Jaela sat up slowly, looking at her arm. Shock paled her skin. "It should not be possible," came out in a thin whisper. "The Matrons said none could destroy the sins of lost souls. They can only be passed on to another or contained by the oils!"
Emersyn looked at her in confusion. "Sins?"
Strong fingers gripped her arm. Jaela looked deep into her wide eyes for a hard moment then the warrioress smiled. A true smile. "We will speak on such things later. Much later. Until then, it appears as if your mana burned bright enough for me." She considered the smaller woman. "You have a gentle heart. You are young, yet. I will work to help you cure yourself of it.”
Emersyn smiled. She patted the woman's arm. "I don't mind having a soft heart."
Jaela’s stomach rumbled, a loud sound that demanded attention.
Emersyn laughed. She pulled the basket she had dropped over to them. "It isn't much, but berries are better than nothing." Jaela tore into them with relish and Emersyn clasped her hands in front of her before adding, "Gilvern needs more hunters. I do not know why you left Liindre, but we could use you here. Wulfram calls more and more men to the city."
Jaela grunted around a mouthful of red berries.
Gilvern had found another protector that day. Even if the men learned to stay far away from her temper and the acid of her tongue, Jaela's kills were always welcomed. Mysterious and worldly, Jaela drew much attention from the children, especially the boys. She tried to avoid them at all cost.
Uncomfortable with children of any sex, the warrior woman especially had no desire to mentor a boy child. She had found one, Will, in the woods one day. He had wandered to Gilvern from his decimated village. Noting his purple eyes, Jaela had dumped him unceremoniously off at the cottage Emersyn shared with Paelia and Sarah at the time.
A potentiate of Wulfram, the city of the ruling Council of sages and guarded fiercely by enforcers, Will was the reason for a journeyman sage of Alvin's ability to make his home in Gilvern shortly after Will's arrival. The boy was too young, but that he held potential had been undeniable. Lilac eyes were the greatest gift to a boy child. Though anyone who possessed a bespelled mana gem and knew the word of power which anchored it could make use of it, only purple-eyed sages could craft spells into being inside the gems blessed with the mana of a witch. The strongest sages became enforcers for Wulfram. None had ever held the title who was not born with lilac eyes. Paelia had sent a messenger pigeon to communicate with the Council in all haste.
Paelia held no love for sages or Wulfram. Most sages viewed witches as little more than a source of mana and Wulfram had long attempted to bring covens under their control. But the older woman would not deny an orphaned boy his due training in the Mother’s service.
It was Alvin's duty to test and train Will in the coming years before placement in Ilfarai, the school for sages sponsored by Wulfram. It would be Alvin's last duty as a journeyman. He would accompany Will to Ilfarai to assume the mantle of professorship for the young boys who were the future of Wulfram.
It was shortly after Alvin’s arrival that the news came to Gilvern that almost broke Sarah. A wasting sickness had claimed every family in Kildair.
In her time of grief, the then seventeen-year-old girl found favor with Bannon. The male became Sarah's strongest champion. He helped build a home for her so that she did not have to continue to share Emersyn’s blankets in the corner of Paelia’s cottage. He hunted for her and gave her the fruits he gathered in the deepest woods to dry for her use. Other males, boys all, that had flocked to Sarah’s side disappeared one-by-one until only Bannon remained at her side.
The Annunaki who shunned every village woman had found a soft spot in his heart for the grieving girl and had made it known Sarah was to be his once she became of age.
He had appeared, at first, as a gentle suitor. Well aware of Sarah’s affections, Bannon had not pressed her for more intimate displays. Emersyn had been grateful for his protection of Sarah’s tender heart in that regard, though she still resented how easily he commanded Sarah’s attention when he was not in the woods hunting. Sarah would have been enjoying a bevy of suitors if he had not scared them all away.
After a few months passed and Bannon appeared to want nothing more than to comfort Sarah, however, Emersyn and Jaela had relaxed their guard on Sarah’s wayward heart.
Then Sarah turned eighteen.
At first, Emersyn had shrugged off Bannon's increased visits to see Sarah’s cottage as an unusual but not noteworthy event. Then Sarah came to her one day and said she was pregnant. Bannon had told her he would not wed her until he knew he could breed her.
Emersyn and Jaela had been enraged by his callous disregard for Sarah’s heart in favor of her fertility. Sarah, however, had demanded that they accept her decisions as belonging only to her. Happy laughter shone from Sarah's eyes once more and Emersyn had not the heart to hold to anger against the male who had helped put it there.
Bannon married Sarah. Jaela and Emersyn stood at her side and gave the marriage their blessings. Privately they watched and waited for Bannon to make a move that would signal the need to rescue Sarah from her greatest mistake. Nine months and four days later and Bannon’s grandmother had come to destroy the fragile peace that had finally been forged between Emersyn, Jaela and Bannon.
∞∞∞
Leaves rustled to the right of her. Emersyn's eyes popped open. She pulled in a deep breath and slowly let it out again. She scrambled to her feet and stretched her arms overhead. Her head still ached but not half as much as it had. Her eyes were suddenly caught by an impression in the damp ground next to where she had lain. Four toe prints tipped with claws were clearly imprinted in the damp ground.
Was that there before and I did not see it? she wondered. Had I slept through an animal coming upon me? She pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest. The sun was still low in the sky, so it was not time for Jaela. A sudden, loud roar from above rumbled the ground and reverberated through every inch of her body.
Wind blasted her from all sides. Whole branches crashed down around her, thudding on the ground in clouds of leaves. She threw her hands up to protect her head and threw herself to the right just in time to avoid being crushed by a very wide, very tall white column that landed in front of her. Eyes crossed from staring at it so close, she took a hesitant step backward and waved a hand in front of her face to clear the dust which rose with the landing of the creature. Her breath caught in shock.
Lord Dalaric! It could be no other. It was a sad truth that, aside from his mother and father, he was the last of the white dragons. His son, Caelwin, was not able to take to the skies. She knew the commonly believed tale that explained why Akkadian children had lost the ability to transform. Given her contradictory visions, however, she had not seen it as the truth of the matter.
Muscular front leg barring her path, Lord Dalaric’s huge body filled the cleared path to block all exits. Despite the surprise which claimed both voice and sense, she could not help but note how utterly magnificent his beastly form was. Black claws the size of her legs stabbed the earth, digging vicious cuts into the earth. Monstrous wings, leathery appendages dusted with feathers, were now furled tightly against his body. Longer, pristine white feathers poured over his shoulders to cover most of his chest while sharp, bony protrusions peeked out to gleam ivory in the dim light from several places on his spine and neck. This close, she could see that his scales were less white than they were translucent of sorts.
The intensity of his Ki pervaded every mote of her being. The power formed a violent electric current that crackled in the air. A blatant warning. The witch bowed her head and tried to look exceedingly small and harmless. Her heart beat madly. She had never thought to see the dragon form of an Akkadian warrior in person, even though she had seen visions of their flight and their voracious hunger for human deaths.
She tried to calm herself. This was not that time. She did not know why he had come upon her, but he was not an irrational
beast.
Without warning, a flash of emerald light blinded her. She cried out when her knees hit the ground suddenly. Frigid Ki blew her hair into a wild and tangled mess she struggled to control. A large, rough hand pulled the mass away from her neck with a painful grip that brought tears to her eyes.
Emersyn got her first close up of Lord Dalaric, Bannon's uncle, when she craned her neck to warily peer up. The silken, white strands of his hair did not even cover the narrow tips of his ears. Eyes the color of spring grass were offset by broad, masculine features that looked so little like Bannon's narrow countenance she would have doubted their relation if she had not known better. Large bands of muscle moved beneath his skin in the forearm that wrapped around her stomach and gripped her tightly against him.
She swallowed when her eyes dropped to the silken fabric of the loose, bespelled robe that did little to hide his muscle-hardened chest. Cold receded as intense waves of heat buffeted her from all sides. She felt a full body blush overtake her. She snapped her eyes closed when he leaned down so that his breath fanned across her cheek.
He was nearly bent in half to kneel so close to her smaller form, caging her to his massive body. Emersyn tasted copper. A musky scent that reminded her of pine smoke and the air before a hard rain surrounded her senses.
Instinct she had always thought missing within her body flared to life. Skin prickled and invisible fingers ghosted across the delicate skin of her neck. Her breath caught. Mortified, she fought against the unwanted surge of desire. Of all times to discover herself as a woman, this was not it!
The strength that emanated from him was beyond her imaginings. Emersyn had thought his mother powerful. But this male? Had the dragons in her visions all possessed a fraction of his Ki the world would have burned long before the darkness fell upon them.
She dared another peak down and saw through the parted robe that his legs were not as men were formed. Four elongated toes tipped with claws stretched into sharply delineated and muscular calves that joined to short but powerfully built thighs. Perfect for dropping onto all fours in a fight, her brain supplied.
His Ki washed over her again. Sharp. Painful. It demanded submission. Her mana rebelled against common sense. It flared to life, haloing her skin to glow incandescent blue. Lord Dalaric growled low; the sound was heavy within the chest pressed against her back. Emersyn's eyes popped open. The pains which had been soothed away stabbed between her eyes. All unwanted desire fled. She gripped her head between her hands but could not tear her eyes away from the menace leaning closer and closer.
His fangs gleamed. A clawed hand gripped her chin and twisted her head to look directly into his glowing gaze.
Emersyn’s hands fell away from her temples. She was going to die. She was sure of it. If not by him then the excruciating agony that was already unsettling her stomach would prove insurmountable. The realization was rather freeing. What would he do to her that she was not already sure was going to happen?
His cold gaze further penetrated her pained one. The hold around her middle softened. A warm nose brushed against the tender skin of her neck. It was surreal. Emersyn's heart stopped.
The Akkadian stroked down the back of her neck to where shoulder met arm with a claw. A curious warmth followed, and her head pains fled. The slender shoulder strap of the shift was pulled away from her body. The barest whisper of touch traced a design on her delicate skin. Her flesh became sensitized once more and a flicker of desire skated up her back and prickled her nipples against the thin shift. She leaned forward as much as she could to break contact with the male. Emersyn crossed her arms over her chest to hide her body’s response. Sucking in air sharply, she almost choked on a combination of indignation and shock. No one had ever dared to be so familiar with her!
Emersyn was surprised to see a small grin adorning his features when she dared a sideways look through a tangled strand of hair.
The Akkadian gracefully stood and turned to the one standing on the right she had not even noted. Taller than herself but far shorter than his father with ebony hair and light green eyes, Caelwin stood near the trees watching his father manhandle her into submission. His robes of black and red were a perfect match for his father’s.
Lord Dalaric spoke, "You have done well, Caelwin. I will forgive your disobedience in straying from Tranton this once. Return to the palace."
Bowing his head, Lord Dalaric’s son disappeared into the brush in a dead sprint. Emersyn covered her eyes with her hands. Immediately upon Lord Dalaric releasing her the pains had trebled. Her eyes watered from the agony cracking against her skull.
A hand dropped on her shoulder and startled her into looking up through tear-stained lashes. A heavy-looking broad sword as long as his thigh took her attention from its place of honor at his side. A clear, polished jewel as large as her fist was embedded in the hilt.
He surprised her by leaning over to clasp her hand in his much larger one and gently helped her off the ground.
"It appears my nephew has been keeping more than one secret all these months," he growled out, his voice as deep as thunder on the mountain. "We have much to discuss. This will be handled best at Gilvern."
Confusion stole her words but could not grant a reprieve from the mana pains. Emersyn could only nod when he wrapped his arms around her before taking to the sky with a dizzying burst of Ki that did not help her stomach.
Dalaric's Decision
“In my experience, red dragons can be as adventurous as they are ferocious.”
-The Travel Journals of Hofei-
Dalaric glanced down on the wan but still lovely face of the woman he carried in his arms. His intention had been to release her upon arrival at the village his nephew called home. As soon as they landed, she had staggered away from him and dropped to her knees behind the stone wall that bordered Gilvern's perimeter.
The sounds of her retching had stopped him from following her until, after a moment of silence, he stepped around the barrier and saw her small form curled up in a miserable little ball. A trembling hand covered her eyes as she lay on the ground next to the rancid smelling liquids she had vomited up.
She carried no scent of disease upon her body. He kneeled and placed the back of his hand against her smooth forehead, noting how silken her skin was even in her illness. Her human body was of a temperature much cooler than his own, so it could not be feverish. The source of her illness eluded him
The hand over her eyes dropped to the side and she tried to lift herself above the ground. Perhaps to roll away from the mess of her illness. Her arms shook. The obvious weakness in her limbs beckoned his power to come forward so that he could shelter her in his strength.
Dalaric scowled and reined in his wayward instincts. This was not how he had envisioned the day playing out when Caelwin had come to him with word of a witch bearing a marking. He had been angered Caelwin had disobeyed him and had expected to be disappointed, but he had followed his son to the waterfall regardless.
His son had seen true. A marked witch. One of the women his people had been seeking for many centuries has been beneath his nose for many years now judging on her appearance. He had researched human maturity rates a century ago when his brother Varian had announced his human wife was expecting a child.
The woman in his arms was of age according to human customs, but only just unless he was mistaken. He would need to look into the matter but trusted his instincts to have not led him astray. He would not have felt the pulse of desire for one his body did not recognize to be of breeding age though his mind was torn between self-disgust at his loss of control and confusion that he would desire one belonging to a race of beings he had always considered inferior at best.
Was it due to her power? Could the marking induce all Akkadian blood to heat? He had not read any accounts that described such being the case. In his personal dealings with a temple witch from his own Ascension, he had not known it to be the case, but he allowed the possibility. If so, he would need to be
doubly on guard against other Akkadian males seeking to steal his son’s salvation.
He hoisted her in his arms and turned to the main road that led into the village. Her insubstantial weight saw him adjusting his grip so as not to bruise her with strength unaccustomed to frailty. She was slender. Too much so, in fact, even for a human. He glanced down upon her once more and noted that, despite her small stature, her body was curved delicately in a pleasing manner. Her palms, turned up to rest upon the thin cloth covering her stomach, were calloused and he had noted her feet were marred with bruises and scratches upon sighting her kneeling after her sickness.
She was clearly a female who was accustomed to hard work and was not just a vain creature of leisure. Dalaric gave a grunt of approval. He could not abide a body who did not earn their keep. Too many other breeds of Akkadians, males and females both, had been lessened by sloth.
The whispers of awed humans he ignored as he made his way into the small market in the center of Gilvern. A scent upon the wind caught his attention and his feet continued down the road until he came to the ruins of a cottage.
Bitter almonds. Citrus and mercury.
His mother had disobeyed him. Again. She had attacked Bannon and destroyed his home. His eyes narrowed. Another scent yielded the reason. Bannon had a daughter. Just like his father, Bannon had defied clan law and sired a child without bringing his wife to Meghara first. As the clan matriarch, she was the one to whom all were to seek the blessings of a child. Had Dalaric's brother, Varian, brought Alendria forward to be educated on Akkadian rites before marrying and impregnating the human, the tragedy of Bannon's past could have been averted.
Meghara had loved her son more than she hated the human he chose over the clan. She would have done her duty. Now, despite the warning Dalaric had given him two years ago upon the halfling reaching maturity, Bannon had deliberately given great insult to the clan again. Specifically, Meghara.
Last of the Temple Line Page 3