Untitled (suggest a title) Part 5

PART 8



The Veil Steeds moved like air beneath them, at first the sensation was uncomfortable, feeling the airy power between her thighs made her uneasy, but once they began stampeding forward Shymoora began to feel exhilarated. They bent low over the beasts as they whipped through the trees silently, night illuminated by the creatures’ bodies, providing a sight that would give birth to tales. The steeds would turn a journey of three days on foot into a ride that would take only hours. So fast they were, the scenery around them was no more than a blur. Shymoora suppressed a giggle of delight, this was an experience she doubted many had. Even Draven seemed surprised and excited when Brayah led one of the steeds to him, his eyes lit with something close to respect. It made Shymoora hopeful that the two would find a peace between them. A chilling screech sliced through Shymoora’s thoughts, and she angled her head to glance behind her, there, not far out, was a shadow was gliding behind her, gaining on her. It whipped left and right around the trees like a blanket of darkness.



“Chetaka!” Connar shouted, Shymoora clung to her steed willing it to go faster but it was too late, suddenly a force slammed into her right side knocking her from the beast and sending her into a spinning fall, she grasped in the air to no avail, a terrified scream tore from her lips. “Shymoora!” Then the impact, bone jarring, as she struck an unmoving object with her left side, the sick crunch and sharp pain that vibrated in her body caused her to cry out again as she slid down to the ground into a moaning disoriented heap. For a moment no sound but the wild boom of her heart touched her ears, and her eyes slid out of focus, but another screech from the Chetaka pulled her fully alert and she stumbled painfully to her feet, bracing her arm on the trunk of the great tree she had collided with moments before. Before her the shadows dropped from the sky and took on a terrifying form, half man half beast, with flowing shadows for hair and dripping fangs pointed downward from their twisted mouths. They circled, their arms transforming into long blades. She glimpsed Draven and Connar as they leapt from their steeds and dashed toward her. Her mind went suddenly blank, her breath caught, she didn’t want to die.



Connar pushed his legs as fast as they would go, his heart was encased in terror. His eyes found Shymoora and latched onto her as he pounded forward, faster. Then he heard her scream, it shook his core, gripped him like a cold vice, the lavender magic swirled around her and her body contorted painfully. Yes, he thought, and growled in agreement as he called upon his kinspirit, give me strength.



Shymoora howled with the torturous pain her transformation caused as the magic blinded out everything and her body began to twist with the sickening echo of cracking bone. When the haze lifted she crouched and growled a warning. She could smell the stench of evil as it rolled off of the circling Chetaka. “Die…” She hissed and as if on cue one of the gnarled demons leapt at her, she leapt to meet it mid air, ignoring the sharp pain that course through her left side, her deadly claws struck out, sinking into the demon as she pulled it into her grasp and sank her fangs into its throat, tearing at its corrupted flesh. With a roar she tossed the useless body aside, the death spurred a frenzy in the remaining Chetaka and seemingly at once they leapt forward, surging inward. Just as her claws sliced over another chilling body the roar of another night stalker rang out and she spied it as it soared over head, landing gracefully at her side, howls of distress pulled her attention forward and her eyes met with a great bear barreling toward them, mauling anything in its path. The battle from there was quick, the remaining three Chetaka screamed as they were ripped apart by the bear. Silence followed. And then Shymoora collapsed with a whine. “Pain…” she hissed as her eyes closed and she sank into nothingness.



“Shy!” Draven gasped, as the lavender magic swirled about the three of them, giving their true forms back. He kneeled and touched Shymoora’s pale throat. “She’s alive.” He breathed as Connar joined him.



“She took a hard hit.” He growled, glancing up to see all three steeds stood nearby. “We need to continue, we have no healer with us.” He said quietly.



Draven nodded. “Take her, she will ride with you.” He ground out. Connar frowned but bent to cradle Shymoora’s limp form as instructed. Her lightness struck him, as he looked down at her she was indeed frail, as he had said, but moments before he had seen her fierceness, even in pain she was strong and deadly. He was wrong about this girl. The knowledge did not sit well. With a grumble he strode carefully to the waiting Veil Steed. “I am going to ride ahead, it’s not far, I will bring a healer.” Draven said gruffly. “Do not let any harm come to her.” He added as he leapt onto the steed and spurred it into a full run.



It took some maneuvering but after a few minutes Connar had managed to tie Shymoora’s steed to his own, and gotten onto the back of his with her cradled against his chest, her head bobbed against his arm and she groaned and stiffened on a few occasions but other then that the quick ride went smoothly. While she slept, unaware of her position against his thigh, he was left to grit his teeth against the warm sensation of her softness bumping into him. He let one arm come around her, holding her close, careful not to apply too much pressure, the feeling of her tucked into him was startling. Right. The small voice cooed, perfect. He shook his head and spurred the steed to forward, his eyes latched coldly before him on the black night and shimmering snow underfoot. How long would he be made to suffer this closeness? His question was answered a quarter hour later, nerves raw and acheing he breathed a sigh of relief when Draven rode forward with a small grey man clinging to his back. He reined the steed, allowing them to draw up next to him. “Finally.” He growled.



“Worried?” Draven asked with a lift of his brow. With a warning glance Connar turned Shymoora in his arms, exposing her shivering form to the healer that leaned toward them from behind Draven.



“Broken.” The old man muttered. “I can fix, must get her back first.” He added with a curt nod. Connar almost groaned.



“How far?” He asked sharply.



“Not far, come.” Draven answered and pulled his steed around. True to his word, the outpost was only a few minutes ahead, Connar suppressed a sigh of relief as Draven removed Shymoora from his arms, but when the closness was broken he shivered. “Inside.” Draven said then, as he turned and carried Shymoora’s limp body into the small wooden house they stopped in front of. Connar rolled his shoulders, they were stiff from forced gentlness.



“Out!” He heard the healer croak moments before Draven reappeared with a frown. Connar chuckled and came to stand beside his friend.



“We wait.” Draven grumbled. “Let’s head to the mess, we can get a hot meal there.” He added.







Shymoora awoke, groggy and disoriented. The pain in her side caused her to catch her breath. She groaned and rolled slightly.



“Careful.” Came a familiar voice. Slowly Shymoora opened her eyes, blinking against the brightness of the room, it took a moment for force her vision to focus on the shadowed form before her but when she did she frowned. Connar.



“Where is Draven…” she whispered.



“Resting.” Connar answered simply. “How do you feel?” He asked as he moved to pour some kind of steaming liquid into a mug and returned to her holding it out. “Here.” Shymoora lifted her left arm and was instantly met with a sharp pain that shot through her side. She shook her head. “Easy, you broke the ribs on your left side. They are mending now, in a day or so all that will remain is a nasty bruise.” Connar told her as he placed the warm mug in her right hand and lifted it to her lips. She breathed contentedly when the spicy sweet cider flowed into her mouth, it was delicious and comforting. Connar took the mug and set it down on the table beside the small bed. “You gave Draven quite a scare.” Connar commented as he sat down on the corner of the bed and gazed down at her. “He cares for you a great deal.”



“It isn’t like that.” Shymoora groaned and closed her eyes, at least she hoped. She felt Connar shrug.



“It has nothing to do with me at any rate.” He said.



“Thank you.” Shymoora breathed with her eyes still closed.



“For what?” Connar asked as he gazed down at Shymoora’s soft face, her skin was beginning to shimmer again, which flooded him with surprising relief.



“For saving me.” She said. Connar smiled, he had come to her rescue hadn’t he? No thought was to it, it was sheer emotion that sent him racing toward her and a drive to protect. Perhaps Draven was right about Shymoora, perhaps she was everything the Blood Wardens hoped her to be. In two days they would know, one way or another.



“You are smiling.” Shymoora commented, bringing Connar’s attention back to her, his eyes found her green gaze watching him curiously. Someone could get lost in those ever-changing eyes, he thought.



“Was I?” He asked gruffly.



“You were.” She said simply.



“I didn’t notice, my mind was elsewhere.” He answered as he stood and pushed the mug back into her hand. “Finish this, Draven will be in soon, I am sure.” He informed her cooly.



“You are leaving?” Shymoora asked in the sweetest voice Connar had ever heard.



“You don’t need a nursemaid, and I’m not up to the challenge.” He grumbled.



Shymoora watched him closely as she sipped her cider again. Then as he tore his gaze away and began leaving the room he heard her quiet voice behind him. “You were doing so well…” He smiled, she was a fiery creature, and oddly enough that pleased him.



“Rest.” He ordered as he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.



Shymoora sank back into the bed with a sigh, Connar was a mystery, she could not figure him at all.



“Men are like that I suppose.” She muttered as her eyes drifted shut and sleep claimed her, in the back of her mind as she floated away blissfully into a dreamless state she acknowledged that the cider was likely laced to help her rest, she would ask about it later.



Meanwhile Draven and Connar were sitting below, the outpost was small, but it did offer some comforts and the full service inn and tavern they were in was one of them. It had been a while since either man was able to just sit back and be a man. The both sat quietly, lounging in low back chairs with a mug of bitter spirits bubbling before them and a hot plate of greasy meat on order.



“Do you think this injury will set us back?” Connar asked, it had been so long since he had had an idle moment that he felt awkward just sitting.



“Likely not, Shymoora will be rearing to go the moment she awakes, that’s why I ordered her cider laced, the girl needs at least one night of rest before we move on.” Draven answered with a yawn.



“She’s definitely strong willed.” Connar agreed as he sipped his mean drink.



“It’s in her blood.” Draven answered simply. Connar looked up at those words.



“Then you knew her family? All dead I suppose?” He asked, despite his resolve not to involve himself, he was doing just that, but he was never one to let his curious nature starve.



“I knew them, and no, they are not all dead.” Draven answered after an obvious moment of contemplation.



“I see, well I won’t push, I can tell there is information you are not yet willing to share.” Connar replied, it mistled him slightly, Draven and he had never had secrets, at least not that he was aware of, even before they became Blood Wardens, they were close, despite their difference in age, having lived so close to one another, it was only natural that Connar look up to his strong warrior neighbor, and so he did.



“It’s complicated.” Draven sighed. “I knew her mother, while you were away in training.”



“Before Fairwyyn’s accident?” Connar asked. During his youth, he had been sent to the Pinchia base for in-depth instruction, having made his mind up to become a warrior just like his idol, and while away Draven wrote, he wrote of his engagement – and then the death of his betrothed not long after.



Draven stiffened. “It’s-“



“Complicated.” Connar finished with a smile. Their meals arrived and the men sank easily in comfortable silence while they ate.



“You have been north for some time I was surprised to find you at the Caverns when I arrived.” Draven commented, an attempt at polite conversation, though directed in a way to get answers. Connar smiled at his friend, mentor.



“I was on leave, I decided to return to duty, and was informed that you would be gathering a party for your next venture, oddly enough I had no idea that trouble was stirring until my return.” He answered. Connar was not yet ready to discuss his true reasons for taking his leave, it was a tender subject, and one that he was trying to bury.



“Eh, it’s no wonder, as remote as the northern territories are. It would have knocked on your door eventually.” Draven replied.



“Most likely, from what Brayah said, it’s going to a rough one.”



“Yes.” Connar shook his head, the hardness in his eyes warning Connar not to speak too fondly of the Fade. For reasons Connar could not understand Brayah had haunted Draven for sometime, always nearby, then for a while, nearly twenty years, she had lay dormant, it was odd to find her returned, odder still that the girl above had called her mother.



“The girl…” Connar said carefully. “She called Brayah mother, is that possible?” He asked.



Draven looked up wearily and sighed. “Perhaps it is time we spoke about things long past, friend.” He said after a long moment. Connar’s face grew grim as he watched the emotions play in Draven’s silvery eyes. “Yes, it is possible. In a sense…” Draven drew his hand over his face. Never had Connar known Draven to be so rattled by something, though there was a time, after his betrothed died, that the man became mad with grief and anger. “F-fairwyyn and I.” He thumped the table with his fist. “Frakk.”



“It’s okay, you do not need to tell me.” Connar said sitting forward, he didn’t like seeing Draven in such a state.



“No, I do, because it will all come out in a matter of days, and I am going to need some help with damage control.” Draven grumbled. “The easiest way to say it is outright, Shymoora is my daughter, and Brayah’s, and Fairwyyn’s.” He said in a rush.



Connar sat blinking, the words seemed to bump their way into his brain, it took a moment to realize what it was he had heard, “What?” He asked disbelievingly with a shake of his head.



“The frakkin fade possessed Fairwyyn one evening, and after we lay together, she became pregnant. I thought it was a miracle, Ugla and Omari blood does not mix, so I knew something special had happened…later, well into her progression Fairwyyn told me the truth of it. She had woven a spell, calling forth a fade to possess her in hopes that it would use its magic to help us to conceive. It was all so unreal, but there it was, the proof growing inside of her each day. We didn’t know that Brayah was the one, we had no idea that she remained within Fairwyyn throughout, hungry for a taste of mortal life, until it was too late. When the time came for birthing Brayah fled Fairwyyn’s body, unprepared for the pain, leaving her weak, and unable to go on… she died in my arms.” Draven stopped and pushed his palms into his eyes. “The child was born, and healthy, but I didn’t care, I didn’t want it, I shunned it, special as it was, it was part of it. Brayah approached me afterward- revealed herself to me, I flew into a rage and sent her away. It was difficult just looking at that child, health and happy, while I suffered constantly with my loss. I called Brayah back, and gave her the child, gave her my daughter, and told her one day I would return, when the girl was grown and I would test her I would see what the mix had created and decide if it was useful. Brayah donned her mortal skin and stayed separated from the veil until this past Sumas, happily, she truly loved the babe and raised her in a small human village in Bamu, away from everything magic.”



“Draven…”



“Wait, I am not finished. I hated Brayah for her cowardice, for abandoning Fairwyyn when she needed the Fade’s strength most, but I grew to love my child, I watched her from afar whenever I was near, I made it a point to see her, and then one day I made the mistake of discussing her, bragging about her actually, she had grown so lovely,\ and was soon petitioned to put her through the ritual, there was a prophecy you see, and there are those who believe that Shymoora was part of it, part of our destinies. Rubbish, but then, then it began happening, and continues now…so I obeyed, I retrieved her. I took her to Porni to train, and now, we go to the Caverns, where the only thing left of Fairwyyn, might very well perish…” He finished. Connar swallowed hard, it was a difficult bit of information to swallow.



“Prophecy?” He murmured.



“Yes, I cannot tell you much about it honestly, I never found interest in history, however I do know that everything that is happened now was foretold, even the birth of a child with three parents of three races, a child that would start the wheel of victory turning, but if she failed the ritual, her death would mean our destruction, and if she fell under the spell of the Trug’s our world would be forever changed, the power and wealth shifted, and suffering would be constant.”



“You cannot believe this.” Connar laughed bitterly.



“It’s not worth the risk.” Draven answered coldly. “My sacrifices will mean nothing if it is real and we succeed.” He added.



“But to offer up your child to possible death, and a painfully long death at that?” Connar asked with a note of disappointment.



“I do not think she can truly die Connar, she is already able to leave her mortal body and enter the veil, no other has ever done that, perhaps mortal death would only send her to Brayah.” Draven said with a shrug. “I am no father, I do not have the skill, nor the ability, but I do care for her, I do wish to see her safe and out of harm’s way, but this is war Connar, this could be the end of everything we know. How can I sit by idly and do nothing?”



Connar sighed and shook his head, suddenly glad he was not in Draven’s shoes. “I don’t know.” He murmured. “Does she know?” He asked after a few long minutes passed in complete silence. Draven shook his head.



“No…”



Connar grimaced, she would know soon enough, he wasn’t sure that Draven was doing the right thing concealing his true relationship to her, but it was not his business to interfere. “The next few days will be very difficult.” He said softly.



“Indeed.” Draven breathed in response.







PART 9





Two days later and only a bit sore Shymoora stepped out into the cool morning air and sucked air into her stale lungs. It was refreshing and crisp and stung her throat in that delicious way that only mountain air could. She gaze off to the north, the purple white mountains beyond lending her their immovable strength, she had always dreamed of seeing the great range, and now here she was, nearly at their feet.



“Beautiful.”



Shymoora turned to find Connar standing behind her, leaning lazily against the wooden doorway of the small tavern. “Yes, I’ve always wondered how they would look first hand.” She looked back at the tower monuments in the distance, “Humbling…” she murmured. She sensed Connar draw closer, could nearly feel the heat of him flowing into her back, it made her shiver.



“Draven has gone to arrange our transport, we should reach the Caverns by midday, if the weather remains clear.” Shymoora heard him say in his baritone that seemed to vibrate her core when he wasn’t goading her.



“Transport?” She asked and stepped to the right so that she could turn and face him without risking being too close. To her surprise he had only taken a few steps forward, and was no where near as close as she thought him to be. He smiled.



“Yes, some of the Sky Hawks have offered to take us the rest of the way, to avoid another attack.” He explained.



“You mean we are to fly?” Shymoora gasped. She frowned when Connar chuckled at her shock.



“It’s not entirely unheard of, and perfectly safe.” He replied lightly.



Shymoora folded her arms and sighed then tilted her head to look up at the clear sky above. “I suppose there is a first time for everything.” She said finally and gave Connar a quick smile.



“So I’ve heard.” He said then turned on his heel and strode away. This left Shymoora’s mind free to think of every horrible and painful accident that could happen while in flight. She shivered from a mixture of cold and apprehension and decided to return to the tavern and its warmth. It seemed like hours before Draven and Connar returned, hours of maddening day dreaming about plummeting from the swirling clouds to the hard cold earth below. When they finally arrived, both in oddly high spirits, she gave them a weary look. Perhaps she would lie, tell them she needed another day of rest.



“Are you ready to set off Shymoora? Connar has explained to me that he spoiled the surprise already, so you know now how we will finish the rest of the journey to Albara.” Draven said as he came to a stop before her at her solitary seat in the quietest corner of the tavern dining room. “I’ve had reports that the Umdali is already in the Caverns awaiting our arrival.” He added, perhaps because he sensed the lie she was about to tell, or he could taste her reluctance as keenly as she could.



Shymoora swallowed a protest and inwardly scolded herself for being so girlish about it, obviously it was a perfectly safe mode of transportation, if not he would never suggest it, she was almost certain of that. “I have no reason to stay.” She managed, not able to tell him she was ready to hop onto the back of a giant bird and be whisked up into the sky at deadly heights.



“Good, then let’s not waste another moment.” He replied rubbing his palms together with a grin, behind him Shymoora could see Connar smiling as well, though his was not at all as innocent and excited as Draven’s, his was a secret smile, that told her he was very aware of her reluctance.



“Then let’s be off.” Shymoora said while lifting her chin a bit. She smirked at Connar, wishing more than anything she could smack the handsome smile right off his face. No one that annoying should ever be that good looking. She thought. She stood, stopping only long enough to take another deep drink of her spiced cider, this one not laced, and set the mug smartly back onto the table. The three set off toward the outer eastern edge of the outpost where three men, all with dark hair and gleaming silver or pale blue eyes awaited them. Shymoora wondered if all Ugla men were so striking, certainly the ones she had encountered were above average where looks were concerned. Her nerves were nearly manageable until the three transformed into the massive white and gold birds and harnesses were strapped to their backs.



“I can help you up if you like.” Connar’s low whisper sounded in her ear, she jumped, she was so engrossed in a mental pep talk that she didn’t realize he was standing directly behind her with his lips close to her ear, breath feathering her hair as he spoke low enough for only her to hear.



“I’ll manage.” Shymoora replied defiantly. Then his hand was on her shoulder, sending tiny shocks of warmth through her arm.



“There’s nothing to fear.” He murmured softly, still too close.



Shymoora jerked away and glared over her shoulder. “I know.” She said, then to prove her point she strode up to one of the birds, it crouched low for her. She grabbed the leather strap and swung herself upward into the seat. She settled for a moment, breathing deeply.



“Here, let me strap your legs in.” Connar said as he came to her side. “It’s easier if someone does it for you.” He added quickly as he grasped her calf and wrapped a strap around her leg and under her boot. She managed to tolerate his touch as he repeated the action on the other leg then looked up at her flushed cheeks and winked. Shymoora couldn’t suppress her gasp and turned her face away. She heard him laugh as he strode over to another of the hawks. Once everyone was settled in and strappings were secured Draven ordered the birds into flight. Shymoora slammed her eyes shut and bent low over the bird, certain her innards were still on the ground awaiting her arrival as the strong wings beat madly on either side of her, drowning out all other sound. Shymoora thought she would faint before they stopped advancing higher and higher, but somehow she managed to quell the urge to wretch and before long they were gliding quietly, and smoothly, over the tree tops. The wild flapping slowed to an occasional powerful thrust to keep speed and altitude and she finally opened her eyes and gazed around. At first her stomach, which had somehow caught up with the rest of her, lurched at the height and she had to swallow the bile that rose into her throat. Yet after a few minutes of adjustment she was able to get her bearings and actually found the flight somewhat exhilarating.



“Fantastic, isn’t it?” Draven called to her, looking at her with such pride and adoration it touched her heart and a lump formed in her throat. She was so thankful for him, for his constance, for his support, and kindness. She would tell him one day, how he was her only true friend, and she wouldn’t trade his friendship for a million others.



“After the initial terror, yes.” She half joked.



“I knew you would get the hang of it, you are your father’s daughter.” He called back. Shymoora gave him a sad smile.



“So I’ve been told.” She replied before returning her gaze straight ahead, she closed her eyes, allowing the cold wind to wash over her, tangling her hair, now free of trappings, the pale gold mass whipped and fanned behind her. The air was very cold, but the heat generated from the Sky Hawks powerful wings seemed to push it away, leaving the riders well protected. It was a most comfortable ride, Shymoora realized with surprise. Liberating. She opened her eyes at the whirring sound of one of the other hawks swooping close. Directly to her right Connar sat, wind caressing his dark shoulder length hair, the strap that normally held it in place gone, and his tanned jaw was set firmly, an angular beauty much like those carved in stone in the gardens of the Porni palace. He wasn’t looking at her, his face turned, allowing her a moment to appreciate his profile, strong chin, smooth and square, and his straight nose that seemed to shadow his smiles, if she liked him more she might have found him attractive, slightly. As he turned his face to hers she couldn’t suppress a giddy smile, she would blame that on the thin air later, and he smiled in return, with his perfectly straight teeth and gleaming pale blue eyes.



“See, perfectly safe.” He called to her. Shymoora nodded, did he know she had just been appraising him? She wondered, she wouldn’t put it past him to allow her such a lengthy look only to use it to annoy her later. She turned her eyes away, unable to hold his gaze for too long without feeling a bit restless, but she could feel that he still looked at her, she prayed he would not chide her for examining him.



Connar had meant simply to check on Shymoora, ensure she was comfortable and perhaps give her a smile. However when he found her studying him so closely he became enraptured in the thought of her looking at him as more than a companion. In the sky she was once again that untamed beauty he had met that first day, Her cheeks were pink with a mixture of cold and excitement, her lush mouth slightly open, her hair twisted wildly behind her in a curtain of golden perfection, and her skin, such unusually beautiful skin, shimmered and sparkled like silver thread woven into crème silk. He felt his self tighten at a glance of her shapely legs straddling the powerful Sky Hawk firmly placed between her thighs, clad in the softest chocolate leather trousers. Connar swallowed a groan. She was so alive, so young, and so passionate. He needed to be strong, push her away, make her dislike him, or he would be lost to wanting her, to taste her skin and feel her touch. He closed his eyes and turned his face away. It was cruel that he be made to suffer her company when he wanted nothing to do with someone so young and innocent. He had nothing left to offer, to anyone, except his sword and his claws. That was all he was good for. He had learned that the hard way. Women were fickle and needy. Jorrie had been a prime example of that. Her memory stung like a branding iron. He had given up everything for that woman, that supposed innocent who had captured his eye with her dark beauty, she had made him into a blubbering love sick fool, and then, she was gone, fickle, moved on to something more promising, she even had the nerve to laugh in his face when she packed up and left on the arm of her new interest.



You are wearing my ring! You sigh and moan how much you love and need me every night! Now this? He had shouted at her, he wanted to choke the life out of her as she stood there smiling wickedly at him.



I don’t love you Connar, I never did, you were just a step up in the ladder, a distraction. You can’t satisfy me like Anhk can, you never could. Besides, look around you, look at this hovel, I deserve better. Go back to your precious Blood Wardens, that’s all you were ever good for, fighting and dieing. You are pathetic. She had said to him, and then she laughed, tossed his signet at him, and walked away.



Connar shook the thought out of his head and pushed forward guiding the Sky Hawk into a deep plunge. Jorrie had been right, he didn’t think about whether she wanted a nicer home, while it wasn’t a hovel, it was rather quaint, tucked away, he had thought they might enjoy time spent away, he was wrong. She took all of the good he had left in him, used it up, then threw it to the ground and stomped it into the dirt. He had nearly married her, nearly. He was glad now that he had not. No, it was best just to stick to the honest women, who told you straight forward all they wanted was your coin and were willing to make it worth the price. He looked upward, he could just make out Shymoora above. Even if she wasn’t like other women, she did deserve more than he had to offer.



“She could have had the Umdal.” Draven’s voice startled him, he glanced to his left to find the older man frowning at him, wondering when his friend became keen on invading other’s thoughts. “He offered for her, before we left.” He added.



Connar looked up again for a moment then looked at Draven. “They didn’t seem on the best of terms.” He mentioned with a shrug. Draven mimicked the shrug.



“I suppose that happens when a beautiful girl denies a royal offer.” He replied. “She didn’t want what he was willing to give. He wasn’t offering his name, and she has too much pride to be someone’s kept woman.” He explained, then waved his hand. “I saw you looking at her, trying to judge her, perhaps knowing that will help you conclude.” Draven sighed. “Please don’t mention it, she did not take the parting well.” Connar nodded, remembering the frigid way she had addressed the Umdal after dinner, she was hurt, he realized.



“He insulted her.” He commented.



“He broke her heart.” Draven corrected. Connar frowned. “It took everything I had not to run him through.” He added, giving Connar a look that was suspiciously close to a warning.



“Perhaps you should have.” He said.



“Perhaps.” Draven replied, and then urged the Sky Hawk upward, returning to Shymoora, and leaving Connar to contemplate his secret lust and the object of it, alone.



The sun was high when they finally flew over the pristine city of Albara, the houses were oddly shaped, rounded with colorful roof tops and banners fluttering in the wind. The streets the snow had not yet touched this corner of the territory, and it gave Shymoora a grand view of the capital. They soared lower, allowing for a glimpse of the people in the streets below, clad in colorful robes and turbans, they continued forward still, in the direction of the curving castle to the east. Shymoora tried to take in as much of the city below as she could in the meantime. Unlike Porni’s winding streets, the streets of Albara were straight and wide, forming a grid below. There was a sense of order and planning in the construct. The Sky Hawks dipped lower still, causing Shymoora’s stomach to flip nauseaously as the skimmed over the first level of the castle wall. It was wide enough for a safe landing, but the change in speed was unsettling. The sound of claws scrapping stone made her close her eyes and grit her teeth and then, it was over. It took a moment for Shymoora to open her eyes and gather her bearings, having been in flight so long, stillness seemed queer. She pulled her legs free of the straps and slid to her feet gingerly, she was sore from the long ride. Around her the castle seemed to sparkle with its rows of bright windows and banners of deep purple, gold, and berry. “Welcome, welcome!”



A small and round blonde haired man called as he approached them, waving frantically, his purple robes wafting about his plump legs furiously. “Treof.” Connar murmured with distaste. Shymoora smiled at the little man, he was rosy and warm as he approached, panting.



“Welcome. We have been awaiting your arrival Seri, oh but you are a pretty one. Not a surprise, considering your lineage really, but this is most pleasant indeed. I trust your travels were comfortable and safe, of course they would be, with the two of the Warden’s brightest at your side, yes yes.” He greeted in a rush, all Shymoora could do was grin and try not to laugh at the little man’s energy. “Gentlmen, Wardens, Seri, come come, in out of the cold, Sumas is a terrible time to receive visitors, but you know the Umdali, she won’t let even nature stand in the way of something she considers important. We have the fires roaring inside, very cozy, you’ll see, oh dear, come now, I don’t want our guest getting a chill, that won’t do at all.” He continues to yammer on and on as they followed him in amused silence into the side entrance of the castle. His high pitched voice seemed to echo all around them once inside the exspansive building, the carpeting on the floor did little to soften the harshness of the man’s shrill voice, but it did provide for added warmth. Shymoora shrugged her cloak off of her shoulders. “Oh dear, let me take that.” The little man worried and skittered over to her side, plucking the garment out of her arms and draping it over his elbow. “Come come.” He beckoned.



“We will be joining Umdali Nara immediately in the-“ Draven began when there was a pause in the man’s blubbering.



“Oh yes, of course, it is all decided, you will be taking the lift in the north quarter.” Treof replied hurriedly.



“Thank you, Treof.” Connar grumbled.



“What are the cav-“ Treof lifted a hand and shook his head at Shymoora’s half spoken question.



“We won’t speak of it quite yet still, but it is not at all what you would expect.” He explained. Shymoora glanced at Connar and Draven with questioning eyes. They both smiled and shook their heads. Connar leaned close.



“Treof takes his job, very seriously.” He explained quietly, certain that the still blabbing little man would not hear the murmur over his own talking. “Patience, dear.” He added with a wink. Shymoora felt herself redden despite her desire to remain utterly impassive. This brute was growing on her and she knew it. She looked away quickly, pretending to be too engrossed in the steady stream of one sided conversation that floated back to her from Teof’s wiggling steps to notice his endearment. Meanwhile Connar was left mentally thrashing himself for uttering such a tender word, he was sure it did not escape Draven’s notice, but refused to give into curiousity and glance at the man. What had happened to his resolve to resist the pale princess beside him? He swallowed a curse and clenched his jaw.



They were led through a series of narrow halls, Albara castle was not at all like the pale gleaming Porni palace, the décor in this royal place was much more vibrant and alive, the rich colors and designs were alien to Shymoora and she found herself yearning for gowns and jewels that were created with as much care and creativity. When they finally came to a golden set of carved doors Shymoora blinked and flushed, the picture carved out in the doors were very sensual, a woman, naked save for a swath of air material laying over her in a way to conceal her feminine parts lay curled around an equally bare man, her leg was lifted and settled on one of his hip, her head tossed backward with an expression of pain or pleasure on her face as the man suckled on her neck. Warmth flooded Shymoora and she pulled her eyes away, stepping from side to side uncomfortably.



“Here we are,” Teof informed as he pushed the doors ajar and ushered the three into a small room with a section of gold railing in the center. He opened the small latched gate on the railing and motioned for them to step into the enclosures. Once they were all standing safely within the knee high cage he pulled back on a lever to his left, there was a creak beneath them, and then they began their descent. Shymoora was shocked by the contraption and gasped. Connar, placed a reassuring hand on the back of her elbow. While the touch was not calming, it was distracting, and Shymoora was thankful for it. The descended low, all around them there was nothing but gray rough rock, after a time the rock color shifted to more of a lavender hue, and then, blessedly, the cavern opened up around them, revealing a dazzling city carved from the purple stone with crystal lighting over head and a sparkling river running through the center.



“Home.” Draven breathed drawing in a deep breath of the earthy air. Shymoora smiled at him with a moment of confusion.



“Yes, Seri V’raldii, let me be the first to welcome you to the Blood Warden head quarters, there is not other place like it in all of Oman, I assure you, it took many years to construct, but it is essentially impenetrable, and very much secret. Before you is the one and only Twilight Caverns.” Teof explained as the lift slowed. “You see the castle is no more than a disguise, Albara is the city of blood, no Umdal or Umdali rules over the citizen, it is instead watched over by the Wardens, older Wardens ensure that peace is kept and uphold the laws of our land.” He pointed out as they came to an abrupt stop. “Now, the Umdali awaits.”



“Thank you Teof, we can manage from here.” Draven said politely.



“Oh but I insist.”



“Trust me Teof, we will be just fine, I am sure you have something more pleasurable to do than to guide us down a path we have traveled many times before.” Connar argued.



Teof frowned. “Well, if you are quite sure, I was looking forward to teaching the Seri more about the area-“



“Which you will have ample opportunity to do, I assure you.” Draven interrupted.



“Very well, the Umdali awaits you in the Blood Hall.” Teof said then bowed before Shymoora.



“I look forward to continuing our discussion soon.” He said in parting.



“As do I.” Shymoora replied with a small smile. Once Teof was back on the lift and headed up to the surface she chuckled and shook her head.



“He takes some getting used to.” Draven explained. “Well, let's not keep Nara waiting.” He added and directed them down the chiseled path.



“Nara is it?” Connar inquired.



“I meant the Umdali.” Draven muttered.



“My my what have you been up to while I was away?” Connar teased. Draven ignored him and waved for the two to follow him. Shymoora smiled at the fluster Connar’s teasing had caused and moved forward, almost simultaneously she and Connar realized he still cradled her elbow in his palm, both reacted as if touching fire at the discovery and jerked away from one another.



“Let’s go.” Connar grumbled. Shymoora nodded quickly and stumbled to catch up with Draven, leaving Connar staring after her, his brow furrow with intense thought. Touching her seemed so natural. He was in deeper than he had thought.