The heavy curtains shifted in the breeze, cooling the sweat from her brow, easing the burning of her body.
Yes, Mommy! the voice crooned. Air, more air!
"More air," she whispered as she pulled her hands from around her head and her leg lifted for that first step up onto the ledge.
Yes, air, Mommy! the voice cried jubilant. Air Mommy! We can fly!
"Fly?" she murmured, as the voice took firm control of her body. "Fly like Dagon?"
Fly? She couldn't fly! She had no wings!
Shala shook herself and cried out in fear as she came out of her trance to realize she was standing at the edge of her window ledge, roughly two hundred feet off of the cold hard ground!
"No!" she cried out, but her body refused to obey her, her legs pressing forward towards the cold night and her imminent death. "Dagon!"
Her legs carried her forward, and like an unbalanced vessel, she began to topple forward, her shriek of fear frozen in her throat!
Cool night air rushed past her face, drying her wide open eyes and sending chills down her spine as the earth moved ever closer to her flailing body!
"Dagon!" she managed to croak again, just as fast, strong arms closed about her body, halting her headlong flight, enfolding her in safety.
"You called, dear one?" he asked as she lifted frightened eyes to his face, his red eyes glowing with amusement.
Large leathery wings beat at the night air, lifting them both rapidly as Dagon proceeded to her window, carrying her slight weight as if she were a mere feather.
"Your bastard tried to kill me!" She half sobbed half cried as she tightened her hands around her hated savior and the erstwhile father of her child.
"Hmm," he purred as his feet touched the ledge and he swiftly and easily stepped to the floor. "Must take after you. Murder does run in your blood, my dear. In this instance, this incident is your fault and not mine. I abhor murder. A good execution, on the other hand…"
"Shut up and put me down!" Shala shrieked, then screamed once more as Dagon tossed her carelessly across the room. She screamed until her bottom hit the thick mattress of her bed and she was swallowed up in her bedcovers.
Struggling to sit upright, she pulled the tangle of hair from her face and glared daggers at that…that…winged man!
"What, my love?" he asked, as he slowly furled his wings. "I did as you asked. You are down."
Shala was so furious she vibrated with her anger. So consequently, her voice shook as she addressed the man standing nonchalantly before her.
"Why did I ever trust you?" she growled.
"You didn't!" he reminded her cheerfully. "And I never trusted you! Hence the bun in your oven, and her abysmal attempt at suicide."
"Suicide?" she shrieked, slamming both fists on the bed and unbalancing herself once more. "That nasty horrid creature you planted within me did this to me! It hates me! It tried to make me eat slop, and then it threw me from the window! Dagon, this thing is insane, just as you are, and I want it out of me!"
"Hmm." He walked over to the bed, and visually examined Shala from the tip of her tangled hair to her bare legs where her gown had ridden up her thighs. "Give it five months, maybe less, and that creature, as you so charmingly call our child, won't be in you anymore! I do so hope the wings won't split you too badly." He shook his head in mock dismay.
"Split? Wings?" her voice rose with each word.
"Yes, my dear, the desire for flight! My child is powerful if she craves the sky at this young stage."
"Wings? Split?"
"Oh don't carry on so, my pretty! It is the way of nature," he soothed. "Women give birth all of the time! And hybrids like my child usually have a fifty- fifty shot."
"Of life?" she asked as her hands went to the small bulge in her abdomen.
"Of killing their mothers during their birth!" he easily explained.
"What?" Shala's face began to match the pale white color of her hair.
"Well, that is neither here nor there, at this juncture, sweet, so the point is moot."
"My life is moot?" she screamed as she looked around for something to hurl at the monster who had put the little monster inside of her.
"No, not moot, exactly. Just expendable." He clarified himself as he crossed the room and sat in his regular seat.
"You will pay for this, Dagon!" Shala muttered as she glared at the man, helpless and not liking it one bit.
We are hungry! the voice interrupted her tirade.
"Shut that brat up!" she screamed as she suddenly looked down at her child. "I have to deal with your father right now, and I can't handle two of you!"
With a negligible wave, Dagon produced a small blue ball of energy and directed it to her.
"And if you think I will absorb more of your energy, you have another ‘think’ coming, Dagon! Too well do I remember the last time you gifted me with an energy burst!"
Hungry! the voice whined and Shala wanted to scream with frustration.
"Go on and take it, lest you start eating out of garbage piles," Dagon chuckled. "It will not harm you at all, Shala, my sweet. But it will quiet my daughter. She needs things your frail, yet charming body can't provide."
Shala glared at him a moment longer, before reaching out and letting the ball rest within her palm. It was soothing to the touch and almost instantly the insistent voice calmed.
"You have one day, Shala," Dagon continued as he watched the blue ball flare for a moment before being absorbed into her body. "I trust all of our plans will come to fruition?"
"I ordered an extra runner, Dagon," she murmured as a strange heat began to rush through her body. It wasn't a painful feeling, just warm and strangely exciting. "The Clans will gather one day after tomorrow. A meeting will convene about what to do with the menace that has invaded our Isle." The tingling was starting to feel rather good, actually.
"Good, Lady," he praised, "I knew I could count on you. Tomorrow, my General will bring you your spoils of war, and if this necklace is as powerful as you say, it will feed your need for magic. Of course, it rejected you the first time, Lady. You will have to figure the key to controlling it yourself, as the woman in question will be dead."
"I, uh, anticipate…oh…no problems with that! Dagon!" she muttered as her nerves began to jump and twitch in a most pleasurable way. "Dagon, what have you done to me?"
"Oh, yes. That," he drawled. "There is one side affect to that energy ball, Shala, my dear. Unfortunately, you will experience, um, how can I put this delicately? Uncontrollable, unquenchable passions? No! Frustrated desires! That sums it up nicely!"
"What?" she gasped, gasping because the blood was now flowing hotly through her veins. Her nipples hardened into painful peaks and her clothes suddenly had become an irritant!
"Well, this will keep you busy and away from plotting, lover," he purred as he rose to his feet and approached her figure, now writhing uncontrollably on the bed.
"I would never…" she moaned.
"And now you won't get the chance," he interrupted. "And don't even think about calling a servant or two to service your needs. My daughter wouldn't like that and if you think windows are fun when she is happy, just think what she can do with knives when she is…unhappy."
"Dagon! Stop this!" Shala pleaded as she began to rip the clothes from her body, agitated as she had never been before.
"Not now, lover," he purred as he reached out and laid his cold leathery hand upon her stomach. "I do believe I have a headache. All of this plotting and talk of executions, you understand. Another time, perhaps?"
Shala shrieked and cursed her anger as Dagon smiled sweetly at her, his eyes twinkling merrily.
"Oh yes, our daughter definitely has your desire to see blood shed! And you are right, dear one, my parents were not properly mated. You need not remind me, I never forget."
"Dagon!" she screamed, then panted as the sound of her own voice reverberated through her body, making fires of need burn hotter, making her crave his touch, h
is kiss, his hard thrusting body.
"Oh! You scream my name and I haven't even touched you! Damn, I'm good!" His laughter filled the room. "But now I must away with myself! Politics of war, you understand."
And as swiftly as he arrived, Dagon exited through the large window, leaving no trace of himself in the darkening sky.
"Tomorrow!" Shala cried, tears running down her face as she fought the cravings of her own body. "Tomorrow we will see who will rule this accursed Isle!"
Her watery gaze sought the hidden place where her book of magic was hidden with its secret, unknown spell.
"Tomorrow, I shall have it all! Mirage, The Light Isles, the world!"
She slowly pulled her quivering limbs beneath her, and made her way to her bathing chamber and some blessedly cool water. It was going to be a long night!
* * * * *
In a distant clearing, a small cocoon made of light and magic began to shimmer and grow in size. From its depths there was a quiet moan, a low groan from its sole occupant.
The night air wafted gently around, bringing the smell of change, the smell of magic, the scent of power to these creatures that had gathered around in amazement.
The chickens were silent and the rabbits hid in the shadows, their red eyes gleaming, teeth dripping with hungry saliva, but they dared not approach. Something great was happening.
Suddenly a cool draft, a breath of cold surrounded the area, freezing the leaves, frosting the ground, its white vaporous mist floating up slowly towards the night sky.
The forest creatures sat and watched in awe as the cocoon iced over with a sharp snap! A brilliant purple claw tore at the bindings that held it imprisoned, its quiet cry of outrage making the silvery strands shiver. It held power, it held magic, it held a promise of revenge and the desire to keep a solemn vow. A creature of cold was reborn.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
"Do you think she will find the key?"
Tybo's question came quietly from across the campfire as he observed the Warlord.
Brieana settled the unicorns a few feet away from where the men were talking. Kerian had produced a small meal of bread and cheese to break their evening fast and the two men sat waiting for Brieana, who preferred to tend to their unicorns herself.
"I know not what truth is anymore," Kerian began as he gazed at the man, the Dark Isles man, who had appeared to help them. "But I will tell you this. Never have I experienced so many mystical wonders, including all of my years with the drack, and they all center around her. I have seen legends become reality, seen truths I had thought mere childish fables come to life. I now believe anything is possible, Tybo. And I would trust her with my life. She will find the key. The Lady of the Lake promised her she would know what to do when the time was right."
"You believe in her magic that much?" Tybo asked as he turned his curious brown eyes on Brieana, the Woman of Legend.
"I trust in the woman." Kerian's statement left no room for denial.
"She is not what I expected," Tybo stated as he watched her croon to the two unicorns that would have gladly torn any other human's hands from their body and stomped them into the ground, after goring them with that one sharp horn.
"She is…She just is." Kerian said, unable to describe the mixture of Brieana. She was one of the gentlest women he knew, yet she had bested his finest warrior in battle. She treasured life, but would have killed without a thought to protect those whom she loved. She was so wise in the ways of the old world, yet blissfully unaware of her own sensuality. She was Brieana, an indefinable mixture that brought so much joy into his bleak life. "And she's mine," he added as he saw Tybo's speculative look.
"She wouldn't have me anyway, Warlord!" Tybo laughed. "So I wouldn't ask you to share."
"Share what?"
While both men stared at each other, Brieana had quietly made her way over to the fire. She cocked her head to the side and observed both men.
"It's not important," Kerian decided after shooting Tybo a warning glare. "And call me Kerian," he said and nodded at the winged man.
"Kerian it is."
For a little while, all was silent, save for a few snuffles from the unicorns and the crackle of the fire as the trio partook of the light fare Kerian had produced.
"Tomorrow…tomorrow will be…amazing," Tybo said finally, breaking the silence.
"How so?" Brieana asked, brushing the crumbs of her meal from her lips with gentle fingers.
"I have a feeling," Tybo said, dusting off his hands and rising to his feet. "I have a feeling we will all be changed."
"Does your magic run to prediction?" Kerian asked as he took Brieana's hand in his.
"Telling the future?" Tybo laughed. "I am afraid, Kerian, that no one is capable of doing that. The future is ever changing!"
"That's a comfort," Brieana drawled sarcastically as she glared at the bright-eyed man.
"Yes, isn't it though?" he drawled as he stretched his wings out to their fullest, their incandescent membranes slowly turning a warm brown that matched his eyes.
"Go away, Tybo!" Brieana laughed, watching as the man tilted his head to the side and observed her.
"You dismiss me?" he growled. "Tybo? Leader of Dagon's first army of the invincible? Master of…oof!"
He choked off his statement as a laughing Brieana smacked him in the chest with a piece of kindling. He glared down at her.
"I believe you are a bit of a stuffed shirt, Tybo! If you are to be a member of our court and reside in our kingdom," she laughed at him, "you must simply behave!"
"Our kingdom?" he asked.
"Kerian's and mine!" she answered as she squeezed her mate's hand. "I am a Queen, and to rule properly, I must have a proper King."
Her eyes mellowed as she looked over at Kerian, her mate.
"I can see that I am useless around here this evening," Tybo drawled, his eyes turning an amused green. "You are a lucky man, Warlord. Not every woman would willingly share a kingdom with her chosen. I hope you realize this."
"With every breath, Master of Magic."
Kerian's amber eyes glowed with the wealth of love he had found.
"Then I am off!" Tybo decided as he stretched his wings and prepared to leap into the sky.
"But where will you go without the safety of the fire?" Brieana demanded, standing up in her concern.
"To scout about a bit, to spy, and to make my nest somewhere high and safe, Lady. I am in no danger. Believe me, I am well trained."
"Be safe, Tybo," Kerian called as Tybo leapt into the air. In a flash of brown and black, he was gone.
"Always," the disembodied voice floated back to them. "Always."
After a moment of silence, Brieana turned to her mate.
"Shall we seek out our pallet, Warlord?" she asked, as she dimpled up at him.
Although there was a smile upon her face, there were deep shadows in her eyes.
Brieana knew what was at stake, even though she tried to hide her fears from Kerian. But Kerian was more observant than she imagined.
"Will you stop pretending you are not frightened?" he countered.
Brieana's eyes widened for a moment. Of all of his possible responses, that was one she did not expect.
"Frightened?" she choked out and she ducked her head low to hide her eyes.
"Yes, frightened, Brieana. Anyone sane person would be. Tomorrow could mean our last day on this land, our last breaths taken. It is normal to be scared."
"Queens are not supposed to be scared, Kerian. What kind of ruler would I be if I were frightened of a little thing like death?" She tried to inject a small laugh in her statement, but it came out sickly and unnerving.
"You would be a human ruler."
He placed on hand on the back of her neck and pulled her head forward. When she was nestled under his chin, he began to softly stroke her back, offering peace and comfort with his touch.
"It hurts so much to be human," she whispered, her voice broken with the sudden onset of tears.
"Women of Legend do not feel, Kerian! How can a legend feel?"
"You are more than a legend, Brieana," Kerian soothed as he began to rock her like a child. "You are much more."
"But what if I fail, Kerian? What if I cannot get that blasted sword to work? What if people, good people, die? Should I offer up my life for people I do not even know? Look what happened to Zorn! I do not want to be the one!"
Her disjointed, rambling questions poured out of her like water into a stream.
Through this whole journey, this whole quest, she had managed to keep her fears at bay, deny what she was feeling. But as the time for action drew nearer, she could no longer deny her emotions.
"I might kill us all, Kerian!"
"Brieana, Brieana, My Lady," Kerian crooned as he held her close. "We do not choose our fates, our destinies! They are chosen for us!"
"Why me?" she cried out as she struggled out of his grasp. "Why not someone else?"
"Because," Kerian said as he gripped her upper arms and forced her to meet his eyes. "Because there was no better woman for the job! Believe in yourself, Brieana. Believe, as I believe in you! I would lay my life down for you! And so did Zorn! So does Tybo. So does any being on this Isle that would defend their rights to choose life with free will!"
"But what if I fail?" she asked again as she fought to ease her fears. "What if I, like Arthur, am a token ruler, someone to get others motivated to fight?"
"Then your job is done, Lady! No one asked for a martyr, and no one expects you to be one! We expect a ruler with style and grace, both of which you have already proven! You give us hope, Brieana."
"Is hope enough, I wonder," she sighed as she pulled away from Kerian to wrap her arms around her shaking body. Funny, but she felt a bit better for her outburst. She never before realized that a knot of tension had been building in her chest.
"It is, Lady. And I guess you are feeling quite a bit of resentment, too."
"Resentment?" That brought her eyes up to his beloved face again. Was it resentment that she felt?
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