Dragon (s)layers

Chapter 13 – The Chase

"So there I was, neck deep in the thick of a mess so stygian, I think even Isira would've been blinded. Surrounded on all sides by the roiling plains, out of food and my boots were too ripped up to use for stew; the septic wound in my hand was pulsing an angry red and it burned something awful. I reached for my gem torch to find it gone, and my blade? It'd broken along with the gearing in my armor. I had to laugh. . . .because I knew tomorrow was going to be hell."

Final field report of Sir Marcus Rynell, 56

th

Rock Crusher Infantry (Estan Freestates, Deployed to Mawik steel mines.)

~Felicia~

Felicia and her horse were perched atop a hill with a commanding view of the valley that had flowed from the village's trade route. An open corridor to the Estan Freestates if one traveled far enough west. It was from this hill, under a high-hung moon that she watched for a hunting party that had so far disappointed her.

They hadn't followed. Apparently whatever influence the dragon's child held over the village had been enough to keep them from hunting down the two women. Some part of her was incensed, some part relieved and all of her, exhausted. Lostariel had been sleeping heavily in the days that followed their escape, her body was slow to heal after she'd downed whatever potion the creature had given her. It had saved her life but not sped up the healing process the way divine healing so often did.

For Felicia, the recovery time was an ongoing waking nightmare. She was waiting for the dragon's child to reach out from the dark and kill them both should she dare close her eyes. It was only a day's ride behind them, she was sure of it. From what she'd heard of her homeland, those who killed nobles, even by accident were hunted to the ends of the world, their families butchered and their bodies left limbless and blind to relay the message. . . .killing a noble was the very pinnacle of atrocity in the eyes of the so called civilized world.

And yet there were no thundering hooves, no sneaking dagger in the night. There was just the rustling wind and the vast swath of empty land in every direction. The dragon's child had set the noble up, presumably the one who trained Lostariel's progenitor to fight, and then she'd made sure that they weren't pursued afterwards? Just to prove a point? That was power.

Real

power.

Felicia shuddered.

She'd heard stories from the elders about the gods' war, when the dragons came to Mawik, when it was still a city. They'd warned the people that the gods would deceive them, that there would be war at their doorstep and soon. The city's leaders chose the gods of humanity over the dragons and doomed their entire culture. The children of that war, the first Plains Walkers remembered; the civilized world chose poorly. Under a sky that always seemed to grow richer and more dangerous shades of purple generations lived out their lives afraid of dragon and god alike, superstition had replaced knowledge and the ruins of their culture now served as little more than places to shit.

No dragons. No gods. An entire tribe of Plains Walkers could pass without seeing the remnants of either, but Felicia had not only met clerics but an actual dragon's child. The superstitions hadn't been true at all: they adopted human forms, they weren't harbingers of plague and disease– they were quantifiable.

Killable, maybe. Lostariel seemed to think so.

Felicia would have been a fool to think the dragon's child was immortal. Whatever form she took, hers was a destructive path and those that followed it would find their own ruin in time, but did that make the creature insurmountable? Did that make Lostariel right for wanting to kill it? To stop an ancient evil with a younger one by

means

every bit as evil as the destruction they brought. Was that

wrong

?

Was Sarah's life worth such a 'victory' in the end?

Was Felicia's?

She huddled into her cloak, turned the horse back down the hill and, not for the first time, decided to leave the question sit in the back of her mind like a boulder sitting on a cliff. She knew the answer she

wanted

to be right. But since when was what she wanted considered in the grand scheme of things?

The camp was tucked into a thicket of trees which the horse tried to avoid despite Felicia's insistence was fine, eventually she gave up and dismounted the stupid northern beast and lead him back to the clearing where Lostariel was balled up in a hammock, nestled into a heap of clothing that broke up her outline and made her seem more like a group of bushes than a sleeping human being.

At Felicia's approach the assassin stirred and rolled over to look up at her from under the hood of a bunch of blouses. Her pale face caught the moonlight and for just one moment she was beautiful. . . ."You should go home."

And just like that, it was gone. Felicia sighed and fished her canteen from her shoulder bag, thrusting it at the killer without comment. Lostariel drained it. She always did. In the heavy silence that followed, Felicia looked her over for signs that her stomach wounds had opened but nothing stood out immediately. Thankfully. The potion was finally doing it's job.

"I haven't abandoned you yet, have I?" Felicia whispered.

Lostariel hauled herself from under her coverings with some help and staggered off into the woods to take care of bodily needs. When she came back she was a bit more balanced and focused, if not almost 'normal'.

They shared a meal of vegetable preserves and pears in silence and once done, Lostariel quietly took a seat next to Felicia, leaning against her for the first time since they had met. Maybe it was an admission of weakness, of 'letting go' of her persona. Felicia didn't care. She brought her arm around the woman and held her close.

Eventually, as though every breath pained her, she murmured. "You're a good person. . ."

"And you're not."

"No." The reply was simple and direct.

"So how about we meet in the middle? You save a cat from a burning house and I'll kick a puppy, we can pretend either action matters and–" Lostariel silenced her with a kiss.

It was deep and passionate. Worn down by exhaustion but holding that kind of power that Felicia had been drawn into the first time she'd met the woman; hers was a raging fire brought under control only by carefully dug trenches that only the foolish or brave dared attempt to cross.

Felicia was probably both. She returned the kiss, holding her friend and forgetting about the murderer behind the mask. For a time it was just them and their body heat, the promise of tomorrow and the hope that somehow they would both 'make it work'.

But, like everything else, it too faded. Lostariel pulled back and retreated to her cocoon. No comment, no explanation; no promises. Felicia stared for several seconds, licked her lips and wondered what would happen if she spoke the words on her mind. . .

She hauled herself up and meandered over to the hammock, determined to find out. "Move over."

#

That night she dreamed of what they had done: fleeting glimpses of awareness gave way to visions of torture and silent terror she had seen in her would-be killer's eyes. She watched as Lostariel carved the man up like a deer, she watched from afar as

she

allowed it to happen. Before she could stop it, before she could even scream out, she was face to face with a Mawik Coyote.

Rachel had been gathering berries when the canine had found her. Her fluids painted the beast's muzzle and the fur covered sockets where eyes

should

have been. She'd made the mistake of screaming out and drawing it to their foraging spot. It had claimed its due for the mistake– her best friend.

It sniffed the air around Felicia's mud covered form, ears perked forward, towering over her tiny form like a tree waiting to fall. Felicia stayed still, of course, begging silently that her tears couldn't be smelled. Eventually the creature turned away and picked up what remained of Rachel's corpse, with no fanfare or even a word of protest, another life was erased by the Plains.

Was it so different? Lostariel was a human manifestation of nature's indifference to life. And now she had participated in it– a second time, really. She helped bring to an end one predator's life at the hand of another. . .

It would be only silence that answered her tears. For she understood now.

She was too weak to act then as she was now.

#

Felicia awoke with Lostariel wrapped around her like a burial robe. Birds were chirping and the sun bore through the tree tops all around them. For a moment she had no idea where she was but after a few moments it came flooding back; the running; the butchery; the dragon woman.

"You're awake," Lostariel whispered as though she was surprised the teenager would be.

"Is that what this hell is?" Felicia muttered. "You're still here, though?"

"I am." The woman's leg clenched against Felicia's waist, clinging to her. She nuzzled into the crook of the girl's neck, sighed. "You had a bad dream."

"Yeah. . ."

"Want to talk about it?"

Felicia stared at the leaves above them. She'd never taken Lostariel to be supportive, much less curious. "I was dreaming about home. . ." She lied. "I miss it sometimes."

"Then why were you saying my name?"

"Um. . ." In lieu of a reply she brought her arm around the woman and hugged her. She held the assassin until it was clear there was no way she'd be able to smooth her way out of answering the question.

Thankfully, perhaps, she was preempted: "It had to be done."

"Says you."

"She would have killed us all," Lostariel said quietly. "It's how they work. The strong survive, the weak and stupid are culled. If not sooner, later, when they have outlived their usefulness. It was a test for he and I– one I would have failed if not for you. . ."

Felicia scoffed. "Yeah, big hero. I sat on someone while you

carved

him up."

"You saved my life. . ."

"But not your soul."

Lostariel went quiet at that, her lips lingering on the tender flesh of Felicia's throat. They both let the silence creep in around them until it was deafening. Only the steady thumping of their own hearts filled in the space between them, and the somber knowledge that Felicia would probably never win her over. No, she had failed, but she had failed on grounds she was completely unfamiliar with. Sarah was the mouth, Lostariel and Felicia were hands. They fought their battles with actions. . .

Actions.

Now that was an interesting idea.

She'd seen the sloppy advancements that the boys of Sorash had made on girls– and even one another– it lacked the charm and restraint of her homeland but it carried a certain amount of assertiveness to it; an understanding of roles and expectations. . .

Maybe it was enough to help them both get back on their feet. Maybe it was enough that Felicia could get her bearings. They both needed to be strong to endure and it was going to take one of them being strong enough to take the first step.

So she did; Felicia cupped the assassin's chin and murmured. "We need to get moving, we're three days behind and we're going to lose her."

Lostariel searched her eyes, wary, and eventually nodded.

"If you're well enough to walk around, you can ride, right?"

"Yes. Yes, we should." Lostariel tried to pull back but Felicia pulled her close and held her firmly, savoring that moment for all she found and hoped for. In just that one moment she found herself comfortable with the possibility. Pressing her luck, she brushed Lostariel's hair back, tracing her outline to her generous hip– she grabbed the woman's butt and gave her a self-righteous, cheeky smile.

For her part in it, Lostariel arched a brow. Her bright purple eyes turned down slightly and slowly she eased into Felicia's space, meeting the teenager before either of them were really ready for it. For just that moment, they looked at one another, waiting for the other to make a move.

Felicia took the iniaitive and pressed herself against her friend. She kissed the woman's forehead and murmured. "It's going to be okay, but. . ." A little more pressure. Lostariel gave- a shred of space. "We try it my way."

A soft chuff, half surprise and half doubt was the reply she got. Not something she would content herself with, though. No, this was a fight she was going to pick and win, dammit. She pressed on Lostariel that little bit more.

And instantly realized the mistake she'd made.

Lostariel did too.

In a single instant the hammock shifted it's point of balance and they were falling. Lostariel's eyes widened and she grabbed for something to hold on to even as Felicia flailed. It was too late of course. They were already plummeting. She did the only thing she could do; she grabbed the woman and yanked her, rolling into the fall to take the brunt.

They slammed into the ground and the air was ripped from Felicia's lungs leaving her dazed and aching. A weak groan left her lips but Lostariel ignored it, digging herself out from under the mess of clothing that'd fallen with them. She slumped forward, straddling the girl's waist with her hands planted on either side of her chest. They looked at one another, Lostariel wearing an expression of amusement and– concern?

"Your way?" She said softly.

Felicia groaned a reply she was fairly sure sounded like 'Why yes, this is my way, self sacrifice and poor spacial awareness are more than choices; they can be lifestyles, too.' Of course, the nearest she could get to articulating that was 'Ow.'

Lostariel brushed some hair behind her ear as she righted herself. "Mhm. . ." She folded her arms under her breasts and, looking down at her captive, murmured. "I hope this doesn't become a trend."

"Worth it," Felicia mumbled.

Somehow this sparked a new round of amusement in the older woman. She laughed a little, rising and offering a hand which Felicia didn't hesitate to take up. Once up, Lostariel dusted her companion's back and even helped her clean up their camp and repack for the trip ahead; surprisingly by the time they'd finished up, Lostariel was actually quite relaxed and mobile, helping out where she could and even smiling like they were sharing some private joke.

Felicia packed the horse, ensure he was fed and had water before they headed out towards the road. She crept up to the edge of the hill and peered down just to make sure no one had decided to sneak up while they were resting. Strangely the lack of new tracks didn't make her any more confident, but she hid it well from Lostariel.

She was the first on the horse, and when Lostariel moved to get behind her she pivoted the animal a bit and eased her weight back, throwing her hand down. "You're going to ride in front of me. . ."

Lostariel stared at her like she'd lost her mind. Felicia didn't give an inch.

"I don't want you falling off or getting hurt." She tried to be pleasant. Even if in the back of her mind she knew the real reason she wanted to try this, she had to make it

seem

harmless at face value. She smiled. "Come on."

There was a beat where it looked as though the assassin would balk- would just throw her off the horse and take it, leave Felicia behind like she was probably right to wand to do. But then it passed and those purple eyes softened, Lostariel closed her eyes and sighed before she climbed up. The horse protested, of course, but Felicia patted his side.

This would have been so much easier if it was a plains animal, but these stupid beasts were so skittish. Even the docile ones. She couldn't just

tell

it Lostariel was going to be here for the duration. Dumb animals befitting an equally ridiculous nation.

As Lostariel got situated, Felicia brought her arms around the woman's stomach and for just a moment she wondered how far she could push her luck. What she'd seen in the mayor's house, what she'd been quietly imagining since they'd survived the fight. The image of the manikin bound in rope, the brief fantasy of Lostariel. . .

She went for it.

Calmly, without a word, Felicia took Lostariel's hands atop one another and pressed them to the animal's back then she pressed them down and wrapped her rein around the woman's wrists. Once. Twice.

Lostariel didn't fight. She didn't try to stop the curious teenager, she didn't even say anything. She looked at her hands and then to Felicia's surprise, she reached out in opposite directions. Finding she could get no purchase she leaned back against Felicia just a little bit. Maybe it was fear of falling, maybe it was fear she'd scare the horse.

Maybe it her admitting curiosity to learn a language neither of them understood just yet.

Felicia took the reins beside her wrists and rested her chin against Lostariel's shoulder. She knew she'd have to learn the words in order to translate it, but that was okay. The plains had made her a quick learner and a devout student of life. She kissed Lostariel's neck.

It would make her a good teacher, too.