Following Fate’s Kiss

By: Rebecca Anne “Sinead” Fahey-Leigh

Chapter One:

Greeting My New Beginning

            My screwed-up world came into agonizing clarity, seeming to linger as long as it could in a half-awake, half-slumbering mist before finally surrendering me to consciousness. I was trapped in a rubble-formed small cavern in pitch-black. There were no sounds. At least, I thought that there were no sounds, until I dug multitudes of dust and grit from my ears.

            And I realized that I had been mistaken.

            A rumbling, gurgling hiss sounded to my right. I looked, and blinked in surprise. A creature was there. He was . . . oh, why me? Why now and here? Things have been going like this ever since I has come to this forsaken little mountain town. Everything that could go wrong was going wrong and at the most inopportune time.

            His hiss changed to an evil chuckle. “Oh, and what d’we have ’ere, eh?” He sniffed, and then replied, “Aah, a virgin. Lovely eating, I agree, to any of my kind.”

            He couldn’t move as there was something pinning his hind-left foot to the ground. My eyes had finally adjusted to the dark. I sighed and said, “So? You can’t move, Gyrkin. You can’t get at me.”

            “And you can’t leave here. Neither can I, virgin.”

            “Call me Riian, or don’t call me at all,” I hissed at him through clenched teeth.

            He looked at me, his luminescent eyes blinking at me in an odd manner. “Riian? That ain’t a ’uman name. Nor is it a name a human should ’old unless ’ey was goin’ t’ be doin’ some killin’. Therefore, I propose ye should be called Riian the Assassin.”

            “I’m not an assassin,” I replied. “I’m a bodyguard.”

            “Nay, that’s not why ye’re in th’ Mountain Pass. Ye were sent to assassinate some poor bloke, wasn’t it? I dunno who he is, but I don’t envy ’im!”

            “Where do you get these ideas?”

            The Gyrkin flashed too-white teeth at me in a grinning grimace. “Oh, ne’ermin’. I’m lookin’ inta th’ future again, missie virgin.”

            I sighed in aggravation, and then said, “If that’s so, how am I going to get out of here, hm?”

            “Aah, I’m not gonna tell ye. Ye’ll find th’ way out.”

            “You can’t see the future!” I accused.

            “Mebbe I do, and mebbe I don’t. As if ye can do anythin’ ’bout it, eh?”

            I threw my head back and screamed in frustration. When I glared back at the Gyrkin, he was wincing and holding his hand-like paws over his ears. With a sigh, he took them down. “Euah, missie! What in th’ fangs of hell’s-gate are yeh thinkin’ ye’re doin’?!”

            I sighed, feeling better. “Stress relief.”

            He was silent for once. I sat against the far wall of the small “tomb,” and sighed. Sometimes, there was no getting used to some company. Something clacked against my boot. It was a small rock, just enough to get my attention. He had flicked it at me. I looked to the Gyrkin, who snapped, “Ye’re givin’ up, yeh bleedin’ coward!”

            “I never give up, you overly-large hairball!” I yelled back. “And don’t call me a coward.”

            “Oh, is that so, then, missie? So what were ye doin’ just now, eh?!”

            I glared at him, before I set my head back upon the rock behind me. “I’m planning and thinking on how I should get out of here.”

            “An’ leave me, I suppose?”

            “Yes.”

            He was silent for a few more moments. I opened my eyes, and looked at him once more. “I can be bribed to get you out, though.”

            “At what price?” he asked cautiously.

            I smirked. “Come up with an offer, and I’ll tell you if I accept it or not.”

            “You humans!”

            “Yes, us humans! What else do you expect me to do?! I can clearly tell that you wouldn’t accept anything that I come up with myself!”

            He seemed to shrink backwards as he simmered in this new revelation. I said nothing more, and let myself drift off into a light nap. However, I was awoken by the Gyrkin’s voice.

            “Hoi, missie, ye awake?”

            “What.”

            “What if I promise not to eat yeh?”

            “No good.”

            He growled, and I fell back asleep for a few more moments. His voice awoke me once more, and in the same slightly jarring manner as before. This time, though, it was subdued, straining . . . almost broken. “What if I not eat ye, or any other virgins for as long as ye live?”

            “Still no good. I can’t believe that if I don’t see it.”

            “Then what if I not only not eat virgins, but if I travel with ye, so that you can see that I keep t’ me word?”

            I raised my head, and then made eye-contact with him, silent. Would he do that? Or would he kill me off? As if he could read my thoughts, as I had no doubt that he could, he said, “I won’t kill ye, t’ be rid of the vow, missie. That ain’t Gyrkin way. When we give our word . . . we mean it.”

            I didn’t answer him right away. “What’s your name?”

            “Hrutan.”

            “Do you belong to a clan?”

            “Nay, not at th’ moment. I’m a loner like yeself.”

            “How do you know I’m a loner?”

            “Oh, I’ve been trackin’ ye for a while, missie.”

            I blinked at him, and he rested his head in one of his fore-paws. “Aye, you. I’m partial to assassin-like virgins. ’Ey ’ave a cer’in fightin’ qual’ty tha’ makes ’em better’n most others.”

            “You’re sick.”

            “I’m a bloody Gyrkin, what d’ye expect?!”

            His voice, when he said that, shook and quavered, almost childlike. I stood and walked over to him, but stood just out of his reach. “Why do you sound ashamed when you say that? What is it that makes you feel like you should be ashamed of your lineage? That’s what I got from that last statement.”

            He sighed, and growled. “None of ye’r business, anyways. Now will ye agree t’ get me outta ’ere, or are yeh gonna stand there, interrogatin’ me?”

            I reached out slowly, and brushed my fingers over his large snout, hoping that he wouldn’t mind, and that he wouldn’t try anything. “I will help you, Hrutan.”

            The Gyrkin sighed, made eye-contact briefly, and then shifted slightly so that I could climb up onto his shoulder and out of the collapsed tomb-like place. There was a patch of open space. That’s why there was still fresh air when we were trapped. I pulled myself up a bit so that I could peek out. The place was teeming with people. I ducked back in and whispered, “I can’t let you out yet. There are too many people out there.”

            He sighed. “Euah. Why?”

            “They’ll pull me off and away. I wouldn’t be able to keep my promise to you.”

            With a sigh, he started to lower me, but I held onto his hand and whispered my plan to him. I had seen something . . .

            The man with the iron walking rod passed by the hole I was in. As the staff started to descend, I guided it swiftly down the hole. He lost balance and Hrutan yanked both me and the staff down. He closed his eyes, and curled over me, appearing to look like a piece of rough rock for an instant. The man was yelling. Other voices came over.

            “You’re daft, man!”

            “We ain’t goin’ in there!”

            “Not after that rod, we ain’t. Now, if it were that Riian girl who disappeared, down there, instead of that old rusty thing . . .” There were chuckles, and whistling. The same man went on. “But she’s left all her stuff at my aunt’s place. Most likely, she’s out somewhere in the woods, and not in this mess. Pity. I’d exchange rescuing her ever-so-heroically for a good night in bed!”

            The man sighed angrily, as there were guffaws and snickers at that remark. “Go down there and get it!”

            “Get it yourself! We’ve got to keep searching for survivors, not lost walking staffs!”

            They soon faded. I was angry at their comments towards myself, but used that anger to grab the staff and start to pry at the rock that was trapping Hrutan. He spoke up, his voice kind and gruff at the same time. “Missie, they’re only men.”

            “Idiotic, self-serving, double-crossing motherless whelps is more like it!”

            “Dinnae let ye’r anger get the better of ye.”

            “Let me deal with it my way, and you’ll soon be out!” I replied, pushing upwards upon a fulcrum and shifting the rock.

            Hrutan yanked his foot free and then pulled me back towards him as he bodily threw himself upwards, breaking through the small cavern’s thin ceiling. He ran, undetected, and we were soon in the forest. Silently, he shifted me to his back and started to run again, this time on all fours. We soon reached a small waterfall, which poured into a pool just under two t’rows across . Hrutan waded in, me still upon his back, and then sank under the chilly water. He only went down in the shallows, so I got off of him by leaping to the bank. I stripped of my over-clothing, leaving me in a light tunic, and nearly knee-length pants. I waded in and, then ducked under the water, rinsing my hair free of the dust that had settled upon it. Hrutan growled something, and I waded over to him.

            He looked up at me, then sighed, and said, “Missie . . . I thought ye had left me.”

            “Hrutan, are you all right?”

            “Aah, me ankle hurts a bit.”

            “Yeah. A bit. Sure.”

            He chuckled, tired, and I pushed at his side. He rolled over so that his left leg was resting upon a damp log. I gently rested my hands upon it, feeling how much warmer it was compared to his regular body temperature, which was warmer than a human’s. I saw the gash, and sighed. Getting out of the water, I found some plants that would ease his pain, reduce the swelling, and help it heal faster. He sighed again, and I sat in his view. “So, traveling partner, what should we do.”

            He blinked at me, his eyes no longer glowing, but now a deep crimson red. “You should get y’r belongin’s from that village. I’m goin’ t’ stay here ’til I c’n walk without a limp.”

            “When will we move on?”

            “Two weeks. Get ready, missie. I ’ave a destination in mind.”

            I nodded and got my over-clothes, then rinsed them off before putting them on again. I walked over to Hrutan’s head, boots soggy and squishy, clothes a mess. He smiled, and said, “Good. Ye look like yeh fell into the river when the earth danced.”

            “Yeah, and managed to get tugged along for quite a bit, too,” I replied, smiling. “Two weeks, I’ll come back here.”

            “Nay. Three t’rows t’ th’ west, missie.”

            I nodded and said, “Thank you.”

            He stuck his tongue out at me impudently before saying, “But I ’ave one need t’ be met, and you have t’ agree t’ this. Otherwise, I’ll be chewin’ on yeh pretty head f’r dinner tonight whether ye be likin’ it or not.”

            I looked down at him warily.

            “I will have your virginity, when this is all through.”

            We kept eye-contact. My eyes narrowed of their own accord as I replied, “In two weeks, I’ll give you my answer, and not a moment before, Gyrkin.”

            “Very well, Assassin.”

            I walked away, not looking back, with one thought upon my mind: That Gyrkin didn’t have the mind, the thought-process, of a Gyrkin. I knew that for a fact. I knew a Gyrkin, and they thought in different, strange ways that sometimes took a getting used to. But this one . . . his mind was almost easy to predict, it seemed. Almost too easy.

            And then it hit me.

            He had the mind of a human.

            I was one of the lucky young ones: not only was I from the Harutha clan, the “thief’s” clan, but my father had married one of the Tietha clan, a clan that were the hunters and suppliers of furs and tanned hides. From my father, I got a slight build with almost perfect night-vision, and dark eyes and hair. From my mother, I received strong hunting and tracking instincts. Mother’s grandfather, however, was from the Xaqtha clan, a warrior’s clan. I gained a two-generation-old dormant knowledge of any weapon I laid a hand upon as well as leadership skills in any rough situation. I also had the knowledge of the Kalitha, the healer clan, in my blood from my father’s side. I was a mutt of sorts, but treated like a royal purebred.

            As a result from my lineages, I was highly prized as an assassin. Or, rather, I would have been, had I not taken a personal vow only to kill in defense. Even so, I have killed many, and not enjoyed it one bit.

            I was seven when I saw my first Gyrkin. It was dying, in pain, and had killed three of my mother’s clan. I had grabbed a weapon, a spear it was, with a long blade at the end, and had leapt between the wounded man and the Gyrkin. The creature hissed at me, but I swiped out at its face, causing it to follow me, and to turn its back to the others in the clan. At the moment, my parents were visiting with my mother’s clan, the Tietha.

            The Tietha are expert hunters and marksmen. They never miss.

            It was then, that my mother let me look into her and my father’s lineage. Any other of the Tietha would have let the man die. However, a Xaqtha would have done what I had.

            At the age of ten, I was recognized of being of the four clans. I went to an academy to learn how to arouse the dormant Xaqtha and Kalitha traits within me. I did so, and almost too easily for the instructors to believe. However, I had the incident with the Gyrkin to thank, and that started me in my awakening of dormant talents. Somehow, I managed to ace the rigorous training. I learned to completely trust my instincts. I could navigate my way though a pitch-black room filled with traps, blindfolded, and use the traps to my advantage against those who were “tracking” me with an intention to kill. I was beyond able to use any weapon I pleased, and even use something from my surroundings as a weapon. I was able to stop bleeding from the heart. I could pull an arrowhead from the brain without damaging either. However, I couldn’t reattach limbs, or wake a comatose person.

            Only a pureblood Kalith was able to do that.

            I was able to hide in the most unusual places, and stay in a cramped space for days without needing to eat or drink. I was able to lift four times my weight and walk with it. I was able to shoot an arrow into a deer’s eye at eleven t’rows . . . I think that would be around one-hundred-ten feet, in the old ways of measurement. I was able to see in the blackest of forests on the darkest of nights. I was thin as a wisp, and as acrobatic as the best of the performers that my father’s clan, the Harutha, trained and put out. I was tall as well. Boys who had walked me home said that I was also rather well-formed. I believe I forgot to mention that I could hear the slightest of whispers from seven t’rows away.

            None of those would help me in this situation.

            At this point of my life, I was seventeen, and one of the prized. Others in the academy that I had attended hadn’t done so well and were jealous because they had thought that one or another of the classes we had to take were useless, and thus didn’t pay attention. Only three others in my year-class looked promising. Two of those three went on to become Metal DragonRiders, which are of the commanding-class. The third, in my own opinion, will wake the final New Generation Metal Dragon, and will join them soon enough in training how to lead the regular DragonRiders.

            Dragons are creatures that have wings of a great span, with bodies that are lithe and furred. They have powerful double-jointed hind legs, forelegs with clawed hands, not paw-hands like Gyrkin, and a flexible tail that can either help steer or wrap around something to hold it still. They can be up to seven t’rows long, and I’ve even heard of one that was twelve t’rows which had lived long ago.

            Some had said about me that I, myself would be able to awaken a dormant  Dragon, but . . . I have seen that I am not drawn to protecting the great cities, or even large towns, as DragonRiders are assigned to do. I prefer to work upon my own, protecting one or two people at a time. Any more than that and I become distracted. And now, it seems, my protecting days are over.

            “Riian! Child, look at me!”

            I sneezed, rubbed at my nose, then looked up at the matriarch of the town. She sighed and added more hot water to the bucket in which my feet were soaking in. “Oh, Riian, you’ve exhausted yourself here. We’ve been nothing but trouble for you. Now look what our foolishness has done! You’re wet, cold, and will most likely be sick for a week!”

            Yawning, I looked into her eyes. “It isn’t your fault, nor mine, nor anybody’s.” I blinked slowly. “But as I was returning, I heard that nephew of yours with some of his friends.”

            “Well? Heard anything you liked?”

            “Matriarch, they were mocking the man with the iron staff. Said that, had I been the one who fell into the hole that he lost his staff in, then they would have gone down, and retrieved me. However, upon the promise that I would return them favors in bed.”

            “No, Gent wouldn’t say that!”

            “Gent was on the other side of the village, I think. Nowhere near where this was taking place,” I replied. “It was Fallacy.”

            Matriarch made a face as if to say that she could see that one coming from far off. “I’ll have a word with him. Did he see you?”

            “No. As you know from me sneaking in here, I don’t like to be seen wet.”

            “All you have left is your black clothing. Here. I’ll let you use one of my daughter’s old dresses.”

            “Matriarch . . .”

            “Right, that’s right . . . you were raised by the Harutha, and not by the Kalitha as I was. You prefer rough-and-tumble clothing, usually including some type of breeches.” She smiled and added, holding out a woolen shift, “I’ll pull out something that will fit you tomorrow. Dress yourself in this, and get to bed. The fire in your room is hot.”

            I nodded and lifted my feet up and out of the pan. “Thank you, Matriarch.”

            As soon as I was changed and in bed, I was asleep.

            It was the next morning. I was sitting upon the roof of the Matriarch’s abode, and watching the sky, wondering what to do about that Gyrkin. Despite what she had said, I was rarely sick. My nose was still running a little, but that was about all the symptoms of a cold that I had.

            A bugling cry caused me to turn my head to the west and then stand and wave to the fast-approaching Dragon and rider. The silver-furred creature flew feet above my head, then spiraled down to land in the front yard. Matriarch opened the door with a slam, but the Dragon already had her hands upon the roof and was greeting me in the tongue of the mind, something that needed no translations. She surprised me with her knowledge. {You are in league with a Gyrkin, Riian?}

            {Wasn’t . . . until yesterday,} I replied, then sighed. {Don’t tell Matriarch. This Kalitha clan has suffered seven virgins taken in four months.}

            {You, yourself, are a virgin. Why has this Gyrkin not eaten you yet?}

            {You already know the story, don’t you?}

            {Heard it from the Gyrkin from the academy. Word of this has spread fast through their community. The academy is in turmoil over this issue, and are wanting you to return so that you can get away from Hrutan.}

            {You know his name?}

            {He’s rather specific about which virgins he eats.}

            {Lovely.}

            {You over-qualify for his menu.}

            {Yeah, I know. He goes after the assassin-warrior type.}

            The Dragon touched my head with a massive claw, then held her hand up for me to get onto. I did so and was lowered to the ground so that I would be able to embrace the DragonRider. “Mira.”

            “Riian, you’re in trouble with them.”

            “I know. But I can’t back out of this promise.”

            “This . . . Silver told you about him . . .”

            “She did. I know. But he . . .” I saw Matriarch watching me, and sighed. “We’ll talk later. I discovered something.”

            Mira nodded, and bowed formally to Matriarch. We entered the abode, and listened to news from the current capital city.

            A whisper disturbed me from my thinking out under the stars that night. Mira was another descendant from all four clans, and was one of the two Metal DragonRiders that I had been remembering earlier. I smiled at her and said, “Right. You wanted to know.”

            “What is it about this Gyrkin that has you all tied up in knots? I haven’t seen you like this since you met Master Varthin.”

            Varthin was the Gyrkin at the Academy. I had nearly flipped upon the poor soul when I met him. At that time I didn’t know that a few had willingly changed, making a vow never to heat a human virgin again, so that an understanding could finally be reached between the Gyrkin and the humans. Soon, he and I had become fast friends, and we still were. I sighed and replied, “He has the mind of a human, and not a Gyrkin. I mean, Master Varthin knows how to think like a human, but that doesn’t mean that he does. Hrutan is a human in his mind, or so I’ve come to think that he might be. His thinking is more human-like than Varthin’s at any rate. And something else isn’t right about him. Something that I can’t place yet.”

            “What are the conditions of you and him being traveling partners?” Mira asked.

            “First off, he won’t eat virgins. Second, he’s after my virginity as payment.”

            “What’s on your behalf of the bargain?”

            “I freed him. We ended up getting trapped in the same place when the earth danced. He was sleeping underground, I think, and I was above ground.”

            “You fell through to his lair?”

            “Yeah.”

            Mira smiled, and then said, “So summing this up, in return for giving up eating virgins, he’ll take your virginity, even though you freed him? That’s kind of odd, Riian. I hope Master Varthin knows what to make of this. Anyway, I have to get going back. Send a note when you can. I know that you keep to your word, ad you know better than to make a Gyrkin break his own.”

            “Mira, better yet, I’ll drop into one of the stations, and talk with a Dragon,” I replied as I smiled at Silver, who smiled back at me in the way that Dragons do, which meant a facial expression that most would pale at, thinking that the Dragon was about to lunge over and swallow said human up in one bite. The Dragon smile is something that takes some getting used to.

            Mira and Silver left so I was left to my own devices for the remainder of the two weeks. And those devices of mine would certainly include making a few things.

            There he was. Hrutan was exactly where he said he’d be. I walked over to him, weapons bristling around me under my cloak, and said, “Fine. We’ll do it your way. No virgins until this is over, whatever ‘this’ is, and then you have me.”

            He stopped, and looked at me. “Are ye serious? I thought that ye’d put a bit more thought into givin’ up ye’r virginity fer a Gyrkin.”

            “Hrutan, do we have time to argue? Plus, aren’t you arguing against yourself? And it’s been two weeks. Usually I make a serious decision in one.”

            He blinked. “Right, missie.”

            “Riian!”

            “. . . eh?”

            “Have you already forgotten, you great lump of fluff?! My. Name. Is. Riian!”

            He blinked at me somewhat calmly, then replied, “My. Aren’t we a bit edgy.”

            “And can you blame me?!” I hissed. I glared at him, then asked, “Where to.”

            He indicated his back, and I hopped on, even though I was fuming at his behavior towards me. He started lumbering off towards the flatlands, a large expanse of grass, small shrubs, and streams located mainly in the center of the mainland of the largest continent of the world we lived upon. I quite preferred the forest and its encompassing branches and leaves, that ringed the flatlands and covered the mountains that bordered the continent almost all the way to the coast.

            “Well, missie, we’re goin’ t’ find ye an assassination job. There’s a man who’s in charge of minin’ in the next mountain over, an’ he’s comin’ a wee bit too close to the breedin’ grounds of the Dragons. We’re gonna cut th’ distance in half, cuttin’ through th’ flatlands. ’Course, the humans don’t know what they’re doin’.”

            “Why would you care for Dragons?”

            “Hmph. Duller ’n a pan beaten in dirt, I see. Dinnae ye know a Varthin where ye’re from?”

            I looked down at his dark red eyes. “Yes. I know Master Varthin.”

            “That ol’ bookworm’s me grandad.”

            I looked at him, and asked, “So why do you eat virgins when your grandfather is trying to work out peace between your kind and mine?”

            “He’ll be doin’ it ’is way, an’ I’ll do it mine,” the Grykin snarled out, apparently angry with his grandfather.

            I looked at him again, disbelieving. “What makes you think that what your doing is the right thing?”

            “What makes you think that it ain’t?” he replied, stopping to look up at me. “Gyrkin an’ Dragons ’ave th’ same quest in mind: stay useful to th’ end. What we’re useful for, however, don’t mean much, apparently. But for me an’ my habits, then ye’re in trouble, missie. You’re gonna have to stick it out wi’ me. Mayhap it’ll even be pleasurable before I kill ye.”

            I decided not to answer. With a sigh, I looked up at the next mountain. “Hrutan, where’s the nesting grounds?”

            “Fer th’ Dragons?”

            “Yes.”

            “Oh, eh, somewhere deep in yonder mountain. Likely as not below it. None of the Gyrkin know. We only help ’em protect it.”

            “Why do that?”

            He chuckled, and started to walk again. “You can ask any DragonRider. They’ll tell ye that they’ve killed not one Gyrkin. Ye, missie, have helped in the death of one tha’ I know of. Ye’d never be able to Awaken a Dragon.”

            “Dragons are Gyrkin are connected, then?”

            “Same ancestor, all those millennia ago. Here. Feel right between my shoulder blades. Don’t be shy, and say that ye feel nuthin’. Dig your hand under that armor.”

            “Armor?”

            “Lass, the two ’ard pieces of bone or whatever between me shoulders. Move them towards me sides. It ain’t gonna hurt me. Gyrkin need to do this every so often. Go on.”

            I separated the meticulously-cleaned shell-like plates, and moved them to the appropriate sides. Before I could do a thing, two white objects flew out to the sides, and stretched nearly three t’rows from one tip to the other. Hrutan sighed in bliss, then said, “You see?”

            “You . . .” I whispered. “You’re Dragon-kin!”

            “Aye, missie. And never ye forget it. My wings need to stretch for a moment, but they–”

            “How do you fit them in there?” I cut him off, peering at the place where they had sprung from.

            “Touch. Go on.”

            I did so, and timidly, until he stopped suddenly, and my hand went into the hole they came out of. I blinked, then ran my hand through fur . . . fur that was the most luxurious I had ever felt. I couldn’t see the color of it, but it was softer than a newborn kitten’s. I looked at him, as he was watching me. “Aye. Ye were sitting upon me wings, folded, under me second-skin.”

            I looked back at the hole. It looked like it were completely natural, and apparently it was. Flapping a few times, Hrutan sighed. “Best t’ put ’em away at the moment, missie. I dinnae have any reason to be caught. These wings can reflect sunlight a pretty distance.”

            I hopped off of his back, and watched as he folded his wings and slowly maneuvered them back into the opening. It stretched to admit the two slightly-bulky appendages, then returned to its normal size. With quite a bit of movement, Hrutan moved his wings within his second skin, and then sighed, content. “Could ye move those two back, now?”

            I hopped up carefully and did so. “Did that hurt?”

            “Nay. Felt good, it did. Now. On to more interestin’ topics. Oh, before that, lemme tell ye, missie, that you dinnae have t’ be so timid about gettin’ up there. That’s what the second skin’s fer.”

            I nodded, and we walked again. I was to learn about Hrutan’s story as we went along. He was born a year before I was, proclaiming him as about eighteen. He had been searching out assassin-warrior virgins for most of that time. However, he had been too odd-headed, he put it, to join in a harvest, or even going on a simple clan-approved raid. Hrutan was indeed named after one of the most powerful of the Gyrkin of Old, but he most certainly didn’t have the same values as his namesake. I could understand this perfectly.

            Soon, though, I realized why: his Grandfather taught him to listen to everything, leave nothing out. His mother taught him the same. She was apparently his grandfather’s daughter.

            Things ended up being a bit off between him and the other members of his clan, and he left to wander alone for the next eight years. I rubbed at the back of my neck, knowing that my own past didn’t seem nearly as bad as his had been. Finally, once his tale was told, he looked up at me. “Your turn’ll have to wait, missie. We’re here.”

            “Can’t you just call me Riian?” I replied in a sigh.

            He chuckled, and I pulled off the cape I had worn. I looked over my weaponry, then up at Hrutan. He blinked, and then let out a small, “hmph.” I grinned at him, and said, “Only brought my favorites to the mountain-town.”

            “Ah. Only. I, uh, see your reasonin’.”

            I chuckled, and unsheathed a small saber. With a practiced twist, I flipped it up and around me, limbering up. Easily, I looked at Hrutan, while doing so. “What does he look like?”

            “Euah . . . Tall, twice ye’r weight, easily. Grayin’ hair, bright blue eyes, porky around th’ middle. An’ he has a cane . . . clear-stone cane.”

            “Clear-stone?” I whispered, slowing my movements.

            “Expensive, I agree, and a waste.”

            I sighed. “No appearance, or a slight breeze?”

            “Workin’ out th’ details, darlin’?”

            “Make me kill you.”

            “ . . . right. Nuthin’ at all. Get in, do th’ job, get out.”

            “Gotcha.”

            “First time’s the hardest, missie me darlin’,” Hrutan whispered. I looked at him, and then sheathed the sword, giving him my complete and full attention. Somehow, I knew this was going to be important. He sighed. “No matter what, the first kill is hardest in a new setting. First red meat . . . first virgin.”

            I was quiet in my response. “Do you regret it? All their deaths upon your hands?”

            Hrutan sighed, and then replied, “I am who I am, missie. I canna change tha’. But I c’n try t’ change me ways just a bit, s’ that I c’n turn out better.”

            “Were they scared?”

            “Aye.”

            “Did you make it quick for them?”

            His eyes left my own, as he whispered, “My killin’ times have grown longer. Th’ first was short. I killed ’er after one glance at me. I started t’ toy with th’ others, hunting ’em, letting ’em see me, then disappearing. I ran circles ’round ’em. I had been brutal, an’ I know that this lifestyle wasn’t for me, since th’ last one.”

            “When was she killed.”

            “Seven months ago. An’ over those seven months, I’ve been trackin’ ye, and seeing that my ways weren’t what I had thought them to be. I’m sorry.” He sighed deeply. “Ye wouldn’t’ve known th’ others. They were all on th’ sou-eastern coast, not ’ere on th’ western.”

            I reached out, and touched his snout, seeing his genuine self-loathing. “I’ll be back in a short while.”

            “Nay. I’ll be waitin’ for ye by th’ wall. I’ll catch ye.”

            I left silently, a part of the night. I looked over the walls and saw that there were a few people still entering the main gate. I slipped under a moving cart easily and clung to the bottom of it, closing my eyes and letting my ears do the seeing for me. That echo there meant that we were under the wall . . . a thick wall, since it took about six seconds for us to pass through it.

            There was a yell, and I heard a guard order us to stop. I opened my eyes, and saw armored feet circling the cart. For a tense few moments, they rifled through the cart’s contents. It apparently belonged to a merchant who came in for a small faire that would be held here on the morrow. Finally, they ordered the people to move on. The moment that they stopped near a tavern, I lowered my head down to look around. Within a second, I was out and in another alley, heading towards a section of the city where rich perfumes were wafting from. Finally I was at the address that Hrutan had told me to memorize.

            The mansion was huge, but easily penetrable for one like me.

            It was barely fifteen minutes when I spotted the man. He was exactly as Hrutan had said. Only . . . there were three other men with him. I selected a blowdart from my ammunition pouch and inserted it into the blowpipe I carried for a last resort. I carefully tucked that in easy reach then pulled out a small crossbow, waiting.

            He turned away from me and toward where I could see five high-end women entertainers begin to enter the garden, the three younger men doing the same, all the males obviously intoxicated. It wouldn’t do to have him bleeding when he could die of undetectable poison. I took the blowpipe back out and shot quickly. I saw him fall, and then took off, thanking my ancestry all the while. Soon, an alarm in the city-town went off and I heard all the gates being closed. I stopped in a dark alley, my black clothing concealing me. Guards ran past, and I ran after them, glad that it was pitch-black by now. As soon as the guards reached the gatehouse, I stopped in a shadow, then followed it until I was between a wall and a tall house.

            Leaping up, I bounded between the two walls until I was upon the wall top. I looked over and saw Hrutan waiting for me. I was about to leap down when a hoarse voice yelled, “Stop there!”

            I looked to my left, hesitating as I did so. It cost me as I fell earthward, an arrow lodged deep in my left shoulder. Dimly, I heard a roaring, growling voice howl, “RIIAN!”

            Hands, arms caught me carefully, and I was lifted high, higher than I thought possible. I opened my eyes and saw Hrutan’s face. His eyes were glowing again, and his wings were flapping powerfully. He was careful of my wound as he held me close to his chest. I rested my right hand between burly pectorals, feeling his heart pounding frantically. He looked down at me, and lowered his snout to brush against my cheek. “Riian . . .”

            I shook my head, then felt my consciousness start to fade. With one last thought, I gripped the longer fur upon his arm, and held on.

            My world faded.

            “Riian? Riian, awaken. Hrutan’s worried about you. Riian.”

            I opened my eyes and groaned. “Master Varthin?”

            “Heh. Good. My grandson is worried sick about you. You’ve changed him since I have seen him last.” He helped me sit up. Mira ran in and embraced me carefully. She smiled, as Fyrin and Grasp came over as well to embrace me. These were the other three of my year-mates who had graduated with high credentials and with high promises.

            All three scuttled out of the way, however, when Hrutan entered to look at me. His eyes looked more brown than the red his grandfather’s were. They were no longer the crimson-red I had first noticed them as. He walked forward on all fours before reaching the side of my bed. rearing up to rest one paw-hand upon the bed, he then reached the other out to touch my cheek softly. “Riian.”

            I smiled and reached over with my good arm to rub at his snout. “I’m fine. Thanks to you, Hrutan, I’m fine.”

            He sighed, and rested his head upon my lap. “I’m take me vow back, Riian. I break it upon me own will. I will not take you. I swear upon that wound, upon th’ scar it’ll leave, I will never violate you. I . . . I can’t.”

            I rubbed at his head gently and whispered, “You don’t have to travel with me. I believe you. And thank you.”

            “No . . . no. I’m staying with you,” he replied, looking up at me with brown eyes.

            I stroked one furry cheek, then smiled. “Why?”

            “So that I can keep you from being violated by other males. I never want to see you hurt again.”

            He sighed and fell asleep there after only a few minutes. I looked from his grandfather to the other three in the room. Varthin looked at them meaningfully as well, and they left, smiling and waving, quietly promising to be back soon. I sighed. “Master Varthin, what do you think that was about?”

            “I have observed him as he was by you, watching over you as you slept, actually counting your breaths when you first came back.” The old Gyrkin smiled. “I have finally come to the conclusion that he, my beloved student, is smitten with you.”

            I blinked at the Master. “Nuh-uh. Hrutan? Him?”

            “The very same. Look at him, Riian! Does he look like he was two mere weeks ago?”

            I remembered his eye-color, then shook my head. “No. His eyes were red when we first met. Why are they brown?”

            “The color of dried blood, Riian. Gyrkin as myself still lust after a virgin’s blood. I have never met one of us who hasn’t until this very day. I still eat virgins, however, they are livestock. Pigs, sheep, goats, cattle . . . you know of my herds. Most Gyrkin do so nowadays. That is what I have been teaching them about. However, Hrutan has seemed to completely quench his lust for the first blood. And he did so completely in the last day.”

            I looked at the sleeping creature’s head upon my lap, and then closed my eyes. Varthin’s paw gently helped me sit back. He arranged the pillows behind my head, saying, “Hrutan and you are what Gyrkin call Bound. Two creatures who care for each other, yet do not know the meaning why. They cannot marry, yet, but they act almost as if they were, excluding one act of faith towards each other.”

            I looked at him sleepily. “What is that?”

            “It is what will stop you from remaining a virgin. Gyrkin females do not mate until they are married. Never will they break that vow. That is why the majority of Gyrkin males have ravaged human females, virgins. Their anger at the refusals had been insatiable. None had ever thought that there was something odd about all this. Their eyes turned red while females’ eyes remained their ice blue. Their wings were hidden out of the way by the second skin, yet the pure-white wings of our females remain unhindered. You see, little Riian, you have been caught in a vicious circle. I have the feeling that you will break it within Hrutan. I believe that you already have.” He smiled warmly, and touched the tip of his snout against my forehead. With a twinkle in his red eyes, he said, “Yet nothing smells sweeter than a virgin in her late teenage years.”

            I threw a pillow at his retreating back, hitting it easily as he laughed and closed the door. I was now short one pillow.

            Something stirred on my leg. I looked at Hrutan, whose eyes opened, revealing them to be glowing in the darkness once more. He yawned, crawled into the oversized bed next to me and rested his arm under the other pillow before placing his head upon the other pillows stacked up behind my bed. I then realized that we were in a DragonRider’s bed, with accommodations for the Dragon itself to sleep next to its Rider. I had a smaller room before I started traveling, but it appears that they moved all of my possessions to this room.

            I looked up at Hrutan, watching his face, then whispered, “Thank you.”

            He mumbled something, then opened his eyes. “Riian.” I smiled and he sighed. “Sorry. I . . . I’m sorry that I sent ye in to do that. I was bein’ cowardly. I could’ve done it meself, and both’a us know that. But it . . . it would have gone against Grykin rules and laws.”

            Reaching up, I rested my hand upon his neck. He moved his head closer o mine, and I tugged upon the silvery-tan fur upon his face, so that he leaned his head over mine. I sat up slightly, and kissed his chin. “I wouldn’t have made you do that, anyway. It’s a human’s place to take care of human assassinations. Thank you for everything, Hrutan.”

            He looked at me quietly. “Hrutan’s me second name.”

            I blinked, and whispered, “What’s your first, then?”

            “Qyriian.”

            I looked at him in surprise, then smiled, and said, “That’s why you didn’t want to call me by Riian. It’s part of your name.”

            “Aye. That’s one reason.”

            I kept rubbing at his fur for another long moment, then said, “I think that I have to confess something to you, Qyriian.”

            “Tell me.”

            I looked into his glowing eyes. “I love you.”

            He was shocked. Visibly, he jerked, and then started to back away slightly, but he stopped himself. He was panting, and I saw his eyes start to dim. I reached out for him, and even through my left shoulder hurt when I moved it, I wrapped my arms around his head, which was as large as my torso, and then pulled away to look at him.

            He had aged! He looked older than his grandfather. I was about to call for help, when a feeble paw touched my knee. His voice was reedy, tired. “Riian . . . dinnae be afraid, darlin’.”

            “But–”

            He closed his eyes, and gasped in pain, as his wings shot through his second skin, and spread around the bed. His voice came from his back, where a shining figure was taking shape. “Riian, hush. I love you, too. Quiet now. This is what happens, when a Gyrkin and a human love each other.”

            I was shaking. My hands wouldn’t keep still.

            Qyriian’s new hands, shining white as his wings, which he still sported upon his back, took mine in them, and held them still for me, as he settled upon the bed again. I looked into his eyes, and saw them to be ice blue, shining. The glow about him faded, and soon I saw a young man, my age or thereabouts, sitting in front of me, with a skin around him. I looked to Qyriian Hrutan’s old body, and saw it white, wingless, and frail. A tanned hand gently turned my face to look at the new Hrutan. He smiled, and said almost sadly, “This is why a Gyrkin should never love a human female virgin. We, ourselves, become the same, yet we still keep our wings. But we lose our accents.”

            “Your grandfather . . .”

            “Will pass on what happened. My parents may end up disowning me. My father in particular. But that doesn’t matter. Not while . . . not while I’m with you.” His arms wrapped around me, and I felt his breath ripple along my scalp. “Riian . . . what a beautiful, ringing name.”

            I smiled. “It’s also my second name.”

            “What, you too?!” he chuckled, smiling down at my face.

            I chuckled in return and replied, “My first name is Harmony.”

            He smiled, and sat at my head as I drifted back off to sleep. His voice, new, smooth, deep . . . filled with love . . . it was the last thing I heard before I slept. “Lucky that we’re betrothed, now. Mother would hate to see me if I weren’t, and sitting with you like this.”

            I barely smiled, and then sighed, falling asleep instantly

            My screwed-up world drifted into a calming, fuzzy warmth, seeming to linger as long as it could in a half-awake, half-slumbering mist, before finally surrendering me to unconsciousness. I slept well.

Click here for part two