Training a Ha'tinre (5)

Author's Note:

So this is it. The final part of Shime's story. If I ever chose to have this professionally published, I will revise it. For now, I wanted it out of my way while I write Dragon Tamer. I hope you all enjoy it. And a new order is born!





Shime didn't want to open her eyes. She didn't want to move. Feeling Denzin's fingertips caress her back made her smile. He feathered gentle kisses over her shoulder, moving her long hair out of his way as he made his way up to her ear. He had woken her like this the last two days. They had not yet spoken of why Shime continued to come to his bed at night, slipping through the darkness with the stealth Higzashi had taught her. They had woken together, sneaking outside when no one else was looking, trained, then went their seperate ways until night again masked her return to his bed.

"We need to get up, now," he whispered.

"I don't want to," she whimpered, snuggling closer to his body.

Denzin chuckled. "I know you don't. I don't want to, either, but we have to. We don't want anyone else to know about this, especially my father."

She opened her eyes, peering up at him. Now seemed as good a time as any to ask the question that burned in her mind. "Will Master Higzashi be angry?"

"At me, certainly. You're safe, though." He smiled at her. "I don't think anyone with any kind of a soul could be angry with you."

She giggled. Turning, her arms reached out and wrapped around his neck. He held her tightly against his body. After a minute, she let out a despondent sigh. Denzin looked down at her in concern. "What's the matter, Shime?"

"I... I really don't know," she admitted quietly. "I'm just... confused."

"About?" Denzin asked with interest.

"It's not really important," she said quickly. Among the Ha'tinre, there was very rarely any love between partners. Sex was a biological need and when the desire was there, a pair would satisfy the need and then forget about it. That's how it seemed among the Ha'trin, too. And yet she couldn't help but wish things weren't so confusing. If Denzin was afraid of Higzashi finding out about what they had done, then obviously that meant Higzashi cared about her as more than just someone to relieve a physical desire. However, he hadn't said anything to her about it, so perhaps it was just the fact that Higzashi didn't like to share? That would make sense, and since he was the Grand Master, he could do whatever he wanted. Certainly, that had to be it.

"You sure?" Denzin asked, kissing the tip of her nose, which made her smile at him.

"Aren't you suppose to be training me?" she teased, changing the subject.

Denzin chuckled. "What should I train you in, hmm? How to be fast? You already are. How to be adorable? You do that quite well." He grinned wide as she giggled at him. "How to be deadly? You're a Ha'tinre, I'm sure you already know that one."

"Oh, you think I'm deadly?" Shime asked seductively. When Denzin snickered at her, she pressed against him, turning him onto his back as she stretched out atop his body, her arms under his pillow. She moved her smooth body over his in a sensual manner, feeling him stand at attention between her thighs as his hands held her hips.

"Ha'tinre are always deadly," he stated huskily as he caressed her sides.

Shime almost couldn't stop herself from laughing at his dumbfounded expression when he felt the cold metal of his own blade against his throat. "I suppose you're right in that one," she mocked sexily.

She let out a yelp of surprise when Denzin slapped her firm rump. "You should be careful with sharp toys. Don't want to hurt yourself, considering you're not trained how to use them!" he teased playfully.

"Oh?" Shime raised her brow. "I'm the one holding the knife to your throat. Takes no training to press harder...."

The next moment, the blade was against her throat. Denzin's arrogant expression made her tingle all over. "No, but it does take lots of training to keep your blade at someone's throat long enough to draw blood," he mocked proudly. His hand tightened over hers slightly, pressing down against her neck. She was forced down his body until she felt the tip of his shaft against her opening. Slowly, he pushed the dagger up, smiling as Shime sat up on him, his length slipping deeply within the heat of her body. She moaned loudly, not needing much assisstance to set a pace on him.

The blade was soon gone, its clattering onto the floor ignored by the two. Shime panted and moaned, feeling Denzin throb within her each time she came down his shaft. He was thicker than his father, stretching her pleasantly, filling her passage as he thrust up. Every time she came to climax, her whole body shivered as every nerve tingled with pleasure. She could feel his hands gliding over the valleys and curves of her body, tweaking her mostly flat nipples and stroking her thighs.

The sun shone brightly through the windows by the time they were done. Shime lay over Denzin's body, panting softly to catch her breath. She could feel his strong fingers running through her hair. Every time he touched her it made her long for more. Being with him felt somehow different than Higzashi. Laying there on Denzin left her with a feeling of contentment.

Finally, she couldn't resist the question that burned in her mind any longer. Laying her chin on Denzin's chest, she peered up at him. "Why would Master Higzashi be mad at you?"

Denzin glanced down at her. There was something in his eyes, on his whole face, that made her body turn cold for a second. Her instincts knew there was something wrong, but her mind overrode it, especially when Denzin stared back up at the ceiling. "He, uh, he's always been territorial. And, well, he would probably find it awkward to think his son was sleeping with the same woman he was."

Shime could hear the strain in his voice. There was a tension in his body that hadn't been there before. So much did she want for that to be the reason, she ignored the sensation that he was lying. "Oh," she said softly, laying her head on his chest again. She could hear his strong heart pounding in his chest.

Denzin let out a sigh, suddenly sitting up. He held Shime tightly to him, burying his nose in her hair. "I don't want to see you get hurt, Shime." His voice was a mumble.

"Why would I get hurt?" she asked quietly, one hand caressing his neck.

Something was bothering him deeply. His body almost trembled with it. Instead, he released her with another sigh. "Let's get cleaned up and dressed. It's pretty late in the day already." He picked up his dagger and replaced it before heading to the bathing room.

Shrugging off her instincts, she followed him to the shower. Together, they cleaned off the scent of their love making. When they were done, Denzin made them both a quick breakfast.

When they got outside, Denzin handed Shime a stick and they had their usual spar. As always, Denzin was clever and quick, anticipating her moves and countering her no matter what she tried. Finally, he decided that was over. After another meal, Denzin got an idea, and grinned sinisterly, glancing sidelong at Shime. She peered at him with wide eyes, unsure about his expression.

"Has Higzashi taught you how to track?" Denzin asked casually, turning to look at her.

Shime's eyes narrowed as she glanced him up and down. "My mother taught me when I was young. I've never been made to since. Why?"

"Have you ever played Hide and Seek?" Still he smiled at her with that kind of expression that made her want to slap him and then kiss him.

"I don't play games. I'm not a little girl anymore," she sneered back at him.

Denzin burst out laughing. He reached out his hand and patted her on the head in an affectionately condescending way. "Kid, I'm over 300 years old. You're what, 18? You are still a little girl."

Shime bared her teeth in a snarl, wrinkling her nose. Aiming well, she flicked out her tongue rapidly, smacking Denin between the eyes with a sloppy lick. She giggled when he cried out in disgust, wiping at his forehead.

"Next time I'm cutting that tongue out of your mouth!" he growled.

"You certainly enjoyed my tongue last night," she teased seductively.

With another growl, Denzin glared at her. Then he grinned again. "You wait here for five minutes. Then I want you to find me. If you can find me before I can sneak up on you, you'll win a prize."

Shime raised her brow. "Do I get to tell you what to do for a day?"

"Hmm, something like that," he chuckled, turning away. "Remember, five minutes and not a second sooner!" With that, he jogged into the woods around the village.

Glancing up at the sky, Shime let out a sigh, sitting down on the step of the small porch in front of Denzin's house. Placing her chin in the palms of her hands, her mind wandered to the morning. Why was Denzin so nervous? He wasn't a very good liar. Probably that whole "Ha'trin are noble and honest and fight for peace and justice" stuff made him feel guilty when he lied. To Shime, lying was a survival tactic. She had learned to lie without any outward indication of doing so because when Tarnrax had caught her lying... well, she just learned how to do it better. The world of the Ha'tinre was very different.

Another thought made her brow furrow. What if he wasn't ashamed of lying, but rather of what he was covering up with the lie? And on that note, the last time she had seen Malvala, she had had a similar expression. But instead of lying, she had changed the subject. Did Malvala know something about the death of her parents that she didn't?

Was everyone lying to her? Shime suddenly felt a spike of anger and fear rush through her. What if Higzashi was lying to her, too? What if he was pulling her strings? What if he was actually in league with Tarnrax? What if...?

Shime shook her head. That was a silly thought. With how much Tarnrax hated the Ha'trin, there was no reason to think such a thing. But she couldn't shake the thought that there was something on Denzin's mind that he wanted to get out but knew that if he did, there may be reprecussions.

Thinking of Denzin, Shime glanced up at the sky again. It had been about six minutes. Standing, she had a quick stretch before bursting into motion. The world around her became almost a blur. Her vision tunneled down to directly ahead of her, ensuring she could avoid obsticles in her way. In order to avoid overload, her brain filtered out everything to the sides, leaving the forest to seem like a green blur.

She didn't go very far, pausing to glance around the woods. She didn't know where she was, but that wasn't so much the problem. Turning, she was able to notice the ground had recently been disturbed. There wasn't a foot print, but the leaves that carpetted the earth looked like they had been walked on. Shime smirked. Either Denzin was leaving his trail on purpose, or he was really bad at covering his tracks.

Her bare paw-like feet with their long prehensile toes moved easily over the leaves, leaving the barest hint to her passing. They were padded for this, adapted to a world where leaving traces of your existance was a sure fire way of getting killed by larger predators. So she moved quietly through the brush. Higzashi had taught her how to adjust her weight, how to move swiftly and silently, even how to avoid rustling her clothing. He had taught her to use what she was born with, whereas Tarnrax had always tried to deny her mother's side of her.

She followed the trail Denzin had left until it reached a small stream. This was an age old trick, Shime knew. The only real question was whether he'd gone up stream or down. Examining the streambed carefully, Shime decided it was most likely he'd gone upstream. The strong thumbs of her feet gave her easy traction on the slippery rocks. She moved carefully, aware that it was likely she was being hunted. It wouldn't surprise her if Denzin was making a wide circle on his own trail, intending to catch her from behind.

Once she'd picked up his trail again a short distance away, she figured he was indeed tracking back and intending an attack from the rear. The print of his boots led up a small streambank on the same side he'd gone into the stream from. Pondering this, Shime glanced around. She realized then that she recognized the area. Just a little further ahead was the deep pool she had run to when she had put the torture spell on Jabis.

Smirking, Shime hopped up the bank and headed along the top of the bank, easily hopping from rock to rock as the terrain got jagged. Just as she had suspected, Denzin's trail had taken a longer way to the same place. Glancing behind her and all around, she stalked forward, checking the ground, though there were no more footprints. Surely he must have been leading her on and now he was making things more difficult.

A single snapped twig let her know she was still on the trail. However, just a little further and Shime was unsure. It was as if he had vanished. She wandered a bit, zigzagging to see if she could pick up his trail again, but she eventually ended up back where the last evidence of his passing had been.

There was a rustle, only a single heart's beat worth of time for Shime to realize the branch above her moved. She was struck in the back with enough force to throw her to the ground. She turned over quickly to look up at Denzin's grinning face.

"I thought the Halkash were an arboreal race, and yet you didn't bother looking up!" He snickered at her.

Growling, Shime got to her feet, glancing up at the tree. "I bet I can make it to the top before you."

Denzin laughed. "Well, guess I should let you win at something! Readysetgo!"

Without any effort, Shime was able to swing up into the tree. Her strong feet, a mix of both her parents, were ideal for gripping the branches much more securely than Denzin's flat, booted feet. He had to watch himself, searching for branches close to him that were large enough for him to get traction on. He hadn't made it past halfway up the tree when Shime's ponytail appeared in his vision. He paused on the thick branch he was crouched on, looking up at her. She hung upside down from the branch above him, the opposable thumbs of her feet hanging on easily.

He chuckled between pants at her pleased expression. "I give you this one, kid. You are much better at climbing than I can hope to be."

"At least there's something I'm better at than you are," she mumbled mostly to herself.

Standing carefully, a hand on the tree's trunk, Denzin reached out, his hand cupping the back of Shime's neck. "I'm sure there are plenty of things you do better than I do."

"Like?" She cocked her head slightly, crossing her arms.

"Like being able to endear yourself into my heart." With that, he leaned forward, kissing her tenderly. Her arms reached down, clutching at his shirt to pull him deeper into the kiss. They stayed that way for a while, too engrossed in each other to really notice or care about the world around them.

Leaning against the trunk, Denzin raised his arms, cradling Shime's shoulders. Shime had never had nor showed trust in anyone like she did with Denzin. Her feet released the branch one at a time, slipping easily into his strong arms. He held her tightly against his body, their lips still locked in an embrace of passion.

Without a word, they were soon sitting on the branch, Denzin's back against the trunk, his arms around Shime's shoulders, holding her close. One of his legs hung off the side, the other bent up to help cradle Shime's lithe body against him. Together they watched the sun's slow decent in the sky. It wasn't close to sunset but it was still lovely.

"I have a crazy idea," Denzin suddenly said softly against her ear. He nibbled the edge of it for good measure, causing her to let out a sigh.

"What's that?" she asked quietly.

"Let's run away together."

Shime's head snapped around, looking at him in disbelief. "What?"

He shrugged. "If we both left this world, we could be rid of those who plague us both. You'd be far from Tarnrax, and I'd be far from my father."

Shime blinked a few times, still trying to process the proposal. "Where would we go?"

"Anywhere we like!" Denzin waved his hand up at the sky. "There's thousands of worlds. There's nothing that holds us here."

"But... then you'd be without a clan."

Denzin shrugged. "Unlike the Ha'tinre, Ha'trin can join any clan they wish to. We don't have to fight our way into clans, or anything."

Shime looked down. "I don't think any other clan would accept me."

"Of course they would," Denzin said softly. His finger caressed her cheek. "They would take you if you were with me. I can vouche for you. I can take over your training and help you become Ha'trin."

Shime sighed. "I don't want to be Ha'trin," she said softly. "I never wanted to be Ha'trin," she continued when Denzin raised his brow at her. "I just wanted to learn the pressure points Master Higzashi said he knew. But I don't want to become Ha'trin." Then she raised her eyes to him, suddenly scared. "You're not going to tell Master Higzashi, are you? He said he would brain wash me if I didn't become Ha'trin."

Denzin rolled his eyes. "I doubt that. But no, I won't tell him." Then he tightened his grip around her, holding her close. "If you don't want to be Ha'trin, then you don't have to. We can just find a world that doesn't have either Ha'trin or Ha'tinre. And no one will know or care. Hell, maybe we can start our own order! Recruit both Ha'trin and Ha'tinre. Can you imagine the kind of a force a Ha'tinre with a sniper rifle could be?"

Shime smiled, but shook her head. "I don't know. Why do you want to run away with me? Why don't you just leave on your own?"

Again there was something haunted in Denzin's eyes. He turned his face away. "I just want to make sure you don't get hurt."

Shime stood up abruptly, balancing perfectly on the branch. She placed her hands on her hips. "Why do you think I'd get hurt?" When Denzin shrugged after standing, she stepped up to him and grabbed the front of his shirt, pressing him against the trunk of the tree forcefully. Her eyes were narrowed. He could see that she was angry and frustrated. The hint of a green glow shined in her slitted pupils, bespeaking of the powerful magic that flowed through her. "You are a terrible liar," she growled.

Denzin raised his brow as a hot pulse of desire shot through him. A smile crept over his face even though he tried desperately to prevent it. "Do you have any idea how sexy you are just now?" he said softly when Shime sneered at him.

Blinking, she was taken by surprise. She felt Denzin's hands settle on her hips, drawing her against him. He had no fear of her, would much rather change the subject anyways. His hand cupped the back of her slender neck, leaning down to kiss her passionately. She didn't fight it despite the fact that she still wanted to know what dark secret he was keeping from her.

When he drew away from the kiss, Denzin held her tightly. "Dear little Shime," he whispered in her ear, "I fear I've fallen in love with you."

Shime jerked back to look into his eyes in bewilderment. "What?" She had heard him fine, but she didn't want to believe that she had. Among the Ha'tinre, love was considered weakness. It was why her parents had died. They had been weak because they had loved. It was why she was weak, she had been born of that love. Maybe it was why she was still weak, that she wished to love and be loved.

Denzin smiled at her, caressing her face. "I love you, Shime. Is that hard to believe?"

Blinking a few times, Shime turned her eyes away. "I... don't know what to say," she whispered.

"Say what's in you heart. You won't offend me. Let me guess, you love my father." There was a hint of contemptment in his voice.

Shime looked up at him. "Why do you hate Higzashi so much? And why shouldn't I love him? He's been nothing but kind to me. You came in and took advantage of the situation!"

Denzin cocked a brow. "You don't know a thing about that man, do you? Did he ever tell you about his twin daughters?"

"He said they joined the Torak Lakus and they hadn't spoken in years. Why?" Shime took a step away from Denzin, crossing her arms.

"They haven't spoken in 500 years. But they talk to us, their siblings. Higzashi killed their mother. He killed her because she had grown old and he wanted to move on. Vasena and Lurisa found out about it after their first mission for the Torak Lakus. That was why they stopped talking to him." Denzin sighed heavily, continuing. "He is as cold as he is kind. He makes up good logical reasons for his behavior, but that doesn't make him right. He tells me one day I'll be cold like he is, but I don't want that life that he thinks I will lead. I want to keep you from having the same fate as so many of his 'short lived' lovers."

"And why should I believe you?" Shime asked, though her voice was soft. She wasn't sure if she should believe him or not. Higzashi had not said anything about loving her. Certainly he was nice, but Tarnrax could be nice when he wanted something.

Denzin let out a sigh as if a weight was being removed from his chest. "He wants to send you back to Tarnrax, Shime. He has been training you for the sole purpose of sending you back to your old Master. He plans for you to kill Tarnrax, but he knows you wouldn't make a good Grand Master so he has another Ha'tinre in your clan who will 'remove' you. He says he hopes you'll survive, but somehow I doubt that."

Shime stared at him for several moments, trying to process this. That had been her plan, but recently she had started thinking she didn't want to go back. If she became Grand Master, she would have to kill the Ha'trin, and they would have to kill her. She had made friends with the Ha'trin. She didn't think she could look any of them in the eye and kill them. Besides, if on the chance Higzashi cared for her, why would she go back to a world of lies and evil and the constant threat of death? She didn't want to be Ha'trin, but maybe she didn't have to be Ha'tinre, either.

"He planned on giving you his hand as proof to Tarnrax you'd killed him just so you could get into the village," she heard Denzin saying through her thoughts. At her shocked expression he shrugged. "We are Regeneraters. We can grow back any part of our bodies, and wounds don't last on us for long. It's why we age so slow, besides father being a Jrahkel. But we don't usually tell people about it because the surprise of us getting back up from a fatal wound is to our advantage." Then he looked into her eyes. "He's been telling me his plan from the start. At first I didn't care. At first I wanted him to kill you. But now, I want to take you away. I don't want you to get hurt."

Shime shook her head violently. If what he was saying was true, it was brutal rending of her trust. Even if she wanted to kill Tarnrax, the fact that Higzashi had been training her for this purpose, to play some kind of game. It was not acceptable.

Unable to think of anything else to do, Shime easily descended from the tree. She heard Denzin call after her, heard him try to follow her, finding it much more difficult to get out of the tree. Again she shook her head, walking away before Denzin could reach the ground. When he caught up to her, he tried to grab her shoulder, but she jerked away from him.

"I always thought you Ha'trin were noble and good. You're no different than the Ha'tinre! Playing mind games, trying to lurk in the dark, doing everything for your own gain!" she snarled, turning to glare at him.

"That's Higzashi. That's not me. I want to help you," Denzin said softly, trying to calm her.

Shaking her head again, Shime turned, her long legs making it difficult for Denzin to follow after her. She wasn't even running full speed. She needed to think, needed to get away for a little bit and think on what Denzin had told her. She needed to decide if she could believe him. She would have to ask Higzashi if he cared about her. Especially because....

Something was suddenly under her foot, jerking up to her ankle, tripping her. She let out a quick cry, falling to the ground. Turning to see what had been there to make her lose her footing so badly, a familiar drawl made her skin crawl.

"Why hello there, Shime."

"M-Master Tarnrax!" It came out as a squeak.

Tarnrax seemed to melt out of the shadows of the forest. Only the green glow that emanated from his pupils could be seen as he was wrapped in customary Ha'tinre garb. Shime stumbled to her feet, her face pale, her body trembling slightly as she looked up at him.

There was a rustle behind her. She could hear several other Ha'tinre leap out of the brush on top of Denzin. He cursed loudly, trying to fight them off. He had been foolish enough to leave behind weapons. The Ha'tinre jerked his arms over his head and back, laying his hands against his shoulder blades. They tied him securely as Tarnrax chuckled. It made Shime shudder all over.

"Isn't this a pleasant surprise? You bring me a gift. Another Ha'trin to add to the collection."

From the brush, more Ha'tinre appeared. "Higzashi!" Shime gasped, recognizing who they dragged with them.

Tarnrax waved his hand. "Put them together. We have someone else who I think will be far more cooperative in helping us find their little base." He turned to Shime and she knew he was grinning that twisted evil smirk of his.

He stepped toward her, making her cringe. He suddenly put his arms around her, holding her close. "My dear little Shime. I had worried about you. These Ha'trin didn't harm you, did they?"

Stunned, terrified, and unsure, Shime stood in Tarnrax's arms, her eyes wide, her face so pale she looked as if she might faint. She could barely see Higzashi and Denzin over Tarnrax's shoulder as they were forced to their knees beside each other. Higzashi glanced at his son with a curious and knowing glare, his eyes quickly turning back to see the event unfolding. "N-No, Master Tarnrax. I-I'm fine," she said in a small voice.

Tarnrax stood back, stroking her hair. "I'm glad for that. Malvala had told me that you had run away to prove yourself. I assume you came here to trick these Ha'trin into trusting you and allowing you into their village and learning their ways. Quite ingenious."

His evil drawl made Shime's knees feel weak. Her eyes flicked around, noticing Malvala's lithe, tiny form as one of those holding Higzashi at dagger point. The woman didn't look at her.

Then Shime felt Tarnrax's hand wrap around the back of her neck. Her heart pounded in her chest as his grip tightened. He leaned down to speak to her with just enough of a voice that the two Ha'trin could hear him. "I would assume you know where their village is, don't you, Shime?"

She could feel his hot breath on her ear through the thin fabric that covered most of his face. Trembling, Shime nodded. "Yes, Master Tarnrax."

"I told you she was a spy!" Denzin suddenly growled, jerking at his bounds.

Higzashi grunted. "Indeed. My folly." His eyes narrowed at Shime. She turned her eyes to her feet, gulping.

"You know how to turn off their shield, don't you, Shime?" Tarnrax asked, his voice cold and dangerously sweet.

"Yes, Master Tarnrax," Shime responded quietly.

"And you're going to lead us to their lair, aren't you, Shime?" Tarnrax drew nearer to her so that she could feel his hard body against her.

"Yes, Master Tarnrax," Shime said brokenly, her head hanging.

He rumbled in approval, standing upright. His grip on her neck loosened slightly. "Well, now that we have someone to show us the rest of the way, we won't have need of the other Ha'trin."

Before she could blink, one of the Ha'tinre drew his blade and slit open Denzin's throat. His blood poured down his chest. Eyes rolled back, he slumped forward onto the ground. Shime was already too shocked to fully comprehend the situation. Higzashi fought his bounds, snarling at Tarnrax. "You honorless bastard. You've killed two of my clan while they were unarmed! Do you know no shame?"

Tarnrax laughed heartlessly. "A conscience is for the weaklings like you, Ha'trin. Now come, bring him. His clan will drop their weapons when they see their Clan Master at my mercy. Another of their weaknesses." Then he turned back to Shime. "Lead the way, my dear."

In a dazed state of shock and fear, Shime turned, walking toward the village. Her uncle's presence behind her left her too afraid to try thinking of a plan to get out of this. Tarnrax would not have a second thought about doing the same to her as he had done to Denzin. She had no choice but to obey him and pray he would not torture her to death after this.

When they came to the place Shime knew the shield wasn't solid, she paused. Before them was what looked like an impassable tangle of barbs and rocks that rose out of the forest.

"Well, Shime?"

Shime jumped, turning to glance back at Tarnrax. Looking back at her feet, she pointed at the illusion before them. "In there, Master Tarnrax," she said softly, painfully. She wanted to cry. How could she betray people who had treated her so well? But when she felt his strong large hand grip her shoulder, she remembered why. "Where it shimmers a little, it's not solid."

Tarnrax chuckled darkly. He patted her shoulder. "Good girl, Shime. You've done well." The condecending tone he used made her feel as broken and small as before she had come to this place. Then Tarnrax turned to those holding Higzashi. "You two go first. Make sure they see...."

One of the Ha'tinre holding Higzashi cried out abruptly, falling to the ground, a crossbow bolt lodged in his eye socket. The Ha'tinre moved quickly, knowing they were under attack. Malvala shoved Higzashi forward, causing him to trip over. She crouched down beside him, hissing something to him. Shime backed up against a tree trunk, watching as the Ha'tinre she knew and feared found out the two Ha'trin guards that had been hidden up in the trees. She recognized both Ha'trin.

Tarnrax reached down, grabbing Higzashi by his hair and dragging him to his feet. "If you care for your clan, you will tell them to drop their weapons when we go through the shield. I have reasons for keeping your kin alive, but I'll have no qualms with slaughtering any who oppose me."

To prove his words, Tarnrax reached into the folds of his clothing, flicking out his wrist. The Ha'trin who had fired the fatal shot grunted in pain as a knife buried into his gut. The Ha'tinre who held him let him drop to the ground.

Higzashi glared at Tarnrax in defiance, but he knew his best chance was to do as Tarnrax instructed. Maybe he could discover what the madman had in mind for his clan if it was not to wipe them out. "Fine," Higzashi snarled. "If you give me your word you won't kill anymore of us."

"Would you even trust my word if I gave it?" Tarnrax laughed. He turned, jerking Higzashi forward. Crouching slightly so he was behind Higzashi, Tarnrax started toward the shimmer in the shield, the other Ha'tinre following behind him, dragging the other Ha'trin guard with them.

Shime jumped when she felt a hand touch her. She looked down to see Malvala's silver eyes looking at her. "It's alright, Shime. You did what you thought you had to. We were trying to keep him walking in circles, but now we'll need a new plan. Just try not to anger him." Her voice was a gentle whisper as she turned Shime, guiding her through the shield as well.

There was no fighting. Higzashi called to the Ha'trin to drop their weapons and cooperate. The Ha'trin listened to their leader, allowing the Ha'tinre to bind them and put them together, surrounding them. Tarnrax shoved Higzashi toward the rest of his clan, chuckling. "Well, that was easy. Wish I had thought of this long ago." He glanced about, taking in the layout of the village. From within the shield, it was clear and bright, no hint of the illusion it produced on the outside.

After a moment, Tarnrax turned. "Shime!" His voice had the kind of tone that guaranteed violence.

Slowly, Shime obediently came to Tarnrax's side, her head and eyes down. She could feel Higzashi's stare. Not only was she a weak coward but she was traitor as well. Maybe it would be better if Tarnrax would just get it over with and get rid of her. Then she couldn't find out what else was wrong with her.

"You know their little village here better, Shime. Where would be the most secure place to keep them until I have need of them?" Tarnrax smiled behind his mask.

Swallowing hard, Shime turned and pointed at trap house. "In there, Master Tarnrax. It has all kinds of alarms."

"Excellent!" He motioned to his clan to start moving them into the house. However, he reached out and snagged Higzashi, jerking him back by his hair. Higzashi grunted in pain, but he knew better than resist. "I want this one seperate from his clan brothers. He's too clever to leave with them. So I want him to stay near me." Then he chuckled. "Well, since we're going to be here a while, we might as well make ourselves at home. Shime. Which one is Higzashi's home, hmm? I would like to see how the Ha'trin live."

"Keeping me with you would be the greater risk, Faulkmusir," Higzashi sneered.

Tarnrax burst into laughter. "You know a little Halkashian, do you? I consider being compared to the Devil as a compliment, Higzashi. Don't think it would insult me. Now come along, my apprentice here is going to take us somewhere we can sit and have a chat, aren't you, Shime?"

Shime didn't bother to look up. She didn't think she could ever look Higzashi in the eyes again. Instead, she turned and led her Master to the house she had been staying in for the past couple months. This had been the stuff of her nightmares, what Higzashi would soothe when she would jerk away in a cold sweat, her heart pounding in her chest. She had started to feel safe here, thinking that nothing bad could happen as long as she stayed here. But Tarnrax was here, shattering her last sense of safety and contentment.

Once they were inside the house, Tarnrax glanced around, smirking. "How quiant." He then tossed Higzashi onto the couch as he strode about, looking at the various shelves.

While his back was turned, Higzashi sat upright, his arms still tied so that his elbows were over his head. He peered over at Shime. She looked so terrified and depressed, completely hopeless. He moved a little, trying to draw her attention. She glanced over at him, but didn't meet his gaze. He saw her silently mouth, "I'm sorry."

Higzashi shook his head. If it weren't for the situation, he would have drawn her into his arms and told her it wasn't her fault. He had witnessed Tarnrax's violent nature first hand. Simply because Valenis was too tall, Tarnrax had removed his legs and had enjoyed watching the Vorishki bleed to death. He did not blame Shime's fear in the slightest. But he had to keep her from sinking back into a state of blind obiedence. He needed to let her know that he wasn't angry with her for bringing Tarnrax here.

His thoughts were cut short when Tarnrax turned back to him. "Interesting collection you have. Quite a learned man."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Higzashi stated coldly.

Tarnrax smiled. "As you should."

Higzashi suddenly relaxed, leaning back in his couch and crossing his legs, looking up at Tarnrax unconcerned. "As a learned man, I will make the guess that you did not put all this effort just to come to my house and see what kinds of books I like to read."

"Heh," Tarnrax grunted. "In that you're correct, Grand Master. I recently came across an ancient artifact. One with magical properties."

"Yes, the one Eldris was protecting," Higzashi nodded. "Your Ha'tinre clan mates killed him as well."

Tarnrax was still smiling. "It was foolish to send only one Ha'tirn for the job. If you had known what the artifact held, you might have been more cautious."

"Do enlighten me. I do love to learn," Higzashi said with a hint of sarcism.

Chuckling darkly, Tarnrax walked around the room, taking a look at the kitchen, curious about the various technologies he saw there. "The artifact was from many years ago, around the same time the Ha'trin first broke away from our order and formed their own. In those early days, our battles were far more brutal. And then the Ha'tinre clans began to grow soft, no longer actively seeking out those of your order, prefering not to come into conflict with you. Well, it was around that time that a great man rose up, a Paszshneer Olafik."

Higzashi raised his brow. "You believe he was a great man? Even the Shadow Clan consider him a reject of the order."

"Well, I never did think the Shadow Clan were very bright. They have puppet power, but that's all. Their authority has diminished greatly over the centuries." Tarnrax's voice was sour, full of hatred as he spoke of the clan. He had walked around the room, finding the small radio Shime had fixed. He picked it up, turning it over and over in his hands as if trying to figure out what it was. "But I digress. Olafik discovered that children born of the two orders had a natural resistance to magic, specifically to Ha'tinre magic. So he had the brilliant plan to make himself immune to other Ha'tinre, to become the ruler of the whole order."

Higzashi stared at Tarnrax. "And that's why you need us alive, is it? You found the artifact that Olafik used, which, by the way, killed him."

"Not the exact artifact but one nearly identical," Tarnrax said as he walked over to Shime, who had remained silent and staring at her feet the whole time. "What does this thing do, Shime?"

Looking up at it, she took it from his hands and pressed the button to turn it on. The ball-like machine with it's little legs turned on, filling the room with soft music. Tarnrax took it back from Shime, peering at it closely. "You Ha'trin have too many luxuries and far too much time on your hands to come up with gadgets like this." He handed it back to Shime to turn it off, looking over at Higzashi. "As an intelligent man, I'm sure you can see where I'm going with my story."

"I can. You want to become immune to the magic of your peers and take over the Ha'tinre order. Your ambitions are as tall as you are insane."

Tarnrax laughed. "I've done a lot of research. I've learned a lot about the ritual that can infuse me with the anti magic of the Ha'trin. Though there is a high risk, there is a greater reward."

"Are you planning on doing this ritual with all of your clan?" Higzashi asked, still showing very little emotion. "I assume that's your plan since you are keeping the others alive."

"Very astute," Tarnrax snickered. "First I plan on seeing if the ritual works using my useless clan mates. If it works, I will be a Ha'tinre who can cast spells, but will be immune to return fire. However, it will kill the Ha'trin. Your lack of magic leaves us nothing to draw out but your life force. So don't worry. You'll all be dead soon enough."

"Good to know," Higzashi stated. He then leaned forward slightly. "You wouldn't mind cutting these bounds, would you? My arms are getting cramped."

Tarnrax glared at him. "Do not mistaken me for a fool."

"I hardly think you a fool. Just a perverted, cowardly little boy hungry for power."

There was a loud crack as Tarnrax's fist contacted Higzashi's long jaw. Then Tarnrax grabbed Higzashi by his hair again and turned, smashing him face first against the wall. He did it a second time before Shime couldn't take it anymore.

"Please stop!" she cried, taking a step toward the two. "Master Tarnrax, please...."

Tarnrax whipped around, backhanding her. "Weak little child," he snarled at Shime. "Stay out of this."

Then he turned Higzashi around, his hand wrapping tightly around Higzashi's throat and slamming him against the wall. "Do not try my patience," he growled.

Though there was blood dripping from his nose, Higzashi grinned. "Oh, darling, this is just foreplay!"

Tarnrax suddenly screeched, arcs of electricity dancing over his arm. Higzashi's whole body was electrified, reaching out for Tarnrax, causing the taller man to convulse, falling to his knees. With an angry snarl, Higzashi kicked Tarnrax in the chest, knocking him over.

"This is my home!" Higzashi yelled at him. "You made a mistake coming here."

When he tried to kick Tarnrax thinking he was incapacitated, the Ha'tinre snarled, grabbing Higzashi's leg. Showing his strength, he brought his legs and whole body up so that he was on his shoulders for a moment, kicking Higzashi across the face with his foot curled in a fist for he did not wear shoes like Shime. With his arms trussed and his leg held, Higzashi had no balance and fell over, crashing through his small table next to the couch.

Leaping to his feet, Tarnrax stood over Higzashi. "I will enjoy killing you. I think I will enjoy it more than I will enjoy putting my apprentice back in her place."

A shudder ran through Shime, looking up at Tarnrax. He, however, didn't even glance at her. Instead, he reached down and forcibly dragged Higzashi to his feet, tossing him back on the couch. Shime wanted to cry and run to his side. His attempt at tricking Tarnrax had drained him and his tumble through the table had left him with splinters.

"I suppose it would be dangerous to keep you here," Tarnrax said, going to the door.

Shime hurried over to Higzashi, trying to reach over and touch his face to pull out the splinters. He jerked away, looking at her. As Tarnrax stepped outside to call for a few of the Ha'tinre to come to him, Higzashi smiled at Shime, his voice quiet. "Keep yourself safe. Stay strong. Whatever he makes you do, I forgive you, dear heart. "

"Shime."

Shime cringed when she heard Tarnrax's voice before she could respond to Higzashi. She looked up, seeing Malvala and Dasbol standing behind him. She moved away from Higzashi, allowing the two Ha'tinre to drag him to his feet. Tarnrax sneered at him. "Put him seperate from his clan members. I don't want him coming up with some kind of plan with them. And make sure you have nothing metal. He can produce quite a shock."

"You didn't enjoy the foreplay?" Higzashi chuckled as he was pulled out of his own house.

Once they had gotten Higzashi behind the trap house, Malvala shoved him up against the wall. "Are you insane?"

Higzashi shrugged nonchalantly. "I had a chance. I had to try. Besides, it gets me out of the house. I don't think I would want to be in there right now."

"Yeah, you just left Shime alone with a very angry demon," Malvala snarled. She drew her dagger, taping it against his throat. "I've half a mind to slit your throat, for all the good it would do. Where would your son hide away in a situation like this?"

Higzashi smirked. "You will make a very good Grand Master with such keen observations. Denzin probably will scout the area and try to stay hidden. Should you make contact with him, tell him his father wants to know what happened to his family ring."

Malvala snorted. She glanced over at Dasbol who was watching out for any of the other Ha'tinre. He nodded to her. No one was coming. She glared back at Higzashi. "Things have gotten way out of hand. If Dasbol had known what he was bringing back to Tarnrax he wouldn't have bothered finding that damned amulet. You better be willing to do what it takes to get rid of that lunitic!"

"Sweet heart, if it means I have to kill you to get to him, I'd do it in a heart beat. Don't worry about that. Now if you'd be so kind, I'd like my hands back."

With a growl, Malvala reached up and unbound Higzashi's arms. He stretched his shoulders briefly, picking out a few of the splinters left in his face. "I'll tie them behind your back," she told him. "Tarnrax would not be happy to find you free."

Frowning, Higzashi allowed his arms to be tied securely behind his back. He was then led into the house. The Ha'tinre had used their magic to unlock everything and turn off all the sensors. Dropped into a sperate room, Higzashi leaned back against the wall, nodding to the two as they left him alone. Malvala told the guard to keep an eye on him. Closing his eyes, Higzashi could only pray that things would not get any worse. The little nymph was right, he should not have angered Tarnrax. Now Shime would have to bear that burden.

Even Shime knew what was to come as soon as Higzashi was dragged out. Once the door was shut, Tarnrax turned to her, his eyes narrowing. "Now, as for you," he hissed, coming toward her.

Shime put out her hands in an attempt to stop his approach as she backed against the wall. "Please, Master Tarnrax, I can explain...."

Tarnrax chuckled in that sadistic way of his, causing her to go quiet. She had nowhere left to go, her back against the wall. "There is nothing for you to explain. I know why you left. To prove your worth. But all you've managed to prove is how worthless you are!"

Shime whimpered in pain as Tarnrax grabbed her hair, jerking her away from the wall and dragging her after him into the bedroom. He threw her forcibly at the bed. He shoved her head down into the mattress, his rough hand against the back of her neck. His other hand ripped the pants from her.

She whimpered when she felt the head of his member at her opening. This was a nightmare, she tried to tell herself. This was just another nightmare, and she was going to wake up and Higzashi would be there to make it go away.

Tarnrax leaned over her, snickering softly next to her ear. "Did you miss me, Shime?" he asked breathily. He then pressed into her, letting out a low grunt. "Did this little excursion show you that Master's been right all along? Do you see now what I've been trying to do? See that you belong to me, no matter where you run to?"

Shime squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately not to cry while Tarnrax pounded her mercilessly. He continued to speak to her, telling her how weak she was, how she would never escape him. It seemed to her that he was right. For all the training and the knowledge she had accumulated, the fact that she had been here surrounded by well trained, deadly Ha'trin, and yet Tarnrax was still here, raping her, and she was powerless against him. What he said had to be true. She had tried to prove herself, but all she had proven was what a loser she really was.

Yes, her place was with Tarnrax. He told her the truth. Everyone else used her, behind the masks of kindness and caring. Only Tarnrax told her the truth. She should have known all along. He was only trying to make her better, trying to drive the persistant weakness out of her.

She felt him speed up and then the warmth she knew too well. When he withdrew, he sneered at her. "These Ha'trin have been feeding you too much. They just give you food whenever you want, don't they? Pathetic. I've got more important things to do. Try to make yourself useful and get things cleaned up. We're going to stay for a little while." With that, he strode out, slamming the door behind himself.

With a sob, Shime slid to the floor. She clutched her knees to her chest, the sobs wracking her whole body. She wanted nothing more than to try and rid herself of his scent, to scrub the sensation of his touch from her flesh. Crawling to the bathing room, she turned on the water, curling up under the spray. She would be happy enough to just drown now and save herself from the humilation and remorse. She had never felt so close to breaking under the weight of his abuse.

A touch on her shoulder made her jump, her heart pounding. New tears flooded her eyes, lost in the water that coursed down her face. She threw her arms around Denzin's neck, holding him as if letting go meant she would die. Denzin's arms wrapped around her protectively as she sobbed against him.

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered between sobs. "I-I didn't mean to...."

"Shhh," Denzin hushed her. "Don't. There's nothing for you to be sorry for. You did what you had to. I think Higzashi has some kind of plan considering he allowed himself to be captured alive. I'm going to see if I can't reach him, but I wanted to see if you were safe first."

"I'm so worthless...."

Denzin's hands cupped Shime's face, forcing her to look into his eyes. The water rolled off his soft golden feathers, the blood from his shirt spreading as his clothing got wet. "Don't you dare think that. Don't believe his insanity. I want you to remember how you've felt the last few weeks while you've been here with us. Think of how happy you've been, how powerful you've felt, how strong and fast and deadly you've felt. That is the truth, all that you've accomplished here, all that you felt, the friends you've made, that's all true. How you feel now, that's not what is reality. You're a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman, and you're not going to let him win, right?"

Shime whimpered, clutching his shirt so hard her joints turned white. "Please don't leave me with him."

Denzin didn't know what was worst, having to look her in the eyes and tell her she had to stay, or having each of his limbs cut off after being skinned alive while he swallowed liquid fire. He could imagine they both would hurt equally. He leaned down and kissed her, holding her tightly. He kissed her as if it was his last gasp of air and he never wanted to stop inhaling. When he did release her, he held her close, cradling her for a moment, his ears ever alert. "Listen to me closely, Shime," he said into her ear. "You won't let him win. You won't give in. You're going to stay strong for me. We're going to leave here together, but first we're going to kill that bastard. Just remember, he's living on borrowed time, he'll get what's coming to him. Can you stay strong for me?"

Shime tried hard to stop her sobs. She remembered the techniques Higzashi had taught her to calm herself through her panic attacks. Slowly, her breathing deepened, her sobs softening. She peered up into Denzin's eyes. Sniffling, she nodded slightly.

"Good," Denzin said quietly. "Now I have to go. You just play along, do whatever he says, just don't make him angry. Stay safe. I love you, Shime. Don't forget that."

After another quick kiss, Denzin easily squeezed out the window as silently as he had entered. Left alone again, Shime whimpered, shivering as the water had grown cold. She turned off the water, dragging herself out of the shower. She changed her clothes, brushing out her hair slowly. She could hear Tarnrax's voice outside as it grew dark. He was breaking up the dozen or so Ha'tinre that he had brought with him into small patrols, everyone getting a few hours of sleep as they were given rotation schedules.

Denzin had told her to stay strong. So had Higzashi. They were not afraid of Tarnrax. He had beaten her once like he had Higzashi, and she had been too afraid to speak for a week. Higzashi had acted like it was some kind of game. Denzin had had his throat slit open! None of the other Ha'trin seemed to be afraid as they had been herded. She needed to remember that they had been training her, that she could be strong like they were. With Tarnrax she had never laughed or felt any sense of accomplishment as she had with the Ha'trin. She had never felt accepted among her own clan. The other Ha'tinre had kept their eyes averted, though now Shime knew it was because they were ashamed that they couldn't do anything about Tarnrax. But among the Ha'trin, they had accepted her without judgement. In fact, when they had looked at her as they were being led into the trap house it wasn't in accusation or betrayal but more of sadness and concern.

Shime jumped when she heard the door shut behind her. She could see him in the mirror as he leaned against the doorframe, watching her. She continued to brush her hair, hoping that he would decide he'd done enough damage for one day. The one thing she didn't expect was his voice that came out much more quietly than usual, almost longing.

"The older you get, the more you look like your mother."

Slowly, Shime looked up at him in the mirror. "I do?" she asked meekly, not sure what else to say.

"I would have given her the world and she threw that away. But you aren't going to betray me like that, are you, Shime?" He stood upright, coming over to her. Though she tensed in expectation of the abuse she was sure would come, Tarnrax didn't seem to notice. He sat down behind her, his long fingers running through her straight, silky black hair. "You're my good girl, aren't you, Shime?"

Gulping, Shime stared at the brush on her lap. She nodded slightly, feeling Tarnrax touch her in the mockery of tenderness. She closed her eyes, willing herself to imagine it was Denzin's fingers. She would rather it be anyone else but Tarnrax.

"You're my good little girl," he said into her ear as he breathed in the scent of her. "I'm going to make you strong. You'll have rule over the whole Ha'tinre order beside me. I'll give to you what your mother gave up for my failure of a brother. Would you like that, Shime?"

"Yes, Master Tarnrax," Shime whispered. Her throat was too constricted to speak any louder.

Tarnrax rumbled his approval. He patted her back, laying out on the bed. "Then you shall have it. Now I think it's time for bed."

It took only a few minutes for her to hear his breathing become deep in sleep. With a shudder of disgust, Shime stood up and fled the bedroom. Exhausted, she slipped onto the couch, curling up into a tight little ball. She wished someone was there to soothe her and tell her it would all be alright. Instead, when she closed her eyes, all she could see was Tarnrax's face, the sharp angles of his face distinctly contrasted in light and dark. He grinned sadistically at her, always that evil drawl hissing in her ear.

*******************************************************

Higzashi was dozing. Or at least he thought maybe he was. There wasn't anything for him to do in the little room. There wasn't much to listen to or look at. He knew better than to try and talk through the wall to his brethren.

The presence in the room was not lost on him, though, no matter his state of sleep. He opened an eye, looking at the shadowed figure that squeezed through a hole in the floor. "Brat," he scoffed.

"Now is hardly the time," Denzin hissed, crouching beside him. In instinct he looked his father over for injury though there was no need.

"Even had time to change your clothes." Higzashi sniffed the air. "How is Shime doing?"

"Not well. And neither will we if we don't figure out a way to get out of here. I've put out a warning to the other Ha'trin so they know to stay away. There aren't enough of them to make much of a force to fight back. I sure hope you've got a plan."

Higzashi nodded. "Look for a tiny little female among the Ha'tinre. She has silver eyes. Her name is Malvala. You could say she's on the hunt for a promotion and Tarnrax is in her way."

"Can we trust her if she's so power hungry?" Denzin asked skeptically.

"Right now, she is the only one we can really trust. She has two more here that she says are with her on overthrowing Tarnrax. With their help, we should be successful."

"That Tarnrax fellow looks quite imposing. I wasn't expecting that," Denzin admitted in a whisper.

"Sharp fellow, too," Higzashi snorted. "I think I got a paper cut when he touched me. He's gotten even stronger since the last time I grappled with him."

Denzin chuckled curtly, heading back to the secret hole in the floor. He paused a moment, his upper body still within sight. He glanced at his father. "When this is over, I thought I should give you fair warning, I'm taking Shime. She deserves someone who loves her, not just a concern for her well being."

Higzashi raised a brow. "If you care that much for her, then I would give you my blessing, though I know you neither need it nor seek it. You certainly didn't care to wait before expressing your feelings for her. I wasn't even gone that long."

Shrugging, Denzin vanished into the dark hole, placing the floor back in its place securely. His timing was perfect as a Ha'tinre seemed to ooze out of the wall, glancing around. With a glowing glare at Higzashi, he melted back into the wall and out of the room.

As Denzin skirted the town, he thought about how he would find one Ha'tinre among the many. They all looked the same to him. They wore those black clothes that covered all but their eyes making them hard to see in the night.

Denzin stopped behind a building, peering around the corner. He quickly drew back behind the wall. Two Ha'tinre stood at the other end, speaking quietly. It was two females, though their backs were to him. No way he could tell if either had the silver eyes his father had described. Well, that didn't matter, maybe he could knock them out and tie them up if neither were the female he was looking for.

A slight breeze made Denzin snap back around, reaching for his blade only to find the cold metal of a short sword against his throat. It was a male Ha'tinre. In reaction, Denzin tried to move, but the Ha'tinre slammed him back against the wall, placing his sword blade against his lips to indicate for Denzin to stay silent.

"I heard something!" Denzin could hear the two females head toward them.

The man holding Denzin against the wall peered around the corner. "Can't a man take a piss without nosy women coming to take a peek?"

The two women snorted. "Piss quieter and we wouldn't need to come take a look, Dasbol." They turned away, walking off.

Once they were gone, Dasbol looked back at Denzin. "Keep quiet and come with me."

"How can I trust you?" Denzin sneered, though kept his voice low.

"Your father would like to know what happened to his family ring. Quite frankly, I'm curious, too."

His sneer turned into a wry grin. "When I was 12 I used it to go fishing. A big fish ate it. I told father and he spent the next year hunting for that fish. Best tasting fish I've ever had."

Dasbol snickered quietly. "Entertaining. Now come. It's good I found you. Malvala is waiting."

Together they slipped through the darkness. They went through the back door of one of the houses which Denzin knew to be Eldris's. Dasbol entered first to make certain there was no one else not of their little rebellion group in there. He then motioned for Denzin to come in.

Malvala stood up, looking up at him. "So you finally show up. Enjoyed laying in the leaves, did you?"

"Hey, you try getting your throat slit sometime. It's not a fun experience," Denzin shot back. "You're Malvala I'd presume."

She nodded. "So you already spoke to your father. Ha'trin do quite well without magic. I would love to know how you sneak around so efficently some time, though right now is not that time. We need to figure out how to take Tarnrax by surprise. He is always on his guard and all previous attempts have been miserible failures."

Denzin smirked. "I do believe I have an idea for that."

**************************************************************************

Shime woke up from a restless sleep. She snapped awake when her mind remembered what had occured the previous day. Just in time as she heard Tarnrax come out of the bedroom. He stretched briefly, glaring at Shime. "Good, at least you're awake. Go out there and make yourself useful. I have things to discuss with Malvala about the ritual before we try to get started." With that, he walked out the door.

Sighing, Shime got up, stretching out her stiff muscles from staying curled up all night. She glanced out the window, making sure Tarnrax wasn't going to come back. She hurried to the food cooler, managing to make herself a quick breakfast. She didn't want to go back to the starved state she had been in for most of her life.

Shime had finished her food when she heard a knock on the door. Before she answered, there was a shadowed figure standing in the doorway. Even through the cloth wrapped around his head, Shime recognized Dasbol. She knew all those in her clan even in their outfits.

Dasbol glanced around almost nervously. Then he peered at Shime. "Malvala sent me. She wants you to make food for the Ha'trin. It would do no good for them to go hungry if they plan on fighting back."

Shime blinked in surprise. "But... Tarnrax will kill them."

Dasbol shook his head. "Get food made and we'll take it to them. Simple stuff. You'll see. There's a plan."

"A plan?" Shime peered at Dasbol in confusion.

"You'll see. Oh, and Denzin is waiting, so hurry. I'll be back in a short time." With that, he went right through the door.

Thoughts of seeing Denzin again made Shime's heart flutter. She should have taken his offer to leave. Then she could be far away from Tarnrax. Thoughts of that carried her through the motions of making food enough for all the Ha'trin. It was simple, just a gruel really, each sweetened with a bit of sugar that she mixed in.

Another thought crept its way into her mind, a dark slithering doubt that wrapped itself around her hopes and strangled them mercilessly. As long as Tarnrax lived, she could never be free of him. No matter where she went, no matter what she did, he would come after her and force himself upon her.

She wasn't sure how she knew but the sensation that there was a presence in the room made her turn. Dasbol had returned. Though he hadn't made a sound, Shime had known he was there. It was an odd sensation, the knowing that someone was nearby.

With a word of magic, the ninteen bowls floated up into the air. Dasbol motioned for Shime to follow him. Glancing around the village, Shime felt uneasy. Normally, the place was lively. Now, it seemed like a ghost town.

They made it to the trap house without any interference. When Dasbol reached for the door, however, the one voice that made any clan member's blood run cold stopped them.

"What are you doing?" Tarnrax seemed to come from nowhere.

"Malvala ordered that the Ha'trin be fed once a day to keep up their strength for the ritual, Grand Master," Dasbol said in his elegant way. He was another of the slender and beautiful races, perfectly sculpted as if from the purest marble. Shime knew that he and Malvala often shared a bed mainly because they fit well physically.

Tarnrax sneered. "We will see. Carry on."

Dasbol bowed with grace, turning back and entering the house. Shime followed him, feeling Tarnrax behind her. He stood there as the food was distributed. The young apprentices were kept in the middle, the rest of the Ha'trin blocking the way in case there was a fight.

A wisp of golden hair made Shime's heart leap. Denzin sat among the Ha'trin. Had he been captured? He took his food without looking at her after Dasbol spoke another phrase of magic, causing all the bonds to release them so they could eat. However, his head tilted slightly as if he was indicating for her to leave.

There was one bowl left and Shime took it from the air, slipping away while Tarnrax was paying attention to Ha'trin. There was a room full of loose assassins, the last thing he needed was some kind of rebellion among them. Around the room were a few more Ha'tinre, but that didn't guarantee that the Ha'trin wouldn't start a fight, or even that they could be subdued for they were well trained at hand to hand combat.

Stealthily, Shime weaved her way around the walls that made up the maze of the house. Softly murmuring a spell under her breath, Shime felt her body itch and crawl. She took a step forward through a wall, a moment of darkness and nausea and a strong resistance to her momentum forward. Then she was on the other side, looking at Higzashi.

Higzashi clambered to his feet at seeing her. "Shime!"

With a soft sob, she nearly threw herself at him. "Master Higzashi!"

He put his chin on her shoulder as she threw her arms around his neck. "Are you alright, little one?"

What kind of a question was that? Shime shook her head, trying to keep her tears from falling. Higzashi turned his back to her, wiggling his arms. "Untie me, dear heart."

She put the bowl of food down and pulled his bounds loose. He then turned and drew her into his arms, holding her tightly.

"I... I'm pregnant, Master Higzashi," she whispered. She was so scared that it was almost suffocating to his sensitive nose. "I'm so afraid if Tarnrax finds out."

"I know," Higzashi responded softly.

Shime looked up at him in surprise. "You... know?"

Higzashi nodded. "I don't have this broad nose for no reason. I could smell your hormone change, little one."

Shime felt shocked. He had known she was with his child before she did and didn't say anything about it? Her head lowered slightly so that she watched him under suspicious lashes. "Denzin told me your plans for me. Was he telling the truth?" Her voice was very quiet. She wanted so much for him to be wrong about his father.

For a moment, Higzashi was still and quiet. He looked like a statue. Then he let out a sigh. "Denzin has always been a bad liar when he thinks the lie is wrong."

A cold numbness washed over Shime's entire body. Higzashi had been using her all this time? She suddenly stepped away from him, her breathing short and shallow. The stab of betrayal made her feel sick to her stomach. Higzashi knew he had lost her in that moment. And it was probably for the best.

"Listen, Shime. Now is not the time to let this fog your judgement...."

The glare she gave him made him feel a spike of dread. There was something truly deadly in her brewing. There was a power trying to boil up. That's what they needed now. All he had to do was figure out a way to turn that anger back onto Tarnrax. In the dim glow of the artifical light overhead, he could see the dull green glow of Ha'tinre magic in her pupils.

Then he cocked his head, listening intently to the brief noise outside. "Listen to me, Shime. You have every right to be angry at me, but for right now, it's not my life at stake."

Shime shook her head. "You are cold and heartless. There's not much difference between you and Tarnrax." The callous anger in her voice made Higzashi sigh.

"For the sake of the other Ha'trin, let us put this aside for now." Shime could hear the pleading tone in his voice. Though she trembled with anger and hurt, she nodded once.

Relieved a bit, Higzashi took the bowl of food from the ground and stepped back. Just in time, the wall Shime had passed through slid open and Tarnrax stood at the entrance, forcibly dragging a very uncooperative Denzin after him.

"You bastard killed my twin!" Denzin growled, trying to break Tarnrax's iron grip.

"Tell me, Grand Master," Tarnrax snarled as he jerked Denzin forward by his hair and forced him on his knees in front of him ruthlessly. "How often do twins become Ha'trin together, and end up in the same clan?"

Higzashi raised a brow. "Not too often, but it does happen. Are there no twins among the Ha'tinre?"

"No. We make them fight to the death. Only the strongest twin makes it," Tarnrax sneered. "No wonder you Ha'trin are so weak. Now there will be neither of them."

Pulling a blade from his belt, Tarnrax drew it across Denzin's throat. With a gurgle, Denzin fell forward, his blood quickly pooling on the ground. Higzashi looked down at him with a frown. "Trying to put me off my breakfast?"

Shime let out a squeak, covering her mouth with her hand. The first time she had seen his throat slit, she'd been too shocked to even notice. Now, though, was different. Despite all her training, Shime had never killed anyone. She had never seen anyone killed in front of her until recently. Seeing Denzin lay there in his own blood, motionless, made her feel sick to her stomach.

Tarnrax glared at Shime. Then he snickered, stepping over Denzin's body into the room. "Don't tell me that makes you sick, Shime, darling."

"I... I.... N-No, Master Tarnrax," Shime stuttered, swallowing hard and taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. Denzin would be alright. He was going to get up from this. It had to be part of the plan. Yes, the plan Dasbol had commented on. Steeling herself, Shime tore her eyes away from Denzin's seemingly lifeless body and stared at Tarnrax.

He laughed, a fiendish sound that Shime had never grown accustomed to. Reaching out, Tarnrax mockingly caressed her pale cheek. "That's my good girl," he snickered, suddenly pulling her close to him.

Glancing up, Tarnrax noticed the micro expression of disgust and murderous rage that wrinkled Higzashi's nose for less than a heartbeat. He then grinned behind his mask. "Tell me, Grand Master, did you enjoy Shime's body as much as I do?"

Shime tensed, feeling Tarnrax's hands move over her body. She heard Higzashi's deep, enraged growl as his lips drew back to show his fangs. "When I had her, she wanted it. It is quite obvious she does not want you."

Tarnax burst into laughter. He pressed his hip against Shime, his lips next to her ear, one hand holding her upper arm so she couldn't draw away, the other reaching between her legs. "Do you want me, Shime?" he mocked wickedly. After a moment of her trembling silence, he sneered, pressing Shime against the wall. "Would you prefer Higzashi here?" Shime gulped, glancing at Higzashi. That apparently gave Tarnrax his answer. "You know, I often think I should have killed you when I killed your parents," he stated in a cold tone.

In that moment, Shime realized how tired she was of being lied to, how tired she was of being used, of being afraid, of being a victim, and how tired she was of him! Her lips peeled back in a feral snarl, her voice low and dark. "You probably should have, Master Tarnrax."

The surprise on his face was replaced by the twisting of pain when Shime snapped out the spell she had dreaded from him for so long. Tarnrax shrieked in anguish, every nerve and fiber of his being laced with agony. He had never felt a torture spell quite so powerful. The sensation of Shime's powerful kick to his gut was lost in the convulsions of his muscles as he was thrown back, trying to pull his mind together to counter the spell.

Barely able to speak, Tarnrax mumbled the counter spell through the froth that had built up in his mouth. Though the spell dissipated, his body still trembled with the intense pain. Panting, he glared up at Shime. "You little bitch," he snarled, standing straight and coming at her.

Higzashi blocked his way then, his strong hands going for Tarnrax's throat. The two strong men grappled, each intent on killing the other. They grunted as they struggled with one another, their bodies braced. However, due to Higzashi's shorter, stouter form, he was able to use his lower center of gravity to push against Tarnrax's taller, slimmer frame, causing him to take several steps backward... and into a blade.

With a howl of pain, Tarnrax threw Higzashi away from him, whipping around to face this new attacker. Denzin gave him a tilted nod with a sarcastic grin on his face. "Surprise!"

It was probably the fact that his muscles were slowed from Shime's spell that allowed Denzin the chance to plunge his blade into Tarnrax's chest. Snarling, Tarnrax punched Denzin across the face, throwing him back. With an angry yell, Tarnrax pulled the dagger out of his chest. "I will kill you," he roared.

He felt another sharp pain in his back, spinning around with another cry. Shime glared up at him, his own blades in her hands. "You tried that, Uncle," she hissed. "You tried to kill my spirit. But I was the snake in your bed, waiting for you to make a mistake. It wasn't until now I realized that just the fact I'm alive was your mistake."

Before, Tarnrax had always been able to stop her movements. But Higzashi had taught her that she didn't have to move slow like she had been previously trained. She was a Zaz, and the speed of her movements were a blur in Tarnrax's eyes. Stabbing him with both hands, Shime gave him another kick to the torso, throwing him across the room. Coughing, Tarnrax slid to the ground, his body shaking with pain and blood loss.

Shime moved as if she was going to start toward him, but Denzin closed the distance between them in a few leaping strides, gathering her into his arms. "Enough, Shime," he said softly into her ear. "Leave his death to another."

Higzashi walked toward Tarnrax as he tried to gain his breath and his feet, but only managing to get to his knees. "As I said, you made a mistake coming to my home."

"I do not... die... so easily!"

Higzashi yelped in pain as Tarnrax drew a dagger from his body and stabbed it through the side of Higzashi's knee. Hobbling back a step, Higzashi pulled the blade out, snarling as he raised the blade.

Tarnrax grinned up at him. "Knives won't kill me," he mocked.

In that moment, a shadow melted through the wall. A look of shock was the last expression on Tarnrax's face when he felt the barrel of the pistol against the back of his head. "No, but a bullet can." The angelic voice full of hatred was the last thing he heard. Malvala pulled the trigger, the gun quieter than Tarnrax's body crumpling to the floor. "Burning in Hell is too good for you, devil," she spat.

A shudder ran through Shime. She buried her face against Denzin's chest, a sob so powerful shaking her body that her knees nearly collapsed under her. Denzin had to hold her up, stroking her hair. "It's over, Shime. He's gone."

With a deep breath, Higzashi allowed his body to relax for just a second before he looked up in surprise. Malvala pointed the gun she held to his head. "It would do me well to get rid of you now while I have the chance. In the chaos of a leaderless clan, I can wipe your Ha'trin off this world."

Higzashi raised his brow, trying to think of something to say. However, he didn't need to. Malvala slowly lowered the gun. "But, for the sake of all that has occured, I will leave you all in peace long enough to move your village somewhere new. It would be very boring if we didn't have you to keep us sharp and flush out our weak."

Smirking, Higzashi bowed sweepingly before Malvala. "I look forward to our future encounters, sweet heart."

He yelped, grinding his teeth when Malvala shot him in the foot. "I'm hoping you'll learn I'm far from sweet." With that, she turned to Shime and Denzin. Her gaze softened, nodding to them. "Be well, Shime. You are stronger than any of us. I think we would have broken long ago. And you take care of her or I'll hunt you down."

Denzin smiled. "No worries about that."

With a glare at Higzashi, Malvala stepped back and through the wall.


************************************************************************

All the Ha'tinre had simply vanished. They had walked right through the walls and turned to shadows, flinting away into the woods. The Ha'trin merely smiled when they were left alone and free. When Dasbol and Malvala had snuck Denzin into the trap house, he had quietly told the plan to the one next to him. The message had murmured through the group which was the only reason they had not bothered trying to fight when Dasbol had freed them to give them food. Now, after a brief announcement from Higzashi, they got about to getting their homes emptied.

Denzin had packed his things and, slinging his pack over his shoulder, went out to the edge of the woods where the shield ended. There was a mound of dirt there. Shime knelt beside it, a scraggly wildflower in her hand. There was a thoughtful look on her round face.

"I don't know why you think he deserves to be buried," Denzin said softly as he came up behind her.

"He was still my uncle. No matter what he did, he was the last family I had. For that alone I wanted him buried." She stood up slowly, dropping the flower onto the mound and looking up at Denzin. He smiled and kissed her on the forehead, holding her close.

"I'm ready to leave when you are," he said lovingly as he stroked her hair.

"Where will we go?" She peered up at him.

"Wherever we want. We can make a whole new order!" He grinned at her.

She giggled. "And what would we call it?"

Denzin shrugged. "I don't know. Well, Ha'tinre means 'killer in shadow.' Ha'trin means 'counter to shadow.' You know the language of the ancient Ha'tinre better than I. What do you think it should be called?"

Shime thought for a moment. When she shrugged, Denzin just smiled. "C'mon. We have plenty of time to think about it. A friend of mine has a shuttle waiting for us to take us to a ship."

As they started away, they heard their names being called behind them. Turning, they saw Higzashi come toward them. Denzin sighed. "We're leaving, father."

"I know," Higzashi said softly. "I don't blame you." He then looked at Shime and there was a pain there she had never seen in him before. "I just want to know if I'll get to see my child?"

Shime stared down at her feet. Sighing, Higzashi took a step closer, placing his hand on her shoulder. "I am sorry for all that you have been through...."

In proof of her speed and recent training, Shime reached out, pulling the large dagger from Higzashi's belt. He roared in pain, jumping back, clutching his wrist to stop the bleeding. Shime held up his severed hand, her expression calm and cold. "You did say this was going to be mine."

Without another glance, she turned away and slowly started toward the woods. Denzin smirked, shaking his head. "Don't worry, father. I'll take care of my sibling." Tipping his head, he followed after Shime.

She paused a moment, looking up at him. "I know what we'll call it." She held up Higzashi's hand. "Ha'tib. 'The hand of shadow.'" Tossing the body part aside, she reached out and took Denzin's hand, both of them vanishing into the woods.

The Dragon Tamer (book edition)

Author's Note: That's right folks! This is the first 5 chapters of the book edition, the last revision of the story! Please PLEASE DO leave me comments if you spot any grammar or spelling problems, please DO let me know where there should be more explanations, or any details removed, anything constructive that can help lead to a richer, deeper storyline. I think I've done a fairly decent job, but there's always room for improvement. No, I will not make more sex then what I have already planned. And NO there will not be a scene between Sre and Hero. If that's something you like, it's something you can make up in your own head. This is the last posting for this story. I can't very well post the whole thing online if I plan on sending it in for publication. Most publishers won't even publish your work if there's more than a single chapter online for free to read, so this is what you get and the rest should hopefully be on your bookshelves in the next year or so if I can get it done fast! Thank you for all your support! I am still working on other stories.


[Chapter 1]

The day was growing late. Sre still wandered through the woods outside the town she'd grown up in. She wasn't too sure what she was doing out here, but it was better than wandering the streets. She'd done that when she was 7 years old, she had no intentions of doing it again. Her employer had rather foricibly thrown her out of the Dancing Pig Tavern where she'd been working for him since she was about 11. He had made his desire to take her to his bed very clear. In return, she had made her distain for the ass just as clear. Now, she had nothing but the clothes she wore to call her own.

The summer berries were just getting ripe. Sre stopped near a small stream, picking a handful of half ripe berries to quell the rumblings in her stomach. Grimacing at the tart flavor, she knelt over to scoop some water into her mouth.

A swift black shadow blotted out the sky for just a second, the deafening sound of wingbeats making her dive down under the bushes in reflex. She looked up in time to see a giant black dragon wing over her and disappear low over the trees. Just a short distance away, she heard loud honking, barking, and roars, along with human shouts as the dragon landed. Curiousity gripped Sre and she couldn't resist the thought of taking a peek. Hopping over the creek, she climbed up the bank and a little deeper into the woods where the sounds grew louder and louder.

Squirming inbetween some bushes, Sre peered out at a large clearing. Ringed in a semi circle were about a dozen dragons. On the other side of the clearing, where Sre was squatting, were the same number of small tents. In the furthest corner there was a slightly larger tent. Sre's breath caught in her throat for a moment at the massive black beast that sat near the tent. It was perhaps the biggest dragon she'd ever imagined, bigger by far than any of the others in the clearing. However, by it's shiny black horns and massive impressive crown that the horns curved around and the various other spikes and spines on the dragon's massive, broad head, she could tell it was a male, which was a very rare sight. Among the others, all the females were a far bit larger than the males, but the black one was easily two of the largest females that she could see. And yet he was not tied down like the others.

The ground vibrated under Sre's feet. She held back a gasp in surprise as a dragon was led right past her. The soldier walked past her without noticing she was there, a chain in his hands. The chain was attached to a bridle around the head of an odd looking dragoness. Lanky, long, more snake like than the others, she lacked a crown, though had tall, swirling ivory horns. Rusty red in color, her sides had some purple branding. While the soldier had not noticed sre, the dragoness turned its head, looking straight down at Sre with a snort.

Her heart skipped a beat, thinking the dragon would give away her position as it lowered its head to peer more closely at the human it could smell but not see. The soldier tried to tug at his dragon, but the massive animal ignored his hint. Sre heard him ask the dragon what it was looking at, all the while hoping the dragon would lose interest and move on. As if the dragon had heard her thoughts, its head snapped forward and it started away, startling its rider. He quickly led her across the field toward the giant black brute, covered in scars and obviously well trained. While the other males honked and pulled at their leads, the black one sat quietly, watching the female with an intensity that easily cowed her. She put up no fight when he started a mating ritual.

Soldiers stood nearby, chatting while the dragons did their thing. Sre, however, was none too interested in the process of dragon reproduction. With a sigh, she decided to head off. There was no telling what would happen should the soldiers find her spying on them. They might feed her to the dragons. She had heard stories of such things happening. Whether it was true or not, she didn't know, but she figured it was best not to find out.

As she slowly withdrew from the bushes, she let out a short cry as she tripped over something. She landed on her rump, looking at a pair of knee high black leather boots. She threw her head back to look up at a man who blocked the sun. The cruel spikes on his broad shoulders, the horned helm, and the golden trimmed cloak caused her heart to skip a beat. It was the commander! With a whimper, she turned quickly, trying to gain her feet to flee. It just had to be her luck that the commander would find her.

Before she could take a step, she heard the creak and hiss of his black dragonscale armor, felt his black leather gloved hand grip her hair, jerking her up and back against the commander's body. With a sob in pain, Sre instinctively reached up and grabbed his strong wrist. He pulled her head back to be able to look at her better. He was very tall, she noticed as he held her against his chest.

"Spying on my troops, are you, wench? Perhaps you've an appointment with one of my men?" His accent was that of the Eastern Plains people, deep and intoxicating, even through the helm.

Letting out a whimper of fear, Sre tried to squirm, but he jerked her hair back harder, those black eyes that stared at her through the slit in the helm were cold and hard and unrelenting. With a shiver, Sre stuttered, "N-No, sir! I-I was just hungry, s-sir. I-I was g-going to..."

"Steal from my camp? Than it is better that I found you rather any of my men." With his other hand, he tilted his head, pulling the helm off. His face was thin, hard, and angular, his lips thin, straight black hair hanging to just the tip of his ears which arched up into small points. Those eeire black eyes of his had a strange light to them as they flicked, looking down her body.

She didn't need to read minds to know what was on his. It wasn't even a matter that he was by far stronger than her. He was military and a commander of a talon. She was just some peasant, homeless and pennyless. He didn't need his strength against her. By his very social stature he could take what he wanted, when he wanted, in any way he wanted. The military was the law of the land, she had no right to refuse him and he knew it very well.

"I-I was just looking at the dragons, s-sir! I swear it! P-Please, I...."

His lips cut her off. His intensity caused her knees to buckle under her, but his grip on her did not relent, holding her up to the onslaught of his lips. He had a punishing kind of lust, but with just enough tenderness that she realized she couldn't tell if she was enjoying it or not.

In the near distance, they could hear the dragons finally mating. It was noisy business, the female roaring and screeching, the male grunting and growling. At the start of the sounds, the commander withdrew from his kiss, looking out over to the camp as if in some concern. It would be his dragon mating with the female. Sre could tell the black brute was his by his custom black armor, made from the smaller scales of his dragon. They hissed together as he moved, the soft leather they were fused to probably both warm and comfortable.

He looked back down at Sre with a nonchalant expression. She whimpered again, still clinging to his wrist to try and prevent any further pain. She jerked slightly when she felt the touch of the soft black leather gloved hand touch her face gently, slowly moving down her slender neck, hovering over her pounding pulse. He opened his mouth to speak but another voice interrupted him.

"Hey, Commander Roscrow! Your dragon's had his fun. Where are you?" A soldier pushed through the bushes.

The commander's deep voice rose to call back. "I'll deal with him soon enough." Then he lowered into a growl when the soldier still moved toward them. "Leave me to my privacy. I'm sure you have duties to attend to."

The soldier stopped a moment before turning to head back into camp. "Yessir." His voice had the hint of a knowing sarcasm.

Now the commander looked back at Sre. She had turned her blue eyes away from his intense black ones, thinking it was best if she submitted to him. He obviously had no intention of letting her go; she just hoped that whatever it was he was going to do to her would not be painful. Speculations of all methods of possible torture flooded her mind at that thought, suddenly making tears spring to her eyes, though she fought hard to keep them from falling. Last thing she needed was to act like a sobbing little homeless street wench.

With a small sigh, the commander suddenly released her hair. Instead, he grasped her shoulders, holding her firmly before him. Sre lowered her head in submission, and despite her efforts, a tear rolled down her cheek. "Well, you know my name. It is only fair I learn yours." His accented voice was gentle, low, soothing.

"S-Sre, s-sir," she whimpered, sniffling. In a surprising act of tenderness, the commander gently wiped away her tear which caused her to glance up at him.

"Have men hurt you before, dear Sre?" he asked kindly. When she shook her head, he raised an eyebrow. He released her shoulder to stroke her long amber hair.

An ancient instinct of survival, something so deep and unignorable, spurred her next action. Her foot flew up, knocking the commander across the knee with enough force to cause him to grunt and topple over. Stunned for just a moment, Sre wasted no time in fleeing. She ran with all her endurance, which granted wasn't much. She'd gone only a short way but she was already out of breath, and she had to stop and lean against a tree. Gasping, her heart pounding, she nearly missed the sound of Roscrow right behind her. Adrenaline gave her a second wind and she took off again, thinking briefly that this is how a doe feels when she is being hunted. As she thought about it, she lost her footing on a root and stumbled to the ground. A brief pain shot through her ankle, stunning her for a moment.

Before she could stand and continue her flight, that same iron hand gripped her hair, jerking her head back, eliciting a cry of pain from Sre as Roscrow dragged her over to a patch of moss. "I was going to be gentle, but you just got me pretty damn mad. Now if you just behave yourself for the rest of the time, I just might leave you some clothing to put back on by the end of this, bitch!" He snarled as he threw her onto the moss. She tried to crawl away, but he fell to his knees and put his arm around her waist, wrenching her back against him. She felt his gender stab against her bottom. She turned to claw at him in desperation, but was met with his short sword against her throat as he leaned forward, his body poised over hers.

She scuttled back in fear, her eyes wide, but when she felt her back bump into a tree, she gave a low sob. Roscrow stood and came toward her, his sword shining in the thin stream of light that filtered down from the setting sun. Tears sprang to her eyes and she cringed against the tree, squeezing her eyes shut, expecting any moment to feel the cold metal slicing her throat. She heard him kneel down in front of her, felt his hot breath against her ear, making her shudder. "Now what did I say about behaving, wench?" She couldn't move as his sword slid slowly down the middle of her chest, slicing through her blouse expertly, leaving no mark on her skin even though she could feel the tip of the blade, a warning for her to stay still.

Roscrow used his blade to move the thin cloth to the side, looking at her body. Sre gave a sob. She tried to turn to get on her feet, but Roscrow's hand reached behind her head and took hold of her hair, jerking her head back yet again, laying his sword against her throat, its touch light but deadly.

"P-Please don't kill me!" Sre blurted out in a trembling voice, her only thought on getting out of this alive.

Roscrow drew closer to her until she could feel the heat of him, even through his armor. "Then behave yourself." His whisper in her ear had as much of a blade to it as his sword. She felt his hand on her, his touch burning against her cold damp skin, her sweat chilled on her in the cooling air. Shivering, she could do nothing as his hand, which had released her hair, reached into her skirt and explored her, touching her intimately. The tiniest sound came out of her throat, and she thought she saw a hint of a smile on his stern face. A moment later, she felt his fingers slip into her and she struggled, giving a low cry of pain.

Before he could say anything, she aimed her foot at his jaw, though he jerked back in time for it to only glance off the side of his face. Stunned for just a second, he gave a growl that froze Sre in mid escape. Now he was really mad. She was on her knees, trying to get to her feet, but the power of his anger made her stop and cringe. She was about to cover her head to prevent him from pulling her hair again, but Roscrow instead grabbed both her wrists, having dropped his sword, and twisted her arms behind her back. He shoved her forward and laid her wrists between her shoulder blades. She cried out in pain, but he pushed her harder against the scratchy moss, and she knew he was in the perfect position to break both her arms. Either she quit struggling or she would wish she were dead.

She lay under him, trembling and sobbing, but finally subdued. She could feel him moving as he removed his groin guard. She closed her eyes, expecting... she didn't really know, but she figured it was going to be painful. He pulled her skirt down, exposing her pale, round rump. His fingers gently moved away the folds of skin that hid the small organ that she had never paid much attention to til now. His touch was that of an expert, someone who knew exactly what he was doing. His fingers were callused from years of holding sword and shield, as well as reigns of dragons and horses, but he knew how to use that roughness to his advantage.

It really didn't take long for a warm tingling sensation to slowly make its way up into Sre's belly, causing her to squirm. She didn't know why his touch felt good, wondered if it was some kind of trick. A small moan left her before she could stop it and she heard Roscrow make a sound of humor. It was a cold humor, one without any care for her, and it scared her.

She suddenly bucked, trying to dislodge him while his guard was down, but he was ready the moment she had tensed. "Damn it, girl. Don't you know when to quit?" he growled. He pushed down on her wrists hard, making her feel more like her back would snap, not her arms. She then felt the head of his member press against her. He was angry and he wasn't going to waste anymore time doing what he wanted to do.

"Please, sir," Sre pleaded between sobs. "I-I wasn't going to steal, I was just looking at the dragons. Please, oh please, sir, don't do this. Please...!"

Sre's words were cut short as she felt his length press into her. She cried out in a bit of pain, squirming uncomfortably. He pressed her harder, warning her to stay still. His movements were slow, purposeful. She could feel him tremble as he just barely contained himself from ramming into her. Ever so gently, he pressed through the barrier of her innocence, making her whimper in defeat. She wriggled under him, her arms hurting in the position he forced them in. But he didn't seem to notice as he moved faster and harder, eventually taking her as he chose.

She heard him gurgle in pleasure, felt the cold metal of his leg armor strike her ass again and again as his pace quickened. He moved with a tilt to his powerful thrusts, and soon Sre began to feel an odd warm feeling creep into her belly, slowly spreading through her. She realized that his free hand was gently rubbing her clit in time with his thrusts. The bud was soon throbbing and aching for his touch, but he teased her when he felt her move, trying to get him to touch her more. She still tried to resist his gentle persuasion but the primal sounds erupted from her throat. She moaned and panted, straining to feel more. The moss rubbed against her nipples, making them tingle and rise. She could hear him give a small chuckle when she whimpered unintelligibly her desire.

Sre began to feel a pleasant ache in her belly and she didn't understand the feeling. It continued to grow and fill her consciousness until her body was wracked with convulsions, pleasure so intense she felt like she would surely explode. She cried out, whimpering and moaning, unable to express herself in words. She continued to quiver, even as Roscrow slowed to allow the spasms to pass. When he quickened, she felt him tremble as if he were holding himself back, his breathing labored. His powerful thrusts pushed him deeply into her, leaving her breathless and panting heavily.

Yet again she felt her body begin to tingle and tighten. As he moved just perfectly, she felt her belly swell with the pleasure until she was sure it was going to burst any second. But then Roscrow stopped. Trembling, so near to bliss she wanted to cry, Sre squirmed, grinding her hips, confused. She tried to talk, but could barely get out a few whimpers. She felt the vibration of his laughter as he bent over her. He suddenly released her wrists and pulled her up against him, resuming his movements slowly at first, agonizyingly slow. His hands traveled up Sre's thin body, taking advantage of her position. His rough, strong fingers expertly manipulated her hardened nipples, making her cry out in unexplainable pleasure. She tried desperately to get him to go faster, but he continued to move slow, purposeful. Just when she thought she'd go crazy with the nearness of Heaven, he grinned behind her and rammed her just right, tweaking her nipples at the same time. She very nearly screamed as she felt her body consumed by the pleasure, completely and utterly lost in the intensity of the orgasm. She couldn't stop herself from begging for more, trembling under him.

Sre felt him chuckle more than heard him this time. He bent over her, his hot breath against her ear making her shudder along the full length of her spine. "Be careful what you wish for." Sre sobbed with the pleasure as he quickened, his muscles straining. He gripped her hips, pulling her back into his thrusts, sheathing himself entirely within her. It took little time at all before Sre felt the sea of bliss close in over her head again, but this time, she heard Roscrow groan deeply, his body quivering against her. They were both panting, their skin shining with perspiration. Slowly, Roscrow slipped out of Sre, causing her to shiver with memory. With a grunt he sat back against a tree trunk, replacing his groin guard before reaching out to Sre, trying to pull her to his lean, hard body.

For a moment, caution forced its way into Sre's mind, and she tried to resist Roscrow's gentle hands, drawing away from him, thinking of how she had just been so used. He rasied a brow at her. "I'd hate for you to catch a cold." His voice was very low, husky, rumbling, almost with a hint of caring. With a little shiver, Sre finally gave in. She leaned against him, her head resting comfortably against his chest, the scales of his armor warm. She sighed and closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat, knowing that what she did was dangerous. He didn't care about her. He had only done everything for his own pleasure more than for hers. But she couldn't help feeling safe in his arms, even if for a few moments. One arm held her close to his warmth as the night chill descended upon them, the other hand stroked her hair soothingly. She barely remembered him pulling his cloak over them as she drifted off to sleep along with the sun.

****************************************************

It was only a matter of short time that the sun would shine down on Sre's naked body. She opened her eyes, realizing where she was. She sat up, looking around. There was no sign of the commander. He had slipped away in the night, leaving her to her fate. With a heavy feeling of dejection, she searched for her clothing. Her raggy skirt was still intact. Picking up her blouse, she headed over to the small creek to clean herself up. Putting her clothes back on, holding her blouse together, she figured the only thing she had left was to return to the Dancing Pig Tavern and pray Jeboc was in a forgiving and gracious mood.

She went the back way, coming around the barn to head up the back door. With a sigh, she knocked. Sure enough, the pot belly pig of a man himself opened the door, glaring down at her. "Well, well, what've we here? Tangled hair and torn clothes? And ye come crawling back to me! Ha!"

"Please, Jeboc..." Sre started, but the cruel grin that crept over his ugly face made her shiver.

"Ye know, ye stormed outta here without ever paying me back fer my generousity! Ye've wracked up quite the bill staying here fer free these last 9 years." His grin only got bigger at her incredulous expression. "Don't suppose ye've got the kind of money to pay me back, do ya?"

Bile rose in Sre's throat as the realization of his words struck her. Before she could answer, he chuckled in a manner that caused all the hairs along her neck to stand on end, her skin crawling with disgust and fear. "I didn't think ye did. And I'm sure ye know what that means." His thick, meaty hand grabbed her slender throat before she could pull away. He dragged her into the tavern as he stepped back. The back door led into his bedroom, and he turned, throwing Sre at his bed. "Ye're my slave now!"



[Chapter 2]


The next 10 months were the closest to hell on earth Sre believed there ever could be. In order to "repay her debt," as Jeboc put it, he would sell her company to whoever had the money to pay. He kept her always busy, barely letting her sleep, feeding her only when he thought she deserved it. To add insult to injury, not only did he use her for his own twisted pleasures, but his two nieces who helped him run his tavern would often torment her, blaming her for anything they broke or stole. The only kindness either had shown her was about a week after Jeboc had sprung her slavery on her, Malissa, the older, had inserted an anticonception device into her to save her the trouble of having a child, particularly one from Jeboc. It had only taken a single day for Jeboc to take Sre to a metalsmith and have a collar made for her. He made sure it was fused, thus it could not be removed but by another metalsmith or a special laser.

Now, leaning against the bar, Sre idly ran her fingers over it, not paying attention to the noise going on around her. A dragon talon had landed early that morning. Jeboc had kicked Sre wake, shoving her hurriedly into the tavern from the barn where she slept so she had not even gotten so much as a glance at the beasts.

All week the business had been slow, but now the tavern was full with the soldiers. They had all been on the front lines for long months and now they had some leisure time. The cousins, Malissa and Jerassa, showed their gratitude of the soldiers' bravery and sacrifice in every way imaginable. The noise in the tavern was almost deafening.

With a sigh, Sre tried to stay out of sight. She had no doubt Jeboc would try to get as much money out of the soldiers by offering her as he could. The longer she could avoid it, the more grateful she was. "Sre! Ye lazy bitch, get yer ass out to the well and bring some water 'fore I belt ye!" Sre jumped and lowered her head, hurrying away from Jeboc, just barely avoiding his belt which he swung at her.

As she headed out the back, three of the soldiers were coming in from there as it was where the dragons were tied down. She lowered her head, hoping to brush past them, but that just wasn't her luck. One of the soldier's put a firm hand on her shoulder, pushing her back out into the tavern, cornering her against the wall. "What's the hurry, there? Why don't ya stay 'while?"

Shivering, keeping her head down, Sre spoke quietly. "My-my master told me to fetch water. Please, I have to go, sirs."

They chuckled as their hands started to wander on her. "Oh, I think the water can wait a bit...."

"Derkal, Tafis, Kurt, I'm sure you all have far more important things to do." The stern, clear voice behind them made the three quickly turn and salute a tall, lean older man. "For example, you three should get some sleep for pulling night shift." The soldiers looked at each other with distain in their eyes, but they saluted again, yessirring before heading upstairs to the bedrooms. The older looking soldier looked down at Sre. "I'm quite certain you have more important things to do than stand there."

Sre glanced up at the soldier with a look of gratitude before scurrying off. Shutting the door behind her, she leaned against it, sighing sadly. How her life had gone downhill. She headed for the well slowly, not looking about. She dropped the bucket into the well and brought it back up, struggling. She didn't have a lot of strength or energy due to lack of nourishment, but she would rather struggle and ache than get a beating. She'd placed the bucket on the ground when she heard the War dragons that were being housed behind the barn. They grunted and groaned, their scales hissing and clicking, wing leather creaking.

A powerful instinct took hold of Sre, which she figured was just an intense curiousity. Glancing about the yard, seeing no one, she figured it wouldn't hurt to take a look at them. The dragons gave her a sense of calm and inspiration. Sneaking around the barn, she saw them all tied down, several eyeing each other suspiciously, others dozing on their backs in the sun, still others staring at nothing. A dark blue male slept but a few feet from her. His great breaths filled the air like a blacksmith's bellows. He lay on his back, soaking up the warm rays of the early summer sun. Slowly, Sre reached out carefully, wanting to know what they felt like.

She had gotten only inches from the snoozing dragon's head when its eye, golden and piercing, opened and constricted, looking straight at her. She suppressed a scream and backed away as the dragon rolled to its feet with a roar, going for her. Sre squeezed her eyes shut, figuring it was the end. Not that it really mattered if it was. She figured anything after death had to be better than this hell, so she didn't even bother trying to dodge the beast.

A strong hand grabbed her arm and jerked her out of the way. The dragon gave a pitiful sound and reared back as a man's voice began commanding it in a spidery language. It backed off and bumped into another dragon, who snarled and turned to snap at it. The blue male yelped and hunkered down, showing weakness. Immediately the whole talon was up in roars and they were all attempting to kill each other. The chains that held them to trees were snapped, and some of the trees themselves shattered. The noise was deafening as one large female pounced on the blue male. With a mighty roar, a huge black beast lumbered into the brawl, grabbing the female by the back of the neck and tossing her like she was toy. She went crashing through the trees, her cries of surprise turning to pain as her wings were torn by her thrashing to gain her feet.

Sre, stunned by the power and brutality of the creatures, backed away before turning to run back into the tavern before anyone noticed that she had been the one to start the viscious brawl. Her only thought was not have Jeboc find out about this. Soldiers were running toward the battling beasts, even though the giant black dragon had already cowed all the others into noisy submission.

She had just reached the door when the same gauntletted hand that had saved her took a hold of her wrist and spun her around, slamming her against the wall of the tavern, slightly knocking the air out of her. She looked up in surprise and fear.

"Do you realize how much trouble you just caused, wench?" The voice was so familiar and so was his face. Tears swelled in Sre's eyes and she looked down at her bare feet. Jeboc gave her barely enough clothes to cover herself with and certainly no shoes. Roscrow's eyes narrowed in annoyance. He gave an angry growl, moving as if he meant to strike her.

"I-I'm sorry!" Sre cried, cringing, squeezing her eyes shut, holding up her hands to deflect the blow she expected. Jeboc would certainly give her a concussion for this. She trembled as she felt his hard body against her shift in obvious irritation. "I... I just... I thought...." She really didn't know what to say. Nothing seemed like it would be a good enough excuse to save her.

Roscrow moved, making a sound that stopped all her thoughts about saving herself. She realized that he held the tag attached to her collar and, risking a quick peek, saw him staring intently at it. Only then did any emotion flicker in his cold black eyes. He looked up at her and sneered. "Let me guess. You were a runaway when I met you and then you were caught and your master stuck a collar on you?"

Sre gave a small sob, her arms going limp at her sides. How could he think such a thing? Hadn't it been he himself who had taken her innocence? Well, better that it was him, not Jeboc. She stuttered in fear, "I-I wasn't. J-Je" she lowered her voice should her master hear her speak his name, "Jeboc said I-I owed him a lot of money and I couldn't pay it. I wasn't a... a slave...." She hated that word.

Suddenly, the door flew open next to them and Jeboc stepped out, his large belly making it out the threshold first before they could see his ugly face. He looked with worry at the dragons who had been making quite the racket as they were shocked into submission by the humans. He then turned and noticed Roscrow standing near him. Roscrow towered over him, his powerful, lean body hidden by the dragonscale armor. His broad shoulders were made broader by the spiked shoulder armor. His black metal gauntlets went up his strong arms and ended in spikes at his elbows. Those black eyes of his could pierce the soul. Jeboc was immediately cowed.

"Uh, g-g'day to ye, s-sir. I-" he had to pause to gulp the lump out of his throat- "I hope the dragons aren't to rowdy. I-I would hate fer 'em to... crash into my barn and hurt themselves!" He peered around, making a show of vigilance when really he just wanted to look away from the commander.

"My dragon, Granger, has the talon under control. My soldiers can easily put them back in their places. You've no need to fear about your barn." He stood straight and tall, his figure so demanding and powerful that Jeboc found himself more afraid of the man than of his dragons. The large sword at his hip certainly didn't make him any less intimidating.

Taking a moment to get himself together, Jeboc looked about the courtyard, noticing the bucket of water still sitting next to the well. "I don't mean to bother ye with my petty problems, good sir, but have ye seen my slave about?" His eyes turned back to the commander in time to see Sre step out from behind him, her head bowed. His eyes narrowed, but she didn't need to see that to know she was in trouble. "Ye had something to do with those dragons, didn't ye, Sre?" The anger in his voice made her tremble, letting out a small involentary whimper.

"Quite on the contrary." Roscrow's voice broke the tension between them. "She alerted me to the fact that Tins had been harassing one of my smaller males until it looked like a fight might break out." He looked down at Sre who was too shocked to say anything. She heard his voice take on a sardonic tone. "You could say she saved your barn."

Taken by complete surprise, Sre could say nothing. Jeboc gave a sneer and waved his hand toward the inside of the tavern. "For that, perhaps I'll feed ye tonight. Now get that water into the kitchen now 'fore I change my mind!" Sre quickly fetched the heavy bucket and struggled back into the kitchen with it. She glanced up at Roscrow as she passed him, still confused about why he would lie for her. He only lifted his right brow slightly before turning at the sound of his name as a soldier came up to him to report about the situation with the dragons. The only part of the conversation she heard was "...no idea what set them off, sir...."

*******************************************

While Sre was grateful for the coolness that the night brought, it was hardly any quieter. The soldiers drank, ate, and sang, entertaining locals with greatly exaggerated tales of their own prowess. Through out the day, Sre had seen Malissa and Jerassa coming out of the cellar, straightening themselves up as one or two of the more handsome soldiers followed after them. Sneering in disgust while their backs were turned, Sre would go back to whatever it was she was doing, mostly making food and cleaning dishes. She was thankful to be in the back so as to avoid anymore harassment from the soldiers.

Around midnight, when most of the soldiers had either gone to bed or were passed out at their tables, Jeboc waved her into his lviing area. "Here. Eat and then get yer ass into the barn. And stay away from those dragons!" His glare sent a shiver down her spine. With a quietly muttered "yessir," she sat down and dug into the little bit of food he allowed her. It was little more than stale bread, almost bad cheese, and water, but to Sre it was good.

Once she was done, she slowly, stiffly stood and put away the dishes before heading out to the barn where she slept in the stall next to the door. Sinking into her bed of old hay and a few raggy blankets, she was soon in a hazy doze, hearing the horses whinny quietly, still nervous about the dragons so near them. She could hear the dragons breathing, snorting at each other, letting out little clicks and weird low howls. In her sleep, Sre could swear they were talking to her.

The barn was suddenly gone, all around her standing dragons. They stared down at her, huge, dignified, all of them glowing like they were divine.

Power.

It was a whisper on the wind, a sound so slight, she almost missed it. Looking around, Sre could see a long tendril of pure light moving toward her. It snaked around her, around the cirlce of dragons, weaving in and out of their legs. It drew closer and closer to her, moving as a serpent. She felt no fear of this thing, no fear of the dragons around her. Instead she held out her hand, the snake of light slithering along her arm, feeling a pleasant warmth from it.

Crest.

It whispered again as it drew itself around her, wrapping around her throat. It suddenly tightened, strangling her, jerking her awake. Her eyes fluttered open as she gasped for air, looking up at three dark faces. The smell of alcohol assaulted her nose, making her want to gag. It was the three dragonriders that had harassed her earlier in the day. They were very obviously drunk. Sre knew drunk men. She knew they often did things they would not normally when sober. These were soldiers, trained all their lives to kill. She had no doubt they would and could hurt her severely if she resisted.

"Ye gave us the slip earlier, gurl, but not t'is time!" The one whose strong, calloused hand held her throat slurred his words in his drunkenness. Squirming, Sre gasped for air. Her struggles only rewarded her with his hand tightening further. She went limp when she heard a sword hiss out of its scabbard.

"Dat's right, gurl, we won't be long!" The one that stood with the sword grinned, the other two chuckling. She felt them push her rag of a dress up over her thighs, their rough hands moving over her pale skin. She let out a whimper when she felt fingers pressing into her. The resulting sharp slap immediately quieted her. Closing her eyes, Sre tried to retreat into her mind, thinking of the dragons in her dream, the warm serpent of light.

The dragons outside began hissing, growling, their tails thrashing. There was loud wing flapping, grunts and snarls, the dragons eyeing each other in hostility. The sound of their aggression only grew louder the longer the soldiers stayed in the barn with Sre.

"At attention!"

The voice was so forceful, even the dragons outside went suddenly silent. Jerking away, the soldiers turned, nearly toppling over in their stupor. They could just barely stand upright, though their trouser snakes managed it far better than their legs. They saluted as best they could, trying to stutter an apology and excuse, but that deep, accented voice cut them off as effectively as if their throats had been slit.

"You three are suppose to be on night guard. Instead, my slumber is disturbed by the dragons getting rowdy! I certainly don't know what you three were doing to each other, but I'd suggest getting your pants on, sobering up, and getting out there where you belong before rumors start spreading!"

With all the gracefulness of fish on land, the three attempted to salute, pull up their trousers, and leave all at the same time. As they passed, one falling over and scrambling back to his feet, commander Roscrow made note of each to punish in the morning.

Once they had left the barn, Roscrow turned his attention to the stall they had been in. Sre huddled in the corner, none too sure of whether she'd been rescued or not. Slowly, Roscrow came toward her, standing over her. He reached out a hand. Hesitantly, Sre reached up and took it, letting him gently draw her to her feet. She avoided his eeirely glowing gaze, quickly pulling the loose strap of her dress back onto her shoulder to prevent it from falling off her.

She felt the soothing warmth of his hand touch the side of her face where the soldier had struck her. "Did they harm you?" His voice was a low rumble, calming.

For just a second she let herself believe he cared. "I-I'll be ok, sir."

Gently, he ran the back of his finger over her cheek, causing her to look up at him. His eyes reflected the weak light. She could tell he wasn't all the way human, which wasn't all that uncommon. This world was a human colony, having been so for the last thousand generations, but it was not shut off from the other worlds. Trade ships came and went, all manner of aliens arriving and departing. He glanced about, a look of distain on his face.

He then stood back, taking Sre's hand and bowing down to place his lips on the back of her hand with infinite tenderness. He stood back up, letting her hand fall away carefully. "It is late. I leave you to your sleep. My men will not bother you. Sleep well." With that, he bowed sweepingly before turning and leaving her standing there in the dark, dumbfounded. Once he'd closed the door behind him, exhaustion swept over her. She sank back into her bed, feeling a strange sense of calm, his promise leaving her feeling just a little safer.

As she fell back to sleep, she hoped she'd have her dream again, as she had had all her life. Constantly, dreams of dragons that would come to her, speak to her, protect her. Always, a little black bundle of fire, a piece of coal that would grow and grow, sprouting wings and horns, fire engulfing it, eyes burning themselves into her. But the rest of her night was quiet and dreamless.

****************************************

"Sre!" The angry voice of her master jerked her from blissful sleep. "If I come in there and find you still sleeping, I swear I'll belt you til you beg me to feed you to these dragons!"

Realizing she was suppose to be awake at least an hour ago, Sre struggled to untangle herself from her blanket. Just as the door creaked open, Sre managed to stagger to her feet as Jeboc came in. He pointed toward the tavern. "Get yer ass in there and start cookin! Ye gotta earn yer keep if ye ever want to be free again!"

Rushing past him, Sre just barely avoided a kick Jeboc aimed at her rump. She ran into the kitchen, getting herself cleaned up and started cooking. The last thing she wanted was to make Jeboc any angrier. Not to mention fed soldiers tended to be more mellow, which would also make her life a lot easier.

As she stirred some outmeal, she heard Malissa and her sister come in, giggling amongst each other. "Oh, I'm sure you can persuade him! The tall, dark, and silent types always play hard to get, but then they fall the hardest."

Malissa gave a bit of a shiver. "Yeah, but that stare he gives me, as if I don't even exist. Never met a man like that. But I'm sure between us we can break that ice cube!" They both giggled again.

Sre gave the quietest snort, thinking it was hidden by all the various other noises going on. But Malissa turned to her. Sre didn't need to turn to know that the woman was glaring at her. "And what do you have to say about it, eh, slave? I bet the commander notices you even less, being at the bottom of the food chain, and lacking in any womanly features. A man of his stature can chose from much better bred women."

Sre kept her mouth shut on that. She cracked an egg, watching the yolk sizzle on the skillet. Sneering with a malicious laugh, Malissa and her sister turned and swept out of the kitchen. Sre heard them talking some more about the commander and their plan to get him to submit to their will.

Shaking her head, Sre had to smile. Leave it to the two to try and seduce anyone that caught their fancy. She was glad that they had finally found someone who frustrated them, though. It wasn't like those two were of any better breeding than she. And Sre figured it wasn't about breeding, or even about social stature for the commander. Someone with his rank could chose from almost anyone, and she figured he had a set of qualities he looked for that was different from most other men. No wonder he looked right past those two sluts.

Using a ladle, Sre poured out a bowl of steaming oatmeal. As she turned, she struck an immovable body. The ceramic bowl shattered on the ground, having slipped from her stunned fingers. The contents sloshed all over the floor, causing Sre's heart to leap into her throat. "I-I'm sorry!" she whimpered, quickly grabbing a rag to start cleaning off the commander's knee high black leather boots. They were perfectly polished, not a scoff on them. Now, though, they were covered in the sticky oatmeal.

Roscrow was about to say something when Malissa popped her head around the corner. "What'd you do this time, slave?" She suddenly went quiet when she realized who it was that stood in the kitchen. Roscrow hardly gave any indication that he acknowledged Malissa's presence, just continued to watch Sre with great interest. Malissa looked down at her ample bossom, making sure her corset was straightened and her blouse showed enough cleavage to just be one degree from totally lude. She then stepped into the kitchen behind Roscrow, a sly, seductive hint to her voice. "I'm so sorry for her clumsiness, sir. She's just a slave, lacking in any kind of grace, you see...."

Her voice died in her throat. Those black eyes of his flicked to her, but only for a moment, as if to discover what the source of the unpleasant noise was before turning back to what it was he found his greatest desire in. Thinking of another strategy, Malissa tried to reach for another rag. "Here, I'll you show how to really clean some boots...."

"I think she can handle it." Sre shivered. The cold steel of his voice bit into her very soul. "She dropped it, she can clean it. Your assisstance is not desired." Glancing up, she saw that his words were in no way directed at her. Instead, Malissa stood there, her face pale and eyes wide. She barely managed to stammer something unintelligible before quickly retreating out of the kitchen. When the commander turned his eyes back to Sre, she was surprised to see a warmth in there. "Those two are very irritating." The tiniest smile crossed Sre's face at his tone. She quickly looked down so that he didn't see. "I did not mean to startle you. I'd only wanted to make sure no one bothered you last night. I'd given my men orders not to harass the locals, but I guess they are just too eager to drown their sorrows in spirits and sex."

"SRE!"

A quiet groan left Sre. Of course Malissa would run off to tattle on her. She couldn't stand that the commander would give his attention to the slave girl. So she ran straight to Uncle Jeboc, who stormed into the kitchen, face red with anger and embarressment. He glared at Sre, who had finished cleaning the commander's boots and was trying to pick up the pieces of the bowl, scrubbing the floor hurriedly. "I'm very sorry, sir. I promise she'll be punished fer...."

"I certainly don't think so." The sword he wore at his hip was dull and chipped compared to the blade of his tone. "It was my fault. I should not have startled her. As it were, I was coming in here to... seek her company."

Malissa flashed a glare at Sre. Sre could almost read her mind. What did a half starved, beaten slave girl have that she didn't? Honestly, Sre had no idea. She kept cleaning, waiting for a kick from Jeboc, though it wouldn't come while the commander was there. He never beat her when there was company. Besides, he was looking about as browbeaten as she was at that moment.

"W-well, good sir, her company does come with a price...." Sre looked up to see why Jeboc had gone quiet. She noticed that Roscrow had a smile on his face. It was the most dreadful thing she'd ever seen. How a smile could promise death, she didn't know, but his most certainly did. Jeboc was so pale that he looked like he might faint from fear.

With a small motion to Sre, indicating for her to stand, Roscrow mockingly tipped his head. "Your government thanks you for your sacrifice in times of war." It was as if he was finding a great amusement in the look on their faces, his voice so sardonic and trained. In times of war, no one could ask for payment from a soldier. If they felt like paying out of generousity, they would, otherwise the peasant folk were just out of luck. In times of peace, the rules were different, but now Jeboc was only keeping his head on due to Roscrow's mercy.

Without another word, the commander turned on his heel and strode out of the kitchen, Sre close behind. Whatever he had planned for her would most certainly be better than what Jeboc would have done to her with Malissa hissing in his ear. He stopped only once to obilige a cheer that went up from his soldiers in his honor as they had been relating a tale of his bravery in battle to some newcomers to the tavern. After a slight bow, he continued his way up the stairs to the room he had taken residence in. It was the furthest room with windows that over looked the dragons resting in the clearing behind the barn.

Roscrow opened the door, standing aside to motion for Sre to enter first. She went in, eyes flicking about in an old instinct that had saved her on many occassions. She had learned that vigilance was her friend. The sensation of Roscrow's eyes on her made her stop in the middle of the room. She jumped a bit when she heard the door latch and lock behind her. She could feel the heat of his body behind her, radiating out of his armor. He gently brushed past her, his voice much more calm and informal than she had heard it before. "It really is unfortunate that such asses are allowed among our populace. I would have liked an excuse to put him in his place." He proceeded to remove his sword belt as he spoke, carelessly tossing it over the back of a chair. Sre had no dout he wore it more for show than protection. "It confuses me that some people don't get it when you obviously don't like them."

Sre said nothing, shyly watching him from where she stood. He continued removing his armor, pulling the dragonscale armor over his head. It made an odd hissing sound that caused the hairs on Sre's neck to stand on end. It was the sound a dragon made in warning, right when it would attack. Instinct told her that, not knowledge. He laid the shirt of scales over the back of the chair. Under it he wore a thin, stretchy fabric that was designed to keep him dry and avoid chafing. He then pulled his elbow length leather gloves off, tossing them on the chair as well. Sre was surprised to see his powerful forearms covered in scars. He noticed her eyes looking at them almost immediately. "Baby dragons," he said as he rubbed his forearms, "Adorable bundles of death. When they get playful, they give no thought to the fact that we don't have scales like them."

Curiousity gripped Sre. She knew next to nothing about dragons, and yet she was drawn to them with an overwhelming instinct. The thought of baby dragons spark her interest the most. Cautiously, she cleared her throat, speaking very quietly. "How...?" She stopped when Roscrow looked at her. She averted her eyes. Jeboc never allowed her to speak out of turn.

"My dear, with me you can speak freely. 'How' what?" His voice was warm, that accent intoxicating. She could have sat and listened to him speak all day.

"How... big are they? The baby dragons?" Her voice remained hushed.

The smile that spread onto his face was nothing like what he had given Jeboc. It was soothing, made her feel safe. It left Sre wondering how he could be so frigid one moment, then so warm the next. It had to have something to do with his heritage. She had to force down a smile imagining steam rising off him from his sudden emotional change.

Raising his hands, he indicated their size. "Not that big. Like one of those small retrieving dogs the hunters have. Maybe 25 kilos. They tend to impress on the first thing they see. A lot of times, it's their mother. Trying to keep a mother dragon away from her hatchlings when she can hear them calling for her in the egg is nearly impossible. But we get paired to our dragons very soon after birth, almost before they even get all the egg fluid off. We train until we're about 15 years before getting our dragons. Since they don't live past 200 years, we need to be a bit older than they are. But once we have our dragons, we are paired for life."

"So... you've had your dragon since he was a baby?" Sre felt a bit of jealousy. If she had such a beast at her command, Jeboc would be sorry!

"Granger was the largest of his brood. He was so big that the Masters thought to keep him unpaired for breeding purposes only. But he ended up chosing me. 3 others and myself stood before the 5 eggs. I remember his mother, a magnificent white beast, so incredible, scales that shone like the white moon on a still lake. She had the most piercing blue eyes, like she knew more than any of the other dragons. It was said she belonged to a Tamer. But Granger was the first to hatch. He turned his head and looked straight at me. He paid no heed to his mother, to any others in the room. He came right at me from his egg, glared up at me, challenged my very existance with those penetrating eyes of his. I just stared back at him. I don't know how long we stood that way, but when he finally blinked, all the others had hatched. He then sat by my side and wouldn't leave it. When the Masters came to take him, not even commanding in the Ancient Tongue could make him leave me."

Sre watched him, smiling. He was so lost in the memory, absently staring out the window at his magnificent beast. The brute lay in the clearing, wings fanning the air to stay cool as the heat rose steadily. His eyes were slits, always vigilant, always keeping an eye over his talon. Of course Roscrow needed no weapons. His dragon could take on all comers, his size and weight nearly twice that of any the others in the talon.

She suddenly became aware that Roscrow had turned his attention back to her. She'd been staring out the window as well, admiring all the dragons that loitered about. A playful grin split the commander's face as Sre looked down. "I bet you'd like to touch one. You were trying to yesterday."

Remembering how angry he'd been about that, Sre attempted to mutter an apology, but Roscrow waved his hand as if batting it away. He stood, walking over to the window and swinging it open. All it took was a short, sharp whistle. Sre could feel the ground under her feet shake as the massive beast trotted over since he was not tied like the others. The brute had no trouble peering into the second story window. The dragon gave a mumble of greeting to his rider while Roscrow gave him a pat on the thick, bony eye ridge. He then indicated for Sre to approach. Stunned, she walked over slowly, not quite sure about what was happening. Snatching Sre's wrist gently, Roscrow held her hand out to Granger's cheek scales.

The animal was warm and oddly fuzzy, like they had a covering of peach fuzz. She ran her hand over his brow, peering into his massive, all knowing copper eye. As she looked into his eye, she felt like she was spiraling down into that depth, felt like this was right, it was the most natural thing in the world, like she'd petted a million dragons, stared into all their eyes and saw deeper into them than even their riders ever could. With each bellowing breath, she could feel herself filling with life, with an instinct to command, to lead, to draw all the dragons of the world to herself.

"Wonderful, aren't they?"

Sre suddenly snapped out of her trance. She shyly snatched her hand away. With just a brief gesture, Granger let out a groan and strode back to his spot, stopping to peer around as if searching for someone. Indeed, one of the dragons was missing, but no one had noticed the snapped chain, the two guards on duty sitting by the barn playing dice.

As Roscrow closed the window, he glanced at Sre. "They have that velvet on their scales to help keep them warm high up in the atmosphere. It's not much use against the Spindles spitting their fire, but that's what the hard belly scales are for. The Scouter dragons are even furrier, with small tufts of actual fur growing around their scales as well as the fuzz."

He turned to look down on her. She felt smaller than usual under his steady gaze. He took a step toward Sre, making her back away half a step. She stopped herself from going back any further, having been beaten into accepting her "duty," as Jeboc called it. She felt Roscrow's large hand cup the side of her face, his flesh radiating a soothing warmth, unlike the heat of the druken rages of her master. He slowly lifted her face to his, his lips touching hers with a tenderness that left her feeling like she was sinking into him. His hand rested comfortably on her hip, drawing her against his hard body.

The commander suddenly pulled away from the kiss, leaving Sre breathing hard, her whole body tingling. He walked past her, though he turned his head to speak to her. "I would appreciate it if you'd join me for my morning shower. I never can scrub my back very well." His voice was full of mischievious humor, though the commander side of him left a hint of an order to his voice, making Sre feel like she had no choice in the matter.

As she followed him toward the shower room, she watched him shyly, marveling at the olive tone of his skin, the lean muscles that he exposed as he pulled the tight black shirt off. His body was covered in scars making it obvious he'd been in several scuffles. He was not afraid to wield his blade, and certainly not afraid to run that blade through another person, or to have it run through him.

"Why don't you start the water rather than stand there and stare at me?" Sre jumped, not realizing that he had stopped. He raised a brow at her, a good natured smirk on his face. He moved his head to indicate for her to go ahead. She scurried away into the room, figuring he had need of relieving himself as the toilet and shower were seperate.

While the colonists of this world had originally abandoned all modern comforts, a few had made a comeback with all the aliens that came and went, electricity and plumbing being two. For that, Sre was thankful. It wasn't often she got a hot shower, usually having to suffice with a bucket of cold water and a cloth in the barn, but when was she was able to acquire one she was thankful. She turned the water on, testing the drizzle that came down from the thousands of little holes in the ceiling of the shower. The last time she had been in this shower, Malissa and Jerassa had gotten the bright idea to use her for their own twisted entertainment. It sent a shudder through her, thinking of how those two had ordered her to do some disgraceful things to both them and herself in front of them.

So lost in her thoughts, Sre didn't notice Roscrow until he spun her around, pressing her up against the wall, trapping her with his body. She gasped as the cold wall touched her skin. Roscrow used that to kiss her, his tongue invading her mouth with a gentle domination that left Sre breathless and weak. His hands cupped her head, holding her helpless to his passion. She could feel he was hard and ready, his naked body pressed against her. Slowly, his hands caressed down along her neck, making her let out a soft moan, and further still until he gently slipped the straps that held up her dress over her shoulders and down her arms.

A shiver ran through Sre, a remnant memory of their time together when they had first met in the back of her mind that she had tried to hold on to to remember pleasure. But it hadn't taken much for Jeboc to knock such memories from her head. Tensing up, Sre suddenly drew away, gasping for air.

Looking down at her, Roscrow raised his brow quizzically. Sre hung her head in submission, attempting to mutter an apology for her action. Instead, she gave a squeal as Roscrow stepped back under the steaming drizzle, pulling her after him. He chuckled as she panicked, reaching out to stablize herself. He held her protectively, gently stroking her wet hair. With a deep breath, she felt herself relax against him for a moment.

She felt Roscrow's hand gently cup her chin, drawing her face up to him. He touched his lips to hers briefly, his other hand wandering down her body. His expert fingers probbed her intimately, making her let out a sigh against his lips. Pressing her against the wall, he placed a hand above her head to stablize himself as he bent over her, his mouth leaving hers, slowly moving along her jaw and around her ear before heading further down along her neck. All the while, his other hand probbed her, finding the small bud of pleasure that had been so ignored.

As Sre moaned quietly to his touch, the commander suddenly leaned forward, slipping his hands around her thighs and lifting her up, planting her back firmly against the wall. She gasped, feeling completely helpless and yet aroused by it, which confused her. She had to wrap her arms around his neck to feel more stable but he didn't seem to mind at all as he kissed her again, deep and passionately, leaving her gasping for air and squirming in his hands.

When he at last lowered her onto his hard length, she let out a loud moan. He pierced her, driving deeply into her recesses, using his immense strength to bring her up again before letting her drop back down the full length of his shaft. Without warning, Sre's body tightened, a dark wave of acute pleasure ripping through her. She gripped Roscrow with all four limbs, shivering with her sudden climax. She wanted to scream out, but instead she bit down on her lip, swallowing the primal sounds that attempted to escape, letting out only a choked little moan. Jeboc often threatened a severe beating if he ever heard her while with a "customer."

Roscrow slowed, chortling at her. "Someone's a little enthusiastic." He sounded almost sympathatic.

Gasping for air, Sre felt a little ashamed of herself. She thought to apologize, but Roscrow's lips wouldn't allow that. He continued his powerful motion, causing wave after wave of intense sensations tingling through every part of her being. His body pressed tightly against hers, leaving her no room, no where to go but to submit to his driving desire. She panted and moaned, small sobs of pleasure leaving her lips which he hungrily absorbed into his own mouth, even his tongue invading her.

At last, he drew away from the kiss, whispering in her ear as he felt her body tensing again. "Scream for me, wench. No one will hear you in here." The vibration of his voice, heavy with his own lust, reverberated through her whole body. Unable to hold back any longer, Sre allowed the sounds that built up in her escape, feeling her whole body shiver and gyrate on its own with her next climax. The sounds she made drove him on, his body moving to let out his own release.

Mumbling incohorently, Sre laid her forehead against his shoulder, feeling him pulse within her. She again felt his body vibrate with a chuckle, his voice hot against her ear. "Be careful what you wish for." Stars exploded behind Sre's tightly closed eyes, instinctual sounds tearing from her throat. Without meaning, her nails dug into Roscrow's flesh, causing him to give a deep groan of his own.

The steam that rose off them was not from the heat of the water. That had gone cool a while ago. The commander lay his forehead against Sre's, both of them panting. Sre could feel the warmth of him inside her and it made her squirm. Slowly, Roscrow let her down to her feet, holding her steady when she wobbled. They both stood quietly, attempting to clear their wits.

"Gee, all I wanted was for you to scrub my back and here you went and distracted me!" Roscrow snickered, grinning down at Sre. She gave out a shy giggle. In the past 10 months, she hadn't had a whole lot to laugh at. She continued to lean her head against his chest as the cool water washed over them gently. She ran her hand over his smooth chest, totally hairless. Her fingers felt a scar, and she peered up at it, tracing it gently. It was a stab wound, directly where a human heart would be located.

Roscrow laid his large hand over hers. "A lot of people don't realize I'm a quarter Q'Ra. My heart is on the other side and a bit lower. It has saved me a few times."

Sre smiled up at him. "So that's why you're so tall."

He laughed. "Not as tall as my father. The human blood has rather stunted my growth. But it gave me the glowing eyes, the strength to rival 3 men, and a lacking of hair. I can't even grow a beard." He scratched at his chin, mocking himself.

With that, they cleaned up, Roscrow stepping out of the shower to allow Sre a bit of privacy, as if he knew it'd been a month since her last true shower. She scrubbed at her skin with an almost angry fervor, trying to get off any lingering sense of her master and any other man who had touched her without her wanting.

At last, as the water finally began to run cold, she turned it off and peeked around the curtain, wondering why Roscrow had been so quiet. A towel was suddenly dropped over her head. She giggled as he ruffled her hair dry with the towel. He then pulled it from her head and wrapped it around her body, sweeping her off her feet. Squealing with laughter, Sre offered minimal resistance. He smiled at her, a most endearing boyish grin. He then dropped her onto the bed. She let out a small shriek, almost drowned by his deep amusement.

A knock at the door startled them both. Roscrow's head tilted sideways, an irritated glint in his eyes. But he turned and headed for the door. Sre drew the towel around herself a little tighter, praying it wasn't her master. Roscrow swung the door open, letting his broad shoulders relax when he saw it was his friend and lieutenant.

"Sorry to interupt, sir, but I thought I should let you know your dragon, in his infinite vigilance, has discovered Fire Flower had broken her restraints and fled into the woods. I have several of the men out looking now. I was going to get Beaut saddled up to scout for her."

Roscrow let out a thoughtful grumble. "She's probably laying her eggs. If you find her, be careful, Kelvin. Even the Ancient Tongue will have little effect on her if she's so desperate to protect her brood that she would break her bonds and slip away." Kelvin saluted to leave when Roscrow stopped him to add, "Do tell those two sluts that I'd like my breakfast in my room."

Kelvin grinned good naturedly. "You'd prefer their company?" His voice mocked his commander, indication of the deep friendship they had.

Grunting with ill temper of thinking of them, Roscrow growled. "I'd prefer them to that pig of a barkeep."

Kelvin's voice hushed so Sre could almost not hear him. "Beaut doesn't like him either. She's pretty hungry...."

Roscrow glared at his lieutenant. "You don't dare."

Kelvin shrugged, walking away from the conversation, but the barely contained smirk on his face told Roscrow he was only trying to pull strings. Shaking his head, Roscrow closed the door, turning back to Sre.

"Guess Fire Flower is laying her eggs. It's very late for a War dragon but a bit early for a Spindle." He strode over to the bed. She watched him as he sat on the edge of the bed, haunched over with his elbows on his knees. She drew a bit closer to him.

A dark marking on his neck caught her attention. "Um... what's that on your neck?" For a moment she cursed herself for being too bold, but Roscrow turned to look at her quizzically.

Touching the back of his neck, he smiled. "Oh, you mean my family crest." He turned to show it to her better. It was a tattoo in dark red ink that almost blended with his darker colored skin. Within a circle, a stylized War dragon sat proudly on its haunches, in one paw holding a sword, the other resting on a long shield. The shield had an eye on it. The dragon's mouth hung open, exposing its viscious teeth. "It's the crest of the alt Szizander family line. Legend has it we were the guardians, the sworn and sacred army of the original Dragon Tamers. Throughout our history, we pledged our unwavering loyalty to our lords, the Tamers. We would fight beside them in battle, give our lives for them. And then the Tamers began to die out. Soon, the uld Morthar family was wiped out. My mother gave her life for the last of them. But it was to no avail. He and his family simply vanished. His dragon, Granger's mother, was found poisoned. I wasn't old enough to pledge my life at the time, so I never even met him."

Sre gently touched his crest, tracing it. "I have one like it." Roscrow turned to look at her in surprise. Turning so her back was to him, she let the towel slide off. At the very lowest of her back was a black tattoo unlike any Roscrow had seen. Unlike most crests, it wasn't a simple cirlce that created the border. Instead, it was a dozen small dragons, each holding the tail of the one before it in its mouth. Within the circle of dragons, there was a single solid black dragon, wings spread in flight, tail whipping, uncontained by the border. In one outstretched paw was a deadly spear gun, the weapons used against dragons in battle. In the other was a shield. But what really made the crest strange was the black flame that spewed from the dragon's open maw. It ran up her spine a short way. Around the inside of the border were markings, an ancient and mostly dead language.

Roscrow reached out and traced the crest with his finger, making Sre shiver. She looked back at him. "Do you know it?"

"No." He continued to stare at it. "I hadn't seen it the last time."

"You weren't exactly paying attention." Sre tried to lighten his mood.

Glancing up at her, Roscrow offered a meek smile. "You've had this all your life?"

Nodding, Sre turned to look at him. "I often wonder about it. I don't know what the words mean."

"It's in the Ancient Tongue. It means 'Protect, Conquer, and Remain Pure.' Never seen anything like it. I don't know what family it's from. It may not even be from our side. Who knows, you might be a refugee from the Sadgos'Lak nation." He then reached out and caressed her cheek. "Which doesn't bother me. We get refugees all the time."

She thought about it. "I suppose. I don't remember a lot. I just know my father made a big deal of never dealing with the army. But he was always drunk. He finally died when I was 7. I don't even know my last name. It was like he made a point of never letting me find out. I don't remember my mother. He said she died not long after I was born. Some nights, he was so drunk he'd start screaming and swinging at imaginary things. I would hide in the closet or under the bed. But when he was sober, he would tell me that I had to stay hidden, I couldn't ever show anyone my crest. But that seems kind of mute now. I mean, you don't even know it."

A knock at the door interrupted Roscrow's train of thought. He stood again, heading for the door. Sre quickly covered herself with the blankets on the bed. When he opened the door, She could tell by how his muscles tensed that he was not pleased by what he saw.

"Oh, why hello, Commander, sir. I hope we aren't interrupting anything?" Sre gave an inward groan, Malissa's voice carrying into the room easily enough.

Roscrow took a step back, pointing to the table in the room. "Please put the food there." His voice was hard and sharp, his irritation made evident.

Malissa and Jerassa quickly entered, both glaring at Sre as they put the platters of food on the table. Jerassa then turned to Roscrow, her eyes hungrily following the lines of his powerful muscles to where they vanished under the towel he still wore wrapped around his waist. "You know, sir," she said in a hushed, seductive tone, "there's so much more we can offer you...."

Roscrow's black eyes narrowed. It stopped both women in their tracks. He pointed toward the door. "If you two do not leave, I shall have my soldiers remove you. They are not known for their courtesy or tenderness." Then, as a sardonic sidenote, he added, "And I hear the dragons are hungry."

In fear, they both rushed out the door, all but tripping over each other. Roscrow slammed the door behind them, a deep laugh breaking the tension. "Hopefully that will be the end of their irking me!"

Returning to the bed, Roscrow dragged the table over to them with hardly any effort. He poured a glass of juice for both of them. He offered Sre a sweet roll. Despite the fact that she knew she wasn't suppose to, she took the food with gratefulness. It had been a very long time since she'd had a good meal.

An uproar of the dragons made Roscrow curse. He stood and peered out the window. "Oh good, they found Fire Flower. She's not happy about us moving her eggs." He shrugged and came back to sit beside Sre.

"Aren't you going to go make sure no one gets hurt?" Again she hoped she wasn't too bold. But he just shrugged.

"They can handle it. Besides, I'm not much of a commander if I don't eat. And I don't benefit from breathing down the necks of my men. I trust them to be careful." He continued to eat.

"Is... is Granger the father?" Sre looked up at Roscrow with curiousity.

The commander smiled. "One of many broods he's sired. I often tell him he's a lucky bastard." Roscrow chuckled to himself.

"When will the eggs hatch?" Sre nibbled on another sweet roll, more interested in the dragons than the food.

"I'm not sure. For Spindles, they keep their eggs inside their bodies for almost a year, then the eggs hatch in a couple of days fully formed, minitures of their adult selves. But War Dragons only carry the eggs around for 2 months, then lay them and keep them safe for nearly 6 months. When they hatch, they are able to hunt small prey that their mothers bring to the nest alive, like bingku and razja, but not able to fly or really fend for themselves. So the eggs could hatch in a few days, or a few months. No one knows. When cross breeding, there's so many variables. I've heard of other cross breeding attempts, but most have ended in dead hatchlings or severe deformations." Then Roscrow stood, taking a bite of an apple. "One thing always remains the same, though: when they hatch, all baby dragons are starving."

He started to pull his clothing on, readying himself to go down and check on all the commotion. "You stay here. I'll be back in a little while. Duty calls." He leaned over and gave Sre a passionate kiss, long and deep, a promise for what he had planned for the evening. It left her squirming, wishing he didn't have to leave.

Once he was out the door, she felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She hadn't gotten much sleep during the night. Maybe if she just took a nap while he was gone, she'd be rested enough for whatever he intended for them to do in the evening.

[Chapter 3]

Roscrow had watched his men move the eggs one by one back to the tavern. They placed them with infinite care into a large, padded basket. With much effort, Fire Flower's rider was able to keep her calm enough that they could move all the eggs. She continued to hiss and fret.

After a quick inspection of the eggs, all of which were a shiny platnium color, Roscrow came over to Granger. The brute lowered his head, accepting his rider's touch with a mutter of greeting. Roscrow scrached his dragon right under his eyelid where the thick scales turned to skin. Granger's eye closed, a small drop of spittle forming at the corner of his mouth as he purred in pleasure.

"Four eggs with this batch, eh, buddy? You keep going like this and soon half the army will made up of your offspring." Roscrow smiled when Granger murmured to him. War dragons were known to be the most vocal with hundreds of unique sounds. Many times, Roscrow could almost swear he heard Granger talk.

"Living the high life, sir?" Roscrow turned to look up at Kelvin atop his gorgeous dragon, a massive female he had named Beaut. She well deserved the name, her scales the most uniquely irridacent with constantly shifting colors of blue, green, purple, and the occasional pink if the light hit her just right. Her immense gleaming ivory horns curved gracefully around her spiked crown, giving her a regal appearance. There were times that Roscrow felt a bit jealous, but it never lasted long enough to make a full thought in his head.

As the magnificent creature strode over to the commander, she mumbed to Granger. He offered a grunt of greeting, accepting an affectionate nuzzle from the female that was his sister. Out of the whole talon, she was the only one who nearly rivaled him in size. As Roscrow came over to take her reins, Kelvin spoke a word in the Ancient Tongue. Without hesitation, Beaut raised her leg, gently lowering her rider to the ground.

"Ah, you know me, my old friend. I just can't stand the brutality one man can inflict upon another for no damn reason!" He jerked sharply at a strap of Beaut's saddle. The dragon turned her large head to look at him with curiousity. Normally he was a lot calmer. She let out a soothing trill sound that a mother dragon uses to calm her offspring. Having mothered seven broods, she knew all the tricks of the trade. Without meaning to, Roscrow smiled up at Beaut. Her eyes narrowed in satisfaction, considering her job done.

Kelvin chuckled at his dragon. "I'm with you on that one, commander. I would be careful, though, sir. It's not your place to go around saving damsels in distress." Kelvin heaved the heavy saddle off his dragon, handing it off to one of the other soldiers to put it in the barn. Shaking herself, Beaut hunkered down next to Kelvin, stuffing her handlike paws under her chest and curling her thick short tail around her haunches, looking for all the world like a giant, scaly, content cat. While Kelvin wasn't watching, she lowered her head, affectionately mouthing the top of her rider's head. Kelvin immediately started batting at her, but it was too late to save his hair. She looked off into the distance, the most amused and pleased look on her face.

"I swear! One of these days I'll break you of that habit, you damn lizard!" Kelvin swore at his dragon, trying to smooth his hair down.

Roscrow laughed heartily. "She's been doing that to you for the last 32 years, I highly doubt you'll ever break her of it."

Growling, Kelvin couldn't help but grin. "I suppose so."

Roscrow then let out a sigh as they headed over to look at the eggs. "There's just... something about her."

"Oh?" Kelvin peered closely at his friend. "You sure it's not just a knightly desire?"

Roscrow grunted in humor. "No, not even that.

"You know, she has a dragon rider's crest. I've never seen it before. I wonder what family she's from."

"She doesn't know?" Kelvin asked incredulously.

"She says her father would never let her learn her last name. Said he told her it was important that no one see her family crest. It makes me wonder if perhaps he was a traitor to his nation and fled." Roscrow shrugged. "But whatever the reason, her father's burden is not her own. Not in my eyes." He let out a heavy breath. "I just think it's sick that slavery is an acceptable means for reimbursement for finacial debt. whatever happened to the old days my father always speaks of?"

"Those days have died. Ever since the Tamers went into decline and the Dragon Masters began digging their greedy talons into the land and its people." Kelvin gave Roscrow a fond slap on the back. "Don't you think four eggs is kind of odd for a War dragon?" Kelvin changed the subject abruptly.

Roscrow shrugged. "Who knows? Being a halfling, it may be natural. Might want to scout the area, see if you missed one, but I doubt it." He turned away, walking over to the street the tavern was on. The town was tiny, only a few dirt streets and about two dozen houses with a small market. The west side of the town had several acres of farms but nothing too big. He watched as a few of his soldiers headed off into the woods to go hunting, just about the only entertainment here, not to mention the dragons needed feeding.

"I never will understand why the Generals sent us here to wait for further instructions." Kelvin peered around as the townfolk went about the their business.

"Something about staying low profile. Since we're so close to the border to Mardarow they think the Sadgos'Lak Scouters won't risk any further conflicts by crossing their border. For now, Mardarow refuses to get involved, but they won't hesitate to shoot down a Scouter from their neighbors." He gave a sigh. "Get Fire Flower and Blask saddled up. We have to send her back to the Academy. Even if one egg is missing, I doubt they'll care much. All other breeding attempts have failed with others like her. Tell Jander and Mok to get their things. Mok will be very happy to see his family again." There was a twinge of sorrow and longing in the commander's voice.

Kelvin drew closer to him. "I've known you since I was 10 years old, when I slipped into the nest chamber without anyone knowing and Beaut hatched right in front of me. Already I'm starting to look like an old man. You, you've hardly changed since you were 16. That Q'Ra blood of yours will keep you young for many more years than the rest of us. You've got plenty of time to make a family of your own, sir."

Roscrow had to smile at his friend. Patting his shoulder, he turned back to the tavern, heading for the door. Kelvin's chuckle made him stop and turn to glare at his lieutenant.

"All too eager to go back to your bed warmer, eh, commander?"

Grumbling, Roscrow turned away to hide his amusement at Kelvin's mocking tone. He headed up the stairs, though he made a point to glance around, hoping for another chance to put Jeboc in his place. However, the pig was nowhere to be seen, obviously keeping himself well hidden.

Slipping into the room quietly, he found Sre fast asleep on the bed. He pulled off his armor and clothing with barely a sound, slipping into the bed beside her. Sliding silently under the sheets, he smiled down at her sleeping form. She lay on her side, her arms wrapped tightly around a pillow, her legs pulled up as close to her chest as she could get.

With curiousity, Roscrow pulled the sheets away from her naked body, peering a little more closely at her crest. It seemed almost familiar, like he had seen it once so many many years ago. It frustrated him that he couldn't place it.

Sre let out a soft moan, her body shifting slightly in slumber. Roscrow leaned over and feathered his lips along her shoulder. She gave another soft moan, her body unfurling. She sleepily opened her eyes and looked up at the commander. He smiled mischieviously. "There'll be plenty of time for slumber later, my dear...."

********************************************************************

The days went by all too quickly. Before they knew it, a week had passed. The days were hot, the evenings warm. Each day, Roscrow forced himself to leave his room, much less the bed. In order to avoid the sisters and the barkeep, Roscrow brought the food up to his room for Sre. With him, she had already gained some weight.

Her fascination with the dragons fueled most of their conversations, history being the subject of most others. Sre was a quick study, soaking up the information as fast as it could leave his mouth. She was also well versed in ways of pleasuring a man, much to Roscrow's enjoyment.

Laying in bed on his back, Roscrow held Sre close. The warm morning sun shone in on them, pleasant on their naked skin. His hand moved along Sre's smooth skin, feeling her stir awake. He never made her wake up at any particular time, knowing that once he was gone, she would be sleep deprived yet again. Thoughts of his leaving plagued him, knowing what would happen to Sre once he did. But Kelvin's words were true. In this time of war, he had no ability nor any right to free her. He could pay her debt, but where would that leave her? She'd have nothing, be left on her own yet again. For now, no matter how much it hurt him to think of it, here was the best place for her.

"Good morning," Sre spoke softly, smiling at him.

"Ah, all mornings are good with you." Roscrow gave her a gentle squeeze.

A shadow blocked the sun in their window. The dragons honked and roared, snarling and making an aweful ruckus. Startled, Roscrow hurried out of bed, tossing on his clothing as fast as he could. He pulled his boots on just as he opened the door, glancing back at Sre to make sure she stayed before bounding down the stairs.

Reaching the bottom, he could feel his heart sink into his feet. Only one dragon had wings larger than Granger's. The Scouter dragon was a mottled brown color, its belly and underwing a creme. Its body was designed for flight and nothing else. Small, sharp head, very small horns, short neck, a huge, streamlined body, very short legs. Its body was no bigger than a horse, but its wings rivaled any of the War dragons in his talon.

As it folded those immense wings, its short tail lashed, the wing membrane reaching nearly to the tip. It shook its body with a nervous snort as its rider dismounted. Instinctively, it peered around, making sure it wasn't about to be attacked by a War dragon. For eons the War dragons had hunted the Scouters, and even through all the selective breeding, they had yet to remove the instinctual hatred the two species had for each other.

The rider stepped into the tavern. All the soldiers had gone silent. The messenger removed his oxygen mask and thick helm. He looked battle hardened, carrying a sense about him that a veteran soldier would even though he was obviously very young. Those who recieved Scouters were trained very different from those who recieved a War dragon.

"Commander Roscrow?" The young man called out, his green eyes peering around at the soldiers.

"Here." Roscrow stepped forward.

The messenger stood at attention, saluting him. "Sergeant Jerred mac Brian, 6th Scouter brigad. Orders, sir, from the Masters." He pulled out a scrollcase from his belt, offering it out to the commander. Slowly, reluctantly, Roscrow reached out, taking the dreaded scrollcase from the messenger. He popped the seal and pulled out the parchment. Unrolling it with agony, he took a deep breath before reading it.

He abruptly rolled the scroll back up and shoved it back into the case. With pursed lips, he handed the case back to the messenger. "Thank you, sir. You are dismissed." Saluting him again, the young man turned, pulling on his helm and mask. Mounting his dragon, they left in a flurry of dust and small cyclones.

Roscrow stood in the middle of the room, all his men's eyes on him. He knew they held their breathes. They wanted to go home. They'd been fighting for 2 years. Some had not seen their families in 11 months. Turning, Roscrow looked upon his men. "We go to aide our sister nation, Nutherlund." He could feel the anger and disappointment in the air; it stifled him. "We leave in the morn. Ready your dragons and sleep well tonight."

Turning away, Roscrow returned upstairs as everyone stood to get ready to leave. He stopped at the door to his room, taking a deep breath to calm himself. Opening the door, he found her sitting on the bed, reading his battle diary. He had allowed her to read it, and she did when he was drawn away from her by his duties. She looked up at him as he came in. The look on his face told her everything she needed to know. With a sigh, she turned back to the book, but now without interest.

Roscrow sat on the bed, his hand reaching out to cradle Sre's face. She leaned into his touch, closing her eyes. She had hoped, prayed even, that the war would be over before he had to leave. But she knew such wishes could not be fulfilled. In the absence of the Tamers, the nations had fallen into quarrel, the larger ones trying to absorb the smaller ones around them. Already they were down to only a dozen from the 23 at the high point of the Tamers' time.

"You have to go." Sre could feel a tear run down her cheek. Tenderly, Roscrow wiped it away with his thumb.

"I've survived the war this long, love, I'm certain I can survive the rest." He smiled at her, trying to reassure her. But when she looked away, he drew her against him. "There's nothing I can do about your situation right now, my dear. But when this war is over, I promise I'll come back for you. You have my word. I'll come back, take you to the Academy, and we'll find out about your crest. Imagine if you're from a lost family of Dragon Masters. You can always come back and turn that pig into your own slave!" He smiled at her, trying to cheer her up.

She smiled, clinging to him, breathing in his scent. "When do you have to leave?"

"Not until tomorrow morning." Again he thought to cheer her up. "I wonder what we can do between now and then?"

Squirming, Sre giggled. "Oh, I don't know. I'm sure you can think up something."

"It really doesn't take a lot of thought to get it up...." It took no more than a few heartbeats for the clothing to come off. Pushing her to the bed with his lips, he moved over her, his hands caressing all of her, every part of her body, memorizing it.

His lips moved from hers, his teeth nipping at her flesh, his kiss feathering all of her. Every sound she made urged him on, urged him lower, down to her feet where he kissed her arches with great tenderness, slowly continuing back up, following the line of her legs, further up still to the apex where her legs met. Her hands gripped the sheets, her back arching when she felt the heat of his tongue. The sensation was the most exquisite thing she'd ever felt, leaving her breathless.

Even when he was at last done, his mouth moving over the rest of her body, each touch like a sliver of Heaven, she could barely talk, panting and moaning just as he had intended. When he swept into her, time seemed to cease, no sorrowful goodbyes soon to come, no painful, hidden past, only each perfect moment that was gone as soon as the next came to take its place.

By the time the rusty moon spilt its bloody rays through the curtains, the two had exhausted themselves, tangled in each others arms. Rarely did Roscrow allow himself into such a deep state of oblivion, but somehow he felt it was right. Like all the Universe had aligned itself to this moment.

In the darkness of his oblivion, a serpent slithered around him, orange eyes burning themselves into his very soul. He was unable to move as the serpent twisted around him until it had ensnared him, left him breathless.

Guardian's vow.

He could hear the hiss, not in his mind, but in his soul. The serpent grew longer, more dragonlike, those orange eyes piercing him with more effect than any sword. In the darkness he saw a light behind the serpent, it grew as it came toward him, a person who shined, a person on a dragon holding high a speargun, the purest white light he had ever seen.

Vow to this. Your life to this.

The serpent twisted around him tighter, its head coming to block his view of the light, the hissing growing louder as it opened its mouth, lunging at him.

Guardian!

His eyes snapped open. He panted for a moment, not sure what he had just dreamed. He looked down at Sre, her arms still wrapped tightly around him. He smiled, kissing her forehead. He wished he could stay, but the sun demanded his attention.

Slipping from the bed, he got his clothes and armor on, packing his few belongings into his satchel. As he sat on the edge of the bed to pull on his boots, he heard Sre stir behind him. She turned to him, looking up at him drowsily. When he turned to her, she did not meet his gaze. Slowly, he bent down, his hand cupping the back of her neck, drawing her to his lips. In his kiss, there was no need for words. In the tender lock of her lips, he sealed his vow, a promise that gave him reason to survive the war that he was headed back into.

Leaving the room, Roscrow slowly made his way down the stairs, every step leaving a feeling of dread in his heart, like he knew when he would return here again, she would not be here. As he followed his men out the door, he caught a glimpse of Jeboc trying to slip away up the stairs without the soldiers noticing. Only Kelvin turned to see Roscrow bound back into the tavern, saw his commander slam the barkeeper against the wall, his sword flashing in the morning light. He turned away, not caring to imagine the words his friend had for the pig.

Sre watched from the window as Roscrow called his men to attention. Behind him stood Granger, the black beast saddled and ready. Turning, placing on his great horned helm, the commander mounted his dragon with his soldiers. Granger opened his wings with muted creaks and rustles, fanning the air with mighty beats that threw the dust all around himself. In a show of their immense strength, Granger leapt at the sky, rising with great speed. One by one, all the dragons followed suit. They circled the town as they gained altitude until they were lost into the low layer of clouds that had started forming.

Sighing, Sre slipped out of the bed, deciding it was about time she faced her master. As she slipped her dress back on, the door swung open. As if she had summoned him with some dark and twisted magic, Jeboc came into the room with murder in his eyes.

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When night at last came, Sre stumbled to her old bed of hay in the barn. Collapsing, she curled up in agony. It was as if Jeboc had tried to pack a full week's worth of beatings into one day. She couldn't help the choking sobs that tore from her.

A rustle and a hiss made Sre look up, panic gripping her thinking that Jeboc wasn't done with her. Instead, a gorgeously deadly animal looked down at her with bright green eyes. It was a drakon, a mammalian dragon. The creature was the size of a very large draft horse, covered in a thick layer of bright blue fur. The rustle came from its thickly feathered wings. She figured it must have shown up at some point during the day, possibly with the kind old man that shown up not long after the talon had left.

Slowly, the vaguely canine like beast lowered its head, looking at her. "I never will understand homon need ta do bad t'ings ta each odder." The creature had an extremely thick accent.

Sniffling, Sre sat up with great effort. She found it difficult to breathe. The drakon sat dack on its haunches, reaching out a paw in invitation. Sre felt drawn to the female. Its fur was soft and warm, luxuriously plush. Her thick black mane smelled of the forest. Patting her on the back, the drakon let out a soft purr, soothing Sre. She could hear it speak, words she couldn't understand. An unnatural warmth spread through her body. She could feel all her wounds mend. Her pain melted away.

When the warmth ceased, it left her feeling calm. She looked up at the drakon. Its eyes were kind. Being a blue, it had no sense of malice, very much unlike the reds of its species. "My dear homon, I've a gift fer ya."

It stood, trotting over to a corner stall. Sre followed it, peering into the stall. She gasped. The thin rays of the white moon struck a dark platnuim eggshell. The egg was slightly shorter than Sre, oval and fat. "They left it? Is it dead?"

"I 'ould not drag it all t'is way if it be dead, homon. Very alive. Must take care of da boy. My partner will not take wif us." The drakon nodded to the egg she had leaned up against the corner. "I've enough young of my own. No need fer more."

"I... I can't take care of it! What if my master finds out?" Sre felt a spike of fear.

"Ya hide egg. Homons be clever. Ya da best of dem. T'is I know. Come, we sleep. In morn, I leave." The drakon turned to head back to the stall Sre slept in.

Staring at the egg, Sre couldn't help but think of getting rid of it, leaving the egg to the wilds. She couldn't very well keep such a thing hidden forever, certainly not until Roscrow got back! Though as she stared, she felt drawn to the egg, drawn with an inconceivable attraction. She found herself resting her hand on the shell, feeling the life growing inside, innocent to the world outside the thick barrier of its universe.

"Will not hatch faster ta stare."

With a start Sre snapped from her trance. Knowing there was nothing she could do about it tonight, she quickly covered the thing with hay. She would figure out how better to hide it later. Finished, she went to the drakon. It crossed its almost hands before it, raising a wing. Curling up beside the creature, it used its feathered wing as a blanket for her. Curling her long thick tail around Sre, the drakon laid her head on her paws, knowing the serpent in her dreams, bowing in respect to the orange eyes that invaded her slumber.

*******************************************************************

"SRE!"

Waking with a start, Sre realized she was still under the warm wing of the drakon. Stirring, the creature opened its eyes and looked up at Jeboc. He stepped back in a fear he could not hide from the sensitive nose of the drakon.

"Uh, good morn, sir. I don't suppose ye've seen my slave?" He didn't directly meet the steady piercing gaze of the drakon.

Heaving herself into a standing position, long and thin spines rose out of the fur along her tail. She let out a hiss as she pounced before Jeboc, nearly causing him to fall. He slammed his back against the door of the opposite stall. "Touch, and dead ya will be 'fore da fortnight be gone," she growled, her voice eeirely inhuman. She grabbed Jeboc's chin with those paws that resembled hands almost perfectly. Her fingers were long enough to reach his cheeks, which she squeezed, piercing him with that steady stare. "Touch, and dere be no mercy, no fergive. Dragon not fergive. Never fergive...."

"Talosa! Leave the poor man alone! Where are your manners?" The voice of an older man made the drakon back away from Jeboc. Turning, not looking back, the drakon strode toward her partner. After letting the old man onto her back, she strode off down the street, heading out of town.

For the day, the drakon's words had seemed to shake Jeboc. He kept his temper. However, it didn't take long for him to revert back to his usual self. The only thing that gave Sre any comfort was the egg that she checked every night, watching it change from the dark platnuim to a chocolate brown. She didn't know if this was natural, Roscrow had never told her the eggs would change color, but every time she placed her hand against the shell she could inexplictably feel the life within grow more and more restless. Its universe was shrinking fast. It kicked and squirmed in the fluid that kept it suspended. She didn't know how she knew that the tiny dragon felt her presence, she figured it was just a fanciful thought.

As the weeks passed, the two moons peered down at the world below them, watching silently as Sre dragged herself to her bed. Slumping down, she did not bother with checking the egg. Jeboc had sold her services to a very drunk man earlier in the evening. She wanted nothing more than to scrub the feeling of violation from her flesh, but she knew it would do no good. Maybe she'd find some solace in her sleep.

Maybe something like a dragon of the purest white, eyes of a blazing blue. It bore itself with such majesty Sre could not help to weep, its grand ivory horns curving up and around a most regal crown. Looking down at Sre, it drew her to its body. Like a whisper loud enough to echo in her soul, she heard its pristine feminine voice. "My dearest, Sre. Do not fear the coming days. Your father had the foresight to take you away, but not the courage to face his destiny. He lost sight of his courage in his desperation to save you. Forgive him of this. His love for you was absolute. When my children come for you, they will know you and you will know them as you have always known."

The angelic dragon scraped her claws against the ground as she stood. Slowly, she walked away, the pristine light she emitted turning to darkness. Each of her steps sounded louder and louder the further away she walked. "Do not fear...."

Startled awake, it took a moment for Sre to realize the scraping sound was very much real. Sitting up, her heart pounded as she realized the sound came from the egg. The lessons Roscrow had taught her about dragons rang in her ears. She needed to get food for the hatchling.

Leaping to her feet, Sre ran for the cellar doors. She cursed when she found them locked. Thinking, Sre peered into the window, noticing that Jerassa was slumped over the bar, fast asleep. What better way to get back at the bitch than making it seem like she'd slept through a robbery? Silently slipping in, Sre snuck past Jeboc's room into the kitchen. A chunk of pig leg sat on the block, forgotten by the sisters. Sre was certain that Malissa was busy with some patron upstairs. She rarely went to bed alone.

Running back to the barn, Sre stopped before the stall, noticing that the egg had fallen over. It rolled back and forth, the tiny hatchling inside scraping and squealing. With a mighty thrust, the hatchling managed to crack the shell. Sre jumped back as a small flood of egg fluid dumped a squirming black mass at her feet. Wiggling, the hatchling struggled to gain its feet. Reaching down, Sre grabbed the slippery little thing and dragged it to a dry spot on the floor, helping it gain traction.

Sitting up unsteadily, the tiny hatchling peered up at Sre with massive copper eyes. As soon as their gazes locked, Sre could feel a connection deeper and more profound than any she'd ever known. In those innocent eyes, she saw something in herself.

Realizing that the hatchling was shivering, Sre took a horse blanket off a stall door, gently drying the hatchling off. She noticed the tiny black knobs that would one day grow into enormous horns. "So you are a boy. The drakon somehow knew. Well, little boy, I bet you're hungry." He squealed in response. Dropping the pig leg, she smiled as the dragon fell upon it, his teeth already strong enough to crack the bone. He consumed all of it, licking his lips, looking around as if it could find more.

"I'm sorry, little one. That's all I can give you. And I need to go to bed. I'm afraid if I sleep in too late, my master will come in here and find you." She turned and headed back to her bed. When she sat down, pulling her blankets around her, she was surprised to see the hatchling stumbling after her. It let out a loud "Ah-Ah!" before falling over on its unsteady legs. She giggled at the little boy. With great determination, he rose back to his paws and stumbled over her, collapsing onto her legs.

She was about to chide the dragon, but his eyes, much too big for his small head, made her stop. Sighing, she lay down without another word, feeling the hatchling curl up against her, his tiny body producing an unusual amount of heat. Her slumber that night was empty of anymore dreams.

[Chapter 4]

A sharp slap brought Sre back to her dismal reality. She looked up into the ugly red face of her master. Twisted in rage, Jeboc glowered down at her. "Sometimes I think ye enjoy yer beatings, wench!" He started to pull his belt out, readying to beat her.

Sre raised her hands, cringing in fear. "I'm sorry! Please, master, I won't... AH!" She let out a cry of pain when the belt left a stinging welt on her shoulder.

Jeboc pulled the belt back to strike her again... but there was no belt. Surprised, Jeboc turned. He had only a heartbeat to contemplate his miserable life, not even able to scream when he saw the hatred in piercing copper eyes, perfectly white teeth flashing in the morning sun.

Sre couldn't move, her eyes wide in disbelief. The tiny growls of the baby dragon continued even though Jeboc moved no more, his little tail whipping about in rage. He stared at Jeboc's wide, unblinking eyes, his little growls quieting as he realized that the thing was dead. He didn't know what it was he had killed, all he knew was that his mother had been scared. He knew only that he had to protect.

Finally, Sre snapped out of her trance. She had to get out of here. She had to run away, get away from this place. She didn't care to know what would happen to herself or the baby dragon if they were discovered like this. They had to escape together. Now that the baby was born, there was no way she was leaving him alone.

"C'mon, baby," Sre whispered loudly. The hatchling looked up at her in confusion. But he didn't hesitate to chase after his mother as she vanished around the corner, running for the woods. He bounded after her, his legs short and stubby, making him trip a few times. He finally caught up to Sre, letting out a piercing cry of "Ah-Ah!"

Whipping around, Sre clamped his muzzle shut. "Please! Be quiet! Wait until we're gone from here!" The urgency in her voice made him fall silent. As she pressed further into the woods, the hatchling heard the voice of another one like his mother. Curious, he took a step toward the new voice, seeing another human female. But this one he could sense was scared of him. She screamed, backing away. Cocking his head, he let out another "Ah-Ah!" and turned to follow his mother into the woods.

Together, they ran as fast as Sre could. After just a short distance, she had to stop to catch her breath. Yet again, the baby dragon let out a piercing, "Ah-Ah!" before tucking his head under her hand. Smiling, Sre suddenly found that funny. She giggled between her pants. "That is so cute. C'mon, baby, let's keep going."

Grumbling, the baby dragon followed after her. They walked through the woods, stopping only when Sre's feet were too full of splinters for her to continue. Stopping abruptly, she didn't notice the baby dragon had been nearly touching her leg with his nose. When she stopped, he continued, his thick skull protecting him from the impact with her calf. She toppled over with a shriek, the dragon suddenly panicked and trying desperately to get out from under her.

After half a moment of scrambling and flailing about, they managed to untangle themselves from one another. Sre had to guffaw at the whole ordeal, and the massively wide stupifid eyes of the dragon at hearing her laughter which threw her into a deeper fit of giggles. She reached out, petting the hatchling. Somehow, that calmed him down. He cocked is head in curiousity at her, his maw opening and closing, little squeals and sounds emerging, as if he was trying to mimick her. Again Sre laughed, petting him. "You are the cutest little thing I've ever seen."

Sitting down, Sre looked at her feet. They were torn up running on the sharp needles and forest debris. She carefully pulled out the splinters. But she knew they had to continue. Despite her pain, she stood, continuing their journey. As they walked, her last dream seemed so distant. And yet it had been so profound. The words rang in her ears. She thought back to what Roscrow had told her the crest on her back said. "Protect, Conquer, and Remain Pure." Here she was, conquering her fear to protect the little baby dragon. As for the last part, she didn't understand.

Night began to fall. Too dark for her to see, Sre stopped, plopping down next to a large gnarled tree. She let out a sigh. Who was she kidding? She didn't know how to build a fire. She didn't know how to hunt. Both she and the dragon were hungry. He leapt after the glowing bugs that twinkled in the evening air, flapping his tiny wings as hard as he could, his jaws clicking together. His wings were nothing but stubs at the moment. Eventually they would grow to three times his length.

As the night sounds began to prick at Sre and the cold air made her shiver, she curled up into the roots of the tree, watching the hatchling chase and pounce the bugs. She had expected to be a slave until the war was over, and then maybe Roscrow would keep his promise and come back for her, pay her debt to Jeboc and sweep her away on his massive dragon. Instead, fate had intervined into her fantasy and thrust this tiny, helpless creature into her care. In return for her kindness, the baby dragon had done what she had wished for Roscrow to do. In one unbelievable moment, she had been set free.

Her hand slipped up to her collar. Well, not totally free. Should anyone see that collar, they would know her to be a slave. And if her previous master was dead, she was up for grabs by anyone who so fancied to enslave her again. Now that she was free, she would never go back to that life. No matter what, she would rather die than be a slave ever again.

Startled, she felt the hatchling prodding her with his soft equine nose. She looked up at him. Her arms wrapped around his short neck, holding him close much to his surprise. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry I brought you out here. I wish I was better, I wish I was stronger. I can't feed you. I can't even feed myself!"

Feeling her despair, the hatchling trilled soothingly. He offered her cheek a gentle lick. Looking at him, she forced a smile, but it didn't fool him. He let out a shrill honk, flapping his stub wings, his eyes so much like his father's, penetrating and fiercely protective, so full of an indescribible love and trust.

With a powerful bounding leap, the hatchling tore from Sre's grasp and scrabled over the roots of the tree, sprinting after a quick little shadow. Sre gasped, curling closer to the root when she heard the dragon let out a high pitched squeal, heard his tiny little gorwls, another animal obviously giving him grief out there in the dark bushes. The sounds of struggle came to an abrupt end at a loud crack. Shivering, Sre barely breathed. What if it was a larger predator? Ancient human instincts pricked every hair along her neck.

She shrieked in surprise when a mangled body was dropped in front of her. The baby dragon peered down at her, his muzzle covered in blood. "Ah-Ah!" he cried, hopping down off the root. He sat before his kill with immense pride. He looked up at his mother, waiting for her approval. The slow smile of relief crept over her face. She took the hatchling's face into her hands, touching her forehead to his. "How could I have ever doubted? You are the most amazing thing to ever happen in my life." She kissed his nose.

Although eating raw meat was not something she enjoyed, it was better than nothing. At least it would give her energy to continue their journey in the morning. And when that mroning came, they were already back to the walking, moving further and further from the town Sre had grown up in. She didn't care where they went, as long as it was away from there. And anywhere she went, the hatchling followed suit, bounding after her, chasing bugs and various other forest life.

The days seemed to blur together, their travels taking them through the thick forest. They came to a river, which Sre didn't mind wading through. Though it was cold, it helped soothe her aching feet. She used a smooth river stone to scrub at her skin, getting all the dirt off. She cleaned her raggy dress, the only clothing she had. One of the straps had torn, so she had to tie them together.

Past the river, they continued along, the days becoming weeks. The hatchling was growing at an alarming speed. Already, he was at her hip, his wings almost as long as his arms. His neck had lengthened, thinner and longer than a normal War dragon. His crest was starting to grow in, the spines that lined the crest poking out, their sharp points offering his skull protection. Unlike his father, a row of thin spikes began to protrude along his neck, making it impossible to pet him. The double fangs of the War dragon became more and more pronounced every time she saw him yawn. His face elongated, not staying the short thick jaw of the War. His copper eyes sat only slightly further apart, offering him a greater range of sight. The purple stripes along his back became more vivd, reminding Sre of the brandings of his mother. His paws changed, looking more and more like hands. His scales hardened, clicking together, never growing that layer of fuzz as she remembered the other War dragons had. But it seemed he didn't need that extra warmth. The older he got, the more heat he seemed to produce.

Sre didn't understand the extra heat, but was thankful for it as the nights grew colder and colder. Winter would set upon them soon enough. They had traveled for nearly a month, and still nothing as far as a town or shelter. They found themselves on a long, calm stretch of soft sand, the ocean waves lapping up the beach in steady pulses.

Sre laughed as she watched the hatchling bark at the waves, then gallope away in fear as they moved up the beach. To show him the water was harmless, Sre went down to where the waves could lap gently at her feet. The hatchling gave a panicked "Ah-Ah!" when he saw the water engulf her feet. But when it pulled away, her feet were still there. Curiously, the hatchling moved toward her. She just smiled and continued walking through the surf, giggling as he realized it was the most amazing thing ever! He went galloping through the water, chasing the sprays he threw up. He chased the seaweed, the birds that screamed at him, and even the foam as the water drew away.

When evening began to fall, Sre headed back in the woods. With the sounds of ocean far away, she flopped to the ground. Exhausted with his day of play, the baby also collapsed. Sre started gathering some leaves together to make a bed when the world exploded into flame. Leaping back with a scream, Sre realized that the baby dragon had sneezed. A number of leaves had caught fire. Thinking fast, Sre gathered them up and added more, along with some twigs. She soon enough had a decent little fire burning steadily. She swept away any other leaves to assure it didn't spread.

Grinning to herself, she turned to look at her baby dragon. He had a finger stuck knuckle deep in a nostril, trying to rid himself of whatever it was that was annoying his sensitive sinuses. Guffawing, Sre couldn't help but leaning over and kissing her dragon on the head. He peered up her in surprise, not sure what had earned him her approval. "It's like you're my hero! How lucky can I be to have a fire breathing dragon?" She giggled as she sat by the warm fire.

The baby curled up beside her, trilling softly in contentment. Despite her aching feet, her lack of clothing, the heavy collar around her neck, and her rumbling tummy, she couldn't remember a time she was happier than right now, looking down on the baby dragon. She was his whole world, his everything. And she was quickly finding that she felt the same way about him.
Laying beside him, she found that her slumber was peaceful, even the fiery little black coal that sat at her feet offered her a sense of calm. Before, she had never understood the meaning of this dream. But now, she knew the coal for what it was. She reached down and held it against her bossom, cradling it as it grew and changed and its copper eyes pierced her, staring more deeply into her than anything ever had. A pure, shining string floated between them, the string connecting her heart to the flaming black beast.

A sharp prod brought her out of her dream suddenly. She squirmed, not quite awake. Opening her eyes, all hint of sleep left her in an instant. She looked around her in panic. Three men stood around her, their garb making them hunters. They grinned at the look on her face.

"Well, well, what've we here? A run away!" The tallest one by her feet used the end of his long bow to push her torn dress up her thighs. She sat up, trying to keep herself covered, which made him chuckle.

"I wonder how much of a reward we can get for her?" The youngest of them rubbed his hands together, thinking of money.

"I really don't care to drag her into town. I'd much rather just enjoy her right out here." The tall one squatted down, reaching out to pull a strap of her dress off her shoulder. She cringed from his hand, backing away, only to bump into the hunter with the blonde hair. He reached down and took and handful of her hair, jerking her head back.

"Please, please leave me alone!" She whimpered when the blonde haired one jerked her head back further, leaving her open and helpless to the exploring hands of the tall one. With a desperate cry, determined never to be used again, Sre kicked out, thrashing madly.

The tall one struggled with her, trying to hold onto her as she thrashed. He pulled out a knife, holding it against her throat. "Hold still, bitch! The more you struggle the worse it'll be!"

She felt tears in her eyes as his hands touched her, violating her. In one last attempt to escape, she let out a shriek, her legs trying to kick the man off her. He was about to curse her when it seemed like the whole world had caught fire. The deafening sound muted the terrified cries.

Before Sre's eyes, the baby dragon lunged through the fire of his own making, the flames licking up around him, catching on the dried seaweed that hung on him. His fangs flashed, sinking into the throat of the first hunter. The other two screamed, turning to flee. The baby dragon let out a crackling roar, his voice still too high pitched and young.

The seaweed burned harmlessly on his thick hard scales, drifting to the ground. Looking around them, Sre knew they had to get away as the fire spread, the black smoke causing her to cough. She waved to the hatchling, motioning for him to follow her for her throat was already too hoarse to talk. Together they ran into the woods, moving as fast as they could. Luckily, they were able to run upwind, watching the fire spread too fast for anyone downwind to escape.

Making their way up a ridge, Sre liked to pretend she could hear the other two hunters scream as they were consumed by her dragon's fire. Kneeling down, Sre held her dragon's head in her hands, touching her forehead to his. She felt tears of joy and relief in her eyes as she rocked back and forth. "You are my hero. My little fiery hero. My Hero."

She kissed his head before continuing on over the hill into a new expanse of forest.

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In the morning, they came across a small stream. Her skin crawling from the day before, Sre pulled off her dress and used a smooth stone to scrub her skin, trying to remove the sensation of the hunters' touch from her flesh. Downstream, Hero swiped at the bugs that skimmed the surface of the calmer pools, growling in frustration that he couldn't seem to catch a single one.

With a final, angry snort, Hero opened his mouth and spewed a cloud of fire over the surface of the water. With a cry, Sre reached out and fearlessly clamped his mouth shut. "Hero! Just because you can breathe fire doesn't mean you gotta burn everything you don't like!" She made her dragon look in her eyes. "You gotta learn how to use it wisely. If you go around burning everything, there won't be anything left to play with." She patted his head when he let out a whimper, thinking he had somehow upsetted his mother. She went back to cleaning herself off.

"Been a long time since I've seen a naked woman." Sre jumped, her head whipping around at the sound of very frail voice. An elderly man stood at the top of the stream bank looking down at her. He was so old that he leaned heavily on his thick walking staff. His grey eyes were nearly lost beneath his wrinkles. He wore a very simple brown robe.

Hero suddenly snarled, bounding up the bank. Before Sre could say anything, she heard the old man speak a word, something timeless and magical. With a groan, Hero collapsed to the ground, but he continued to snarl, his eyes promising death to the old man.

Slowly, the old man hobbled down the bank toward Sre. Desperately, Sre gathered up her dress, holding it against her naked body. "Come, come, child, I have seen more than enough naked women in my time." The old man waved his hand to Sre, motioning her closer. As she hesitantly approached, the old man shrugged his robe off, gently laying it around Sre's shoulders. "Come along, child. No sense in you catching your death out here. Your friend can come, too, if he behaves." He turned Sre up toward the bank, hobbling along beside her. He had to pause to tuck his long tunic through the belt of his trousers. "Oh my, so rude of me. So rude. I'm normally much better dressed in the presence of a Lady of the Crest. Do forgive an old man."

Sre smiled shyly, not sure what the old man was talking about. He turned to Hero, waving his hand with a word in that language he had used to keep him on the ground. Like a spring Hero leapt to his paws, snarling. Sre cast him a glare. This man was so old he was hardly a threat, even Sre could have broken him in half if she needed to. Slowly, Hero calmed down, feeling the disapproval of his mother. With a grumble, he followed, staying close to Sre's side.

"Such a lovely little one, you have there, m'lady. Lovely indeed. Very fitting for one such as yourself." The old man rambled on, leading her gently through the woods.

"Do... do you know about dragons?" Sre asked him hesitantly.

"Oh, yes! Oh, I had a beauty, myself, I did! She was my angel of death, my whole world. We flew the skies for years, we did. Until the Masters cast us out, they did." He sounded a bit bitter about that. "Ah, here we are. Come, come, child, come inside by the fire. Sit here, let me make you some tea to warm you up. Do forgive the mess, I have not had any visitors in a long while." The old man got busy clanging and bumping around as he got to making a kettle of tea.

"Why... why did they cast you out, sir?" Sre hoped he wouldn't be angry by her asking, but it seemed odd to her for the army to cast out anyone.

"Crazy, they said! Said I was crazy! Yes, yes, said I'd gone mad. But I knew, I knew, I always knew. I told them, the Masters. They said I was crazy, told me to stay quiet! But no, I wouldn't! So they took my Angel from me. Took her and cast me out. Said they would keep her safe, but she killed herself. Strangled herself on her own chains." He paused a moment, his eyes distant.

Sre sat quietly. Obviously the pain of his dragon's loss was still strong. Even now Sre couldn't imagine losing Hero. She couldn't think of anything more horrible. It wasn't like losing a pet, or even a loved one or family member. It was like losing a piece of one's soul. Hero looked up at her, feeling her sadness. He tucked his head under her hand with softly muttered, "Ah-Ah."

That seemed to break the old man from his trance. He let out a chuckle. "Must have gotten him very young, very young indeed. They don't say that to people. My Angel said that, though. She would call me that."

The kettle began to whistle. Hero's scales clicked in alarm at the sound. Sre patted his head to calm him. "It's alright, Hero. It won't hurt you."

"Hero, eh? Good name. Excellent name! I'm certain it will define his life." The old man babbled as he poured the steaming water into two cups, dipping a small metal ball with pungent herbs into the water, leaving the concoction to seep. He was about to sit in the chair on the oppsoite side of the small table when he suddenly stood back up. "Oh, forgive, m'lady, my manners have slipped! I forgot the most important thing!" Holding tightly to his staff, the old man bowed. "Jermin vlad Plostadin, at your service, m'lady."

"Um, Sre, sir. You-you were saying you knew something? And they called you crazy. Why would they call you crazy?" Something told Sre she had to know.

"Oh, the assassinations! Yes, yes, Masters said I was crazy to think Tamers would kill Tamers. Thought I was nuts! Crazy, crazy, crazy...." He mumbled, seemingly lost in thought suddenly.

"Tamers killing Tamers, sir?"

"Hmm? Oh yes! Greed drives the human heart in these days. Evil lives in the heart of the Masters. But this you know. You know, it's why you're out here. You and Hero, to get away from the killers, hiding amongst them!" Jermin suddenly started to cough.

"What do you mean? I don't know anything about this. I don't even know my last name.... Sir? Sir? Are you alright?"

Sre had never seen a seizure before. Hero leapt back, his eyes wide. Going to the old man's side, Sre tried to help, tried to hold his head steady to stop him from hitting it on the floor. After a few terrifying moments, the old man's thrashing ceased. His eyes stared straight up, rapidly glassing over. "Morthar." The word carried itself on his last breath.

Shaking, Sre backed away from his dead body. She thought of leaving this place. She didn't want to be where someone had died before her eyes. But looking around, she had to admit that this was probably the best place she could be. Winter was closing in fast and she needed shelter. Somehow, the longer she stood there thinking about it, the more plausible it seemed to her.

With as much respect and care as she could manage, Sre dragged the old man's body out into the woods. He wasn't very heavy. He had probably been dying for a very long time, being skin and bone as he was. Finding a shovel, Sre dug a shallow grave. She laid him in with care, folding his arms. After a brief prayer for his blessings to live in his house, she buried him, and headed back to the house.

Hero had already decided that the house was his. She found him curled up on the bed. Sighing, Sre left him and went about the morbid chore of going through the old man's belongings. There wasn't much. She hoped to find something about what he had said, why he had called her a Lady of the Crest. But his sparse belongings were very simple, only for survival.

Slowly, the sun began to set. Sre had finally cleaned the house up to how she wanted it, sweeping the floor and using her old dress as a rag to dust all the empty shelves. There was a small shed on the side of the house where wood was kept. There wasn't much, only a few dozen logs left. Tossing a couple of logs in the fireplace, Sre found some jerky and filled her belly, offering some to Hero. Curling up with her dragon on the small bed, Sre fell into dreamless sleep.

[Chapter 5]

The winter was chilly, filled with rain. The days were dreary, the sky always overcast. Night came fast. The only food Sre was able to find were the tubers that Jermin had had growing in a small cleared patch beside the house. Hero was loathe to go outside, but on the days when it didn't rain, he'd go run outside and disappear into the woods. A few hours later, he'd come back with a rabbit or some other small animal. There wouldn't be much meat left after Hero was done, but at least Sre would be able to make a broth, chopping up the tubers and making a meager soup.

After a month of this, the weather offered a short break. Going down to the stream, which had swelled with all the rain, Sre took the bedding down and washed them, along with some of the clothing she had started using. Hero had run off to find something to hunt. Sre didn't mind. She worried sometimes, afraid someone would find him and try to hurt him, but then she'd remember how fierce he could be, even hours after hatching.

So lost in thought, Sre didn't notice someone approach until a long shadow fell over her. Gasping, she looked up, dropping the shirt she'd been holding. On the other side of the stream, a giant black lizard looked down at her, its piercing yellow eyes staring at her in curiousity. The lizard beast stood on its powerful hind legs, a belt around its waist with many pouches, and a long wide strip of cloth tucked into it that offered only the most modest covering. The head sported two backward curving horns and many small spikes along the jaw. In a strong hand the lizard man held a long bow.

Sre had never seen one like it. She knew there were all kinds of aliens on the world, but she'd seen only a few, and none so different. The lizard man started down the bank toward her, its thick tail swaying to help it stay balanced. Sre turned to run. She'd rather get a head start than wait and see if it was friendly. But the lizard man's thick voice made her stop.

"You are new. Isss Jermin dead?"

Slowly, Sre turned to look up at the lizard that was easily taller than even Roscrow. It bent its long neck to look down at her. Various bits of ornamental chains and jewels hung from its horns and spikes. Across its chest was what looked like a tattoo of four claw marks. The scales of its body were more pliable than those of a dragon's, more like a serpent.

"Y-yes. He... he died. He let me in his house, and then he just... died." Realizing how bad that sounded, she added in a panic, "I swear I didn't do it!"

The lizard man flicked his wrist, showing he didn't care. "He wasss old. It would have happened without you." His thick voice hissed. Though he spoke her language well enough, it was obvious it was difficult for him. "Name?"

Shyly, Sre told him. He peered at her curiously. "Ssslave," he hissed, pointing to her collar.

Her hand wrapped around it, fear pounding in her chest. What if this beast tried to enslave her? He walked over to her, his clawed feet easily finding traction on the slippery rocks of the stream, the water not quite reaching his long ankles. He stared down at her with those unnerving eyes, making her too scared to even try to run.

"My people do not like ssslavery." He sniffed the air over her. "You are hungry." Sre looked at him in surprise, wondering if he could smell that. As if reading her thought, he added, "Your ssstomach makesss loud noisssesss." He strode past her, heading the way of the small cabin. Quickly gathering the clothing and bedding that she had cleaned, she hurried after him.

Just as she caught up to him, she saw Hero leap out of a bush. He snarled at the lizard man. The alien, however, did not seem at all surprised. Those eyes of his stared down at Hero. Slowly, the dragon quieted his snarls. With a whimper, he sat down in front of the alien, looking at his mother with a quizzical expression. "Your dragon?"

"Yes. That's Hero." Nodding, the lizard man continued to the cabin. Sre and Hero followed him, cautiously looking into the cabin as the alien had to bend over to move about inside.

"Um... can-can I ask your name, sir?" Sre watched as he rifled through the drawers beside the bed.

"Humansss call me Black. Sssarlykien name too complexss." He finally found what he was looking for. It was a necklace made of teeth and bones. Sre had not bothered to touch it. Black carefully wrapped it around his throat, tying it. "Jermin leave thisss for me, sssaid it would presssent for human Yule. He dead now. I'll take. Will alwaysss remember. Crazy human. But good, kind. Alwaysss niccce." Then the Sarlykien peered at her. "You come in? Thisss your home now."

Cautiously, Sre came in. She sat in the chair, looking at the Sarlykien that had to kneel in the middle of the room. "Have you lived out here for long?" she asked nervously.

"Many yearsss. I come here to hunt. Out here to be alone. I sssee Jermin when I want to talk. Sssometimesss I sssee other huntersss. But not asss niccce. You know how to hunt?" His yellow eyes studied her.

"No. I've never hunted before."

For the next few hours, Sre explained how she had come to be here and how she had come upon Hero, who just curled up next to the fire. After listening silently, Black tilted his head at her.

"Tomorrow, we hunt. I teach you everything. Hunt and make you clothesss. Go fish and learn to fight. You know thessse thingsss. I come back in the morning. You sssleep now, little human." He nodded to her, making his way out. Without another word, he vanished into the rain that had started to fall lazily.

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Spring was in the air. Sre could smell it. It was still chilly but not so bad. At least not with her thick clothing and the luxurious cloak Black had taught her to make. He had shown her how to hunt, how to fish, how to skin, and how to sew. He had given her a stick and let her take a few free swings at him. Sre very quickly learned that Sarlykien didn't laugh. Their heads would rock side to side. So great had been his amusement at her attempts to harm him, he'd nearly made himself dizzy.

But she had learned and fast. He said she had a talent unlike any he had seen in other humans. She had a keen instinct. He picked up on it and trained her to use it, trained her to pay attention to it. It had been grueling, but it had all paid off.

Leaving the cabin, Sre smiled when Hero pounced at her from behind a tree. He had grown too big for the cabin over the winter. He could easily look down on her. He could almost look Black in the eyes. He respected the Sarlykien. And Black respected him. Even Hero had learned much. He understood more and more of what was said to him, learned to obey commands. As he was still small enough, he had come on their hunts, stalking along with them. Unfortunately, he often would leap out too soon, forgetting that he was suppose to be hunting, thinking only to chase his prey around to play with it.

As the spring came, Black took Sre to the town that was a full day's walk from the cabin. He told her to keep her cloak tight around her throat. He did not like the thought of slavery any more than she did. He said it brought the worse out of humans. Sre couldn't help but agree with him.

They spent the night near the outskirts of town before heading in in the morning. Black strode with great dignity into town. People greeted him, asking him how the game count was out in the woods, asking if he had heard any interesting stories. He only stopped when a small crowd of children swarmed him. Much to Sre's surprise, the Sarlykien had a tender spot for children. Over one shoulder he carried a load of furs, while on the other he carried a little girl who squealed with delight, the other children asking for rides.

When they reached the tavern, Black gently placed the little girl down. He patted her head when she pouted before ducking into the building. Sre hesitated. She had lived too long in a tavern. But the Groggy Dragon Tavern didn't feel like the one she was used to. It was open and airy, and the sound of merriment and lilting song drifted out, along with a waft of something wonderfully spicy. Finally, Sre entered after Black.

The Sarlykien was already at the bar, looking down at the tavern owner. He was short little man, shorter than Sre. She realized that he was a Balsothian, a race of dwarves. He boasted a thick beard, but a bald head, showing his age. He looked through the furs, a smile on his face.

"Very nice, very nice, I'll take them all. Here you go, my dear friend." The dwarf leaned over, offering Black a small pouch of coins. Then he noticed Sre. "Why, who do we have here? Black, I didn't know you had an affinity for humans!"

"Thisss isss a friend, nothing more. Sssre, thisss be Derikel. He isss a friend. He paysss bessst for the fursss." Black introduced them.

"Only from you, my friend. Here, why don't you remove that heavy cloak...?"

Sre stepped away from the little man. "No."

It was all she needed to say. Derikel held up his hands, backing away. "No problem, no problem. How about you take a seat and I'll bring you both a meal? On the house. Think of it as a show of goodwill and friendship!" Derikel had them sit at the bar, turning to call into the kitchen. Not soon after, he brought out a plate of food that Sre couldn't help but gulp down the extra saliva. Derikel smiled kindly at her. "Eat up! Looks like you need it, my dear."

After they had eaten, Sre cleaning her plate, Black thanked Derikel, leading Sre out of the tavern. He took her toward the market. This town was much bigger and more lively than the sleepy little town Sre had grown up in. There was much bustling and running about, jesters in the street, musicians, magicians, and other interesting characters. Dogs barked and children ran about underfoot. Sre stayed close to Black, not wanting to get lost.

At last they came to the market street. Black stopped, turning to Sre. He took her hand and placed the bag of coins into it. "Thisss I give to you. Ssspend wisssely. The humansss here are very friendly. Do not be afraid. I come back later, when sssun ssstartsss going down." With that, he headed off further into town.

A little nervous, Sre slowly made her way through the market. She peered at all the various things, useful and shiny, food and cloth and equipment. She didn't really know what she needed. A cloth vendor caught her eye. She went over, looking through the types of cloth, wondering what kinds of clothes she could make.

"I think the blue cloth would go with your eyes." Sre looked up at the voice. A handsome young man leaned against the hutch of the bread saler next to the cloth vender. His warm brown eyes looked her up and down. He reached out a hand. "I'm Jasper Dukasen. May I know the name of the pretty lady?"

Shocked for a few heartbeats, Sre shyly offered her hand in return. "Um, Sre." How silly that sounded. She had to curse herself.

"Lovely name." Jasper took her hand and bent down to kiss the back of it. Sre's other hand slipped up to the thick clasp of her cloak, making sure it hid her collar even though the hood had fallen back. Jasper stood back up. "I still think the blue would accent your eyes. Or maybe this, it would go well with your hair."

"Jasper! Get over here and help your old father! I'm not as strong as I used to be." Jasper's eyes rolled back into his head.

"I'll be back in a little bit. Please excuse me." He went into the small bakery that was attached to the hutch and stand.

With a smile, Sre decided to get the fabric that Jasper had mentioned. She then quickly lost herself into the crowd before he could return.

By the time the day was over, Sre was tired. It had been a long time since she'd been around so many people and so much noise. Finding her way to the edge of town before the fields, she stood near a ceramic shop, peering in at the pretty plates and cups and sculptures.

"Fancy finding you here." Sre turned to find Jasper standing by the street that led out of town toward a large house in the middle of a field of green wheat. He held several large bags in his hands. He smiled at her when she turned her eyes away shyly. "You'd slipped away before we could get to know each other better." He came over to Sre. Noticing that she didn't know what to say, he leaned forward, putting the bags on the ground. He reached in, pulled out a sweet roll. "I was going to offer you one before my father called me in to help."

"Are you sure? Won't your father be mad?" Sre peered up at him, not wanting to take something that would get him in trouble.

"Nah. At the end of the day, whatever we can't sell we bring home for the chickens and cows. I think it's better if it goes to you, though." He smiled again.

Hesitantly, Sre took the roll from him. She took a small bite, surprised by how good it was. "Did you make this?"

"I make most of the bread. My father is getting old and can't do as much anymore."

"Sssre." Black's hiss startled them both. The Sarlykien melted out of the darkness into the light given off by the street lamp overhead. He peered down at Jasper with his penetrating gaze. The young man was taken aback.

"While, I, uh, I guess I'll see you around, Sre. Safe travels." He offered a bow before picking up his bags and heading off toward his house.

Black snorted after Jasper. Sre glared at him. "He was being nice!"

"Hardly. He wasss interesssted in mating. He would not be ssso afraid of me otherwissse. Now come, let'sss leave." Together, they headed into the woods. Sre turned to look back at the house in the middle of the field. Maybe Black was right, but she couldn't help to smile. Maybe she'd come into town again sooner rather than later.