Dragonfly Refrain

by Aimee Moore

  Dal’s rough hands were on me. “Sera.” I knew in the set of those hands as he lifted me that something was wrong. I pushed my braid aside to see the horrified faces of the people of Sunwold. Beyond them, the backs of the buildings were beginning to glow with a white substance, like snow sticking to the walls. And it was growing in size, spreading alongside the buildings and creeping to the ground.

  “What—” I breathed, turning. It was everywhere, crawling closer to us, blooming like pristine wool pushing out of the ground. Kenni picked up her son and ran toward me, alongside Lianne.

  “What’s happening?” I whispered to Dal. He didn’t answer. Hazel eyes assessed me for harm, then moved toward the white mass gathering in the distance. The pyre remained unlit as the sun began to touch the mountains in the distance.

  Panic washed in as people cried out and pointed to the white menace.

  “Sera, do something already!” Kenni yelled. “Burn it!”

  “I can’t,” I said on a desperate breath. “My gift. It’s gone.” So horrifically gone.

  “I’ll take the bastards down by the stones myself!” Lianne bellowed, drawing her Kraw sword.

  But who would she take down? There was no attacker, only this white mystery, spreading closer to the town center, and the complete absence of my gift. Then the white fluff picked up speed, trailing toward us in elegant swirls and patterns that only it could discern. We stepped away with a healthy dose of uncertainty as it blossomed near our toes.

  “It is… Moss,” I whispered, looking closer. Ethereal, as if the light of the moon shone within the springy stuff, this moss spread across the town and looked for all the world as if it had been there for centuries. Tiny blue flowers rose out of the moss here and there, small enough for an ant to capsize as they unfurled from their hunch of newness.

  The people of Sunwold beheld this wonder with all the grace of said ants being doused with water. They scurried away, screaming, shoving past each other in their effort to save their own skins from the fearsome plant. Tables were toppled, food and drink tumbling to the floor. The moss grew over that, too.

  “We are losing time,” Dal said with a glance at the setting sun.

  “Can you take us to your world now?” I asked.

  “No, my powers are as silent as yours.”

  “Dal; what is that?” I asked as a large, purple flower began to sprout out of the moss between us and the pyre.

  Dal pulled me back, nudging Kenni as he went so that we stepped into the shadow of the nearest building. Lianne scowled at us as we went, then cast the growing flower one last hostile look and followed. All who remained in town seemed to forget their panic as the flower grew bigger by the second, drooping toward the ground as its thick green stalk continued to pour more girth into it. Before my eyes the purple bloom grew to the size of a cat. Then it surpassed the size of a lamb. Its scent, sweet and musky and completely unique, permeated the area.

  “Stars above,” I whispered as the flower, now as big as a horse’s body, started to open. It yawned forth the naked body of a pale woman. Her hair, white and sparkling like strands of starlight, flowed down her back and over shapely buttocks, curling by her thigh. Clearly not human, and definitely not Kraw. What was this strange creature?

  “The gods are falling! We are cursed!” Someone screamed.

  “Demon!”

  “Set fire to it before it speaks! Act now or we’ll perish!”

  Kenni whimpered and held her little boy close.

  “Dal, what is it?” I asked, as fear seeped into my gut.

  But Dal did not answer. His tense grip remained on me as the woman stirred at last, each movement she made defined by grace. The curtain of her white hair cascaded about her lithe form as she moved.

  Then her lilac gaze met mine and I beheld not only her awareness, but her complete lack of shame at crashing our solstice celebration with her strange, nude arrival. Fear skittered up my spine like a spider.

  No one said a word. The town was stunned to silence. Then she opened her mouth and spoke in the most musical, lilting language I had ever heard. I was completely enchanted with her, despite not understanding anything that poured from her lips.

  I cast a glance to Dal to see how he perceived this creature. Brow furrowed; his entire body was tense, every muscle rigid. His eyes flicked down to my own, and Dal forced out a single word.

  “Run.” And with that, he grabbed my arm and ran, lifting me when my foot failed me, all the way to the stables. The woman watched us go as Kenni and Lianne startled at our movement.

  “Dal, what is the meaning of this,” I asked, stumbling on my lame foot as he let me go and manhandled the large black draft horse out of his stall. The stable doors were rolled shut, so I could not tell what was happening outside.

  He didn’t pause for an explanation. Frown still in place, he moved with purpose. The black horse nickered and tried to dance away, but Dal gave him a firm yank on the chin, commanding its obedience with ease. Then he lumbered over to me, picked me up, and put me on the back of the horse without a word. There was no saddle for me to hold, no reins to grasp.

  “Dal, this is ridiculous, I cannot ride like this,” I said, coldness settling into my belly.

  But Dal could. He mounted the horse in one swift motion behind me, grabbed its mane and wrapped an arm around my waist, then, hooves hammering through the door in the back of the stables, we were thrust into the crisp air.

  “By the gods, wait for us Sera!” Kenni yelled, clutching her child to her, running after me.

  “Dal, wait!” I yelled, reaching behind me toward Kenni. Dal only coaxed the horse into a full gallop, the roar of the wind robbing me of words and breath as a sprinting Lianne, a dashing Kenni, and the glowing white of the strange woman disappeared from view.

  “Dal, this is ridiculous!” I called over the horse’s thundering hooves. “Stop! We can’t leave Sunwold defenseless!”

  “There was much recognition in her gaze when she looked upon us. We are the only ones in danger,” he said over the horse’s hooves.

  “Dal, if there is such a danger then let us leave to your world now!” I called. “Before it’s too late!” The sun was half gone already. The stallion breathed hard and fast, flying over the dead grass as if he had been fired from a slingshot.

  “I cannot with that creature so near,” Dal said.

  Fear jolted through me at Dal’s words. And the further we ran, the more a cold dread settled in my middle as I began to comprehend that our peace may be taken from us.

  And then my terror dissolved as we came upon a river. The grass was green here. When had it turned green? How long had this river been here? The stallion nickered and danced about in irritation as Dal pulled it to a hard stop.

  “I don’t remember this river being here,” I whispered.

  “Because it was not here before,” Dal murmured between us, glancing around.

  I turned and looked up at my warrior, wondering if his ability to traverse worlds was returned to him yet. “Can you take us now?”

  Dal let off a long breath, glancing at the setting sun, and shook his head at me. My gift was absent as well.

  But then my gaze focused beyond Dal, my eyes wide with wonder as all thoughts of silenced magics and naked invaders were forgotten. “Dal, look, my cottage is here. Lonnie finished it. He really did it.” And with that, I slid my leg over the stallion and dismounted, stumbling on my bad foot.

  “Sera,” Dal said in warning.

  “It’s alright.” I limped toward the cottage on the grassy riverbank, my entire being taken back to a time before the Kraw. Each log was sawed and cut to perfection. The windows bore flower boxes below them, purple blooms spilling out. Smoke issued from the river-stone chimney, inviting me inside for mint tea and honey bread. I went to it with a smile on my face, the world around me a soft, warm haze.

  The brush of grass sounded behind me, and Dal’s hand was on my arm. “Lonnie is dead, Sera.” The low timber of Dal’s
voice was gentle, but firm.

  “No, but he finished it. It’s waiting for me, don’t you see?” This cottage was going to be my life, and I ached to see it. To touch the door and smell the familiar scent of home.

  “I see it with my eyes, only. This is not right.”

  “And why is this not right?” A woman said.

  Dal tensed into a defensive posture as both of us startled at the fair creature next to us. While the naked woman gave my cottage a critical eye, lust slammed into me. It was unexpected and intrusive, yet delicious.

  Dal gave a slight grunt, then pulled me out of the woman’s line of sight, drawing his sword. I called my gift to defend us against this creature, but as before, pain wracked me, and I gasped, staggering back as Dal steadied me with a bruising grip. I recognize this tight control in his movements, for it was the same control he exercised with me in our most private moments.

  But he was not looking at me. He was looking at her.

  “Have I misplaced anything?” The woman asked, casting those long-lashed eyes to me. “I tried to finish the memory in a pleasing manner. Perhaps the flowers were a bit much,” she said with a mild frown toward the cottage.

  “You made this? Why would you do such a thing?” I whispered.

  That strange gaze assessed me, both curious and puzzled. “To offer comfort, of course. Are humans not sentimental creatures?”

  “What are you?” Dal demanded in a flat tone.

  The woman laughed, the melody of it making me want to taste the creamy shine of her lips, then she spoke in flawless Kraw. “Ah, Child of War, your species never fails to delight. It is why you make such delicious bed slaves.” She drew out the words bed slaves, as if she savored the taste of them, and at that Dal let out a forced groan in his throat.

  “Have you never seen the Nialae before, beautiful protector? Never been blessed with the pleasures of Niall’s people?” She switched back to my language as she said this, her dialect impeccable.

  “No.” Dal’s response was curt.

  A smile spread onto her face. “I am Ysiel, handmaiden in the queen’s house. And now you have met a Nialae. Perhaps, if you are lucky, you will know the pleasures of my people.”

  I stepped up to Dal’s tense side. My face was hot, my core ached with need, making it impossible to think clearly. I should’ve defended Dal from her offer, but all I saw was the slender tilt of her neck, the rise and fall of her breasts with every breath.

  “Have you no clothes?” I asked.

  Ysiel laughed again, a pale pink flush to her cheeks, and then looked down at her body. “I suppose I do not. But such simplicities are within reach for Nialae.” And with that, Ysiel gestured with one hand, and clothes wrapped themselves around her perfect form.

  “There now. As requested, clothing,” Ysiel said. Her leathers matched mine, stitch for stitch, and they did nothing to mute the strange attraction to her. The wildness of my travel clothes only served to accentuate her fragile beauty as her hair twirled in the wind with sensual abandon.

  “What has brought you here?” I asked. My voice was a huskier timber than I intended.

  “Brought me here?” Ysiel frowned at me, tilting her head a little. “The queen’s will, of course.”

  “Here? To us? Why?” I asked.

  Sadness crossed Ysiel’s lovely features. “No, not to you. I had no control over my arrival. You see, Tanebrael, our queen, has brought us here from Niall. We have all arrived in unknown places, and so are frightened and alone.”

  “Us,” Dal said.

  Ysiel nodded once. “Yes, more Nialae have come. Some, like me. Others, not. It is because—"

  “We care not of Niall’s problems. Tell why you are afflicting us with your presence in this moment,” Dal said.

  Ysiel gave a charming laugh. “Children of War, so very direct. I find comfort in the familiarity of such a bold protector. You would fault me this weakness?”

  Dal sheathed his sword with strained movements and crossed his arms. “You do not need a protector.”

  “Sweet man, what is your name?”

  I frowned. Something in my mind ticked as unusual. Inconsistent. Why was it that she could see the cabin in my memory with such ease but not even glean Dal’s name?

  “My name is not relevant,” Dal said.

  Ysiel furrowed her brow for a moment, then looked at me. Her gaze stayed trained on me for a long time, and in the stillness, I began to wonder if this creature would strike. It occurred to me then, as the worst things do when it’s nearly too late, that we may not be able to rid ourselves of her before the sun sets.

  “You can help me,” Ysiel whispered to me, eyes growing wide.

  I scoffed. “You need no help from me. You have summoned an unfinished memory from my past and made it a superior reality,” I said, gesturing to the cabin on the riverbank that still pulled at my heart.

  “We offer help to no one,” Dal said, “and your problems are not ours. We are losing time. Our gifts, you silence them. Fix it or be gone.”

  Ysiel tilted her head at us, causing her hair to ripple in the wind. “I know not what you mean.”

  I glanced at the horizon. More of the sun’s radiant orb was obscured than not, being swallowed by the maw of distant mountains. Panic rose over me, seeing that our forever peace was slipping away.

  “Please,” I asked. “Leave us.” I wanted to threaten her, to insult her into leaving, but I knew not what I was dealing with. What manner of creature lurked under that delicate, beautiful skin. Better to be delayed than dead.

  Ysiel made a hint of a pout, then turned her attention to Dal. “Please, warrior, let us not be given to such mistrust. I know your species to be wise and strong.” She stepped closer, running an ivory finger down one of the tattoos on Dal’s arm. “Natural protectors,” she purred, lifting her lashes to him.

  Dal let a shaking breath out of his nose, body tense and closed off as ever, only his eyes betraying his desires.

  I stepped between them. “Enough of this. He is not your protector,” I said, trying to shut down my own response to her nearness. It was like trying to silence hunger when being presented with a feast.

  Ysiel dropped her hand and turned away. “Come, let us become acquainted, and we can part ways as friends.” She made a small gesture with her hand, and a table grew out of the grass. It was a splendid wooden surface, elegant in its scrollwork and shining smoothness. Plates formed on it, and with them, succulent meats and sparkling fruits that made our celebratory Longest Day feast seem like food fit for farm animals.

  “Tell us what you desire and leave us, please, we are in a hurry,” I said.

  Ysiel smiled at me. “There is no hurrying friendship… Seraphine. One would not want to make an enemy of the Nialae.”

  I let my lips part in surprise. “I never told you my name.”

  “There was no need, your thoughts bubble to the surface with such clarity. Please, eat,” Ysiel said with a smile, seating herself. “You are both under-nourished.” And then she picked up a sugared cherry, wrapping her shining lips around it. I turned my gaze away. Dal was silent, but ever tense, the muscles in his arms straining as he held himself rigid with control.

  “Will you not join me?” Ysiel asked, tilting her gaze up to us. Seven hells, she looked innocent and just delicious enough to take right there on the table. I could run my hands up her shoulders, encircling her slight form, and taste her supple lips before pushing her to the table. Would her hair spill across the table like pearl silk? Would she moan? Writhe? No; I shook my head to try and banish the confusing spell she had over me. I’d never desired women before and I wasn’t about to start. Whatever her magic, it didn’t discriminate.

  “You are… Distracting,” I said, letting off a large exhale.

  Ysiel smiled. “We are used to the allure of our species; only other races succumb to it. However, I believe I can lessen it for those unaccustomed.”

  Mercifully, the throb of my blood dulled then, and Ys
iel was only a stunning woman sitting alone at a table set for three. Dal’s tension finally eased, and with a long exhale, he uncrossed his arms. The places where his fingers had dug into his arms revealed pale pressure spots.

  “I must say, your world has exquisite harvest,” Ysiel said as she enjoyed another fruit. When none of us answered, Ysiel carried on. “Very well, it appears that friendship is hard earned with both species.”

  “Why do you wish to befriend us?” I asked. “You obviously have great power of your own.”

  Ysiel materialized a deep blue drink in front of her. “This is true, Nialae are superior to most. But, as we’ll be here for a very long time;” Ysiel glared into her glass as she spoke, then looked up at me with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, “I see no reason why I cannot ask for your help. It is only fitting. I followed a protector and found a glimmer of hope in you. Does your species believe in fate? Perhaps the aligning of planets? Signs in ancient stardust, written in languages only the wisest can read? What would you call our meeting?”

  “Chance,” I said.

  Ysiel gave me a look that was pitying. “Poor human, your world has been cruel to you. I see the scars.”

  “Save your fortunes for weak-minded fools,” Dal said, finding his voice at last. “You delay us with purpose. Explain.”

  “Delay? Of course not. Nialae simply enjoy the social graces.” Ysiel sipped at her drink, leaving a shining trace of blue on her pink lips. She raised her gaze and considered me behind the ghost of a smile.

  “She does not know what she’s capable of,” Ysiel said. “But it is no matter. I am here. The fabric of our beings has brought me to a Child of War and a human of great power. I see reason in this.” Ysiel stood then in one elegant movement.

  “Or design,” Dal said.

  “Please,” Ysiel said, “do not reduce me to begging. My species does not bear it well. At least agree to hear my request. It cannot be mere chance that brought me to you.”

  Dal glanced at the sliver of remaining sun, then back to Ysiel. “Already you are on poor footing. If you think to use desire as a means to manipulate our decisions, then you are sorely mistaken. We do not wish to offer aid; we wish to be alone.”