by Aimee Moore
When Dal had finished, the parts of his skin that he had tattooed were raised with redness. Yet, looking past his skin’s complaint, I saw only beauty in Dal’s work. In time, it would look as though it had always been there, as if he had always been Dragonfly Song Clan.
I resisted the urge to touch, lifting my gaze to Dal’s. “You do exquisite work,” I said.
He frowned at his arm. “I am not an artist.”
“I disagree,” I said with a smile.
His eyes brushed mine with warmth, and then Dal began to throw his tools in the fire.
“Wait—what are you doing?” I asked.
“One must never re-use marking tools, it is unclean. I have made more.”
“Use them on me,” I said, blurting the words without thought.
Dal frowned at me. “My blood is in the pigment, Sera. That is dangerous.”
I took a deep breath as I tried to place words to my thoughts. “In my world, blood carries power. The blood of our enemies, the blood of gods and goddesses; the power to kill us, the power to vanquish our foes. Perhaps yours will give me the power to survive.”
Dal was still frowning. “Blood carries a past, nothing more. Be that past unclean or saintly, it is still carried.” He let off a long breath. “Patroma is in my past, Sera. And things that do not bear repeating. I do not think it wise to share these things with you.”
I licked at my top lip, letting my tongue pull at it as I thought. I didn’t miss the heat in Dal’s gaze as he watched the movement. “I am your mate,” I said.
Dal gave a nod.
“That is a forever commitment for Kraw, is it not?”
“Until death.”
I nodded. “Use them on me. Your past is mine.”
Dal glanced down at the bowl of black paste, frowning. Lianne, seeing that the needle was no longer being wielded, returned to watch. Finally, Dal looked at me with a nod.
“We share flesh, we have shared minds. I will give you what you want. Give me your arm so that I may paint the design first, then you may reconsider.”
I sucked in a deep breath and raised my arm toward Dal.
He lay my arm across a tall hunk of steady log that was positioned nearby as a workspace. Dipping his finger in the black paste, he began to draw on me in careful strokes. The design started at the nailbed of my longest finger and climbed all the way to the bone at the side of my elbow.
Dal took his time on this, erasing bits with wet cloth, redrawing new pieces with careful artistry. It took nearly an hour for Dal to complete to his satisfaction. It was the shortest hour of my life.
“What does it mean?” I breathed through the warm feeling in my chest.
“Hm. Dragonfly Song Clan for most. This part here,” he tapped on my middle finger, “is inferno whisper. This part down here,” he gestured to the artistic whorl on my elbow that reminded me of the seashell necklace I wore, “is cyclical. Give for life, life to give. The symbols for give also carry the meaning of sacrifice, though giving is more prominent. You gave this world much, Sera.”
I smiled through the hot, tight sensation of love and appreciation in my chest. “It’s perfect,” I whispered.
“That’s a clan symbol, yeah?” Lianne said, gesturing to my forearm.
I glanced at the identical one on Dal’s arm. “Yes.”
Dal returned to his work. “I am doing you a disservice. A canvas this beautiful deserves a great artist.”
“You sell yourself short. This is great art to me.”
“You are blinded by your feelings for me,” Dal said with a smile.
“And you are arrogant.”
Dal laughed, exposing large canines. “So you have said.”
Then he picked up the needle, dipping it into the black paste, and turned my elbow so that it stilled on the log. His gaze searched my own. “This is not pleasant,” he said.
I nodded as Lianne took off, muttering ‘barbaric.’ My heart was leaping in my ribs as his calloused hands restrained my arm.
“This will not erase or fade in time, Sera. This is as much a part of you as your scars. Do you understand this?”
“Yes,” I whispered, adrenaline shooting through my veins. This was happening.
“Tell me if you wish for rest,” Dal said with a nod. And with that, he pierced my skin.
I sucked in a breath, and his hands stilled for but a moment at the sound. But then he kept on poking, dipping the needle in the black paste again as needed. Over time, the pricking sensation dulled to an irritant as Dal worked, and I resisted the urge to rub it away.
I looked upon my warrior, who was bent over my stinging flesh, marking me. It was impossible to love someone as I loved him. My mate.
It took three passes to make the thick, solid lines on my skin identical to Dal’s. When he was done, he wiped my arm clean with a boiled cloth, stretched his back with a deep breath, and turned back to his tools. My flesh burned as the tattoo raised and reddened on my fair skin.
“Dal, this is the most exquisite marking I’ve seen on anyone,” I breathed, lifting my arm. The black whorled and flowed up my right arm, distinct and loud on my fair skin. I loved it completely.
“It will function,” Dal said as he burned the used tools.
“You are too humble,” I murmured, turning my arm this way and that.
Dal gave a light laugh, packing up the leftover supplies in case he needed to adjust the marks after I had healed. I rather hoped he would have to. Until he applied a generous layer of Chatska’s foul smelling yellow paste to my new markings. I scowled.
“To preserve beauty, the healing must be helped along,” Dal said. Then he applied the awful stuff to his own arm.
“I cannot enjoy your work if it is covered like so,” I said.
“You have the rest of your life to enjoy it,” Dal said.
“So I do,” I said with wonder. Then I lowered my arm, glancing around. “Where has Lianne gone?”
Dal made a noise of amusement in his throat. “It would seem Elanthia’s best has one weakness after all.”
“Needles? That would make so simple a thing such as stitches a torture to her.”
“Bravery comes in many forms.”
I thought on those words for a long while. Though the day was half gone, we packed up and readied to leave. Lianne returned at last, muttering about hunting rabbits, even though she was empty-handed. She helped speed our duties along so we could leave for Sunwold that much sooner.
We passed the Kraw war camp later that day. They had left this world a week ago, only the dirt telling the tale of the army that once marched upon it. The ground was pitted from tent poles, littered with discarded wood shavings and pieces of rope. Packed dirt paths circled the ground, stamped by dried blood, the claw marks of war mutts, and the hooves of war steeds. A gentle breeze ruffled the scent of waste and decay, intermingled with charred ash of long dead pyres. All of it left a scar on my world.
Much like the scars on me.
∞∞∞∞
Dal and Lianne’s sparring during our journey told me a great deal about Elanthia’s best in battle.
Lianne was quick and strong, but she was not Kraw. She soon grew frustrated with her inability to best him and resorted to allowing anger to guide her blade. When she finally swallowed her pride and asked to be taught to fight as he does, Dal merely smiled and said that he wouldn’t want to inflict his bloodthirsty savagery on such a noble creature as Lianne.
I’d never seen anyone turn that color pink before.
But at least I’d procured lessons for myself amidst Dal and Lianne’s battles of wits and brawn as we traveled. I relished the hours Dal spent pouring his battle prowess into me, learning special moves to offset my limp. Almost as much as I enjoyed watching him school Lianne to fight as he does. As she gained more skill with her Kraw blade, her hostility toward Dal changed.
Sitting on the warm grass, catching our breath from practice, Dal lay on his back with a sigh. Lianne propped her knee up, rest
ing an arm over it as she turned the stone bird through her fingers.
“Why Sunwold?” Lianne asked, swiping the back of her free hand across her nose. Her brown hair was slicked against her neck.
I plucked at some grass to fidget with. “I have a friend there named Kenni. We went through a bit of an ordeal together, and I wanted to set things right for her before leaving forever.”
“Couple troublemakers like you; settin’ off to where after this?”
I leveled my gaze at Lianne. “Dal’s world.”
Lianne frowned at me. “All this effort just to up and leave?”
I sighed, turning away. “I often wonder if we should just skip Sunwold. Kenni didn’t even say goodbye to me, and after the Longest Day passes Dal won’t be able to take us away. I worry that we’re risking everything for nothing.”
“We are not skipping Sunwold,” Dal said from his prone position in the grass.
“Can’t think to leave me with all this nonsense,” Lianne said, gesturing at the livestock with her chin.
Dal continued. “I too am impatient to leave, but I know this small effort will reward you with years of contentment, Sera.”
I plucked up another piece of grass with a smile. “I suppose you’re right. This is one decision of yours that can’t possibly put me on some tortured throne. After all, Patroma and the Warlord are both dead.”
Dal chuckled, giving me a shove. I laughed, catching myself on one arm, and threw the grass I’d been fidgeting with at him.
Lianne watched with a furrowed brow; bird forgotten in her hand.
On the final day before reaching Sunwold, we stopped to cool off in a stream while the livestock drank and made their snorts and whuffles. The chickens cawed and clucked within the cart, and the pigs lazed in the shade while the horses, sheep, and cows grazed nearby. I had to admit that I was anxious to be rid of the responsibility of caring for them.
Dal sloshed further down, removing his shirt and giving himself a good soak. I would always admire his shirtless form, the way the water clung to large muscles pressing through smooth skin. The trees near the river were less barren than the ones closer to Elanthia, some of them even budding with the vibrant green of new life. The velvet nubs of new leaves pushing through empty branches filled me with joy.
I ran water down the back of my neck, letting the cool rush summon the memory of my sister and our youthful days spent by the river in Lambston. Perhaps rivers brought her back to me for a time, if only in spirit. It’s been well over a year since my village was slaughtered by a Kraw war clan. The memories of that day no longer incited rage and bitterness in me. Sadness, yes. Regret that I had no choice but to side with the people who had killed my family, definitely. But though I hated that my own family was a victim to it, I could no more fault the Kraw for their brutal ways than I could blame Dal for the brutality of his people.
The Kraw came, they killed their way to the truth, they fixed the wound in the world, and they left. That was their purpose. Without it I would not have Dal; and without me, Dal would not have been absolved of his own crimes against his people. It was almost as cyclical as the symbols that now whorled around the side of my elbow.
“Bloody hell, lot can change in a week,” Lianne muttered next to me.
“Why is that?” I asked.
“Can’t believe I’m about to say this, my damned brains must be boiling in my skull, but your Dal isn’t what I thought. Never thought I’d say that ‘bout them Kraw, but maybe truth is I’ve looked at things all wrong.”
I smiled to myself as I scrubbed the dried, yellow paste off my right arm. My heart fluttered as the paste revealed the strong black lines and symbols that were now a part of me.
“I know,” I said. “It’s so easy for humanity to label his people as beasts or demons, but when you strip away the war, you find something truly beautiful.”
“Got some nasty scars on him, though. Like the demons of the seven hells themselves tried to burn him at the stake, and it just wouldn’t do him in.”
I leveled my gaze at Lianne. “I did that to him.”
“Bloody hell. And the man still lays with you?”
“Well, he is the cause of my limp, so I suppose we’ve both inflicted wounds on each other.”
“On accident, yeah?”
“On purpose.”
Lianne gaped at me like I was sprouting another head. “Limp like that on purpose? King’s balls, woman.”
I gave an amused breath out of my nose, scrubbing the last of the paste away, then turned my attention back to Lianne. “I was with child during the battle of Elanthia. He warned me that Kraw have been known to injure their mates to keep them out of battle, but I was too far gone to heed his warning.”
“Gone?”
“Patroma,” I whispered. “The Warlord’s Eyes and Ears; his second in command. I replaced her; became her. I rushed into a battle that I didn’t have the sword proficiency to survive. Dal shoved me into a suit of armor and it was so heavy that it crushed my ankle.”
I glanced at Lianne to see her brow furrowed at me. “Much heavier than what you wear,” I said.
“Limp like that would fester into bitterness on anyone else,” Lianne said.
“I know it sounds wrong to human ears, but to Kraw it’s just one more sacrifice in the name of love. Our injuries aren’t born of anger, but of strength in the face of the trials we overcame.”
Lianne remained silent as I finished washing away the yellow paste on my marks, reflecting on how the last year had shaped me. War has passed through us like rain, and though it was cold and inhospitable, it nourished us to become something more.
“Some damned nice work, that is. Looks good. Wouldn’t think there’s so much meaning an’ whatnot in all that; not from a people as hellbent on war and savagery as the Kraw.”
I gave a small laugh. “Would you believe me if I told you that their society is civilized? The war bands that travel to distant lands are different, bred to be cruel and barbaric. But I think that my Dal is a bit divergent from the rest of the warriors. I only met two others with minds as astute as his.”
“Funny how the lot of us didn’t even know our world needed savin’. Thought the Kraw were the reason for all this, not the bloody salvation.” Lianne gestured at the skeletal trees.
“Dal said that worlds have a song, and some of his people can hear when the melody sours from afar. I suppose they put their people’s barbarism to use by throwing it at dying worlds. I can’t say I’m ungrateful, despite my scars.”
“Said you’re taking leave here and going to his world, yeah? Even after all the Kraw did to you?”
“He’ll be feared far more in my world than I will in his. If the Kraw ever find us,” I said.
“Well, keep on making all the noise that comes out of your tent at night and they’ll find you right quick, they will.”
I laughed, splashing Lianne in the face with cold water.
“King’s spit, woman, if I get any wetter under this armor, I’m going to stink like testicle soup.”
Another burst of water came at us, and we sputtered through the deluge to see Dal grinning.
I gasped. “You beast!”
Dal gave a deep laugh, dousing us again, and I kicked my knees up high as I sloshed toward him to get better aim.
A year ago, I wouldn’t have thought that happiness could find me anywhere ever again. Not back in my slaughtered town in Lambston, not in a hut with an enemy Kraw, and not in a river in the wilderness. And a week ago, after what I had been through, I never thought happiness would touch anything in this world again.
We will rise from these ashes. Those are the words Dal had given me at my darkest hour. And he was right.
Lianne was laughing and removing plates of armor, and Dal was swinging me about in the water as I laughed with glee. The livestock looked on as if we were insane. Perhaps, for just an afternoon, we were. Insane with happiness. I had Dal, and Dal was taking me home to peace at last.
Chapter 5
Horse Feathers
Sunwold’s welcome wasn’t much better than Elanthia’s, despite Dal hiding in the cart so that our errand of peace would be well received. The town was as sad as I remembered it. The stables, without livestock or purpose. The sunflower boxes in front of each home, barren of life or joy. The people who lived here, equally empty in stomach and heart. But what they lacked in hope, they made up for in bitterness. And they gathered around my circus of gifts now, filling the town square with the stink of dirty bodies and loathing.
“Demon bitch!”
I scowled at the man who had assaulted me when last I was here. I wondered if his genitals were still cooked to uselessness.
“What in the seven hells is that teat sucking ninny whining about,” Lianne mumbled within her helmet.
Pitchforks and sharpened sticks were pointed at us as the cart rolled to a stop, the tethered animals behind us snorting with unease. “You’re not welcome here, witch,” another growled loudly enough for all to hear.
“Well then, I suppose all of this,” I gestured back at our procession of animals, “should go to another town?”
“We don’t need your demon grant. Leave.”
I was sorely tempted to.
Lianne stood and cleared her throat, gesturing back toward the cart and livestock. “From the capital. You’re welcome.”
I waited for her to fulfill her duty as “official” representative of Elanthia and expand upon our kindness with some manner of decorum. But for the first time since I’d met her, she had nothing else to say.
I sighed as I rose from my seated position in front of the cart. “Where is Kenni?”
One of the men yelled, “On her knees where she belongs!”