Dorn’s other hand wrapped my wrist, and his fingers tracked my pulse. I knew my veins throbbed with a rhythm that confessed my desire.
“Permit me, Warden, to sample this feast you claim awaits.” I had meant to mock, but my words trembled in the air between us.
He shook his head at me as if I were an unruly child.
“You must accept the fire in your body before it can melt the ice in your heart,” he raised my wrist to his lips, never taking his eyes from mine. “You must choose to flow with one purpose,” he whispered against my skin.
The look in his eyes drained any last doubts from my mind.
“I did not know that I ached for your touch until you touched me.” My voice was soft and low.
His eyes darkened with desire, the pupils shimmering with candlelight reflections. And still he waited, watching me as he touched the side of my face with his hand.
I searched for the words he needed to hear. “Long have I been yours, Dorn.”
Then, I saw his love for me, and it was not the kind of love that grows in a day or a week or a year. It was imbedded in his very core, and it was hot and sharp. The bottom of my stomach dropped away, and my mouth became a beggar.
“Please, do not make me wait any longer.”
Dorn choked on my name as he wrapped his hands in my hair and crushed my lips with voracity. He held me enslaved with his mouth. His warm hand slid down my back, pulling me to him, and as our bodies met, the tension drained from my body, seeping out of my pores and leaving me pliable to his lead. I clutched at his tunic with desperate hands, clinging for balance. His hand wrapped the back of my neck, steadying me, and I felt him smile against my mouth.
My vision blurred behind my lashes, and I became a speechless, thoughtless being. Fear spiked in my chest at my vulnerability, but my body was wanton, responding to instinct as the red tide of desire swept away my fears, releasing me to his embrace.
And in his embrace, in this moment; my need to rule was overcome by a hunger to be his woman.
My mind turned inward, following the burning trail of his hand on my body as he traced the curve of my hip. I wanted that hand. Wanted it like fire wants wood. This time it was my mouth that took his, probing and biting until he pulled my knee to his hip and pushed his pelvis against mine. My spine ground against the centre pole of the tent with the sweet bite of awareness.
Oh yes, I thought, Mark me here, where the serpent dared to brand me.
But Dorn pulled his mouth away from my bruised lips, leaving them cold and solitary. His hand left my body to clutch the pole above my head, and a ragged breath shuddered from his chest as he struggled to control his passion. I tried to recapture his mouth, but he grabbed my chin, placing his thumb against my lips. With a shaky laugh, he leaned his forehead against mine. His hair fell like a curtain between us, the ends flipping up to tickle my face as he spoke.
“Let us not flood love with urgency,” he said.
I tipped my head back against the pole and stifled a groan. With hands turned to supple hide, Dorn brushed the hair from my face and tenderly kissed the base of my throat. His lips were soft and firm and warm as he kissed my forehead, my eyelids, my cheekbones, drawing me down from the spiraling pillar of lust into the all-encompassing cradle of love. He pressed his lips against mine so lightly, I wasn’t sure if the kiss was real or imagined. Slowly, the pressure of his mouth increased until my mouth parted. Many times, I had watched Dorn’s lips spill words before the fire. Now, with his gentleness, they spilled my pride.
When my knees would no longer support me, Dorn pulled me against his chest, and wrapped me in his arms, lovingly.
“Nú ic áh mǽste þearfe,” he whispered against my hair. The words were full of the knowing of a lover.
The tent flap caught my eye as the flanks entered. They glanced at us, and then, moved to settle on their bedding hides. Dorn lifted his head from mine and looked their way.
“Will their knowing turn you aside?” I asked, a grin quickening at the corner of my mouth.
Dorn turned back to me, his words striking me silent. “Nothing will turn me from this honour,” he said.
Then, he lifted me in his arms and carried me to my bed skins. Lowering me to the soft furs, he lay by my side. And I, who can wield most weapons with skill and ease, was not sure what to do. Dorn had no such hesitation. His hand touched me like silk as he slowly dragged his fingertips up the inside of my leg. I placed a hand upon his shoulder, but he winked at me, calming my nerves and his fingertips moved higher.
I started to raise my knee, and his hand changed direction. Leaning across my chest, he carefully removed my thigh dagger from its sheath. Slowly, without ever releasing me from his gaze, blade by blade, he disarmed me, passing the sharp edges over my chest to lay them beside us on the floor. When he was finished, he slipped to lie over my body, his hair touching me first.
“Let your guards count each gasp I draw from you,” he said with a wicked smile.
I wrapped my arms around Dorn’s neck pulling him down to me, willing to sacrifice everything for one night in his embrace.
Chapter 11: Death on the Plains
On the second day of travel, I recounted our night together. Our band was surrounded by miles of golden grasses dancing in the rare breeze. The stomp of the bullsaurs’ wide feet hammered the plain as the gigantic beasts carried our possessions. All around, the sounds of adventure rose on the hot wind. Snorts from the horses and yips from the hounds were mixed with light laughter and bantering jabs from my people.
The day’s heat and the rocking sway of my bullsaur lulled me into a relaxed state, and I slipped deeper into my basket to revisit my night with Dorn. My hand strayed to my stomach as I recalled his touch, for I had hopes that a seed had begun to grow.
Dorn had stayed the night with me, a night of little sleep. After he had loved me, he had propped himself up on his arm and looked down into my content face.
“Eight years I have waited for this night,” he whispered, drawing his fingers down the side of my ribs.
In the past, there had been times when heated glances had passed between us, but the man of a thousand words had never spoken of his wishes. He had never stepped out of his role to court me.
“You must be a very patient man,” I said with a touch of disbelief.
He laughed low in his throat. “The time spent waiting for fruit to ripen is sometimes sweeter than the harvest,” he teased.
“Perhaps, I should sweeten your life with more waiting, then.”
His quick glance at my eyes, left a smile twitching at the corners of my mouth.
Dorn leaned forward, tickling my nose with a light kiss. “No more time wasted, Laywren,” he said.
His words sent a ripple of alarm into my stomach. Here in my tent, I could give in to his charms. But out there, beyond the private walls of my tent were the people who depended on me to lead them. I was their Queen, and I could let no man or woman distract me from that.
“There is no going back from tonight,” Dorn continued, brushing my hair from my face with his gentle hand.
I felt the familiar wall rising to close off my feelings—to create a barrier between me and my emotions. I hid my eyes by catching Dorn’s lips with mine.
He had been gone in the morning when I awoke, and so was the flush. That was not usual. The flush should have marked my shoulders for weeks, and I was left wondering if I had not been mistaken. Only Dorn’s witness to the patterns convinced me the gift had ever graced my skin.
Reaching up with both arms, I grabbed the rough sides of the riding basket and pulled myself upright. I pulled down my woolen shift exposing my tanned shoulder to the sun’s light. My skin was smooth and unmarked. Sighing, I pondered the idea that the goddess could be punishing me for not accepting Nethaz as my chosen mate. That thought left me cold with fear. I had always been in her favour, and the thought of her disfavour, and what it could bring, frightened me.
I shook off the feeling of
dread. Whatever the reason, soon our travelling would be over, and I would be able to free myself from dallying over questions without answers. The current reality of the Horde’s situation demanded my full attention.
A rank smell pulled me alert.
I looked to the bullsaur in front of me. The beast’s huge ass swayed back and forth with each lumbering step, raising clouds of dust that threatened to choke us all. I twisted around to see past the riders at the back of the column. The path of crushed reed grass behind wound like a beige river until it dipped out of site over the hill we had crested an hour ago. To my side was another bullsaur, spread far enough from mine to leave a space for walkers in between. A hand went up in the basket, and I recognized Kaj’s widow, Nailia. I nodded to her but turned my attention back to the grass.
These plains hosted badgerdoms, fierce creatures of prey that dug their way under the fields. Each year saw a loss of trees as the rains became less and without tree roots, the badgerdoms were able to tunnel freely in the soil, expanding their territory. They dug pits under the ground, pits big enough to pull down a bullsaur, and their attacks were fierce enough to kill one of our beasts. We knew badgerdom tunnels wove under the field, because the scent in the air was putrid. The wind would blow it away from us, and then change to blow it back into our path until we choked on the threat. Our great beasts snorted and tossed their huge heads, but the columns held.
The Julees herded the beasts in the shape of a V, and the lead bullsaur was in the most danger because it was breaking down the reeds blind. A few warriors walked in front, piercing the ground with their spears. But even their efforts could not detect a deeper pit that might only cave under the weight of a much larger creature. At the front of our column, a bullsaur started to sway out of line as the Julee on its back called out a command. She was rotating the animals to keep the lead bullsaur fresh. If trouble were to come from the grass, it would happen when we were making a change. I gazed into the ocean of reeds that surrounded us. The movement of the fronds was disturbing, drawing my gaze into the shifting ripples and confusing my sight.
Between the reek of the badgerdoms, the pollen from the grasses, and the dusty air, my throat became an impassible tunnel for what little spit I had left. My tongue stuck to my teeth, and Hinfūs whined as he loped beside my bullsaur. Thinking of the District well water being poisoned increased my discomfort with the heat of anger. We still had enough water for ourselves, but the bullsaurs and the hounds needed more than we had.
I recalled the mug Nethaz had spilled. The water had been necessary for the goddess’ message, but so very precious to waste on dust.
The flanks did not seem affected by the heat. They rode on the other side of my beast’s wide belly. They were normally quiet, but when riding, the boredom roused daggers in their speech. Lumen translated their words.
Left Flank ~ May your air be kissed by the tail’s lips ~
Right Flank ~ May your grass grow beneath knee rain ~
Left Flank ~ There is a message for you between the toes of the beast ~
Right Flank ~ May you gather it for me while you crawl ~
Behind us, the food collectors hung half out of their baskets, swinging long scythe-hooks into the uncrushed reeds. I watched the lines play out across the air and then fall to disappear in the tall grass. The collectors grunted as they pulled the lines in, hand over hand dragging huge clumps of grass up into the basket where it was piled and tied. We dared not stop, but we dared never to ignore the chance to collect food for ourselves or the stock.
Suddenly, a frightened roar from the lead bullsaur shattered my thoughts. I grabbed my bow and flipped over the edge of the basket, hanging in a full stretch before I dropped to the ground. The beasts were being pulled to a stop. Warriors fell in with me from the sides, weapons drawn as the screaming din from ahead fired an urgency in our legs.
A dust cloud rose up like a wall ahead of us, and I lost sight of the lead bullsaur. I could hear the distinct growls of an attacker and the bullsaur’s peals of pain. It had to be a badgerdom.
“Hold back,” I put out my arms to stop my warriors from racing into the cloud of dust. Without sight, we could be shredded by the badgerdom’s claws.
A figure ran out to us, staggering through the dust cloud. It was the Julee, bleeding from a wounded leg, but otherwise alive.
I ran forward and grabbed her arm, “Who rode in your basket?” I asked her.
She pushed her blonde hair back from her face and spoke through a grimace of pain, “The giant.”
Nethaz! I released her, and she hobbled to another helper.
The badgerdom was thickening the dust with its assault. I could not know if Nethaz was under the bullsaur or ripped to shreds. But I did know that firing arrows into the cloud could kill him and rushing in blind would kill us.
I tapped into Lumen and sought out Nethaz’s life force within the dust. He was alive and moving.
“Luchaire,” I commanded Lumen.
“Find the light,” I said to the warriors, and we searched the dust with our eyes until one cried out and pointed.
To the right was a ball of light and it was getting bigger.
“Do not fire upon the light. It is the giant!” I drew an arrow back in my bow and released it into the cloud to the left. There was no cry of pain, no grunt of surprise. I aimed at the middle. This time my arrow was followed by more and the volley struck a response.
“You’ll hit the bullsaur!” The Julee pleaded behind us.
I turned and yelled at her, angry that she was still in danger. “Get into the basket!”
And at the second volley of arrows, the badgerdom broke from the dust cloud and raced towards us. It charged with its spiked head low hoping to impale its enemies. We split running to the sides, but the Julee could not move fast enough. She was crushed beneath its clawed paws. The beast did not pause as it ground out the Julee’s life but kept on chasing those who had run to the right.
From the side, Dorn appeared, riding his mare in front of the charging beast. It turned, blinded by rage and raced after the Alacrite into the grass.
“FORM A LINE,” I YELLED, and we spread out with our arrows ready. I knew Dorn would bring the badgerdom back for another pass, and we would be ready.
My eyes began to water as I focused on the grassy reeds, watching for the waves that would reveal Dorn’s return. Those watching from the safety of the baskets changed their tones and this drew my eyes to them. Instead of watching for Dorn, they were peering to where the dust cloud had been. I chanced a look over my shoulder and saw the dust had settled enough to reveal Nethaz standing at the head of his fallen bullsaur. He stood crouched, his muscles bulging in anticipation, his axe shining before him. He still glowed from Lumen’s light and it made him appear godlike. Members of the Horde gasped as they took in the magnificent sight. I shut Lumen down, and Nethaz’s light blinked out just as the rumbling started.
I twisted my foot in the sand, steadying myself and pointed my arrow to where I thought the armoured head would break through the grass. The old man shouted from his riding basket, pointing his staff to where seconds later, Dorn burst through the high reeds on his mare. The horse’s chest muscles bunched as its front hooves drove into the dust. Behind Dorn’s back, the grass reeds parted in a shredding over the badgerdom’s snout. The ground shook as it charged straight at us.
“Fire!” I shouted, the word not completely out of my mouth before our arrows whistled into the air and drove deep into the brown hide of the beast. It faltered but did not fall.
“Scatter!” I yelled, and we turned and ran, creating twelve targets instead of one.
I knew from the thunder beneath my feet that I was the target the beast had chosen. I threw my bow and turned for the fallen bullsaur, hoping to gain its height so I could leap onto the badgerdom’s back. From my right, I saw Dorn sharply turn the Alacrite. The horse reared and then leapt forward, racing back for me.
I dug deep for the speed I needed to ma
ke the mark. Ahead, Nethaz stood watching. He straightened to his full height drawing his axe behind his head, his ribs pushing out through his chest muscles with the stretch. Then he swung forward with all his might, releasing a thunderous battle cry. The axe spun from his hands, blade over handle. I counted the turns, hoping it would find its target before the beast ran me down. When the axe would cleave me on the next spin, I changed course and dove to the side. I heard the helving of the badgerdom’s skull as I tripped and rolled. The beast fell with a thunderous shake of the ground, sliding its weight along at a speed that caught me before I could regain my feet. The mound of dirt pushed up by the massive head drove me along, forcing dirt into my nostrils and half burying my torso, before the momentum stopped.
I twisted against the dirt holding me down. Dorn leapt from his horse and ran to my side. Grasping my arm, he helped pull me free from the mound. I coughed to clear my lungs and pulled away from his concern.
I turned to examine the downed beast. Dust cloaked the badgerdom, blanketing its brown fur in a reddish hue. The beast’s fanged snout was buried in the ground, but the top of its armoured head rose above the dirt. Driven into the bone between its eyes was Nethaz’s axe, angled as though it had been left in the chopping block.
I turned away and put one finger to the side of my nose to blow clear my nostrils of dirt.
With the dust settling, the scene was revealed to the others and a cheer went up from the Horde. Dorn and I looked at each other. I could not speak for my chest was still heaving out the dust. Dorn did not reach for me, again, but his eyes caressed me, and his lips moved over a silent prayer of thanks. I was pleased that Dorn realized I did not welcome the care he would give a woman. Perhaps our coming together would not present me as weakened to the others. I gave Dorn a small smile and nodded my thanks. Then, I moved to praise Nethaz.
The giant stood by the bullsaur, his hands at his sides. I looked up at his solemn face and this time, did not mind that he stood above me.
“I owe you a life,” I said.
The Precious Quest Page 11