Following Fate's Kiss

Chapter Three:

The Conflicts Along the Way

“Are you bleedin’ insane?!” Hrutan asked me. We were camped for the night while escorting Concord and her brothers to the academy. Master Varthin had gone ahead, since he said that had some responsibility to attend to or another.

I shook my head, and replied, “I have to find the man.”

“I know ye do, but d’ye have t’ get movin’ so soon, Riian?”

Looking in the campfire, I replied, “You know that I have to move quickly.”

“I canna let ye go alone. Ye’d run into some haphazard misbegotten lackwit or another,” he hissed softly, not wanting to wake the six sleeping academy-bound young people. I shouldn’t even call them young, since one is two years older than I am and another is a half-year younger.

I smiled at my betrothed and said, “I’d never ask you to leave me, Hrutan. I couldn’t ask you. I’m getting too used to your company to leave it willingly.”

He smiled at me, and I stood to walk around the fire. I sat and leaned back against him, pulling my blanket around me, since the days were starting to get chilly again. We were planning to get married in eight months, hopefully. Right now was the Awakening Cold month, numbering ninth in the succession of twelve months. Sighing, I felt for the pendant around my neck; the smooth round edge glided softly over the tip of my finger. Hrutan’s was still around his neck, still on the original chain. Somehow, through the undefinable process of him changing over, the chain lengthened and the pennant stayed around his neck.

I leaned over his foreleg and reached up to gently entangle my hand in the fur beneath his jaw, feeling its coarseness as well as the soft, downy underfur that it protected. He smiled down at me and then moved slightly, pulling me against his chest as he rolled onto his back. I smiled and curled up, falling asleep instantly, letting him take the first shift.

“Riian?”

I looked at the youngest boy, who was at the age of seven. “Yes?”

“When will we be there?”

Smiling, I placed my hand over his eyes and asked softly, “Can you see it in your mind? Remember how I described it to you?”

“Yeah . . . ?”

“Tell me what it looks like.”

Concord was smiling from her perch upon Fghara’s shoulder. They had grown close quickly, and I was teaching her how to be modest around a Gyrkin. Basically, I drove Hrutan batty, while Fghara was literally rolling, laughing at the flirtatious way I was presenting myself. I was always careful not to go too far, since I knew that my Qyriian had his limits.

But he told me later that I had gone dangerously close to breaking those limits and reviving his bloodlust. I had apologized throughly and had rubbed at his hind-left paw, easing its aching since it had been acting up lately. We’ve started this game-like way of doing things for each other when we had done something wrong, something that the other didn’t like and had taken offense. The one in the wrong did something for the one they had offended and willingly. Truth be told, it was working out quite well.

“I can bet that you do!” I replied, keeping my hand over his eyes. “Tell me, or I’ll have Hrutan sit upon you!”

“Righto!” Hrutan said, laughing. “An’ what else is above th’ library, young ’un?”

“The tower, where within there are two stone Dragons, one pointing North, th’ other South, and two stone Gyrkin, one pointing West, th’ other East. Th’ buildin’ was built long before th’ Gyrkin began t’ go after virgins, boy, an’ never ye forget it. Th’ smaller Dragons sleep where Gyrkin once slept. Now. Tell me. Where do th’ Dragons sleep?”

We entered the valley, and I released the boy’s eyes. “And there, you see, is the Academy.”

His face was written with shock over it, but it was quickly replaced with joy. As we entered the first courtyard, I looked up at the door of the main hall and saw Headmaster and Headmistress waiting. I slid off of Hrutan and then helped the seven-year-old down. The five boys followed me up the stairs to greet the Heads of the Academy. I knelt upon one knee and offered my sword, the cross-tree parallel to the ground to the married pair. They touched the cross-tree, gently forcing the tip down to rest upon the ground, pushing it into the soft grass.

The small ceremony of homecoming over, I stood, sheathed the sword, and swept my hand around to present the five boys. “These are the five sons of Mam Opulent from the northern sector of the Harutha clan, raised just on the outskirts of the Haruth city. As you know, I was visiting my mother there.”

I smiled, shook my head and walked over to Concord, so I could lead her over with Fghara by her side. They blinked at the Gyrkin, then at me. I smiled. “Hrutan and I rescued this little miss, and with Master Varthin’s help, we found her a Gyrkin bodyguard, name Ghan Fghara, who will keep her safe from all harm. She would not come without her brothers, and, once I met them, I knew that she was right in asking that they come with her. Two look as if they could Awaken a Dragon, and the other two have proven themselves to be natural teachers. The final one, this talkative seven-year-old here, has the knack for memorizing a map and being able to reproduce it after only five minutes. He’d be perfect for leading trade wagons once he’s older. Plus, all of them have had the preliminary training for a sword of their choosing, plus archery and the use of a slingshot.”

Headmistress nodded, then replied, “Master Varthin said that there would be six new arrivals within the week, yet he said nothing about the Gyrkin bodyguard.”

I shrugged, and then smiled. “Hrutan and I will be leaving in a few days to go to Fortune’s Island.”

“For what? There’s nothing there worth seeing, Harmony. I’ve been there. All that’s upon it is a fishing village, manned by mixed Harutha and Xaqtha.”

“I have reason,” I replied quietly. “And I can’t leave this matter be.”

I sighed. “Master Varthin knows exactly when I arrive. He always has.” The Gyrkin stormed up to me, eyes a blazing red. Instantly, I knew something was wrong. “What? What is it, Grandfather?”

“What?! Oh, for the love of . . . will I ever get any rest? Where is it this time?”

“Seaboard City. The one that Fyrin protects. She has told me about one that is about ready to overthrow the citadel there. You up for another assassination?”

The boy three years my elder was staring at me. I could feel his eyes boring into the back of my head. I sighed and said, “I’ll be going to the coast anyway, to get to Fortune’s Island.”

“There’s a festival in Fyrin’s city in five days from now,” Headmistress said. “We’ve been invited to go, the Headmaster and I. We’re hoping that this will get cleared up by then, so that the festival can go as planned.”

I shook my head. “This job sounds more serious than the other two. When a DragonRider asks for an assassination . . .”

“Gyrkin ’re involved,” Hrutan whispered. “Lass, ye’ve never told me straight: how many Gyrkin have died under yeh’r blade.”

My gaze shifted to him. He had been related to the one I had killed, defending myself and another girl my age in the southern Kalitha city. I bit my lip for a moment, sighed, and said, “Yes, him, Fghara. I was defending myself and another virgin. It’s my job . . . it was my line of work.”

He nodded, and his head lowered. Concord looked at me, her face quite a sight to look at. She was accusing me for something, I knew. For possibly his sadness. I walked past her and knelt before the small Gyrkin. “Fghara, I’m sorry. When I killed him, I remembered his name and told Master Varthin about the incident. I was sorry that I had to kill him. It’s what you and your kind do, I know, but I can’t sit back while there’s someone being killed around every corner just because they’re not married.”

I sighed, and reached my hand out, palm up and facing towards him, showing him a coin I always carried upon me. On one side was the name of the Gyrkin, while on the other was his face. He looked at me and whispered, “That’s like th’ one that came with th’ news that me brother was killed.”

I nodded and pulled out the original Riian’s coin, showing him the face. “I will not make one for Gharala, who was cold-blooded in attacking me. These two were consumed with bloodlust and couldn’t stop themselves.”

I stroked his forehead, scratching it for a moment before whispering, “Holding his head upon my lap, telling him that I forgive him for trying to kill us. He was apologizing to us the moment he was conscious for the last time. He had tried to get up to come to me, knowing who I was, but couldn’t. So I went to him. His eyes were brown, like Hrutan’s, and he just wanted to be forgiven for what he had been doing. So I forgave him. And he accepted comfort before he left. He died peacefully, Fghara, with honor.”

Fghara blinked at me once, then nudged my good shoulder with his head. “Thank ye for tellin’ me. I’ve been wonderin’ ’bout ’is death f’ a while, now, an’ I never knew . . .”

“And now you do. I’m honored that you asked me.” I smiled, ruffled his ears, and then stood to walk over to Master Varthin. “I’ll start out tonight with Hrutan.”

“T’morrow, darlin’,” Hrutan said. “I’ve been lookin’ forward t’ sleepin’ in me own bed f’ a night.”

I nodded, and the new arrivals walked into the main hall for orientation. Hrutan and I walked to the dormitories and were about to go in when Seaforth, the Master and Mistress’ second-eldest, stopped us. “Riian! Did you hear about what Fyrin needs done?”

I turned to the young man, and replied, “An assassination job. We weren’t given much information, though.”

Seaforth nodded, then replied, “I know. Mum and Da wouldn’t tell you, most likely. There’s a Higher Form Gyrkin trying to take over. The catch is that he goes after young virgins. Not late virgins, as most Gyrkin prefer. He’s also trying to become married to a human. She doesn’t want to be married with him since she’s in love with another man. She wasn’t in love with him in the first place.”

“Yep. Locked herself in her room with the Gyr-skin as well as all the keys to the citadel. She’s the only child, and has been ruling the Southern Harutha city since she was seventeen.”

I shook my head. “Well, I didn’t know that bit about the story. So how old is she?”

I looked at Hrutan, and then back at Seaforth. “So how long have you two been together, hm?”

“You’re of all four clans, Seaforth,” I replied, “as am I. Neither of us can lie to each other and we both know that. It’s virtually impossible for you to try to deceive me and vise versa.” He sighed, and nodded. I looked at him levelly and asked, “But first I have to know two more details.”

“Yeah. He’s one of a set of twins. His sister has the room next to him . . . fourth door.”

“Three years,” he replied, blushing and smiling shyly. “We’ve known each other for seven.”

I thanked him, then started to run towards my and Hrutan’s room. I unlocked the door and tossed the bundle of clothing and other items of mine and Hrutan’s in. Once the last bag landed squarely upon the bed, I closed the door and ran to the ladder to the second floor. Hrutan scaled the wall, and within seconds I was knocking upon the third door. It opened, and I found myself looking into red eyes. Then I realized who he was, and smiled. “Steadfast Righel, you bloody ground-hugger, Gyrkin are supposed to love flight. And why did you never tell me?”

He chuckled and backed away from the door, gesturing with a pale paw for myself and Hrutan to enter his neatly-kept dormitory room.

“But as you can probably tell,” he replied, before shifting easily to his fully-human form, no wings at all, “I never liked the skies. Not one feather lines my back. And I was wondering when you’d become part of the small group that knows that me and my sister are partially Gyrkin.” Blinking, he indicated the golden pennant I wore. “Well! Lookit this little bauble! Who’s the lucky guy?”

Steadfast nodded, and then folded his skin, and set it aside. “You came, then, to see what a half-Gyrkin is like, correct?”

I shook my head. “I’d like to know what I might have to expect when the time comes for me to be bearing children.”

“You’ll have some broad spectrum, Riian,” a female’s voice replied as she walked through the door the twins shared, looking completely natural in her Gyrkin form. Her wings were folded neatly upon her back. “We have talked with other people like us before they moved off to one of the islands. Some of them look like they’re fully Gyrkin, others can’t even shift between forms. Some have wings in one form, and not in the other, like me. Others are like my brother, who has no wings at all.”

“And I prefer the ground, sister,” Steadfast replied, smiling. “Neither of us have accents, in either form, and none of the others did, either.”

I nodded, and Qyriian asked softly, “What about the mother? Any complications during the pregnancy? Afterwards?”

Hail Tighal, Steadfast’s sister, nodded quietly. “The pregnancy is one month longer, and the birth . . . is messy. You’ll bleed more than if you were birthing a full-blood human. You’ll live, Riian but . . . it will weaken you considerably.”

The bells rang for dinner and Hail shifted to her human form, draping her white Gyr-skin over her shoulder. “Eat with us tonight. And invite that new Gyrkin I scented on the campus. He smells interesting. Almost like your own, but . . . more like a Gyrkin than he does.”

Dinner was over. The twins loved Concord and highly approved of Fghara. Neither knew that the twins were half-Gyrkin, and probably wouldn’t until they were much older. The twins promised to me that they would keep an eye upon the two while I was away. Hail especially bonded to Concord, and later told me that there was going to be a swift reform between the human and Gyrkin populations, causing them to return to being as close as Dragons and humans were when the time was right.

Qyriian was asleep already, breathing deeply. I ran my hand through his silky hair and then sighed, resting it upon his jaw. I laid back against the pillow and watched his face, which relaxed only slightly in slumber. His eyes opened after a moment and he blinked sleepily, then pulled me closer and wrapped his bedraggled wings around us both. “What is it?”

He kissed my forehead then stood and walked over to the door, making sure that the locks were in place and everything was holding up well. He went to the windows and did the same, then picked up the Gyr-skin. Gracefully, he draped it fur-side-down over me, then lay between the sheets as he usually did when in this form and when we were in our room. His hand found mine. “Do you feel safer now?”

I shook my head, causing him to sigh. After a moment, he sat me up and placed himself behind me. He had found a brush somewhere and was starting to go through my hair gently with it. After that was done, he pulled the long strands back into a loose braid and wrapped a soft and pliable piece of leather around the end to keep the braid in place. I sighed and bowed my head. He rested his hand upon mine again. I whispered, “This assignment . . . who could this Gyrkin possibly be?”

“He goes after children . . . isn’t there some unspoken law about that? Some taboo?”

“There is. There always was. If they are not fourteen, then they are not acceptable to have. Do you understand what I’m implying?”

“And, love, listen to me: You could have killed Gharala all upon your own. Both of us know that. But I will tell you something more: You cannot kill a Higher-Form Gyrkin. You simply cannot. There is no feasible way that you can kill one when they don’t want to be killed.”

He sighed and brought his right wing in front of him. His voice came from behind it. “Don’t touch the edges of the feathers, but place your hand upon one, and feel.”

I did so, and gasped, as a split-second later, they were like steel. I pulled my hand away, and Qyriian moved his wing back behind him again. I reached for his face, hand trembling slightly as I realized that this was a bigger problem than I had first thought. He kissed my fingertips before pulling me into an embrace. “All a Higher Form Gyrkin has to do is think that they will be harmed, and their own bodies will react instantly, saving them from death.”

“I know, but I was hoping that you wouldn’t yank that feather out of my skin. That would hurt, Harmony! It would be like me pulling out a few strands of your hair.”

I nodded. He settled the Gyr-skin over me once more, and said, “But if you somehow kill him without him knowing that you are around . . . then you will. There’s always a chance that he might not smell you.” He sighed, and said, “But not with me around. I can smell every Gyrkin within a 200-t’row radius in this form.”

Cuddling closer, I buried my face against his shoulder and said, “Let’s plan on the way.”

I felt him kiss the top of my head, then reply, “Sleep. You’re right, love.”

It was the next morning. I awoke to feel Qyriian brushing the hair that had escaped my braid during my slumber away from my face. I smiled up at him and whispered, “We have to leave today?”

“After the sun passes its zenith.” He paused, then voiced his thoughts. “Actually, I do not think that it would be wise for us to travel during the day. Too many witnesses would alert the Gyrkin.”

I sighed and sat up, rubbing at my eyes. “All right. You win. I’m taking a bath.” I blinked at him as I saw his face light up in a smile. “No peeking.”

By the time I got out of the large copper tub I had time to wake up fully and to think about a few things. I told Qyriian about them while I was dressing behind my screen. “All Gyrkin have a weak spot.”

“Yes I know that drives you batty, but what physically is the weak point?”

There was a baffled silence from his end. I walked around the screen and leaned against the chair he was sitting in, reading a book. He looked up at me, and blinked. “For a Higher Form Gyrkin? I don’t know. But upon a regular Gyrkin, the weak point is either under the chin, in the fleshy part near the jugular, or between the armor between the shoulders. I took quite a risk, allowing you to feel the under-fur when we first met and I knew that. One well-placed knife slash and all would have been over for me.”

“Qyriian Hrutan, do you know any other way? And don’t you suggest that I test the twins, because they might have different weak points than a purebred Gyrkin!”

He was silent for a moment, then turned away. I walked around the chair, and took the book from his hands and replaced my own hands in his. He wasn’t looking at me. I sighed, and rested his hands upon the sides of my waist, then reached around his neck to pull myself up to his face so I could kiss him lightly upon his lips. His eyes shot over to meet mine, but I rested my forehead against his chest once my feet were upon the ground again. His arms rested around me a bit more comfortably, and he sighed in return, before asking quietly, “Have you ever kissed another like that, Riian?”

He sighed again, and then held me tighter, wrapping his wings around me. “Euah . . . forgive me. I was in the wrong.”

I shook my head, pressing my face into his chest lightly. “Qyriian, you were only defending yourself. I understand completely.”

He sighed. After a moment, he rested his forehead against mine. “All right. Please, though, try not to hurt me.”

He smiled and I ran my hands over most of what were considered pressure points upon a human, watching his eyes for any indication of pain. He flinched only once, and I instantly started to massage the spot I had touched, dulling the pain as best as I could. It was the spot where the neck and head meet, but I would have to be really close to shoot if indeed I went through with this plan, or I’d have to train for three days in a new long-range weapon that looked remotely like a demented crossbow. That point on the neck was between two muscles, and if he moved the slightest bit, I’d lose the shot.

I moved around behind him and closed my eyes, breathing slowly, letting my hands find spots that would be slightly vulnerable, but not enough. It wasn’t what I was looking for.

Then, with only a light touch to the midpoint upon Qyriian’s back, halfway down and halfway between his two wings, he crumpled. I caught him, and easily carried him to the bed, where I immediately started rubbing at his back through the fabric of his shirt. He regained consciousness quickly, and I started apologizing as sincerely as I could. His hand reached back, and I squeaked, pushing myself backward before his hand could reach where it was going. He turned slowly to look at me, and I said, “Don’t touch there.”

His face fell, and blond hair fell forward as he pulled his knees up beneath his chin and rested his head down upon them. His voice was muffled. “This just isn’t our day, is it, Riian?”

I rubbed at my face before replying, “No. I’m sorry that I knocked you out.”

“No, don’t be. It was retribution for what I almost did. That, and now you know where to aim for.”

He looked up at me, and said, “You can lay your hand upon there, and I believe that you can even massage that area, but if you poke sharply with one finger, as you just did, then I’m out for the count.”

I returned his gaze, and then crawled over to him to allow him to embrace me once more. And then something shifted in the atmosphere of the Academy. Without a second look, we walked down to the mess hall to see a Gyrkin was snarling at a teenage boy. Concord was cowering under Fghara, clinging to his leg. The hall was in complete chaos. I looked up at Qyriian. He caught my glance and leapt upwards, beating downwards once to get the height to land upon a support beam. His voice echoed ominously as he raised it to roar, “What’s going on here?!”

Everything stopped. I walked towards the still-growling Gyrkin and looked between him, the young man, and Concord. Finally, I looked to the Gyrkin again. “Quit growling, fur-face. What’s going on.”

I turned, and slapped his cheek lightly. “Speak when you’re spoken to, kid. First-year students have no place to be demanding attention. So shut up until I’m ready to talk to you.”

I looked back to Fghara, who said, “Th’ cub wanted Concord t’ come t’ ’is rooms wi’ ’im. She flatly refused, an’ he didn’t like it.”

His voice faded off to an angry growl and I reached up to rub at his ears, managing to calm him slightly in that small action. “Thank you, Fghara. Concord? What happened in your perspective.”

I looked to a young woman standing around, face flushed in rage. I had seen her and Concord getting along rather well since the younger girl’s arrival. At my glance she said, “Neither mentioned that False hit her.”

I looked at them, and then saw Concord holding her shoulder. Fghara was too angry to speak more and I looked to False, as his name apparently was. He was starting to back away, but instead of being ably to run off, he backed into a large and slightly-silvered-with-age Gyrkin.

Master Varthin glared at the boy, his red eyes fierce. “That, young man, is a serious offence. Grandson!”

“Bring young False to the Headmaster. Riian, take the girl and her bodyguard to a Kalith. Hrutan, once the boy is secure, meet your betrothed at the Kalith’s office. I want a word with you two.”

We nodded, and Qyriian Hrutan was about to grab the boy’s arm when the first-year student struck out, yelling, “This place is being overrun with monsters! Can’t you see it?! Don’t you know what’s going on?! Can’t you see what this place is turning into?!”

I reached up to Qyriian’s face, touching a swelling starting to form upon his cheekbone. His ice-blue eyes were flashing dangerously. I spun quickly and knocked the boy unconscious with a swift, sweeping blow with the palm of my hand. I caught him as he fell and lowered him to the floor. “Qyriian, I’ll need to take care of that swelling.”

Varthin looked at the onlookers, and said, “Classes are dismissed today. I would like to see that some of you help in the kitchens to help with what would have been a surprise feast. Others, please take care of the decoration. I’d like to see the tables arranged in a nearly-closed circle, with an opening near the kitchen door for the courses to come out. Get everything done well and quickly, and I might consider a small holiday extending into possibly three days.”

The academy’s children ran off, cheering. Varthin slung the young man over his shoulder as I knelt to look at Concord. “Come on out, Concord.”

She did so, and I helped her up onto Fghara’s back. She held on with her left hand, but her right was weak. Fghara immediately set off for the infirmary, and I looked to Varthin. He sighed, and said, “I will speak with you two soon. The feast will begin at two. Don’t leave before then.”

We nodded our assent. As soon as he was gone, I pulled Qyriian into the kitchens. He kept his wings held tightly to his back as we passed the ovens. I quietly snatched a few pastries, and then brought Qyriian to the quiet herb garden. It led into a regular garden where a reflection pool shimmered quietly, just waiting for someone to sit beside it, needing peace from a long or particularly trying day. Sitting him down upon a stone bench, I handed him one of the raspberry-filled delicacies, and he bit into it reluctantly. I pulled out a small tube of cooling, soothing ointment that I always carried around with me in case something came up, and opened it, smelling it to make sure that it was still fresh. I used only a small piece and gently rubbed in into the bruising cheekbone, feeling Qyriian wince with every small touch. Once that was done I sat, leaned against him, and ate my pastry.

He sighed, and said, “That was close. Fghara had . . . has every right to maim that boy.”

“I agree.” I looked to him, and asked, “I wonder what Master Varthin wants to speak to us about?”

“Can’t be good, whatever it is. It’s never good when he wants to talk to someone alone.”

“You two are becoming too close.” We stared at him blankly, and he sighed. “If you continue along this path, I do not believe that you will stay virgins much longer. There. Do you both understand that?”

I looked at Qyriian, then at Varthin. “You think that we’ll screw up before our marriage day? Or night. Whatever.”

The Gyrkin sighed. “Yes, frankly, I do. Sadly, I have seen this before. I do not want you to go upon this trip together.”

Qyriian rose to his feet, hissing furiously, “I will not allow her to go on this assassination alone!”

I sighed. “Master Varthin, I understand your concern, but I do not want to go on this mission all on my own. Something tells me that is isn’t as simple as everyone is thinking that it will be.”

“He will be scented by that Higher Form Gyrkin for certain, and then what?! I do not want him killed!”

“Neither do I!” I yelled back. “And you do not know how much I care for him! I love him too much to do anything like that with him before we’re wed! It would only hurt us later on in the long run, and I would hate to lose his respect for who and what I am.”

Varthin sighed. “Your mother told me that you are going in search of your biological father. What do you think he will be thinking when a Gyrkin shows up with his daughter, wearing a betrothal pennant around his neck and holding your hand?!”

I blinked. “Dunno. That’s why I’m going to bring Qyriian and find out. Honestly, Master Varthin. Would I tell him, and say, ‘Oh, sorry, my betrothed isn’t here. He’s confined to his rooms at the Academy.’ Tell me, please. How do you honestly think that would go over?”

Varthin’s chest puffed out in the inhale of a deep breath. He released it with a growl. “Not very well.”

“I want Qyriian to come with me. I don’t want to be alone. Please, Grandfather, let him come with me.”

The Gyrkin’s red eyes watched my own, and he looked to his paws with a deep sigh, completely defeated. He knew, somehow, that Qyriian would come with me, whether he said so or not. We were too close, but it wasn’t the type of closeness that he would expect. We were so close that if one of us even tried to seduce the other into breaking their vow of abstinence, then they would push them away, telling them to stop thinking like that, or even take off to get away from them so that the seducer would see their error.

His second sigh wasn’t one of exasperation, but more of loving resignation. “Then go. But hearken to me, you two. You’ll find that the temptation to do something will grow larger once you’re out in the wilderness, all alone. Do not let lust get to you, do you understand? Qyriian, listen to me, Grandson. For the sake of Ice Eyes, do not think anything about what you would like your marriage night to be. Do not let your mind wander over those paths.”

Qyriian nodded, and Varthin sighed. “Harmony, please. Don’t do those things as well. Also, I would wish that you would give him clear indication of when you’re not to be disturbed.”

I nodded, and then blinked, feeling something . . . shift. I sighed, stood, and stormed into a relieving-room. Varthin called after me, “Are you all right, Harmony?”

Qyriian groaned, and I heard him shift his posture in his chair. “How long since we have met, Harmony?”

“Yes, we human females have a rather lovely ‘schedule’ every single time the moon turns completely.” I walked out of the bathroom and rubbed at my eyes. “I’ll have issues waking up tomorrow.”

Varthin laughed, trying to cover it up with a cough. “And you should not sleep close if he is in his Higher Form.”

I looked at Hrutan, and he sighed, then nodded and said, “Back into the skin I go, hm? Lovely.”

I reached for his shoulder, and then linked my arm through his, sighing. He looked at me, and I said, “I’ll be here.”

“Yeah, I know. I have to get into that skin now, if we’re to set out in an hour. I want to be used to my movement in that form at least a half-hour before getting out there.”

I had to leap into a rafter and peer down at Hrutan as he regained control over his instincts. He looked at the floor, unable to even look at me fully. “I’m sorry, Riian. I . . . I canna handle this as well as I thought I could.”

“Hrutan, please help me down,” I said, letting myself sit so that my legs dangled over the side of the rafter, at least a t’row above the bed, which was a half-t’row high. It had been a rather large and high jump, that I had made in desperation and with the assistance of adrenaline. Hrutan looked up at me mournfully, his brown eyes speaking of his complete dismay that he had once again nearly hurt me. He stood upon his hind legs and raised his hand up to me. I leaned forward and held onto him as he lowered me to the floor. Once my feet were upon the floorboards, I reached up around his neck and buried my face into his fur, whispering, “It’s okay. Everything’s okay, Hrutan.”

“But I dinnae wanna t’ do this agin t’ you! I can still smell yeh fear, Riian.” He took in a deep breath, trying not to sob with his frustration. “I smell it, an’ I . . . I don’ want ye t’ fear me.”

I looked up at him, and then said, “I once heard a saying that was in relation to arranged marriages, not finding a soulmate like you and I have found in each other. It said, ‘Where love is, fear cannot reside.’ I love you, and I could never fear you. I may be startled, but I can’t hate or fear you. There’s no way that I can.”

With a sigh, Hrutan nodded and touched the pennant around his neck. I touched my own, gently, reverently, and smiled up at him, silently telling him that I loved him beyond any words could ever try to express. He smiled back and said, “Yeh ’ave a beautiful smile, darlin’.”

“So do you, when you finally decide that it isn’t all that bad of a facial expression.”

We set out late in the twilight with Varthin’s warning fresh again in our minds. He wanted to make sure that our roles were clear until our marriage. We were to be assassination partners and nothing more. However, since Hrutan was in his Gyrkin form and not Higher Form, Varthin said that it would be all right for us to sleep close, since the nights were starting to become chilly again and some nights we wouldn’t be able to light a fire.

I sighed, looking up at the stars on the second night of travel, then said, “Sometimes, I wish that I had chosen a simple life.”

“Th’ life chooses you, not th’ other way ’round,” Hrutan said, looking at me gently. He sighed, and then reached over to prod at one of the pieces of smoked beef I was carrying, chewing on thoughtfully. I handed it to him and he started to chew upon it, then said, “Y’know, Riian, there’s a good chance that you can take ’im alone.”

“Euah! Nay, missie, nay! It’s just that . . . I cannae be around ye iffn ye plan to assassinate ’im. Ye unnerstan’ tha’. An’ ye know where ye ’ave t’ aim.”

“Aye, but Gyrkin ignore others on a raid unless they’re both aimin’ f’r th’ same virgin. Then all Hell breaks free. I dinnae wanna let loose me bloodlust, Riian. I cannae stan’ how I must look t’ ye when I do.”

Unable to look at him as I smiled quietly, remembering something. I felt my face heat up as I said, “You look perfectly fine, Qyriian. Even better than fine when you’re in your Higher Form.”

“So I don’t mind your little instinctual temper tantrums, since I know that you look so adorable when you apologize. You’re simply just you, Qyriian Hrutan, and that’s all that there is to say. You’re . . . uhm . . . really good-looking in your Higher Form. From a girl’s point of view.”

He smiled at me when I finally looked up at him, then tugged another piece of smoked beef out of my hands. I smiled back at him, and we started walking again in a small silence. We had learned to tell apart different emotions easily just by listening to each other’s silence, if you will. He was getting good at just looking at my eyes and telling when I should be left alone, and when I needed to talk to him about something or another. Even I was starting to be able to read his moods through his eyes and motions. He was actually a bit simpler than I was, I believed, since he had larger shoulders to hunch as well as a tail that expresses a lot of emotions all in itself.

I sighed, and began measuring my paces, not wanting to wear myself out in only the second day. It would be at least another two days to get to the city, and we didn’t have a moment to spare.

When I finally entered through the city gates, I heard a yell, and a young girl came up to me, hiding behind me. Hrutan was watching from atop a large mountain peak, 250 t’rows away. I knew that he had excellent eyesight, but I didn’t know that it was that good.

I rested my hand upon the young girl’s shoulders, and then looked up to see a Higher Form Gyrkin with dark eyes and hair, glaring at me. “Give me the girl.”

I said nothing, ignoring him, looking over my weaponry calmly. He screamed in wrath and I pushed the girl father behind me, then drew my sword, managing to slice through a few pinion feathers before he could react. He stopped, and I kept between him and the girl. “Hands off of the little one, Gyrkin. You know that it is taboo.”

I pulled out my pennant, and said, “Try it. I dare you. My fiancé will rip your sorry hide to pieces.”

I only grinned and said, “Besides. Do you wish to anger Master Varthin more than you already have? Back off, Gyrkin.”

I said nothing more, but instead shifted my grip upon my sword slightly, readying it for an attack. He glanced behind me, then swore. “You were only a distraction so that little whelp could escape!”

“Oh, but of course!” I said sweetly. I shifted the facade to show how irritated I really was. “Now move. I have errands to run.”

He snarled at me as I passed him, but didn’t touch me. I walked around the streets seemingly aimlessly, knowing that he was flying above me, watching my every move. I touched a sword here, brushed a piece of fabric across my cheek there, and then finally walked into a bar. I knew that he could still hear me, and I knew that he would be listening. “Fyrin.”

The DragonRider looked up at me, smiled, and indicated the stool next to her. The bartender looked at me oddly as I played with the pennant somewhat restlessly. Finally, he leaned forward and asked, “So. Did you want a glass of milk, miss, or are you older than you look?”

“May leapers fly out of your hind end!” I retorted, glaring at him. “Get me a Bold. And make it fast. I have things to do that do not require your mindless jabber.”

Fyrin snickered at the face the bartender had on, then looked to me. “You’re here a day early.”

I indicated that he was listening to me, and she nodded once, as I replied, “Well, you know that I use poison and blades. I’m thinking that one of those would go nicely.”

“He’s waiting for me somewhere around the borderlands of this city. Said he had business to attend to. Something about a surprise.”

“Dunno. He thinks that mountains would be nice, but I’d like to travel to one of the islands.”

“Dreamer’s Island . . . Wayfarer’s Island . . . Fortune’s Island . . . and then there’s the one that Grasp has gone to.”

I smiled, and said, “Then I’ll follow Grasp after the one I’m planning to go to.”

Her face was grave. “He’s been around . . . that one, and it hasn’t stirred. Gold doesn’t know what the trouble is, but she had thought that Grasp would be the one . . .”

“Riian, he’s six years older than you. You know that he’s fully completed his training to the grain . . . are you sure that you can help?”

I nodded and smiled as the Bold, a rather strong alcoholic drink, came to me. I tossed two gold bents to the bartender, who blinked at them. I grinned. “Oh, and I hope that you don’t mind that I’m taking the mug with me.”

He shook his head, chuckling kindly in reply, and I stood, walking out with Fyrin. “Where’s Gold?”

She pointed at a peak opposite to where I knew Hrutan had been. I nodded, and then heard, {Your fiancé is with me, Riian. He has told me all about what you are to do. I wish to you all the best of luck.}

{Is there anything that I should know, Gold?} I asked, looking at the ground as if weary.

{Only one thing. He is seized by the bloodlust. He cannot help himself, and has confided in dragonkind that he is so. Do not be harsh with him as you were with Gharala. Try to break it in him, unless you are forced to kill him.}

{Correct. Oh, there he is . . .} I sighed, then called up to the Higher Form Gyrkin stand upon a rooftop, “Are you done stalking me?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I let myself be led to the citadel where the daughter of the city had locked herself in. I set the drink down, pounded upon the door once, waited a moment, then kicked it so that if someone wasn’t close enough to hear it, I’d be heard. A chamberlain opened a small window, then saw me. “Milady Harmony . . .”

I gave him a disinterested look. “What are you talking about? I’m Riian the Assassin. Let me in. I have to speak to your lady about her protection, or lack thereof at the moment.”

The chamberlain nodded and opened the door a crack, admitting Fyrin first, then myself. I brought the Bold with me and handed it to the man, writing a shorthand note in the dirt with a stick. It read: Do not drink this. If the Higher Form Gyrkin comes too close, dip a rag into it, wrap it around a rock, and throw it at him.

He nodded, and Fyrin lead me towards the lady of the citadel. I knocked upon the door politely, then stood back. It was opened a moment later by a blonde young woman, slightly older than I, but looking bedraggled. I bowed as low as I dared, then said, “I am Riian. Your lover sent me to you.”

“Seaforth!” she said, breathing the name out. I smiled and pulled out the item he had given to me in secret so that I could give it to her. It was a note written in his own hand with a necklace of the finest gold I had seen. She barely even looked at the necklace as she read the note. Smiling, she looked up at me. “Whatever I can do for you . . .”

I sighed. “I have to get that skin back to that Gyrkin. He’s in bloodlust, and will not be satisfied until he can take you.”

“I’ve heard him outside, gloating that his current form is his most powerful yet. I do not think that he would approve of the fact that he has to don the skin again.”

“How? Simple. I know how a Gyrkin moves in both their natural forms, as well as their Higher Form.”

She blinked at me and I indicated the pen and quill lying upon her desk. She nodded, and I wrote out simply: I am marrying a Gyrkin by the name of Qyriian Hrutan.

She nodded, and wrote back: Then you are Harmony of the Harutha, the daughter of their leader, Lady Kismet.

I was wearing my assassination clothing, gripping the white Gyr-skin in one arm. It felt alien to me. The fur wasn’t as soft and as luxurious as my Qyriian’s was. Out on the rooftop, I felt too alone, too . . . too vulnerable. I shook the feeling off, then called out, “I’m here, Khranak Hgathin! I’m waiting for you!”

There was a chuckle, nearly human, and he replied from somewhere below me, “Oh, but little virgin, I have scented you from afar.”

I couldn’t see as well as I usually could at night, due to the moon currently being in its black phase, not shedding light upon the land as it does once a month. But that didn’t matter. I did most of my training in the dark. I snorted. He laughed again, and I pinpointed his position. I leapt off of the roof I was on, opening the skin as I fell earthward. He moved and I landed in a roll, feeling the cobblestones hard against my back and sides, knowing that I had gained bruises in the failed action. I stood again, holding the skin like a net, ready to throw it upon him.

He rushed at me, and I saw my opportunity. Twisting in midair, I pushed the head of the Gyr-skin upon the Higher Form Gyrkin’s head, and felt it adhere. He would not be able to get it off. I ran to a few feet away, and drew a sword and a long dagger, ready to fight. He became a dark-furred Gyrkin, roaring his anger, turning slowly to face me. His glowing eyes sought out my own. I readied the sword and dagger, moving my feet so that I could jump in any direction, without having to move my body too much.

He ran at me, then raised his left paw to swipe at me. I jumped over it, and landed in a roll, facing him. This went on for a while, with me alternately swiping at his face and shoulders, trying to give him the message to knock it off. Three times I had nearly broken his bloodlust, but . . . each time . . . it was just too blasted strong. He would only shake all over . . . and then roar and charge at me again, more furious than before.

And then I tripped. It was a stupid mistake. I didn’t see that they had been repairing the road in this section of the city. I hadn’t even been in this part of the city before now. Very stupid mistake. Next time I’ll stay in the city for a full week before I assassinate the target.

His left paw pinned my right shoulder to the ground as his right paw shredded both my black tunic and my blue under-shirt, catching my shoulder, and ripping it open in a line past my collarbone that ran halfway across my chest. I struggled, fighting the waves of pain, reaching for my sword with my left hand. I couldn’t reach it in time, as he ripped apart my left pant-leg, managing to gouge my thigh in the process. I didn’t scream, yell, or even anything as I struggled again, feeling the tears run down my cheeks. I could not allow him to take what was rightfully Qyriian’s. But . . . I . . . I didn’t know what to do.

His paw went to pin my other arm down, and then . . . it just suddenly not there. It was gone, but none of the blood mingled with my own as a slightly-smaller, lighter-furred Gyrkin started ripping into him, his . . .

His bloodlust was back. His eyes weren’t only glowing, but I saw them glowing red. He would not stop at anything as he fought with Khranak, ripping gouges into his sides and face. Finally, with a barbarous wail, Hrutan tore Khranak’s jaw free, then tore open the dark Gyrkin’s jugular.

As the Gyrkin’s lifeblood gushed forth, Qyriian looked at me in the approaching dawn as I tried to sit up. He stalked closer to me, each movement slow and deliberate. His eyes were still red as he reached me, looking down at me without mercy. I had lost too much blood. I couldn’t sit up. But I could move my right arm. And I reached it up to his face, trying to speak, but unable to do so. His tongue flashed out, licking my bloody hand, and he stopped, growling, shaking slightly. His wings burst forth, and he panted, shifting to the Higher Form and leaned over me carefully, kissing my forehead softly.

I tried to stop the flow of blood from my shoulder, but hands . . . human hands . . . reached around mine as he held me close, cradling me. I sobbed into his chest, unable to handle the stress. He sighed, kissing my forehead. I heard the soft snap of leather wings, and then Fyrin’s voice. “Hrutan, hand her to me.”

He looked down at me, and I angled my face upwards to see him better. His blue eyes were . . . overflowing. Reaching up with my right hand, stained with my own blood, I wiped a tear away. He held me close once more, then kissed me gently. “I’ll be following you.”

Fyrin’s arms held me tight as Gold sped through the streets, bringing me to a healer. I was starting to fall asleep, but I fought with myself to try to stay awake. Even though Kalitha were able to bring people out of comas, I didn’t want to experience it.

I felt the sensation of being kissed again, and then sighed, returning it. I didn’t want to open my eyes, as already it seemed too bright. There was a loving chuckle and I heard Qyriian’s voice. “You look horrible, but I love you more than anything anyone could ever try to offer me. You’re still more beautiful than anything in this world.”

I smiled, barely able to do so. His hand was resting upon my right cheek. From the angle of it, he was standing upon my left side. I tried opening my eyes a crack, then closed them again, wincing. There was a hissed whisper, and soon I heard drapes being drawn closed. I opened my eyes a little again, then smiled up into Qyriian’s face. Sighing, I asked quietly, “How long was I out?”

He shook his head. I reached up with my right arm, and rested my palm upon his cheek. “Then get some.”

“I know. The Kalitha healers kept telling me that. But I didn’t want to leave you alone, Harmony . . .”

I closed my eyes, and then opened them again to look back at his face, filled with sadness and worry. “Tell me what’s on your mind, love, and sit next to me.”

He did, but I could tell that he was just this side of reaching around me and picking me up to sit upon his lap, cradled like a child scared by a dark nightmare. “I could have saved you . . .”

“No . . . I was too late. You were already injured, and bleeding too much. The Kalitha were able to stop the bleeding, but you lost too much blood. You . . . you were just on this side of death, and I couldn’t have forgiven myself if I had let you die . . .”

I reached for his right arm, which he hadn’t moved too much since I had woken up, then moved the sleeve up past his elbow to look at the inner side, where there was a small, healing dot on the soft skin of the underarm of his elbow. The blood vessels run close to the skin there, and those who were able to donate blood often did so from that site. “Qyriian . . . you . . .”

“Gyrkin blood is able to be transfused to any human. The same with Dragon blood. I should have told you . . .”

I shook my head, and sighed, then let his sleeve drop again. “It doesn’t matter. I owe you my life again.”

He chuckled again, softly, and I looked around the room. Mother was there, with Master Varthin, Fyrin, Mira, Seaforth and his lady Rapture, Headmaster and Headmistress, and, of course, three Kalith. Mother walked over to me, and bent to kiss my forehead. “You did well.”

“No, but you were able to get the Gyr-skin upon him,” Varthin said softly. “Do you know how hard it is to maneuver around to get the skin back upon a Gyrkin who is resisting having it placed back upon them?”

“That was one of their games. They would train in mobility and speed. Whoever’s skin was placed upon them first lost.” He chuckled, and said, “It was wondrous entertainment. Those brats could send up a tantrum like the best of them when they lost. Of course, they had Gyrkin blood in them, and as you know with Hrutan, Gyrkin know how to throw a royal temper tantrum when provoked.”

I smiled, and then sighed and relaxed. Qyriian’s tired smile started to get to me. “You have to sleep.”

I shook my head. “No, Qyriian Hrutan. Now. I saw a bed over there. Go and sleep. We have to get to Fortune’s Island, then Dragon’s Island.”

“You’re not going anywhere for at least two weeks.” My mother pushed my right shoulder down, and a flash of a memory flew through my head.

I yelped, and Qyriian caught me as I sat up, hiding my face in his shoulder. I could barely make out his words, as he held me close to him, letting me clutch at his shirt, sobbing silently. “Khranak pinned her down by her right shoulder. He had all intentions to . . . to harm her then and there.”

Warm hands rested upon my back, and I turned slowly to see my mother, tears in her own eyes, and holding her hands out to me. I reached towards her as well, and she held me gently to her, shaking. Her apologies were filled with true sincerity, as she pushed back my hair around my face, and then kissed my cheeks, wiping my tears away with her own sleeves, wanting to make up for reminding me of something that I wish would never have happened, and yet it almost did. There would be no telling of how this would affect me later on in life. I hoped that it wouldn’t hurt anything of my relationship with Qyriian. I would never want anything to come between him and me, and I somehow sensed that he felt the exact same way towards me.

Three weeks later, I was able to limp around but I was able to ride easily. As I started packing I looked over to Qyriian, who was still sleeping this late in the morning. I smiled and rubbed at my scarring shoulder, moving it slightly to stretch the scar, making sure that it wouldn’t seize up on me and harden as many scars could.

Quietly, I walked over to him and leaned closer to his face, kissing his nose lightly. I didn’t want to wake him up, but as his arms reached up to gently hold me closer to him, I knew that he had been awake for a few minutes. His grasp was still weakened from slumber, and I knew that at his waking moments he had the most grace that I would ever see from him.

“Get up, will you? We’re leaving today. And after we meet my father, we have to get to Dragon’s Island.”

“He’s a full-fledged bodyguard for four years, Harmony! What can we do to help him?”

I smiled, and shrugged. “Dunno. But I want to try, anyway. He’s like a brother to me. I know virtually nothing about Dragons, but just to see if I can help would be a wonderful experience.”