Crystal Dragon

by Sharon Lee

  The two at the lead faltered; one recovered in the next instant and strode ahead, energies blazing, entered the void, and was gone—- whether unmade or merely passed beyond the senses was not for such as they to know.

  Yet.

  The second of the bold approached the void, her energies furled close and secret, and was in her turn swallowed, vanishing as if she had never been.

  She, the third, neither quick nor slow, continued onward, protections in place, her essence at a slight remove, tethered by the slenderest of thoughts. The iced stones tore at the soles of her feet, her lungs labored in the thick air. She thought, within her most private and protected self, of the Iloheen-bailel, beautiful and subjugated, transforming the void with its dance.

  Then, she passed into Shadow, and all her perception ended.

  v.

  Awake.

  She obeyed, opening her perceptions across all planes. On the dais before her stood the philosophy tutor, the dominant with her hands folded into the sleeves of her gray gown, the submissive kneeling at her side, head bowed, eyes closed.

  There was no one else in the Hall of Testing.

  The Blessed Iloheen, Lords of Unmaking, are pleased that you have passed through this door. The philosophy tutor's thought was serene. You are to immediately remove to the birthing room and prepare the vessel which you have nurtured.

  * * *

  THE VESSEL WAS ready. She had fashioned it neat and supple, with long, curling red hair, and a smooth, gold-toned dermis. Its hands were long, its feet small, its form slender. Standing, it would overtop her only slightly.

  That, of course, was for later.

  Now, it lay where she had placed it on the tile floor. She settled the head carefully into the restraint before giving her attention to the other fetters, binding first the right wrist, then the left, melding the chain with the floor. She bound the ankles in the same manner, and made the staple snug across the slim waist. Extending her will, she touched each restraint in turn, making certain of her work, then knelt.

  The tile was warm under her knees; in other perceptions, it was slickly reflective, deliberately crafted to foil any attempt by an enterprising tumzaliat to anchor a portion of itself outside of its prepared dwelling place.

  Withdrawing slightly from her envelope, she looked deeply into the vessel, searching anxiously for any flaw. The binding phrase had been imprinted at the cellular level; the biologics primed to accept the physical bonding. The autonomous system functioned sweetly, fairly humming as she took it under her dominion.

  It was time.

  Energies furled, she triggered the access port, changed phase and entered the lesser aetherium.

  Dark and secret she floated, the tumzaliat frolicking heedlessly about her. As part of her preparations, she had studied the inhabitants of the lesser aetherium and had settled upon one as suitable. To be sure, it was no glorious wild zaliata, but well enough, for a tumzaliat. It was a bit less heedless than the others of its cohort; its emanations pleasingly regular and its cohesion firm. A suitable tool for one such as herself.

  She was patient; she was cunning as a tumzaliat is not. And at last her intended danced near.

  Swiftly, she unfurled her energies, sweeping out and around, imperative and firm. She did not toy with the tumzaliat, nor permit it to build false hopes of escape; she did not allow it to flirt with annihilation against the containment field. Rather, she displayed her superiority, and offered no choice other than to acquiesce to her will.

  The tumzaliat twisted, dodging close to the trailing edge of her field, testing. This show of boldness pleased her even as she contracted the field, edging the captive inexorably toward the—

  There was a disruption of the energies within the aetherium; the sluggish ley lines heaved.

  Within the vibrant strands of her net, the tumzaliat twirled, energies flaring. Her perceptions slid, and she felt the ley lines heat. She focused fiercely and flung her will out, forcing the tumzaliat into the egress field. The lines, she thought, were reacting to the attunement of her energies. It was best to be gone—and quickly.

  There! Her chosen was within the egress field. She triggered the port; there was a flare and a confusion of energies as the tumzaliat seemed almost to hurl itself into the opening, so that she must needs extend her field, thinner than she liked, scarcely guiding it, while the momentum pulled her out—and down.

  Gasping a thought, she sealed the port behind her, plummeting into her envelope so quickly pain flared. She batted it aside, clearing her senses.

  Before her, the vessel showed the lingering glow of the tumzaliat's essence. The autonomous system went briefly ragged; she smoothed it absently as the vessel contorted, arching against the restraints. Its chest expanded, its mouth formed a rictus—

  But the birth scream did not come forth.

  Hastily, she checked the autonomous system; looked deep within the vessel and ascertained that the time was now, scream or none. She swung over the slim hips, looking down into the sealed, austere face—

  The eyes snapped open—cobalt blue and aware, the gaze met hers and did not waver, though the body was panting now; trembling with the force of that unuttered cry. She could feel the tumzaliat's confusion increase to damaging levels as it failed to find its accustomed perceptions available, supplanted by alien input from unfamiliar senses.

  She smoothed the vessel's breathing, slowed the racing heart, and lowered herself onto its erection.

  "Rool Tiazan," she whispered against the air.

  As foretold by the biology tutor, pleasure flooded her, and she moaned with satisfaction as the biologic link formed. And all the while, the cobalt eyes stared into hers, narrowing as the bonding triggered pleasure responses, then suddenly widening, as if the tumzaliat had in some way understood—

  Beneath her, the hips tensed, twisting, as if to unseat her—and panic flared once more.

  She extended her will, smoothed away the panic and triggered sleep; massaged the tight muscles into relaxation, and bled off the fear toxins.

  When she was certain the tumzaliat, now Rool Tiazan, was at rest and in no danger of damaging himself, she rose, cleaned herself, and donned the blue robe of a dramliza-under-training.

  That done, she turned back toward the sleeper, intending to transfer the language and motor modules, so that the sleeping intelligence might—

  A Shadow fell across the birthing room. Immediately, she abased herself.

  A successful translation, I apprehend. The Iloheen's thought pierced her like a blade of ice.

  Yes, Edonai, she sent humbly, and did not think of the twisting ley lines or of that instant of confusion, just before her barely controlled dash through the port...

  But the Iloheen did not pursue any of those possible errors.Why is it, the question came instead, that you did not allow your submissive the birth scream?

  To admit that Rool Tiazan had been out of her control was to admit that she was unfit to undertake the work for which she had been created and trained.

  To express an untruth to an Iloheen was—not quite unthinkable. They had drilled her well in deceit, that she would succeed in those things they would require of her.

  There was an infinitesimal flutter at the edge of her perceptions. She ignored it and formed her response with care.

  It was experiencing a great deal of confusion, Edonai. I judged the additional stress would do harm both to the vessel and the inhabitant.

  She breathed, eyes on the slick tile floor, and awaited annihilation.

  The judgment is not without precedent, the Iloheen stated.

  The Shadow passed. She was alone and alive, having lied to one of the Masters of Unmaking.

  Not ...quite... alone.

  Perceptions wide, she considered the submissive Rool Tiazan as he lay sweetly sleeping in his bonds.

  The ley lines, she thought. The ley lines had shifted within the lesser aetherium at the moment she triggered the egress port to download her chosen tumzali
at. They had shifted again, just a moment ago, moving them to an all-but-unimaginable possibility where an Iloheen was fobbed off with a novice's lie.

  You. She formed the thought gently, without imperative—and was not ...entirely... surprised to see the delicate lashes flutter, and the fierce gaze seek hers.

  I. His thought was a ripple of cool greens.

  You are no tumzaliat, she said.

  He did not reply. She tucked her hands into her sleeves, and formed a question.

  Why did you manipulate the ley lines?

  His eyes narrowed, but this time he answered: Did you wish to be destroyed?

  You manipulated the lines twice, she pursued.

  I did not wish to be destroyed. He closed his eyes.

  Rool Tiazan, she sent, sharply.

  No reply.

  She probed and found only a blank wall of exhaustion, as if he truly slept now, on every level. As well he should—- zaliata, tumzaliat, or mere biologic.

  Briefly, she looked to herself, sublimated toxins into sugars, and replenished depleted cells.

  The needs of her envelope answered, she sank to her knees on the tile beside her submissive, transferred the possibly redundant communications module, and also the motor skills module, weaving them into the sleeping consciousness.

  That done, she considered her situation.

  Impossible though she knew it to be, yet it seemed clear that she had bound a zaliata to her poor vessel. Only a zaliata would have strength enough to manipulate the ley lines within the lesser aetherium, or the boldness to manipulate them in the very presence of an Iloheen. How it might have happened that a zaliata had come into the lesser aetherium was something to discover from Rool Tiazan.

  Her best course from this unlikely event—that was less plain.

  Once bound to the vessel, there was no release for the tumzaliat, save destruction. Perhaps a zaliata, with its greater abilities, might withstand the destruction of its vessel?

  She accessed and reviewed all she had learned of the philosophy of zaliata, but did not find an answer. Very likely because no zaliata had ever been bound to a humble biologic vessel. It would be madness to limit it so; and the Iloheen who commanded the zaliata had other means to ensure obedience.

  But, once tied to the vessel, might not even a zaliata be subject to domination?

  There was a flicker at the edge of her perceptions. She caught at it, tasting enough of the pattern to understand that Rool Tiazan had attempted to manipulate the ley lines again.

  You, she sent sharply. If you do not wish to be destroyed, have done. The Iloheen see all here. They will notice your attempts at the lines.

  Not before I am gone.

  I am your dominant and I forbid you to depart this place, she replied, lacing her thought with compulsion. The only pathway to your power now lies through me.

  Silence. Perhaps he slept again. She—she composed herself, thoughts and energies furled close, and set herself to reviewing how best to enforce her dominion.

  vi.

  THE BIOLOGY TUTOR had taught that, though one would serve, several couplings following download would more rapidly strengthen the biological bonds between submissive and dominant.The philosophy tutor had suggested that simultaneous partaking of pleasure was itself a bond that would strengthen the dramliza unit in non-quantifiable, but subtly important, ways.

  It was rare enough to find the two most influential tutors in agreement. And truly, she thought, it was her responsibility as dominant to insure that the dramliza unit was closely tied and functional.

  Slowly, she allowed herself to emerge from the study-state, and opened her eyes. Rool Tiazan slumbered yet within the embrace of his restraints. She had formed his vessel in such a way that pleased her—and it pleased her greatly now, stretched taut against the tiles, the gold-colored dermis yet faintly glowing with the energies trapped within. Though it had been foretold by the biology tutor, she had found the birth coupling unexpectedly pleasurable, and gazing upon that which had been the instrument of such pleasure she experienced a shortness of breath, a tightening of the belly, a tingling....

  She considered these conditions—biologic all, and found in them an irrefutable logic. The tumzaliat by entering the vessel prepared for it became a biologic entity. It was therefore reasonable and symmetrical that the stronger of the many ties which would bind it to its dominant would also be biologic. That it was pleasurable to forge those ties served to ensure that the work would be done.

  Her envelope was clamoring now, as biologic memory fueled anticipation. The sensations were notable for their strength, and she thought to dominate them—then thought again.

  She had downloaded not a mere tumzaliat, but a zaliata. Well to strengthen all those things that tied Rool Tiazan to her.

  It occurred to her as she cast her robe aside that the Iloheen might well wish her not to bind a zaliata quite so closely to her will, but she barely heeded the thought over the clamor of biologic desire.

  Envelope shivering under the continued onslaught, she reached forth her thought, stroked Rool Tiazan awake and ready, swung herself over his hips and—

  Wait.

  His thought—the cool and cooling ripple of greens, the edges showing the faintest shimmer of silvery fear.

  It was his fear that pierced her, so that she withdrew somewhat from her rutting envelope and considered him.

  Much has occurred, she told him, and you may not recall that you have experienced this act and found it gave pleasure.

  I recall the act. His thought rippled more quickly, not... quite so cool now. Not the pleasure.

  Allow me to remind you. She breathed upon the appropriate systems—and saw his coolness shrivel in heat as the vessel strained against its bonds, hips yearning upward.

  Withdrawing into her own envelope she opened herself and met him.

  NO!

  His thought was tumultuous, a hot chaos of fear, pleasure, loss, and desire. Smiling, she took it into herself, felt something new weave from their mingled essences, and recalled one crystalline moment—the zaliata dancing, mixing their energies—and then her pleasure spiked, sealing all thought away.

  * * *

  Why?

  The thought was green and sharp, edged with some base emotion which eluded her naming. She raised herself onto an elbow and considered Rool Tiazan on every level accessible to her.

  Physically, he lay yet within his restraints, his hair dark with sweat, his golden skin slick and damp. The dermis glowed, but palely, palely. Soon, it would cease to do so entirely, and the biologics would have won.

  Upon the second plane, he was beautiful to behold, a subtle and coherent power, restrained by the chains of biology. Despite those chains, his essence extended well into the third level, half-a-dozen thin, mint-colored rays piercing even unto the fourth.

  Returning to her envelope, she cleaned herself, sat up, called a robe, and, at last, met his eyes.

  It is necessary in order to complete our bonding, she answered calmly, for the philosophy teacher had been adamant—one's submissive must, as soon as its intelligence was recovered, be shown the facts of its new existence. It was then able to grasp the futility of rebellion and realize that its only recourse was submission to she who held dominion over his existence.

  I do not wish to be bound. His eyes were hot.

  She lifted a shoulder. It is not your wish that bears weight here, but mine.

  A light ripple of gold and ebon—amusement, she thought. And despair.

  I thought the proud Iloheen ruled here.

  So they do, she made answer. I—and you—exist to do their work.

  You, perhaps, was his reply. Not I. He moved his head, insofar as the restraint would allow it, tried one arm against the bonds, then the other.

  Release me.

  It was not quite an order, not with that silver edging of fear. And, after all, there was no harm in allowing him so small a thing.

  Of course. She took care to thicken the a
ir beneath his head, so that the vessel would not be damaged, then banished the restraints with a thought.

  Freed, he lay on the cold tiles, eyes closed, then slowly bent his right elbow, and shifted his right arm, until his palm lay against his naked chest. He stroked his own dermis, and shivered.

  Release me from this... object.

  Your vessel. Your body, she instructed him. That is not possible.

  His chest rose and fell.

  I am limited by this encasement. His thought was cool once more; detached alike from fear and from pleasure. If it is power you would command, release me.