The Dragon's Lover (9 page)

Raine gazed at them serenely, unaffected by their
judgment. “None taken,” she said mildly.

Dagna gazed at the new addition with far more
interest as she was always deeply affected by beauty, especially
from the female form. Idonea caught sight of her expression and
rolled her eyes. The buxom bard was so predictable. That mouse of
an elf, Elyara was predictable as well, hanging in the back with a
meek expression on her face. It was a good thing that girl was good
with magic because otherwise she would be worthless on this
excursion.

“Well then, let's break camp,” Gunnar said. “We might
as well get started.”

The small band worked its way through the forest,
then through the more difficult swampland of the wilds. Raine felt
they were taking a most ridiculous route, far more strenuous than
several alternatives that she could think of. But she was unwilling
to offer advice that might suggest contention and just went along
with the group. She hung toward the rear of the band, occasionally
tossing stones into the surrounding brush. The other members
engaged quietly in conversation from time to time, but all looked
at her with various degrees of misgiving. It was hard to tell who
disapproved of her more, Feyden or Idonea. Gunnar and Bristol
seemed intent on ignoring her entirely.

Raine was doing her best to remain unapproachable,
but knew it was only a matter of time before someone in the group
attempted conversation. To her great surprise, it was the meek
little wood elf.

“Are they with you?” Elyara asked.

The question surprised Raine even more than the timid
approach. But it was not unexpected as the wood elf would be the
one most attuned to nature.

“Yes,” Raine said without elaboration.

Feyden overheard the brief exchange, glancing about.
“Is who with you?” he asked.

Raine did not respond, nor did she break stride.
Elyara felt the need to explain.

“The wolves that have been following us since we
broke camp.”

Feyden peered into the brush, still seeing nothing.
“What wolves?”

“There are a pack of wolves traveling abreast of us
in the forest and brush. Three, maybe four of them.”

Raine shook her head. “There are actually eight of
them at the moment. It's just that three of them are little more
than pups and not very stealthy.”

Feyden looked from one to the other, uncertain if
they were joking. He peered again into the surrounding brush and
still saw nothing. The entire conversation was annoying him. He
snorted his disbelief and continued walking.

“And the hawk?” Elyara said, whispering to Raine.

Raine smiled. The wood elf was very good. “Yes,” she
responded quietly, “that one, too.”

Elyara glanced upward in wonder. The bird was huge, a
wingspan as wide as a man was tall. She did not know how the others
had missed it since it had been following them for hours,
disappearing to scout ahead, then returning. Her initial
disappointment with the stranger was turning into a mild sense of
wonder. Even the wood elves did not form such powerful bonds with
the birds and beasts.

It was clear the other woman did not wish to continue
the conversation, so Elyara slowed her pace, content to follow a
few steps behind.

CHAPTER 6

It was decided that Vicar's Pass would cut weeks off
their journey, although the path was treacherous. It wound its way
through a mountainous region, the steepness of the terrain
eliminating the option of horseback. A few mules would carry their
supplies, but the journey would be on foot until Eglin's Reach.
This brought much complaining from Lorifal, whose shorter stature
made it feel as if he traveled twice as far as his longer legged
companions. The route was debated at great length by all except
Raine, who seemed content to participate as little as possible.
This lack of participation furthered the unease of Gunnar and
Bristol and deepened Feyden's disdain. Idonea eyed her without
surprise as Raine seemed quite passive about the whole affair.
Dagna, although usually gregarious, had yet to generate the courage
to approach the stranger, and even she seemed a little disappointed
in the woman's seeming apathy. Only Elyara looked to Raine for any
type of confirmation, yet was not really surprised when she
received no response. Raine was content to walk at the back of the
pack, loping along casually as if she were out for a stroll.

“Elyara.”

Elyara jumped, startled that Raine had spoken her
name, startled that she had spoken at all. She turned to look at
the woman.

Raine's tone was even, her words conversational, her
manner unconcerned as she scanned the area around them and in front
of them. They were approaching a curve in the path, one that
descended into a hilly area.

“You need to stay to the rear.”

Elyara wrinkled her brow. She saw and sensed nothing.
Raine's manner was so casual it was hard to decipher her meaning or
generate a response. But something made Elyara take Raine's words
seriously and she slowed her pace.

Raine also slowed and the band of companions was
strung out on the path as they rounded the curve. A blood curdling
battle cry split the air and Hyr'rok'kin materialized from every
direction. Gunnar, Dagna, and Bristol drew their swords, Lorifal
pulled his enormous ax from his back, and Feyden removed his bow.
Idonea removed her staff, as did Elyara. The wood elf looked to
Raine, wondering how she had sensed the ambush, and was shocked
that Raine was simply standing there.

The battle exploded and the small group was
outnumbered ten to one. Feyden began firing in all directions, his
arrows flitting through the air and taking down the blackened
monstrosities. Lorifal began cutting swathes through the horde that
began piling atop him. Dagna swung her light sword with great
skill, cutting off limbs, and Bristol smashed his broadsword down
into a teeming mass of attackers. Gunnar looked around him, his
eyes falling on Raine with disgust. The woman appeared to be frozen
in fear; she had not even drawn a weapon yet.

Feyden, too, noted Raine's lack of effort and was
unsurprised, muttering imprecations under his breath. It merely
confirmed his impression of her. Elyara was casting spells of
fatigue upon those Hyr'rok'kin nearest her and when she caught
sight of Raine, her heart sank. She had hoped the impressions of
the others were not accurate, but it appeared they were. Gunnar
fought his way to Idonea's side, furious.

“Is your friend even going to draw a sword?”

Idonea smashed her staff on the head of a Shard, then
sent a blast of fire towards another. She, too, was furious, not to
mention embarrassed that she had inflicted this coward on the
group. She pushed her way through the melee towards Raine, who was
standing at the edge of the fight, examining her fingernails.

“Are you even going to do anything?” Idonea demanded.
She ducked the incoming blow of a jagged club, shoving the Shard
backward with her staff.

Raine seemed satisfied with the condition of her
nails. “I thought I would wait for the big one.”

“What big one?” Idonea fairly screamed, her anger and
frustration boiling over.

A great rumble vibrated across the battlefield and
the earth seemed to shift beneath their feet. A gigantic
Hyr'rok'kin erupted from the ground, sending dirt and rocks in
every direction, a primal, horrifying roar exhaling from his lungs.
The Hyr'rok'kin army screamed in response, a terrifying howl of
joy. The monstrosity unfolded to his full height, towering over the
tiny figures at his feet. The panicked companions froze in horror
at the unexpected and devastating sight.

“That one,” Raine said, her eyes gleaming with
anticipation.

And in a most unlikely turn of events, the one who
had been motionless before was now the only member of the band
moving. Raine sprinted toward the gigantic creature, her double
swords appearing in her hands as if by magic. She used the bodies
of the fallen Shards as stepping stones, moving to the heads and
shoulders of those still living as one long ramp to her goal. The
gigantic monstrosity turned toward the creature flying at him,
dumbfounded. With a great leap, Raine landed on the giant's
shoulder, catching his thick neck between the two wicked swords.
And with a vicious and impossibly powerful twisting motion, she
sliced deeply into both sides of the throat until the swords passed
one another, decapitating the monster. The humongous head tumbled
from the shoulders, landing with a bloody, wet splatting noise on
the ground. Then the body began to fall in slow motion like the
collapse of a tower. Raine rode the monster's body to the ground,
leaping lightly off and landing in a crouch as the corpse thudded
into the dirt, setting up a small dust storm.

The battlefield went utterly silent. The monster had
appeared at the leading edge of the fight, leaving Raine's
companions behind her and the vast majority of her enemies in
front. As she rose from her crouch, a sword in each hand, the dust
settled around her. The Hyr'rok'kin looked at her, and she looked
at them. A few of them took a step back.

Raine smiled.

The entire Hyr'rok'kin party turned and fled. They
were not intelligent creatures but nor were they stupid. This
“thing” facing them filled them with more fear than they had ever
felt in their lives.

Lorifal watched the feat in stunned amazement. But
now his blood boiled and he hefted his ax, preparing to chase after
the defeated horde. But he did not make it past Raine, who caught
the jerkin of the stout little dwarf and reeled him in without
effort.

“There are thousands of Hyr'rok'kin between us and
where we are going,” Raine said, her tone as casual as ever, “I
suggest we fight the ones that come to us.”

Lorifal flushed, embarrassed. She was right, of
course. He gazed at her, his misplaced disgust having entirely
disappeared into disbelief and wonder. A half-dead Shard twitched
nearby and one of the swords flashed in the sunlight, rendering him
fully dead. Raine hadn't even looked his way in order to kill
him.

Feyden watched the casual dispatch of the fallen
Shard and realized he had completely misjudged the beautiful woman.
Her nonchalance was not a result of apathy but rather from a total
lack of fear. What he had interpreted as indifference was in
reality a serene and utter self-confidence. He now had a very
different set of misgivings about Raine, and as she glanced at him
with intense blue eyes, a smile played about her lips as if he had
spoken his thoughts aloud.

Idonea stared at the decapitated monstrosity. The
beast was enormous, a miniature army in itself. Few Marrow Shards
had ever been seen outside the bowels of the earth. Their quest
might have ended on that spot had it not been for the quick death
Raine had delivered, seemingly with negligible effort. Idonea, too,
began to mentally revise her opinions of the woman. What had seemed
before an inappropriately languid manner was now seen for what it
was: minimalist efficiency.

“Well, that explains one thing,” Idonea said under
her breath.

Raine glanced to her. “And what's that?”

“How you manage to survive my mother in bed.”

Raine grinned, sheathing her swords in a fluid
motion. She began walking in their original direction of travel.
“Oh I assure you,” she said over her shoulder, “your mother is far
more of a challenge than that.”

Idonea gritted her teeth. She did not know why she
continued to invite these conversations she really did not want to
have.

The mood around the campfire was decidedly different
that night. Raine had resumed her distant air, much to the
disappointment of her companions. Gunnar had dozens of questions he
wished to ask her, but something about her demeanor was
unapproachable. Whereas before he had thought her cold, now she
seemed to him merely distracted, as if her mind and thoughts were
very deeply elsewhere. Bristol shared Gunnar's curiosity, but he,
too, was hesitant to intrude upon the woman. He was just grateful
she was proving to be such an extraordinary addition to their band.
He had quietly apologized to Idonea for doubting her judgment in
the matter and Idonea had given him a strangely irritated look.

Dagna no longer bothered to hide her open
appreciation. She gazed across the campfire longingly, but Raine
was either oblivious or was studiously ignoring her. Feyden was
sitting back from the fire, partially in shadow, and he also was
examining Raine, although more discreetly than Dagna. Even so,
Raine was aware of the scrutiny and her eyes drifted to his gray
ones. She held the elf's gaze for a moment, then lowered hers to
study the markings on his jerkin. He was surprised. Few could read
the ancient language of his people, yet he had the impression that
she fully grasped the history that was woven into his clothing. She
returned her gaze to the fire.

Idonea studied the chiseled features that were
highlighted by the flickering flames. Normally she would have been
jealous of such beauty, but something about Raine did not inspire
that jealousy. Perhaps it was the fact that the woman was so
clearly enamored with her mother, eliminating her as any type of
competition. Idonea's eyes slid to Dagna. She wondered if Raine
would remain faithful under the assault she would likely soon get
from that bard.

A movement from Lorifal broke Raine from her spell.
The dwarf was removing a flask from his pack which immediately
piqued her interest. Dwarves always carried the most excellent
spirits. Lorifal caught her head movement and proffered the flask
in her direction.

“Would you like a drink?”

Raine was touched. It was a great honor to share a
drink with a dwarf, far above any other act of friendship. She
nodded formally. “I would welcome it.”