Last of the Temple Line

by Nicole Bedford

  "You live as filthy as humans," he stated coldly. "What good is such a life if you lose all it means to be Akkadian?"

  "Do not think because I gave you an egg that I will take your insults. Our way is the only way to manage, Dalaric. We have not had a marked witch found within our territory in hundreds of years. We manage on our own, without the need for Rite. That is true freedom."

  "If your blood is needed?" he asked. "If your daughter stands alone and she cannot defend herself?"

  Kylara narrowed eyes lined in black and gold.

  Meghara broke in, "Enough, Kylara." She turned to Dalaric. "I will inform your father of the news."

  Dalaric's claws itched to strike the distant female. His soul seethed. How dare she look him in the eyes let alone seek to counsel him on matters she knew not! What did the harlot know of honor? She had chosen to throw away all of what it means to be Akkadian. He turned on his heel and quit the room without further comment.

  Meghara waited until she was certain he was gone before looking down upon Kylara's still reflection. "That was not well done. His temper is still legendary. Why do you chance everything to dig at his pride?" She ignored the fact that she, herself, had done just that mere moments ago.

  The red-haired female waved a hand in the air. "I do not answer to him. Why should I care if he blows smoke? He thinks he is above all others when the truth is that he is doomed unless he changes. He will be the one to bow to time, Meghara. Not I."

  "Varian has tried to reason with him. He knows, more than most, the price to pay for underestimating the dangers surrounding us with the human encroachment."

  Kylara pointed a gold-tipped claw at the older female. "You are just as bad as your son. Humans may be weak and stupid by birth, but they do have their uses."

  "Would you allow your daughter to marry one?" Meghara challenged. "Ki hidden behind the barrier cannot be passed down. Each generation will be made weaker and weaker until human mana will overcome it. Annunaki breeding produces humans!"

  "We are not speaking of Dalaric, anymore," Kylara stated flippantly. "Let him go, Meghara. Varian is gone and despite your need to place blame it is not upon the heads of the humans that it belongs."

  "He had a whelp," Meghara disclosed. "The son of my son."

  "You mean your grandson," Kylara corrected.

  Meghara pursed her lips but did not argue the point. "I saw her. She is nothing to me. There was not even a whiff of Akkadian blood left within her human flesh. Would you let your daughter marry a human? Would you lose all that you are?"

  Kylara sighed. This was the reason she had been willing to give an egg to Dalaric for enough gems but had never wished for more. She wanted to laugh. To play. To have fun! Not live like a simpering fool at the mercy of the damn white dragon's temper and instinct to control and rule over everything. They were nothing like the blue breeds who had settled in the east. They had surrendered their warrior ways to find peace with the humans. Here she could do whatever she wanted, when she wanted, and none would gainsay here. Least of all Dorian. Mate Dalaric? She would have pulled the last strand of hair from her head ages ago. She still did not understand how her brother could abandon his breed and blood to join with Dalaric. Still... Meghara had been somewhat kind to her years ago.

  Kylara answered, "I would accept a human if my daughter chose one. They live such a tiny sliver of time!" she quipped. "If she chooses a line of human husbands in succession, what is it to us? When she decides to have a youngling, she will have to seek an Akkadian. You forget only males can sire Annunaki," Kylara stated.

  "I have no daughter. Only a son," Meghara said.

  "And a grandson and his whelp," Kylara reminded. "You do not have to acknowledge him, but he does exist. And you have a great-granddaughter." Kylara shrugged. "Find a nice Akkadian boy and get him drunk on mana wine. Through the girl, Varian's blood can once more hold Ki. Annunaki Ki is better than none."

  Meghara took a deep breath. "Do not tell me you do not feel joy knowing Caelwin will fly the skies at your side and not upon your back."

  Kylara bowed her head. "Of course, I am happy knowing he will be given the joy of learning the winds as I did. But my daughter will have gems and lovers in place of wings. Dorian will make sure of it," Kylara vowed. "I will tell Varian your news, Meghara." The mercury rippled. "It is time to hunt with my Melia."

  "The deer still run swift within your forests?"

  Kylara laughed as her image began to fade. "Our hunting ground is the market, and we seek fabric for the dress she plans to wear to her hatching celebration. Perhaps we will instead use it for the Rite ceremony," she ended with a whispery sigh while the Ki swirled away.

  Meghara stared upon her reflection in the silver liquid. She looked up and caught sight of a few more lines upon her austere features in the glass mirror. Despite being named for his father, her Varian had favored her. Just as his son, Bannon, did. Dalaric was a throwback that had been unexpected. The pride of his grandfather, her father Dalaran, Dalaric had always been stronger. Faster. Clever beyond his years. It was this that had given him the edge to Ascend in time before the witch had been killed.

  Before he was killed in the surprise attack that wiped most of their blood from the earth, her father always spent more time with Dalaric than Landar. Thanks to her father’s influence, her son was a traditionalist. He respected the old ways. Clan law. Their position as superior beings upon the earth. And he had done what his father had not. Dalaric had found a way to save his son.

  Damn you, she cursed her absent mate. He was always gone. Searching for answers. Leaving her to deal with the troubles of maintaining balance while he galivanted through human towns with his friend.

  She felt her heart clench. Hofei could have been hers, too. She stroked the thin lines that began at the back of her ear and swirled down her throat to end just between her breasts in a starburst. The mark Varian had given her many millennia ago glowed briefly with her feminine Ki. He was thinking of her, but they were too far apart for her to hear his words.

  He was not alone, though. She could feel it. While her heart festered he walked with companionship and love.

  Some days she could not decide whether her love or her hate for her mate was stronger. It was Varian who had found the use of mana-infused wine to subdue the Ki of the un-blooded. It was his decision to contract with Wulfram for its making. And it was Varian who allowed those foul women of Liindre to continue to rob their dead and enslave tortured Ki in exchange for Wulfram's wine. Yet it was also Varian that had formed her own love into a cage she could never escape.

  Shying away from the wretched memories that tried to invade her mind, Meghara took a deep breath. She could not change what had come before. Regret could not alter decisions she should have made and she could not chance losing her Dalaric to old memories that were best buried forever.

  When would it end? She asked her reflection. When would Akkadian blood finally be free from dependence on compromised ideas they knew ought not to be compromised? Would Varian ever free her from the lies they had made of their own blood?

  Bonded

  “Fermented from grapes grown by Wulfram’s vintners and stored in bespelled casks, mana wine can prevent a Ki storm in only the most placid of younglings.”

  -The Travel Journals of Hofei-

  Dalaric approached his home from the sky. The sprawling affair came into view just as he flew over the highest peak of the mountains his great-grandfather had claimed for their clan with the death of his great-great grandfather shortly after the fall of their king. Made of stone and glass, it had been restored from its destruction during the Akkadian invasion that ended his grandfather, Dalaran.

  The small buildings that marked the beginning of Tranton, the village that squatted down the mountain from his holdings, were tiny in comparison to the monolithic splendor of his clan pride. No other breed could claim such a magnificent edifice for their own. Safeguarded by white dragon Ki, his palace had survived multiple attacks an
d yet stood. His heart swelled.

  Dalaric dived to the ground of the center gardens and furled his wings to avoid clipping the towers that squatted on each corner. With a flash of Ki, he kneeled on the greenway. The silken robe flashed into being around his person instantly. The familiar weight of Enkidu, the sword handed down from Dagesh, his great-great-grandfather, settled around his waist. A handy trick of Ki all Akkadians learned once their shifting became second nature was to spell their fabrics to threads hidden beneath their feathers and to then reform them while transforming.

  That he had learned to do so with metals was a trick other breeds had not managed to accomplish. Even his grandsire had not managed such.

  He stalked into the expansive entrance way, scenting the air for intruders. The familiar scents of bonded servants and his son soothed the temper that still simmered from the confrontation with Kylara and his mother. All was as it should be. Dalaric breathed in deeply then followed his nose to the one he sought.

  Loren, head of the other Annunaki servants by virtue of his advanced age and intelligence, looked up from the open ledger that took up half the desktop in front of him once Dalaric entered the library. "My Lord." He stood hastily and bowed from the waist before coming around the desk to stand in front of the large male.

  "A witch for the Rite has been found."

  Loren's pale green eyes widened comically. "Truly?"

  Dalaric grunted. He walked behind the desk and glanced at the ledger. He flipped through a few pages before closing it. The ledger was complete, as he knew it would be.

  Loren was a rarity for Annunaki. He was the son of a merchant woman who had been rich enough to buy her son an education. However, after several important customers refused to do business with her son, she had been forced to set him aside as the heir to her fortune and pass it along to the son of her human husband.

  After her death, Loren’s brother had cut him off completely out of jealousy of his greater business acumen. Desperate to avoid the gutters, he had dared to ask an audience with the Lord of the white dragon clan. Still fresh from claiming Caelwin's egg from Kylara, and angry with the sloppy handling of accountings his father had been satisfied with, Dalaric had decided to give the male a chance to prove himself.

  Loren's neat notations confirmed that the wealth of his holdings had grown exponentially. Dalaric's lip curled as Kylara's accusations echoed through his memory. He did not completely dismiss the value in trade. But he engaged in it with respect to his heritage, not in lieu of it. What Kylara's Dorian could buy with gems and metals that had been gouged from the earth and left ugly scars could not compare to the resourceful management of the holdings of the white dragon clan with a sharp eye for the future.

  The true wealth was in the land itself. Rich harvests had been the reward. Vast cities of the other lands bought the surplus at a premium year after year when their lands began to fail to yield enough to feed the dual gluttony of human vice and Akkadian avarice. The clever management had been enhanced courtesy of his introduction to Kylara.

  Aegwin, fifth son of the green dragon breed’s second line and a few years older than himself, had Ascended from the same witch that had helped Dalaric. Despite being quite skilled in healing and land management, Aegwin would never inherit territory of his own. The green dragon breed had always maintained large numbers, and even now Aegwin’s parent clan remained strong in numbers. The gentle nature of their Ki did not burn as brightly as others. They had moved their clan from the south to the east to partake of the largesse of Dorian's clan with Kylara's oath to the blue dragon. It was there that Dalaric met Aegwin.

  Unlike his sister, Aegwin desired more than play and pleasure. Upon Dalaric's visit to seek a contract to gain an egg once Kylara was ready to grant one, Aegwin had bartered his allegiance for a chance to prove his worth and gain a position of honor.

  Recognizing the potential of green Ki, capable of healing far beyond his own abilities with both flora and fauna and respecting the diligence Aegwin had practiced in learning all he could about the land, Dalaric had given Aegwin a small holding of his own on the promise that Aegwin would swear to an ancient oath more binding than even brotherhood.

  Dalaric had born outright scorn from the other First Sons for his choice to make use of a Sydae bond, claiming Aegwin as a second despite not yet having a mate. He did not care. It had served its purposes.

  Aegwin and Loren worked together to maintain prosperity while Dalaric protected it fiercely. As the centuries crept on, Aegwin had also become more than a means to an end. As a valued companion, the earnest and loyal male had earned the sole distinction of holding Dalaric’s complete trust. Dalaric had never been given cause to regret the decision.

  The wealth meant security for the future of the white dragon clan. For the younglings his son could now potentially breed.

  "Lord," Loren ventured cautiously, "shall I open the guest wing and prepare it for the ceremony?"

  Dalaric gave an affirmative nod. When he had left Emersyn, she had seemed unsure of herself, but he had seen the pained realization in her eyes. If only for Caelwin, she would attempt the Rite. Only time would tell if she would have the fortitude to attempt it for other Akkadian un-blooded. "Send word to the clans of the First Sons," he ordered. "They will decide amongst themselves who to send to witness the Rite."

  “All the First Sons?” Loren asked for clarification. There were many breeds of dragons, though only the most powerful males of each breed held the title of First Son. Dorian’s clan held the east. Few warrior breeds remained there, choosing instead to take oaths to join with clans that had settled in the North or brave the lawless deserts of the west. Breeds gentler in nature and accepting of humanity chose the east and its vices though they were beholden to Dorian for the honor. Bruin, of the green breed, held the south. He allowed the noxious red dragon breed to squat on the coast to impede humanity from encroaching into his jungled territory.

  Loren had always been quite proud of how his Lord had managed to maintain control over the whole continent of the North even while building a holding system that worked to provide lesser First Son clans with respectable portions. Those clans then portioned out their holdings to other lines of their breeds that they trusted. Dorian and Bruin, First Sons of the east and south respectively, barely managed to keep the other clans in line within their borders. Dorian had even ceded most of his lands to the humans.

  "Will she stay in the clan wing?" Loren asked. The many tomes in his Lord's library that he had studied diligently contained little information on the Rites that had been granted.

  "Her name is Emersyn. Give her the rooms that overlook the gardens," Dalaric ordered.

  Loren's golden complexion, a gift of his Akkadian father, turned green. "Lord?" Those rooms joined to Lord Dalaric’s. They were for his future mate.

  Smoke curled from Dalaric's nose. Loren dropped his gaze. Dalaric's temper cooled as the scent of fear swirled within Loren's normally placid essence. "I made the decision to bind no mate to me many centuries ago," he explained. "You know this. I have my heir. Those rooms will best serve to protect Emersyn between the Rites, when she is vulnerable to those who would hurt us through her."

  "I apologize for my misstep, My Lord," Loren apologized. "You owe me no explanations but honor my past service by offering your thoughts." His hands fisted. "I will miss serving you, My Lord."

  "I have not released you from your vow," Dalaric stated with a growl. "And I will not until you or the others request it of me."

  Dalaric was no slaver. He valued what the bond meant to him. Different than what he and Aegwin shared, his Annunaki servants were bonded by blood to his clan. But if any would choose to end it, they would be freed. Better to enjoy the fruit of honest effort than to taste the bitter seeds of their discontent.

  Loren gasped. "The other clans will send their younglings to you! You do not need lowly Annunaki who cannot even protect this palace from attack."

  "You and those you command kno
w my ways and do not annoy me with incessant demands. Do you see me accepting the spoiled whelplings into my palace to create chaos of the order I desire above all else?"

  The other male shook his head in the negative. Dalaric continued, "Annunaki will better serve Emersyn as well. You will not try to woo her from my holdings to another clan. With your greater understanding of human needs, I trust you to see to her comfort and keep her away from any who would potentially force her mana to the fore when she is too weak to wield it safely."

  Dalaric held a hand up to halt any further arguments. Despite the male's desire to remain in service to the white clan, Loren was above all else practical. It was only one of the reasons he had proven himself invaluable.

  But just as he had with Aegwin, Dalaric had seen value in the Annunaki who lived and worked within the palace. Once he had placed Loren above the servants, the clever male had scoured the lands for more by-blows of affairs between Akkadians and human women. Unlike Bannon, who had been the result of marriage, most Annunaki were the result of a singular lapse of an un-blooded male drunk on the mana wine they used to contain Ki when it was made worse by the passing years.

  The young of such unions were usually sold in forbidden slave markets or abandoned. Those Loren found had been grateful for a place of safety and had served with true loyalty. Born of Akkadian fathers, they could undertake a blood vow of fealty. Until released from it they were incapable of betraying him.

  "I have spoken."

  "Yes, My Lord." Loren bowed at the waist again. "I will personally oversee her happiness. She will want for nothing," he promised fervently. “I will send Caelwin to you when he returns from Tranton.”

  Loren quit his presence with another bow to begin preparations. He called the other staff to him to explain the coming excitement as well as their safety in the face of the future changes.