by J. C. Owens
Gretnel opened one lazy eye. “Guard yourself. Andon was anything but pleased this morning, and now Ceris cannot feel him at all. The captain has closed himself off from her, something I did not even believe possible.”
Daren’s optimism flowed away. That sounded bad, very bad. To block your grif… As Gretnel had said, such a thing was not even known.
Why? Why would Andon feel the need to do something like that?
The black grif raised her head and stared at him for a long moment.
“She says to guard her rider well. He does foolish things when he is in pain.” Gretnel’s tone was hesitant. “Be careful, Daren. I think that man holds such darkness within him that his reactions could be violent.” Obviously whatever he was picking up from Ceris concerned him greatly.
Daren nodded, good mood fleeing completely.
Giving a respectful nod to the new mates, he left the wing house. They would go on their first patrol today, so no renovations. Yanra would be coming tomorrow so they could rip out the north wall. He prayed the weather would hold until they could get it rebuilt. Otherwise it was going to be drafty and cold in these near-desert lands. Hot in the day, freezing cold at night. A land of extremes.
It was far from his own beloved green forests and lush fields of grain. Not somewhere he would ever wish to settle permanently.
What if Andon refused to leave here?
He froze in mid-step, wondering where such a thought could possibly have come from. True, he wished for this budding relationship to reach a successful pinnacle, but to actually be concerned that he might have to remain here?
This was going very far, very fast.
His riders were outside the wing house, grifs lazing in the sun while their riders groomed them. He felt a pang that he would miss this first flight. Gretnel would not leave his new mate for at least today, possibly longer. He would have to inform the commander of the new development.
“So you wriggled your way out of patrol?” Xaxter’s voice was sly, and he laughed as he ducked Daren’s half-hearted smack. “I am so jealous. Was he good? Or very bad? Please tell me he was bad so I don’t have to pine.”
Daren growled, glaring at his rider, reacting far too strongly to the good-natured teasing.
“He is a captain and a weapons master. To be respected. I don’t want to hear any of you making such remarks where others can hear them. Am I clear?”
Xaxter took a step back, hands held up in a placating defense. “Ah, yes sir? I didn’t mean anything…”
“Just don’t,” Daren growled.
The other riders stared at him. Paulsa came to lay a hand on his forearm. “You look worried and tense. Did something beyond the obvious happen?”
“I don’t know. Andon was gone this morning before I woke, and Gretnel said he was upset. Now he has blocked Ceris from his thoughts. She can’t feel him.”
Cansi whistled softly. “He must be strong-minded to attempt something like that, much less to succeed. And why? What was so terrible that he would even want such a thing?”
“I want to ask him that very thing,” Daren made his shoulders relax, brought his sudden temper down into manageable proportions. He glanced at Xaxter. “My apologies, Xax, for snapping at you. I know you were jesting.”
Xax tilted his head, nodding in acceptance, but watching Daren through narrowed eyes that held far too much inquiry for Daren’s comfort.
“You don’t usually jump to someone’s defense so quickly.”
Daren shrugged, uneasily aware that a faint flush was heating his cheekbones. “Gretnel seems to believe this is a true mating, that Ceris will remain his.”
Cansi’s eyes widened. “Like in ancient times? Then you and Andon… Oh my gods, that would be amazing! Congratulations, sir!”
Daren held up a hand. “Don’t congratulate me just yet. No matter what has happened between Gretnel and Ceris, which still remains to be seen, I don’t want that to color anything between Andon and I. He is wary for good reason, and this whole matter could set him against me completely. I have to be careful if this is going to work.”
Olnar nodded gravely. “He seems a proud and strong man. With everything he has gone through, at least by what we have heard, he will not trust the veracity of this mating. To him, things are negative at best and horrific at worse. You will have your work cut out for you, Captain, if you plan to pursue him. He seems as wild a creature as his grif.”
Daren could only agree.
“I would suggest that you leave him alone in the salle. He will be on edge today and it would not do for others to see his reactions to you. Wait until he leaves at the end of the day and then talk.”
Wise advice. Daren wished he did not have to wait through the day to speak to his new lover. He wanted to touch him, convince him that what had happened was good, beautiful.
Cansi nodded. “We’re just going to head out with 3rd Wing, so they can show us the terrain and patrol patterns. We already informed Commander Lasrem that you would not be flying today.”
Xaxter leaned against his grif, Bavlin, with arms folded over his chest. “We had to convince three riders last night that their best interests did not lie with the old wing house.”
Daren’s gaze snapped up, meeting Xax’s eyes, which were for once devoid of humor. “Who…”
“Vatner, Byrant, and one other I did not recognize. We suspected such a thing would happen last night. Gretnel told our grifs he thought Ceris would go into heat shortly. So we just thought we would sneak back and guard your interests.”
Cansi growled. “They were persistent bastards, would have fought us given half a chance, but then their grifs suddenly lost interest, perhaps when Gretnel made his claim.”
“If we had not been there…” Paulsa’s voice was soft with worry.
“I don’t even want to imagine it.” Daren closed his eyes briefly, feeling sickness rise. “The question being, how many times has he had to endure this before?”
“If he has, then he is not going to see your claim as any different.” Xaxter met his glare unflinchingly. “Be careful, my captain. He has the potential to be a very dangerous man, especially if he feels he is cornered.”
Words mirroring Gretnel’s.
Daren nodded at last. The steps of this dance were going to be very delicate indeed.
* * *
The day went by in a blur for Andon. He felt strangely distant from everything around him, unable to connect. He taught the classes, so removed from it all, he felt like he was watching his own actions and words from a distance.
The students were wary, silent and well behaved for once, as though they felt something from him that intimidated them thoroughly. He could only be thankful. He was in no shape to take on a challenge of any sort.
The last class filed out, the youths glancing at him with curiosity. Especially Garte, who clearly wanted to make a comment but was dragged out by his friends.
Andon sank down on the bench, starting ahead blindly, body and mind numb.
The strength of what he had felt from Ceris, her contentment and need for Gretnel…
This had never happened before. The other matings had been swift, fierce, and then the grifs had gone their separate ways, Ceris taking no more note of them.
This was clearly very different.
If this was a true mating…
His mind flinched from the thought, a sense of panic almost overwhelming him, so that he sprang to his feet and paced wildly for several moments.
At last, he jogged over to the northeastern corner of the salle, where the steps led up to the massive roof. He took them two at a time, fear giving his heels wings, and threw open the hatch at the top. Stepping out onto the gently sloped expanse, he took a deep breath, shaking.
He walked away from the hatch, to the far side that looked over the desert to the south, and far in the distance, mountains, hazy and indistinct. He sank down on his heels, and then finally sat, hugging his knees and keeping his eyes fixed on the mounta
ins.
Familiarity. Home. Mountains represented all that to him. He longed for the freedom he had once known. It had been hard, terrifying at times when food had been scarce. Weather extremes had made him miserably uncomfortable, at times close to hypothermia. Yet, he had been independent, with freedom of choice. There were no people to interfere, to label him as odd or to judge his words and actions.
Then he had met Ceris.
Their bond was the single warmth he had ever known at that time, and it was precious, inviolate. Years later, Vren had been a surprise, a link to the world that did not promise pain and humiliation. He hung his head, and a single tear dripped down his cheek. He was torn between wishing he had never met either of them and blessing the gods that he had. Being bonded with Ceris had made him vulnerable, taken the abuse to a sexual level, but he could not imagine a life without…
The problem was, for each one, he had opened his heart, and with loss, had found it a fragile, delicate thing.
Now this, whatever this was. He poked at the thought with caution, unsure if he even wanted to explore the matter. Yet if this were permanent…
The thought of being trapped in a relationship because Ceris had made a choice was terrifying. For all he knew, Captain Phalnir was as bad as Vatner and Byrant. If the man had schemed to be within the wing house to have first dibs on the mating…
He shivered.
He opened his tear-wet eyes and stared at the mountains, longing making his chest pulse with pain. To be free again. But then, there was no freedom this side of death for him.
He glanced at the roof edge, towering so far above the ground below. It would be swift, and it would be done, this miserable excuse for a life.
His bond with Ceris made it impossible. That sort of selfishness was not in his character.
Perhaps… His eyes widened with hope. This bonding between Gretnel and Ceris. It might be strong enough to keep her safe if she ever lost her rider.
It was a faint sliver of hope for release, that he might be able to leave this world at last.
The wind picked up and he shivered, the heat of being in the salle leaching away. It was late afternoon. Time for the evening meal, and yet he could not find the will to endure that duty. Today, he could not. Tomorrow he would have to be stronger.
He heard the sound of footsteps upon the roof and jerked his head around, fear and anger rising within him.
For a moment he could not place the stranger who was walking toward him with a slow, casual pace, eyes fixed not on Andon, but on the horizon, on the same mountains that sustained Andon.
It finally came to him. Captain Phalnir’s wing second. Olnar, he thought his name might be. He seemed a quiet, thoughtful man despite the huge body that could have made him powerful among others.
He dropped down to sit a small distance away from Andon, in a similar position. Knees up, arms wrapped around them. He stared at the mountains with a wistful expression that mirrored Andon’s own.
“I come from the eastern province of Florwin. Have you heard of it?”
Andon shook his head, not willing to give any words to this stranger. His right hand rested on the dagger in his belt, watching and waiting for the reason this man had appeared. It could be nothing good, and if this man pressed the matter of Captain Phalnir’s possible claim, he would—
“There are mountains there, not as majestic as the Quartic Mountains.” He shot a quick, gentle smile in Andon’s direction before looking out over the land once more. “I used to wander them as a boy. They are not nearly so steep as your mountains, but I loved the freedom of them, the peace they gave me.”
Andon frowned, fingers unclenching from around his dagger, though he remained touching it.
“I was not a particularly happy child. My size made me a target for bullies.” He shook his head ruefully, with nothing of self-pity in the action. “My family sent me to the academy when I was old enough, and I hated them for it. There, I was trapped, unable to escape from the very sort of people I despised. They were miserable years for me. Upon graduation, I held out no more hope for the future. I did not want to bond to a grif, prayed that none of them would choose me, and that I could return to my mountains.” He gave a little laugh that wasn’t bitter, but held a tiny bit of self-mockery. “I went to the ceremony with anger in my heart, rejection in my soul.”
Andon listened with more interest than he was comfortable with. This man had an amazing voice, deep, powerful and with such emotional conviction. It drew the listener in, reluctant or not.
“The young grifs wandered through us, and I hung back, behind the others, angrily contemptuous of the cadets’ joy when each of them was chosen. Then, I heard a voice in my mind, a panicked inquiry of ‘where are you, I can’t find you!’ The need in that voice was so powerful, so desperate, that I stepped forward, not even thinking, and there he was. My grif, Novul, her eyes wide with panic as she turned round and round, tripping over her own wings, searching.”
Olnar smiled, expression softening into something truly beautiful. “In that instant, my reluctance was gone. I have never regretted that moment. But there are times when my heart longs for the mountains still.”
Andon drew in a deep breath, feeling the familiar panic flow over him. He never knew how to properly respond to people. They expected certain behaviors that he had no knowledge of, and when he could not react in an acceptable manner, he was mocked and reviled for it.
This man had given him a gift. A gift of his past and the emotions attached. It deserved reciprocal offerings, but Andon shrank away from revealing his past, much less to a complete stranger.
But Olnar continued as if he wasn’t offended in the least by Andon’s silence. “My captain, Daren, is a good man.”
Andon’s lips thinned. Here would come the spiel.
“He is an idiot on occasion though.”
Andon blinked. This was not going where he thought it should.
“He comes from an extremely wealthy family in western Alterna. Not only wealthy, but loving and close. They are very different from most noble families, with a strange lack of traditional beliefs and strictures. I was quite shocked when I first met them, was ready for all manner of rejection. I come from a very poor family, who has a title but no lands to speak of. We are often scorned for that. When I joined Daren’s wing, I expected him to be a total jackass, like most of the commanders I had endured.” He grinned a little, looking younger. “What I found was a kind man, strong and willful, who stood up for others and didn’t give a hoot what others thought. I have learned to respect him, admire him, but I am aware that he sometimes sees the world through very different eyes. He assumes that others will recognize his intentions and his actions as being true, not realizing that the other party could come from different experiences and a complete lack of trust.” He glanced over at Andon, meeting his wary eyes directly.
“I am not attempting to make him a demi-god or someone perfect. All I can tell you is that everything he does is a measure of his commitment to a moral code that I have never seen waver. It is strong, and does not care for birth or title. Only that a man or woman does their best and does not harm others. That is why I will stay with him for as long as I possibly can. I have finally found someone worthy of being respected. Loved. Our wing is made up of those who could not fit in anywhere else.”
He rose to his feet, still holding Andon’s gaze. “He did not move into the wing house to be first in line for the mating. I know you would think that. I would have as well. He wants to protect you, as he sees your treatment as wrong and unjust. In some ways, he is a very simple man, with clear-cut ideas. He wants the best for you and is not afraid to tell your commander that. He is not trying to manipulate or control you.”
Andon curled his lip, narrowing his eyes. “If this mating is true between our grifs, then you think he will not control me? A friendship is a very different thing than an intimate relationship. There is always one in control when sex is involved.” He rose up, dusting
off his pants with swift annoyed strokes.
“I am sorry that your life has brought you to that conclusion. I won’t argue the matter because I have seen such a thing for myself. Once, I would have agreed with you. Now, I know Daren. I am not asking you to let down your guard. What I am suggesting is that you keep an open mind, remember what I have told you. Make your own judgments. This could be as wonderful as when I bonded with Novul. Don’t lose that to the bindings of the past.”
Andon folded his arms over his chest, glaring.
Olnar nodded pleasantly, then turned away, his footsteps loud over the slate rooftop before he disappeared down the hatch.
Andon stood, wanting to reject what had just occurred, but too intelligent to ignore Olnar’s words entirely.
CHAPTER NINE
Daren sighed, poking at his meal with a complete lack of enthusiasm foreign to his nature. He was a man who loved his food, but tonight it held no attraction whatsoever.
There was no sign of Andon.
The frown upon Commander Lasrem’s face did not bode well for his absence, and every so often, the man turned his attention to Daren, a growing anger in his eyes.
Explanations would be due, it seemed. No doubt rumors and gossip of the mating were making the rounds, and Andon’s absence would be remarked upon by all present.
Daren had hoped that he would be able to speak to Andon before now. He wanted to ensure the other man understood how Daren felt and that there was no ill intent in his actions.
On his other side, he could feel the hostile stare of Vatner, who had not taken his eyes off him all evening. It was completely evident there would be confrontation later. Daren could not say he minded in the least. He was more than willing to take on one of Andon’s abusers.
They were only three-quarters of the way through the meal when Lasrem rose, all the other officers rising swiftly, confused.
“Captain Phalnir, with me.” The commander gestured toward the officer’s lounge before stalking off, anger in every line of his body.
“Yes, go explain how you fucked his favorite.” Vatner’s half whisper held anticipation and malice. “Maybe he’ll kick you out, send you home in disgrace.”