the near disaster earlier in the day, the
mood around the camp was relaxed and jovial. Raine, as usual,
seemed lost in her own thoughts and did not engage much in the
conversation. Dagna was explaining to Lorifal and Elyara why she
had left the Order, specifically that she had great difficulty with
the vows of celibacy. This caused considerable merriment with that
small group, which drifted over to Gunnar and Bristol while Idonea
and Feyden looked on with mild disdain. Apparently the
encouragement she was receiving emboldened Dagna and she addressed
Raine across the campsite.
“And is there no one special for you, Raine?”
The group fell silent as the answer to this question
was keenly anticipated. Half just wanted to know anything about
Raine, who had thus far been nothing but circumspect. The other
half had some vested interest in the answer. Idonea was quite
interested in what Raine had to say whereas Feyden doubted that she
would respond at all. She was silent for so long it appeared Feyden
would be correct when she raised her eyes slowly to the group.
“My heart,” she said simply, “is owned entirely by
another.”
It was a breathtakingly romantic expression,
unexpected yet somehow perfectly consistent coming from Raine.
Although it was deeply disappointing to Dagna personally, the words
were so expressive, the tone so matter-of-fact yet filled with such
great longing, it touched Dagna to her core. She was, after all, a
bard, and love is love even when it belongs to someone else.
The admission seemed to affect Raine and she stood.
Without a word or backward glance, she walked from the circle of
light and disappeared into the darkness. All watched her go and
Bristol was reminded of his earlier thoughts. Apparently there was
something that could affect this one deeply.
Raine walked through the forest, willing the
tightness in her chest to go away. Her longing for her lover was
like something alive, twisting inside of her, causing her to ache
with need.
“It seems you have many suitors.”
Raine caught her breath and her eyes went instantly
to a deep violet. The voice behind her was low, sensual, gently
mocking but with no malice towards her.
“No,” she replied, “I have only one.”
Warm breath whispered over her neck and into her ear.
“She must be very fortunate.”
“No,” Raine said, shaking her head, “she deserves no
less. I worship her.”
And with that, Raine turned, fearful that she was
imagining the whole thing. But Weynild, was there, her golden eyes
gleaming in the night, her silver hair reflecting the moonlight,
her full lips parting as she pulled her young lover to her. Raine
kissed her desperately, hungrily, gasping from the desire and need
that this one inspired in her. But reality intruded, and Raine
grasped her arms, pushing away just enough to look into her
eyes.
“But you are here!”
Weynild understood. “Yes, but we are not in any
danger.”
“But how?”
Weynild pulled her close. “Your band is at the
crossroads of meridians.”
“Meridians?”
“Yes,” Weynild continued, adjusting her hands about
Raine's hips so there was no space between them. “The lines of
power that crisscross the world, invisible to all but the birds
that migrate by them.”
Understanding dawned in Raine's eyes. “And visible to
dragons as well?”
“Yes,” Weynild said, smiling so that her teeth
gleamed in the moonlight. “To dragons as well. And where the lines
cross, the light is so bright that I cannot be seen within it.”
Raine clutched her close, drinking in her beautiful
face, the breasts framed so perfectly in the fire-red scaled armor
that hugged the curves of her body. “Is there a meridian line I can
walk all the way to my destination?” she asked.
“If only your path were that straight, my love,”
Weynild replied. “But you will pass meridian crossroads several
times, and each time I will come to you. And tonight, you are
mine.”
They went to the ground
mood around the camp was relaxed and jovial. Raine, as usual,
seemed lost in her own thoughts and did not engage much in the
conversation. Dagna was explaining to Lorifal and Elyara why she
had left the Order, specifically that she had great difficulty with
the vows of celibacy. This caused considerable merriment with that
small group, which drifted over to Gunnar and Bristol while Idonea
and Feyden looked on with mild disdain. Apparently the
encouragement she was receiving emboldened Dagna and she addressed
Raine across the campsite.
“And is there no one special for you, Raine?”
The group fell silent as the answer to this question
was keenly anticipated. Half just wanted to know anything about
Raine, who had thus far been nothing but circumspect. The other
half had some vested interest in the answer. Idonea was quite
interested in what Raine had to say whereas Feyden doubted that she
would respond at all. She was silent for so long it appeared Feyden
would be correct when she raised her eyes slowly to the group.
“My heart,” she said simply, “is owned entirely by
another.”
It was a breathtakingly romantic expression,
unexpected yet somehow perfectly consistent coming from Raine.
Although it was deeply disappointing to Dagna personally, the words
were so expressive, the tone so matter-of-fact yet filled with such
great longing, it touched Dagna to her core. She was, after all, a
bard, and love is love even when it belongs to someone else.
The admission seemed to affect Raine and she stood.
Without a word or backward glance, she walked from the circle of
light and disappeared into the darkness. All watched her go and
Bristol was reminded of his earlier thoughts. Apparently there was
something that could affect this one deeply.
Raine walked through the forest, willing the
tightness in her chest to go away. Her longing for her lover was
like something alive, twisting inside of her, causing her to ache
with need.
“It seems you have many suitors.”
Raine caught her breath and her eyes went instantly
to a deep violet. The voice behind her was low, sensual, gently
mocking but with no malice towards her.
“No,” she replied, “I have only one.”
Warm breath whispered over her neck and into her ear.
“She must be very fortunate.”
“No,” Raine said, shaking her head, “she deserves no
less. I worship her.”
And with that, Raine turned, fearful that she was
imagining the whole thing. But Weynild, was there, her golden eyes
gleaming in the night, her silver hair reflecting the moonlight,
her full lips parting as she pulled her young lover to her. Raine
kissed her desperately, hungrily, gasping from the desire and need
that this one inspired in her. But reality intruded, and Raine
grasped her arms, pushing away just enough to look into her
eyes.
“But you are here!”
Weynild understood. “Yes, but we are not in any
danger.”
“But how?”
Weynild pulled her close. “Your band is at the
crossroads of meridians.”
“Meridians?”
“Yes,” Weynild continued, adjusting her hands about
Raine's hips so there was no space between them. “The lines of
power that crisscross the world, invisible to all but the birds
that migrate by them.”
Understanding dawned in Raine's eyes. “And visible to
dragons as well?”
“Yes,” Weynild said, smiling so that her teeth
gleamed in the moonlight. “To dragons as well. And where the lines
cross, the light is so bright that I cannot be seen within it.”
Raine clutched her close, drinking in her beautiful
face, the breasts framed so perfectly in the fire-red scaled armor
that hugged the curves of her body. “Is there a meridian line I can
walk all the way to my destination?” she asked.
“If only your path were that straight, my love,”
Weynild replied. “But you will pass meridian crossroads several
times, and each time I will come to you. And tonight, you are
mine.”
They went to the ground
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