter, for fear of humiliating myself.
Our surroundings suddenly become clear through my eyes, and all thoughts of rejection dissipate. My eyes focus sharply, and that’s when I scream.
Chapter 24
Egotistical
If she disturbs my sleep again, I will eat her while you watch. This comes not from around me, but rather inside my head. The power of these words pours over me, yet as I read the energies around me, my fear lessens. I do not feel threatened, but still stand my guard as the egos I sense seemingly make the room feel smaller.
“Oh, come on, Greer. Imagine yourself in her position.” Ladimer still holds me tightly.
I shall never be able to compare myself to a human, the scrawny things that you are.
The massive and magnificent creature is curled around us, providing an encasement for peaceful privacy. We are surrounded by a wall of green, opalescent scales that reflect the fire sconces, warmly lighting the area around us. The dragon smells slightly spicy, like cinnamon.
“You’re gorgeous,” I say, awestruck.
Oh, please, don’t try to flatter. That will get you nowhere, I hear, again inside my head.
“You’re telepathic.”
Wow, Ladimer she’s a bright one. Do you have any other two-word sentences for me? I think maybe I’d rather have you scream. I hear the boredom in his voice.
Greer adjusts his position, and the ground moves with him. I grab Ladimer’s leg.
“Kailey, Greer here has done us a great favor letting us sleep in his presence,” says Ladimer.
Greer turns his head toward us, and I feel the fire stirring in his insides. His eyes come close, and they are just as awe-inspiring as his scales, but a bright blue. Kailey, your friend here did me a favor once, and I owed him. Do not think, though, that I owe any other favors. We are even.
I turn to Ladimer, asking him with just my eyes what favor this dragon is speaking about. “Our great friend here once suffered a nasty cut from a gang of meeples,” says Ladimer in a respectful tone. “I happened to be in the neighborhood and heard his suffering. I was afraid to get close, but seeing a creature as mighty as he suffer made me want to help, so I healed him.”
We eventually found those pests and I had a nice, tasty snack that day. Nice texture and crunch if they’re cooked just right.
“Dear Greer, forgive my being frank, but can I ask you why you’re awake?” I say, suddenly remembering Lupa’s serious face as she spoke of Greer.
I appreciate that little one. Well, I, like many a dragon, am sworn to protect areas of Renhala. Meadow’s Edge, was at least one of the most, if
not the most, peaceful places in this realm. We never knew of strife, theft, or murder, and things here were pleasant. Many came here to relax and release their troubles. But recently, a great vibration reverberated through the air and through my mind. It awoke me, and I have not been able to shake the feeling of despair. Ladimer, I request you find Gunthreon for me, for I would like to discuss the situation with him. And as a personal suggestion, I say head east, to Socola. Whispers on the wind speak of Neda and mutiny, and Trudon’s death shouldn’t be taken lightly.
“Socola? Really?” says Ladimer, suddenly looking forlorn. “They do say ‘we all meet our maker.’ Your wish is my command,” says Ladimer. “Thank you, Greer. I did not want Kailey to give up on Meadow’s Edge. It’s important that she feel home here.”
This last statement holds something more than I feel I know. “What do you mean?” I feel Ladimer flinch.
You mean—she doesn’t know? Greer laughs in my head, and it rumbles throughout my body. Go ahead, Ladimer. What do you mean? I taste the sarcasm.
Ladimer is uncomfortable, for he fidgets as he sits. “I mean that—well...Kailey, you were born here. Meadow’s Edge is your birthplace.” He stares at me, holding my hands.
I laugh and say, “No, I was born in Stroger Hospital, Abscondia.”
Ladimer and Greer look at each other. Ladimer says, “No, you weren’t.”
“But my mom told me... ” I stop mid-sentence, my childhood becoming a blur as the lies dissipate to make room for the truth. As I examine both Greer and Ladimer and reach for the feeling of truth in their energies, I know they are in fact telling no lies.
Your mother, what a card! Greer laughs to himself.
“Greer—you know my mom?”
Yes, of course I knew your parents. Why, your mother is one of my favorites. I valued fighting by her side in some distant battles. Ah, she is a beautiful creature. He leans in closer and examines me closely, as I hold my breath. You actually resemble your father. No offense.
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