This is a continuation from Chapter One, which is heavily filled with plot. I recommend starting at the beginning. Some elements of the story's "history" are loosely based on a book series by Elizabeth Hayden.
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IXCHOL
Ixchol waited through the night, his dragon senses making note of every breath, every slight stirring of Amaria's body in his bed. He noted that she slept fitfully and seemed to be dreaming. His thoughts darkened as he considered that she might be having nightmares about him. Softly he cursed in the language of his kind, a vile profanity that was comprised mostly of clicks and glottal stops impossible to pronounce with human physiology. Though it had only been a day and night, the longer Amaria ignored him the further he sank into his musings. He sat perfectly still through the long, quiet hours of the night, turning the problem over and over again in his mind.
When Amaria emerged from the bedroom some time after sunrise, Ixchol was startled from his thoughts.
How did I not sense her awakening and moving about in her room?
he thought to himself. Had he really been so deep in thought that his dragon senses had been taken by surprise?
"Hello," he greeted her gently, using much the same tone a herdsman uses to calm his horses or cattle. She simply sat down at the table and stared at him woodenly. Perplexed, Ixchol simply waited, and a few long moments passed in tense silence.
"What oath?" Amaria suddenly asked, once again catching the Wyrm by surprise.
Recovering his equilibrium quickly, Ixchol clarified, "The oath I said you would swear by morning on the day we met?" He had tried not to directly mention their sexual encounter, but still saw a shadow of the memory flit across her face. He silently cursed himself again. This Treasure was rare and beautiful, with the fire of intelligence in her eyes and the melodic vibrations of her musical soul emanating from her. He'd had enough time to realize the gravity of his error. Wyrmkin may be stubborn, but they are far from stupid.
Amaria simply nodded and continued to stare impassively at him. His dragon sense detected only a vague curiosity overladen with a frightening sense of apathy. He had many restitutions to make to this beautiful creature. For what was probably the first time in his very long life, Ixchol felt a deep regret. He wasn't even sure how to deal with the emotion, so he tried to push it down and ignore it, focusing instead on her direct question.
"Well, Treasure," Ixchol began, hesitating as he tried to decide how to explain, "Normally, I would have used the, er, circumstances of our first encounter to compel you to swear an oath to me." As Ixchol spoke, the words began to come faster, as if he needed to get it out in a rush. "When a Wyrmkin takes his mate, it is imperative that the mate does not leave him before their progeny is born. It is customary to Bind one's mate right away to ensure the continuation of the bloodline, and the inheritance of a soul. I have decided not to Bind you."
For the fist time since he forced himself upon her, Ixchol saw a true spark of curiosity flare in her eyes. Surprised, he expected the shift to be quickly replaced by apathy, but instead he could almost see her mind beginning to form more questions. He felt the chemicals in her blood realign slightly and suddenly another part of who Amaria is, clicked into place. She had called herself a Loremistress and Ixchol had dismissed the unfamiliar term, assuming she was a village herbwoman, healer, or story-teller. He briefly reconsidered the musical vibrations he always felt in her presence and began to wonder if she might be a Namer. Perhaps this "Loremistress" is the term currently used by the humans, or perhaps they didn't know what to call her or what she truly was. He filed this information away for later.
"I can sense you already have questions, Amaria. I will tell you only the truth as I know it. Ask"
AMARIA
That final word,
Ask
, vibrated through her, alive with Ixchol's power. She sat another moment considering her words. "I do not even know enough to know what questions to ask. I want to understand the complete mating process of your species, and I want to know what you mean about 'inheriting a soul'. You told me that our mating could break my mind. I believe I have a right to know what is coming."
Ixchol briefly nodded, staring past her with a distant look. She could tell he was trying to choose his words with care and wondered why he felt the need to bother. When Ixchol finally began to speak, she heard his voice in her ear but also felt his power pressing against her with his words. He had adopted a sonorous intonation and spoke with the authority of one who is conveying an unadulterated history. She knew that tone like she knew her own name, and she felt all the hairs on her arms stand at once. He was invoking the talent of True Speaking, and it was all Amaria could do to suppress her shock and focus on the creature's words.
IXCHOL
Eons ago, when the world was young, an Ancient Race was born of each of the four primordial elements. First, from the element of Fire, the Fotia Huo were born. In the moment of creation, they fashioned within themselves a core of elemental power that would allow their essence to pass beyond the Veil into the afterlife, and thus they became the first, and eldest, Ancient Race.
From the element of Wind were born the Aer Zrak. From their elder race, they too learned how to make a core of elemental power to carry their essence beyond the Veil, and thus they became the second Ancient Race.
The element of Water gave birth to the Vellam, who imitated their older brethren, creating a similar core of elemental power, and thus they became the third Ancient Race.
Last of all, from that final element of Earth, were born the Ejdeha Draak. Those creatures you know as Dragons, or Wyrms.
Each Primordial Race was strongly influenced by the character of that element from whence they were born, but none more so than the Fotia Huo. They were seductive, hypnotic, and incredibly destructive. Like their parent Fire, they were driven to consume all in their path and before the final race was even born, the Fotia began to make war. They razed settlements, not caring for treasures or natural resources. They invaded only to kill and to capture, creating the first bastard races from their acts of rape. These bastard races, over a few thousand years, combined and became your race; the human race. Yours is an amalgamation of all four elements.
The Ejedha Draak were faced with a choice upon their elemental birth. They knew the Fotia Huo had been the first race, and the first to fashion the "elemental core" that would allow them passage into the afterlife. The Ejedha Draak believed this concentrated core, or "soul," was the trait that ultimately gave rise to the Fotia's destructive ways. The other Primordial Races had imitated them, and now all three were at war with one another. The Ejedha Draak chose not to make what they perceived as the same mistake. Instead, they diffused this elemental power into their bodies to imbue themselves with a longevity that bordered on immortality. Their hope, as the race born of the steadiest, most constant element, was to act as peacekeepers and historians to shepherd the other races through the ages.
They soon learned just how grave an error they had made. When the great War finally broke upon their shores, the ancient dragons first learned the profound finality of death. They realized that their decision meant they could never pass beyond the Veil and they were filled with an existential dread. If the Fotia should ultimately be victorious over the other races, their kind would face extinction, not even leaving their last vestiges in the realm of the spirits.
For thousands of years the race of Dragons struggled to survive. Their fear of death slowly changed them, and some became as destructive as their sister races. The Fotia had developed increasingly brutal tactics, and the Ejedha females were being targeted and killed at an alarming rate. The Dragons' fear of extinction was becoming a reality and, in their desperation, the elders withdrew to seclusion and began working on the riddle of imbuing the Dragon race with souls.
Those who know how the solution was found are long-since dead, their essence returned to the earth from which they arose. But the solution was, indeed, found. If a dragon male Mated with a human female, the offspring, the Wyrmkin, would inherit the Lore of the Ejedha Draak, and would be imbued with a precious Soul by his human mother. They also found, much to their surprise, that the Wyrmkin had the ability to manipulate all four elements and could even change their form to appear either humanoid or draconian. The discovery rendered the almost extinct female population redundant, and they died out. No one knows whether it is through magic or through evolution, but a Wyrmkin child will always be male.
It is safe to assume that now, millennia later, the true race of Ejedha Draak are all long dead. Two other Primordial Races still exist in some form, but the survivors chose to return to commune with their elements; the Vellam returned to the deep seas and the Aer Zrak drift on the wind in the uninhabited lands. The Fotia Huo eventually burned themselves out, as all fires do. Only the bastard races of Human and Wyrmkin have survived the slow march of time.
