by E E Everly
I won’t regret my choice.
I hope you’ll continue to say that. I give you permission to go home anytime. Just drop me off in a town somewhere.
I won’t abandon you, Seren said. So we continue north?
That’s as good as any destination. We need to find civilization somewhere. The angled mountain peaks were fizzling out. With Seren’s dragon sight, I glimpsed the first green hills beyond the frozen silence. The land, at least, was in a warm season. I could just make out a village and crop fields with stalks waving on a breeze.
Reminds me of Gorlassar at the height of the growing season, Seren said.
The land is beautiful.
So what do we do if we’re spotted? I’m not sure if mortals have ever seen a dragon.
Maybe they have three thousand years ago. I don’t know how much of their culture has evolved since Siana left Gorlassar. I wonder if their records mention her.
I doubt it, Seren replied. We should probably stay out of sight.
I’m not hiding. I left Gorlassar to start a life. We just have to figure out a way to introduce you to the frail beings.
The mountain range dropped off, and a mile-wide gap cut through before the range climbed in height on the other side.
I like that grove of trees there, I said. Let’s take a look. We’ll be able to see the highlands up close.
Seren banked and descended. People are in the village.
Let’s hope they didn’t notice us fly in.
How are you going to introduce me to the natives? Seren asked.
We could torch a village. That would at least let them know you’re not one to mess with.
Though she knew I was pulling her tail, Seren said, I’ll do no such thing. She landed with the grace of a queen. A sparse patch of tree growth allowed her to slip right in, next to a trickling brook.
Quaint. Like home, I muttered.
Are you homesick already?
Not on your life.
Are you regretting your actions? she asked.
Seren, there hasn’t been time to regret my actions.
But you feel heavy. Aneirin bruised you more than you care to admit.
I swung around in the saddle. No, I admit it all. You can feel my disheartened center. I did a reckless thing. I shouldn’t have looked into his soul.
You’ll heal. What should we do in the meantime?
While I come up with an idea? How about supper? I rummaged through a satchel tied to the saddle. I wasn’t rash enough to leave without provisions and some of home’s comforts. Canisters of soup, breads, cheeses. A basket of fruit. I wasn’t sure what I’d find in the mortal world. I didn’t know what season they were in or what the landscape was like because the view from Mount Eirwen’s snow-covered ledge was nothing but a panorama of white and blue mountains reaching with steely fists into the sky.
No immortal had ever set foot on Bryn—besides Siana, and she had not returned. We possessed no records of what mortals were like, no record of their world. The wisdom the elders passed on was only how wicked and dark this world was. How the Creator, Deian, magicked the portal between our worlds to prevent evil from entering. Thus the inference that humans were corrupted, that they would corrupt us, a society of pure, light-bearing immortals.
And the High Emrys had knowledge from the Creator himself, so as a people, we were told to stay well away and mind our duty as dragon guardians.
I’d brought a change of clothing and cleansing oils. I opened a bottle of bergamot and inhaled. Calm stroked my mind. I wished the feeling reached my heart. A knot had lodged under my breastbone—a constant reminder of why I left.
Brokenhearted. Pity.
Aneirin.
I jumped off Seren, with my satchels, and dropped them against a tree. She stepped over the rocky dirt and tipped her head to the brook for a drink.
Are you hungry? I knelt, and my fingers played in the water. Not being delicate, I brought a palmful to my mouth and slurped. I washed the remaining drops down my neck and rubbed my collarbone. The water was fresh, with a delicious mineral taste.
I smell a tantalizing morsel a few meters away. I’ll catch my own dinner, Seren said.
Sounds good. I plucked a peach from a satchel. Those spoiled the fastest. I took off my boots and roamed the mossy woodland floor barefoot while Seren squeezed between two trees and crouched, waiting for her dinner to draw closer. A rabbit. A snack, but Seren wasn’t one to complain.
After supper, we explored the area. I ventured to the edge of town, ducking behind bushes and rocks. Seren stayed in the grove, but I allowed her to see through our shared sight. The mortals weren’t completely inept. I wasn’t sure what I expected. Slobbering, drooling, wild men and women grunting and exaggerating their gestures? What surprised me was they spoke the same common tongue as the people in Gorlassar. I supposed Deian gave all beings on two legs the basic components of speech. A few particulars were different, but the meaning was understandable.
I watched a mother hang laundry on a rope line while her toddler dug in the dirt. The girl caked mud over her cream-colored dress while her mother was oblivious. I gasped when the child traipsed over to a cradle and dangled a worm above it. The mother finally turned and screeched, “Katelyn, don’t feed your brother worms!” She smacked the offending creature from Katelyn’s grasp, and the child wailed, setting off the sleeping baby, whom the mother picked up and promptly latched to her breast.
That might have been handled with more tact, Seren said.
I smirked. They were only human.
Many more yards, enclosed by slapped-together stick fences, contained mothers with children. Most tackled some chore, such as hoeing the garden weeds or scrubbing laundry in a tub. A whiff of stew wafted out a window. A husband sauntered home for the evening, scraped his dirty boots on a stump, and dropped his sickle against the doorframe before bellowing out, “Woman, I’m home. Where’s the grub?”
I winced. So they didn’t all talk with grace.
Another husband slunk around the side of the house, snatched his wife up in a one-armed embrace, and planted a deep open-mouthed kiss on her. She responded enthusiastically and twined her fingers into his hair. I turned away, blushing.
So they could express emotion—more vulgar than what I was used to. In Gorlassar, husbands and wives kept most physical affections behind closed doors. The usual outward expression was the traditional greeting of close relations by holding foreheads together while candid feelings for the other infused into the heart and mind of the receiver. Acquaintances bowed or nodded in passing. Any other show of affection wasn’t necessary beyond the binding of two souls for eternity as mates and the intimacy that allowed. Everyone in Gorlassar felt everyone’s emotions, unless an individual made the effort to block them. Most didn’t bother.
That’s just how we were.
But Aneirin had bothered, and I wished I had kept my feelings from him too.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, I arrived at a forge. I watched a large, dark-haired man, with a leather apron stretched around his girth, hold a horseshoe in the flames. I listened to the clank clank of his tools before retreating into the woods.
Not a bad place, I said. I could blend in nicely.
As long as you don’t go revealing your powers, the mortals will think you’re one of them.
That leaves you, Seren.
The only sign of creatures, other than that rabbit and the squirrels I hear scampering in the treetops, was a couple of dogs chasing that cat. I don’t think seeing a dragon will go over well. Oh, and the sheep. I’d like one of those for dinner—tomorrow night. Think they’d mind if I snatched one of those?
I laughed. They’re corralled. Someone owns them. I could make a trade. If you stole a sheep, I don’t think you’d win them over.
Seren curled up, folding her long, spiked tail next to herself, creating a gap for me to lay my bedroll in. Her body heat warmed me, as did my internal light, so we decided against a campfire with its revea
ling illumination. We didn’t want any locals to snoop around because of a fire in the woods.
I stroked Seren’s scaled underbelly as I drifted off into a peculiar sleep—shallow enough that the tittering insects slipped into my dreams, as did memories of Aneirin. The day’s distractions didn’t help me forget what I left behind. They only reminded me I was missing everything.
Affection, family, and home.
FOUR
The crickets thrummed ever louder. I was going to roll over when a twig snapped thirty feet away on my right.
I stiffened. Seren, did you hear that? Don’t move.
Yes.
I sensed a presence in our grove. Well, I wasn’t lying around and letting him or her sneak up on us. I didn’t move but called out. “Don’t take another step, or you’ll regret it.”
Silence.
I rolled up and peeked over Seren’s tail. The moon cast its silver light, illuminating a dark shape. I opened my mind to Seren’s night vision. One of her crimson eyes was aligned with the intruder—a man dressed in unadorned pants and shirt, along with a cloak. Traveling apparel, perhaps.
He held his hands up. He didn’t quiver or cower, though his gaze fell right on Seren. The feelings I received from him… curiosity and…
Concern.
That piqued my interest. He didn’t balk at my dragon. So bold. His sentiments led me to wonder at the intelligence of these humans. Seren stood twice my height on all fours with her neck stretched high to the sky. Her wings spanned four times my height. And her spiked tail—as long as I was and lethal.
He either was an idiot or had a death wish.
The man edged closer.
I stood. “What part of don’t take another step do you not understand? I’ve never met someone so…”
I trailed off because what I was going to say was stubborn, bold… obnoxious?
I see why you didn’t finish the thought, Seren said.
I resisted a smile.
The man spoke. “You were about to thank me.”
I blinked. “Excuse me? Thank you for what? For sneaking up on us in our sleep? You have no idea what you’ve stumbled upon.” Seren, follow my lead. “Now that you’ve found us, we can’t let you just walk away. Seren, show this stranger what we do to—”
“To someone who’s here to warn you,” he said.
As I squinted at him, I wished I could see him in color instead of in my nighttime dragon vision of black and gray, but I wasn’t floating an orb of light above us and giving away my powers. I scoffed. “What could you possibly warn us about?”
“You were spotted. You and your flying lizard.”
Seren rose to all fours, and smoke puffed out of her nostrils, followed by a stream of flame. “I am no mere lizard, you contemptuous, assuming mortal.”
He stepped back, lifting his hands defensively. “She speaks and breathes fire. This is magic.”
I rolled my eyes. With Seren huffing flames, I could make out the man’s brown, scruffy hair twisted into haphazard spikes, as if someone had grabbed chunks of his hair and lobbed them off a few inches from his scalp. Seren huffed again, and his blue eyes gleamed orange. The man was young. Barely an adult. A youth by Gorlassar’s immortal standards, but he was a couple of inches taller than average height and not as muscular as my sparring mates. I was intrigued. My first human interaction.
He’d be no danger to us. I was sure of that because of what I sensed inside him. His naïveté bolstered my confidence. I caressed Seren’s body and trailed my palm up her neck as I brushed past her tail, which was still tucked around her, to gain a closer inspection of our guest. “Now, Seren. Maybe we’ve misjudged this man.”
“Owein. My name is Owein.”
I smiled. He certainly wasn’t afraid. That could have been why mortals were the inferior race. They didn’t know when they should fear or when they should mind their own business. I supposed I didn’t blame him. He lacked the ability to sense my emotions because a human’s light was insignificant compared to an emrys’s light and was unable to harness power. He wouldn’t know I was deceiving him.
“So what are you, then, mighty beast?” Owein moved to my left, as if sidling around an imaginary campfire. “Seren’s a pretty name for such a creature. Who’s your rider?”
I mirrored his movements but paused when he sat on a rock. He slid a knife from his boot and pulled an apple from a bag slung across his body. He didn’t look at me as he carved white pieces of flesh off the fruit and popped them into his mouth. With every bite, he smiled around his mouthful.
Seren dug her claws into the soil. She gauged my assessment of him and considered my appraisal, but she didn’t relax. I, on the other hand, wanted to burst out laughing.
A low growl rumbled from Seren’s throat.
“It seems, Owein, you perturbed my friend here. You’re a fool to enter the camp of a dragon.”
Owein arched his eyebrow. “Dragon? Tell me more. What does she do, other than fly and smoke like a chimney?” He pulled another apple from his pack and chucked the golden fruit at me.
I caught it, one-handed, with a flick of my wrist. I tried not to wince at the show of my skill. I had excellent reflexes and was an accomplished warrior in Gorlassar, but Owein didn’t need to learn that.
How long will this charade carry on? Seren asked. We don’t really mean to threaten him.
Interested in gleaning information, I gave up our ruse. I’m done. “Tell me, who spotted us, and why do you need to warn us? Surely they’re not as curious as you are.” I bit into my apple. Not as sweet as the ones in my possession, but it would do.
He swallowed. “More like scared. You should hear the stories they’ve come up with.”
I sat in the moss and crossed my legs. Seren remained a statue. “Oh please, enlighten me. If I like one, I might tell you who we really are.”
Owein leaned in. Seren had stopped puffing smoke, so I wondered just how much of my features he could distinguish in the moonglow. “Tell me your name first, my lady.”
“I’ll do only that. Niawen.”
Smug, Owein relaxed. “Now, we’re getting somewhere. You could be a goddess, though I know of no story that tells of one flying on a dragon.”
“Anything else?” I yawned, not impressed with the goddess angle.
“A Gwyll. But I destroyed that theory with my knife.” He brandished the knife before shoving it back into his boot. “You’re much too pretty to be mistaken for one of those elfish hags anyway.”
“A Gwyll? What’s that? What does a knife have to do with it?”
“The folk headed to the festival thought you were here to trick them, to entice them far enough into the woods until they became lost. Those Gwyllion cause a lot of problems during the festivals, with poor souls wandering for the week and missing the event. I said it didn’t make sense that you were flying on that beast. You couldn’t be one of those. Gwyllion are repelled by metal, so I pulled my knife out as a test.”
“That’s an interesting story. What of my dragon here?”
“A Ceffyl Dŵr. A shape-shifting water horse that flies. That could be true.”
My dragon peered closely at Owein, challenging him. “I don’t change shape.”
I folded my hands in my lap. “Seren, sit, my love. I don’t think Owein means us harm. And you don’t intend to harm him, do you?”
Seren dropped on her haunches. “Perhaps not.”
Owein seemed satisfied, so he continued our conversation. “Thankfully, the villagers didn’t see your friend puffing her fire, or they’d be in an uproar.”
“So who saw us, then?”
“My partner and I and the caravan we’re traveling with.”
“Why’re they not here with you?” I chucked the apple core into the woods.
“I convinced them it was safer not to mess in affairs we know nothing about.”
“Yet here you are. So audacious.”
“As I told you, I’m curious. My reasons for being here are v
ery apparent or you’d have cause for more concern, but you haven’t revealed your motives. Didn’t one of my stories satisfy you enough to share your secrets with me?”
I liked the fellow. He had a clever way with words. “I don’t think I should tell. You haven’t earned my trust yet.”
He hasn’t earned my trust yet, Seren said.
There’s no need to worry.
“I’m nothing but trustworthy,” Owein said. “I’ve come out of concern for your welfare. It distresses me to see a young woman traveling on her own, that is, without human companionship. Not that I don’t trust your dragon to keep you safe. The roads are dangerous. Some men prey on young women. My companion, Arnall, and I are headed to the festival to sell the furs we’ve accumulated from our trappings. The harvest festival is the best opportunity to make a profit before the long, cold winter begins in the highlands. It’s an arduous journey from the lowlands, so I’ve teamed up with others making the same trip. In the nature of a gentleman, I wanted to see if you’d accompany us.”
“Sounds interesting. Though you do realize I could fly on my dragon.”
“Aye, you could, but you’d miss the camaraderie. If you’re some otherworldly creature…” Owein paused to carefully calculate his next words. “Ah, a woodland nymph, perhaps?”
I still wasn’t revealing my identity.
Owein stared me down, but my expression remained impassive. “Not even a little hint?”
I gave the slightest headshake.
Owein grinned. “Fine. As I was saying, if you’re not from this place, I’d think you’d enjoy the chance to rub elbows with humans.”
“Why would you even think I’m not from this place?”
“Your dragon referred to me as mortal.”
I laughed. “You’re as observant as you are persistent. Who says mortals are the only ones who dwell on this plane?”
Owein’s eyebrows lifted. “That spoke boatloads. So other planes do exist.”
Rats. He was quite astute.
Owein will know the ins and outs of Gorlassar by morning. Seren sighed.
I’ll redeem myself, Seren. “Let’s just say I’m visiting.”
His head cocked as he studied me. “So, will you have me as your escort? To show you the flavors of this world? I’ll reveal the secrets of us mere mortals, even if you aren’t willing to reveal yours. That’s how trust is built. One shares secrets, does he not?”