|
|
|
|
Shadow glared at Callan as if he had interrupted a bar brawl that she had been enjoying. Throwing down the borrowed sword she had been able to pick up off of one of the dead, she roughly wiped at her bleeding cheek. “What in the hell does it look like, Blackthorn? That we decided to stop for tea and invited the local Demoness over for refreshment? Oh yeah, she brought a fruitcake as a ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ present. Sorry we didn’t save any for you.”
“Tea? Then next time, by gods tell me and I’ll bring a pizza, how’s that?” Callan snarled at Shadow, his eyes still glowing as he pushed a red curl from An’Thaya’s bloodied face and gently prodded Agaru again, “M’Tashnae vran? Da Me’yenska? - Can you hear me?
Shadow kicked at a severed arm in disgust then stood fascinated as a tendril lashed out and claimed the appendage. “I don’t mean to be rude, but could someone get her up so we can get out of here? The shadows are avoiding this place and whispering we should run.”
A grunt of agreement and a quick assessment of the canyon walls followed as Callan waited to see if Agaru could fight her way to consciousness. His eyes followed the slope of the walls, then studied the distance between their current location and the exit of the canyon, then looked back at Shadow, then Ild’ashi.
“I can’t fly us out; it’s too narrow for my wings to spread properly. We’d never make it off the ground. At least I wouldn’t. My suggestion to you, my Copper indwelt Lady, is to take to the wind, and remain well out of reach of any Uruk weapons while I wag the Lady Alcarin out of here. Otherwise, you can just tramp right along with us, the choice is yours.”
With a shrug of his shoulders, the Black pulled his wings in, let them disappear into his shoulder blades, then draped An’Thaya’s limp form over his shoulder and set out for the opening of the canyon, which as best he could tell was still at least several klicks away.
A screaming, pounding ache was the first thing she was aware of, made all the more uncomfortable by the fact that she was dangling head first over what appeared to be someone’s shoulder… if the hard armor digging into her stomach was any indication. Tay groaned, and immediately regretted it, tried to open both her eyes, and regretted that as well. The skin was split from her temple, across her eye, and onto her cheek, bruised, swollen and for a moment she feared the eye had been slashed as well.
Whoever had her was walking at a brisk pace, and from the size and length of stride, it was a man. Tager? No, he would never treat his daughter this way. The Amazon tensed, finally managing to open one eye. Startled by the depth of blackness she let the pupil dilate, taking in as much light as possible. A broad back greeted her fuzzy vision and she followed the line of it to a finely shaped derriere on down to the ground. It was a very long way down… and there was only one man she knew that was brave enough to handle her in such a fashion.
“REECE NIGHTFALL! Put me down this instant!” Yelling caused her head to pound even harder and she groaned in protest, before struggling against what she assumed was the Mercenary. Where the hell was she? Why was it so dark? And so gods bedamned cold?
“Reece Nightfall?” Callan peered over his shoulder an up An’Thaya’s curved spine until it disappeared behind his back, his topaz eyes getting a nice view of the bondmark he and Agaru shared thanks to the gap between her shirt and pants.
“I’ve been called a lot of things by a lot of women, mistaken for a lot of people, but I don’t remember anyone named Reece.” Ice-blue eyes scanned the sky seeking the Copper and her passenger, then went back to the path. Footing here was treacherous to say the least, the loose gravel and shale had already nearly taken him to his knees twice, and it had been one of those jostling moments where An’Thaya had awakened. Rumbling a chuckle, Callan muttered, “Now...Reece Nightfall? That isn’t some foul name in that S’Hean elvish of yours is it?”
The Dragon Emperor took a moment to jostle her again and shift her higher on his shoulder, “Count yourself lucky half your face is mush right now, or I’d paddle your ass for nearly castrating me a week or so back.”
He had no intentions of putting her down, they had to get out of this death trap as quickly as possible, or at least get where his wings would spread...and so far, the opening had only become narrower as he went.
The moment he spoke Tay realized her mistake, and flew into a full-blown rage. “WHO THE HELL! Put me down! How DARE you!” The tiny redhead kicked at and beat at him with her fists, panicked on the inside but certainly not about to let a stranger know it. The sudden burning on her lower back did nothing to calm her, nor did the jostling. A dagger slid out of one of her arm guards, a stab neatly aimed at his kidneys. Sparks flew as the blade merely bounced off the impenetrable dragon armor, leaving Tay momentarily shocked speechless.
Now that wasn’t nice, a voice rumbled in her head, I’d prefer if you left my mate in one piece, thank you.
What the hell? Oh gods… I’ve completely cracked…
There you are...I was getting worried, M’Tashnae. Your elf is putting up quite the struggle. Though, lucky for me she’s not got a DragonSteele dagger, or my kidney would be having more problems than just 9000 years of beer drinking.
Callan shifted his awareness from the now writhing bond mark on his collarbone to An’Thaya, “I’d hold still were I you. I’d rather not have scratches on my backplate, and you never know what might pop up back there. Dragon spines are odd like that.”
“Now, all the flirting aside, An’Thaya, what did you learn in Osto?”
Callan shifted her around a bit more in his arms and was carrying her like a child, his eyes leaving the rocky surroundings only a moment. “And that looks rather nasty. You’re lucky you didn’t loose an eye. I could heal that...but then, that would be up to you.”
Callan… love… there is something vastly wrong with her. She doesn’t seem to know you… or me for that matter. I think that blow to the head damaged more than her face.
“Stop talking about me in the third person!” Tay snarled at the voice in her head, “WHO the HELL is An’Thaya, and WHO the HELL are you? Osto? A town? What town?” Wide emerald eyes stared up into topaz, but she had stopped struggling, mainly out of shock. Perhaps a slight amount of fear as well. Dragon’s were dangerous creatures… but she had never heard of one taking on humanoid form before. If… that was what he was saying.
The utter darkness and bitter cold coupled with the throbbing wound on her face birthed a cold knot of fear in her gut. She was obviously on the verge of insanity and held captive by an even more insane man who seemed to think he was a Dragon. “I’d rather you didn’t,” the cold steel of her dagger came up hard against his throat, pressing up against the carotid artery, “put… me… down.”
A soft rumble of laughter welled up in Callan as he froze in place; this was fun, really. So much fire in such a small package... “So, I guess this means no to the healing part?” He tilted his head to the side, ice-blue eyes meeting emerald in the murk, a crooked smile adorning his face. He’d been tempted to drop her...really drop her right there on the floor of the canyon, but then, she’d run, wouldn’t she? Although, he seriously doubted she’d get far, all the loose shale made footing here as bad as walking on ice and scaling the now-sheer walls of the canyon would be impossible...more than likely an attempt would start a rock slide.
For a moment, Callan pressed his throat to the blade; his smile remaining as the blood began to bead under the weapon and slide down his neck. “You’re on the wrong side to do much damage...the artery you seek is on the other side for my kind...and I’d watch your fingers...” Dark red blood was creeping down the angle of the blade, pooling at the cross-guard and seeking to surge down the handle.
“Normally, I’d say she’s just fine, but I’m leaning to the something is wrong side now, Agaru...after all, she’s aiming too high to be in her right mind...and there’s not much I can do unless I force a healing on her...and even then, that would simply mend the flesh, not the mind...but what concerns me is not your elf...but you. You scared the centuries out of me.”
While Callan’s blood ran down his breastplate and An’Thaya’s knife, Black and Silver threads sought the Crimson of his soul mate. “If anything had happened to you...”
A startled expression crossed the Amazon’s face, her eyes flickering from his topaz gaze to the blade. A frown creased her brow and she looked back up again, suddenly focusing on his ears. “You’re a half-elf?” there was surprise in her tone and the pressure of the blade eased a bit, though not before the black-red blood dripped onto her sensitive Elven flesh. With a wild curse in Drow she dropped the dagger and brought the fingers up to her mouth, only to hiss in pain when it burned her tongue and lips as well.
Agaru’s soul flared in response to Callan’s and the Dragon rumbled in response to her mate. The tattoo on An’Thaya’s back writhed and burned, adding to her discomfort, as well as to the litany of Drow profanity.
“What the HELL is going on? What IS that?”
I’m fine love. I’d not try to force a healing; she wouldn’t take to it well. I’m trying to remember what I’ve seen of her memories … she seems to have regressed to somewhere before eight hundred years old. Any other time I’d find this terribly amusing… but considering the circumstances. Is now a bad time to mention that she is freezing?
Oh GODS...surely you don’t expect me to...oh for gods’ sakes, Agaru. You want me to actually keep her warm? Internally, Callan was reverting to mental bitching and griping as his hands began to grow warm, then his arms, and lastly a pair of black wings folded out and covered them both, the blood vessels contracting on the outer side to conserve precious heat, the vessels on the inside expanding to radiate it.
“No...I am not half-Elven.” Callan ignored the lost dagger and began walking again, the cut healing on his neck as he did, but not for his own comfort, the blood might as well have been acid to the S’Hean, “I think you may have lost a little time in that memory of yours.” Blue eyes lifted, searching for the Copper he could feel the Pull from above, nodded in satisfaction that she seemed alright, as well as the passenger on her back, then back at An’Thaya. “Tay?” Callan spoke the name with more than a little reluctance, the last time had nearly made him a eunuch, “Is that what you were called then? I am not an elf, in anyway. I am a dragon, a Black, and an Emperor...and THAT is a bondmark, one that if I’ve not forgotten in the past few weeks, is of a black dragon tearing your flesh across the top of your hind end.”
An un-Amazonly shriek came out of Tay as black wings enfolded her, which only increased her ire. The warmth was soothing, however, and she petulantly stilled while staring up at Callan. “A dragon?” her tone was laced with icy sarcasm, “and an Emperor? Right… and I’m an Elven Princess. A bond what?” Though the better question was … how did he know her name? It was starting to dawn on her that something wasn’t right… besides the fact that she was being carried by a complete stranger through what appeared to be… hell.
Oh stop whining and keep walking, Agaru scolded affectionately, don’t forget, I’m in here too… and I’m not particularly fond of the cold either.
Muttering and complaining, Callan grunted at his mate, then sighed a long-suffering sigh. “Well, okay, you got me...I’m not an Emperor, I’m just an average joe dragon posing as an emperor, okay? Anyway...” he shifted his load a little better and gingerly pulled a mass of crimson hair from the clotting blood on An’Thaya’s face with one wing claw, “It seems you’ve taken a rather nasty blow to the head, you ARE a Princess, married to an Elen elf named Galain, bonded to his uncle, the Elen King, have gods know how many kids, are tattooed in more places than even I am...and I’m nearly 9000 years old.”
“THAT tat on your backside is a bondmark...a mark of soul-mates...and lovers...but I assure you, half-elf, it is NOT you I’ve slept with, but your Crimson.”
“Think now is a bad time to mention you leaving me on a ledge with her one morning?”
“We are in Tenobrous, the rest are waiting at an abandoned outpost, waiting for word on where several abducted children are...any more information than that needs to wait until your head is clear, Thaya.”
“Married? Bonded? Lovers?” Tay opened her mouth as if to say something more, then immediately closed it and blushed as deep a shade as her hair.
The Crimson, meanwhile, was turning blue with laughter. Oh… Callan… Tay, at this age, was a complete innocent. I think you’ve traumatized her. Are we near the end of the canyon yet?
“Traumatized her? Me? You’re the one who keeps talking inside her head...and its not like traumatizing HER is a problem. I’m rather enjoying it, really.”
“And yes, blessedly, we are nearing the end of the canyon, probably not the confusion...”
At the end of the canyon, Callan Blackthorn slogged to the top of the rise, slipping and scrabbling at some points for traction, then growled a low, “to hell with it,” Black wings spread and already strong arms crushed the redhead to his chest as black armour and crimson shirt slid away, revealing scarred half-Elven flesh, then momentarily grew rough. Black scales smoothed across his body and in seconds An’Thaya Alcarin was held aloft again the Black Dragon Emperor’s chest plates, his massive upper arms blocking a great deal of the cold as he spiraled into the air, his wings making a low thudding sound that could be felt more than heard on each downstroke.
“I hope someone knows which way we’re going. The portal homed in on Agaru, I have no idea where we are in relation to the outpost, or which direction I came from.”
Tay was wildly gibbering in the back of her mind; it had started somewhere around the moment she had been crushed against Callan’s chest and escalated as the half-elf shifted to dragon form, tactile and visual proof that he was indeed what he claimed to be. Though it didn’t do much for the Amazon’s faith in her own sanity.
The blush had deepened as rippling muscle and scars had appeared, as well as a crimson dragon that peeked at her over his shoulder. The explosion of scales and sudden shift in size left the redhead feeling impossibly small and she was unusually quiet. Somehow, though, the change in form was reassuring. The Dragon was less threatening than the man, something familiar in a situation where nothing else was.
Tser… Tseresia was a dragon, and one of the few beings Tay trusted. The Velvetwing Black was a great deal smaller and a good deal less scaly than this particular beast… but even still.
That way, the voice of Agaru spoke up in the Amazon’s mind again, though she was addressing Araxmarr, from what I can make out… Adarin is that way.
Adarin… Callan had mentioned him. Her bondmate? What exactly did that mean? Certainly not… that, not if the other…the one named Galain was her husband. Confusion set in again and the Amazon groaned, letting her head drop against a massive chest plate. Her head hurt too much to think, and her thoughts kept leading her in circles as it was. For now, she gave in to the urge to sleep.
|
|
|
