While her eyes were covered by the fabric of the jerkin his lightening quick hands opened the window above the bed, letting in the moonlight to make up for the fading fire. The cool fall air and the sounds of Kaizen and Katana, near enough that they could hear the griffin’s breathing, sent shivers of contentment down her spine. His speed and coordination matched her own reflexes so that the awkwardness of sex seemed far away and they rolled, his buckskin pants sliding to the floor at the same time as her loincloth. He landed on top and she felt his hand coming up under her neck to hold her head, her own hands grasping the base of his wings and pulling him down as he extended the protection of his feathers around their entwined bodies.
He entered her in that moment, high above the rocky forest, two griffin riding warriors of the most beautiful and deadly races, with all they needed in the world within reach of his bed. Whatever flaws the world has draped on him, will drape on me, its better to take whatever moments we can get together than to worry that we might not be right.
He was kissing her now, the Blood Born side of his nature held not at bay, but in balance with his desire for peace.
“I’m here,” he said, his hand above her breasts so he could feel her heart.
She mimicked his hand, placing her own on his chest, and they kissed while their hips thrusted together. The moment only lasted a few seconds before she sensed the overwhelming femininity of her spry, Nymph form overcoming his ability to control himself. She felt him releasing inside of her and found herself wondering what kind of a father a warrior would make before she too was lost, in the hard abdomen and muscular arms of her partner. Cherub. The single word encapsulated the enticing, rugged, battle hardened, thoughtful forest dweller that she found herself with and she found herself wishing for more time so that he could adapt to having sex, so that he could take her with him all the way to a climax together.
Again, as if he could read her thoughts, he rolled off and grinned in the darkness as if to apologize for his lack of stamina. She started to tell him she understood, that there would be other times, but his hands were between her legs before she could speak, and she felt the desire climbing again as all thoughts save for the overwhelming masculinity of the warrior were pushed from her mind. She came quickly, the smell of oil and leather mixing with wood and the sweat of Ignatius’ body to form a memory of that first moment that she knew would keep her warm on cold trails for years to come.
Afterword neither one spoke, the heaving of their chests and the closeness of their arms was enough. She felt him pulling a bearskin blanket over them and she settled down into his warmth, thoughtless comfort and contentment drifting in through the still open window to lull her to sleep next to the embers.
They awoke together with the sun to the sound of the griffins moving in the branches. She could tell he had been awake for a while, enjoying the feeling of her cheek on his chest and the added warmth of her body against the cold that had crept into the cabin. I wonder if he dreamed this. She had not planned to be with a Cherub and while it certainly was his dream, his home, his people, his war, she nestled in anyway, smelling his chest and watching their breath where it condensed and swirled together over the tops of the fur blankets. He reached out without leaving bed to throw the last of the firewood onto the embers, fanning the hearth with a single exposed wing until smoke began to curl up the stone chimney.
They stayed still in bed, stretching the moment on, drifting in and out of sleep together until something told the Nymph it was time to let their world re-expand beyond the bed. He was ahead of her, slipping out of the covers into the cold of the dawning fall morning. She watched as he dressed, smiling at him from beneath the blankets. He smiled back, and her heart warmed as he knelt next to the bed and kissed her, his fingers running through her hair. Then he was moving across the room, and she saw him look at the weapons on the wall, saw the pause as the world came back, and heard him take a calming breath. With his back to her she saw him grab Donus’ spear, holding it quietly and alone, looking up at its deadly edges. From the safety of the bed, she whispered his name in an attempt to call him back.
“Ignatius.”
“I need it,” he whispered back.
She moved from bed, the cold air stinging her naked skin, and stepped across the small tree home, embracing him from behind. You are Ignatius.
“You need Oberon too,” she said.
He didn’t respond but stood between the weapon of willingness and the Nymph of his dreams, and she could feel his struggle. Finally, his rigid form relaxed, and she slid her hands down his chiseled arms, stroking the backs of his hands and fingers where they gripped the shaft of the spear. He leaned the spear reverently back against the wall next to the bed and turned into her embrace, kissing her while he lifted her lithe frame, so she could wrap her toned legs around his waist. They fell together onto the bed and in a moment, he was naked again. She rode him, enjoying the sight of him enjoying her, until she noticed the shadow of the spear cast on their bodies by the dancing orange flames. As she was overcome by ecstasy, she grabbed his shoulders and rolled them so he couldn’t see the weapons in the room and he thrust into her, finishing in a primal burst of desire, all continence forgotten.
The moment didn’t last as he dressed quickly, strapping the burden of his knives, wingblades and swords onto his wiry frame before accepting the heavy weight of the spear as part of his warrior’s persona. He looked down at her for a moment where she still lay naked on the bed and grinned quietly with a nod. She smiled coyly back, ignoring the knowledge that this was a fantasy, a dream that was separated from reality by his need to match his nature to the South. With a flurry of feathers, he turned and left the seclusion of his dream and she rose to follow the Blood Born warrior into a world where they would have to kill to make room for the life they wanted.
Chapter 15
S age rested in the darkness of a bearskin robe, a prescient gift from Ignatius. He had given her the gift the previous morning as she departed Devil’s Lake, foreseeing the twin challenges of cold and loneliness that would accompany her on her mission. The fur reminded her that somewhere to the north, a warrior was thinking of her. With her entire body wrapped in the skin, the Nymph tried to warm herself as she listened to the wind whistling past. Her legs and back ached despite the kudzu vine saddle and stirrups that held her tightly to Katana as they soared south across the endless plains.
She had been adjusting her position all morning, struggling to stay comfortable. It was an unseasonably warm fall day but at their altitude the air was thin and cold and none of the Riders had ever attempted such a long journey. The robe suddenly warmed when they passed out of a cloud and the sun hit the black fur. Sage poked her head out of a fold and, resting her cheek on the griffin’s warm, furry shoulder, peered out. The first thing she saw was Archeo. The morning light glistened on the kestrel’s blue feathers where he sat, nested in a small pouch she had weaved into the saddle. The powerful black eyes of the falcon turned to meet Sage’s own green eyes before turning back to scan for prey and predators.
She followed her companion’s gaze without lifting her chest from the warmth of Katana’s back. Her view was limited by the great, white wing that filled her vision over her steed’s right side. The white feathers of the griffin’s neck and the fur on her shoulder where her talon was tucked back under her chest took up another large portion of the Nymph’s panorama. Through the narrow window of the bear skin and in between flaps of the wings, she could just make out the edge of the forest many miles away to the west. This was all she needed to know they were headed in the right direction.
She lay there, grateful for the warmth of the sun, and tried to spy the mountains that lay beyond the forest through breaks in the ashy fall clouds. Her mind drifted to the rest of the Riders at the Angel’s castle. Somewhere north and west over those peaks the older Nymph Rider Calma would be preparing to head west to collect more kudzu seedpods, taking Rondo to watch her back on what should be a relativ
ely simple mission. To watch and take her back. Sage smiled at the thought of the beautiful, hazel haired, much older Nymph and her strapping young Cherub lover as they collected the plants that would empower the Riders to patrol the North. Her thoughts darkened when she thought of Stratera, the raven Plainswatcher she knew would be training with Ignatius while Onidas worked out how to use their steeds to fight. She pulled the robe closer, trusting in it as she struggled to trust in the Blood Born warrior that had sent her to find the Southern army they knew would come though they knew not when. Sent me away.
The morning continued to warm, and the clouds parted into isolated, white islands in the sky. Katana drifted easily, instinctually hugging the outside edges where the huntress could quickly conceal herself from prey if need be. Sage sat up and felt her long, blonde braid drifting out behind her in the flowing breeze. She tried to learn from the griffin’s movements, uncovering the secrets of the sky that would let them hunt their enemies as effectively as the griffins had hunted elk far across the western mountains. She spotted herds of antelope where they flew like the wind across the rolling brown landscape of the plains. She could feel Katana’s desire to pursue them but urged her on to the south with a gentle squeeze from her white leggings. Archeo spotted a formation of geese off to the east where they had begun their long migration south for the winter and she handed him a piece of meat to placate the little hunter’s desire.
“You are too small for a goose!” she shouted with a laugh, the playful joy of her people and the sunshine pushing away the melancholy of the cold, lonely trail. I wonder if we are too small for the south.
Her thoughts turned to the South as the day wore on. She knew Taragon had thrown her people’s support behind the united alliance of the Cherubim, Dwarves, Northmen, and Centaurs, but support and the reality of war were too different ideas. She knew her kusarigama and throwing knives, which rested on her belt, were liquid in her practiced hands. Still, she had never killed and had only ever taken the lives of deer with her blow gun and bow. This life of freedom cannot come without a cost. The griffins and the kudzu would need to be defended. She worked to harden her resolve as the day wore on.
She drifted in and out of consciousness that afternoon, trying to rest, until a tremor of excitement moved through her mount and she awoke to the sound of thunder. Sitting up in the saddle she scanned the horizon and saw the typical afternoon thunderheads moving east out of the mountains and onto the plains. Streaks of lightening touched down and fires erupted where the bolts poked the earth, burning too fast to spread. She admired the beauty and the power of those storms as never before. From her vantage she could see their full magnificence. Her place in the sky made her feel smaller than she had ever felt watching the storms from the top of her family pagoda where it sat nestled in the roots of the mountain. Still, watching the eyes of her companions, both of which looked south away from the storm, she knew it was not thunder that had awaked her. It was hooves.
Looking left and right over Katana’s shoulder she could see an unbroken herd of the great animals stampeding north in a long line across the horizon. They were cresting out of a lush low valley where the lay of the land made it appear that a tide was washing up out of the earth and spilling onto the grasses below. Why north, why stampede? Katana had never seen buffalo before and the sight of so much prey, such large prey, was a thrill for her. The scout in Sage wondered why the buffalo would be heading north when their migration typically took them south. Perhaps the lightening spooked them.
She banked her mount east, putting a black thunder head between them and the herd. The night was falling fast as the storms blotted out the sun and the buffalo offered her a chance to feed Katana while practicing a surprise attack from above. Soon it would be too dark to fly without the stars and moon to light the land and she feared they would blunder into a storm. Katana understood her route instinctually, drifting far out to the side of the galloping animals over the darkening plains to come at them at an angle from behind. Archeo sensed what was about to happen and Sage sensed the bird take flight from his nest as Katana began her dive, lightening illuminating the buffalo in bright flashes as the sun sank out of sight over the mountains.
Sage’s eyes burned as they gathered speed, raindrops spattering her shoulders while they swooped in low over the grass. The griffin knew the hunt better than Sage and she allowed the catbird total freedom. They dipped into a depression, hidden from sight from all sides as they streaked just inches over the brittle prairie grass. At the last moment they rocketed out of the divot and immediately slammed into an old bull where he trailed behind the main herd. Sage struggled to cling to the saddle as the weight of the buffalo, pierced through the lungs by Katana’s massive talons, was lifted off the ground and flung into the air by their momentum.
They swooped in a slow, wide arch back around the broken animal as the rest of the herd continued their mad dash north without noticing an older, weaker member of their group had fallen. The buffalo’s legs bucked and kicked as his collapsed lungs deflated, unable to pull air. Katana alighted next to the animal, staying clear of the kicking hooves and waiting for the beast to die. Sage slipped from the saddle, watching the great animal’s struggles, seeing the broken and splintered bones where the force of the strike had lifted him into the air and dropped him back to the earth. Archeo alighted on her shoulder, providing a source of comfort as she drew her kusarigama. With a lightening quick movement, she grabbed the animal’s horn and sliced the hooked blade through the thick fur and muscle to cut the veins that she knew must run deep inside his neck. With a shudder, it was done. First blood, many thanks old friend.
The Nymph looked up at the dark plans, the herd disappearing into the distance, and the storms moving out across the plains and felt the drizzle of rain where it fell softly from the evening sky, its gentle touch contrasting with the violence of the hunt. She turned to Katana and nodded, a sign that her steed could feed, then sat down on the grass. She watched Katana feed, admiring how the size of the Buffalo overwhelmed her partner. Though the catbird weighted close to four-hundred pounds, she was less than a quarter the size of the old bull. Momentum and a precise strike can take down any foe. She watched steam rising from the carcass where the rain cooled the body and finally realized how exposed they were on the open plains. After a time, she pulled a rope from the saddle and looped it over the horns of the carcass, then worked with the griffin to pull the carcass over the lip of the depression where they could spend the night concealed.
She allowed the griffin to gorge, wishing she had the fuel for a fire. Too risky anyway. Sage knew it might not have been lightening that sent the buffalo north and as she chewed on a raw piece of the great animal’s liver, she feed Archeo and prepared for what she knew would be a restless night. Laying back on the grass, her blowgun draped across her chest, she was thankful for Archeo’s presence where the kestrel nestled against her breast as well as the warmth of Katana where she nestled under the catbird’s wing. She wished for a moment it was Ignatius’ wing, then turned to look out into the darkness. Eventually the slow breathing of the satiated Griffin calmed her enough that the feeling of the rain on the bearskin robe lulled her to sleep. As she snuggled into a light sleep, she dreamed of her Cherub’s tree home and a time when the world wouldn’t drag her into the unknown.
She awoke in complete darkness not knowing how much of the night had passed. Archeo was gone, telling her that her little friend must be hunting in the pre-dawn light. She rose, stiff and cold from the dampness of the night. It was still too cloudy for her to see so she worked by sense of touch to cut massive chunks of meat from the body, meat that would sustain her friends for many miles. She paused to wipe her face and felt the beasts blood streaking her cheeks. She remembered stories of the Centaur’s war paint and so reached into the body cavity where blood still dripped from the meat and, using three fingers on each hand, streaked her cheeks and placed bloody handprints on Katana’s haunches. The griffin awoke, stretching
back on her haunches and shaking the rain off of her wings. She stepped forward to her steed’s face and held her beak, looking respectfully into those glowing yellow orbs that could spot prey from miles above.
“We ride,” she whispered letting out a deep breath.
As she climbed into the saddle Archeo revealed himself, diving down into the depression that had concealed them over night. The kestrel didn’t take up his normal position in the saddle, but instead circled above, chirping nervously but not crying out. He’s spotted something.
She squeezed her knee high laced boots softly. Her connection to the griffin was such that Katana sensed the urgency in her quiet touch and began running across the rain-soaked grass despite her meat filled belly. In just a few steps her wings unfurled, and she jumped to send them airborne. Sage felt the familiar lurch in her stomach as they burst upward onto the plains. Despite the darkness of the cloudy night she felt a knot of anxiety at their exposure while they clipped prairie grass. The knowledge that Archeo had spotted someone or something couldn’t be good. The Plainswatchers are all north of here.
Her anxiety dissipated in proportion to their altitude, moving first out of spear range and then beyond the reach of arrows as they climbed in broad circles. She could hear the quiet rush of still night air, heavy with moisture after the storms, where it moved over her steed’s wings. She struggled to hear or see anything else, but all was still and dark in the emptiness of the air that hung over the endless plains. Soon they were in the clouds and then, as if Katana had wanted to show her, they were breaking above the low hanging blanket that draped the world. There was no moon to compete with the stars and they lit the tops of the cloud cover more clearly than any torch.
Last Stand of the Blood Land Page 25