“Family, friends, occasionally colleagues,” Atres replies.
“People you have some kind of an emotional attachment to,” Otrin nods, “Just how attached are you to our Girlie?”
“He’s bonding to her,” Kethas laughs, “We were worried he’d never bond to anyone after what happened in Iridon.”
“And what would that be?” Otrin asks.
“One of the princesses tried to use magic to force him to bond with her,” Kethas spits, “It broke something, or so we all thought. It wasn’t until he showed up here, already bonding to her, that anyone, even Atres, had any reason to think otherwise. When all that first happened, his clan’s shaman tried to see what could be done about it.”
“She even took me to other clans’ villages,” Atres says, “and nothing.”
“How many clan-holds did your shaman take you to after that business in Iridon to see if any of those girls would trigger a response?” Kethas asks.
“Half a dozen, maybe more,” Atres replies.
“You were around dozens of unbonded, unrelated females and never reacted, not even a little. Any other unbonded dragon-blooded male would have been ready to fight the whole village to prove he was strong enough to claim one of them as his mate. Everyone was afraid your ability to bond was permanently broken, even you. You meet her, and suddenly it’s working just fine,” Kethas says with a frown.
“A bit better than that,” Atres grins, “if I have to be honest. I’m starting to be able to sense her presence, even when I can’t see her.”
Kethas palms his face, “So soon? It’s not even the second tenday. When did that happen?”
“We were poking around the armory, and she found that box. I went to sign it out because she wanted to test them. I knew, without even realizing at first how I knew, that she moved to another part of the storage area,” Atres explains.
“I wonder if I shouldn’t have sent for your shaman, too, and not just your cousins,” Kethas frowns.
“She’d have sent her assistant, Tethra, or told me to come there and bring fy lleidr bach with me. Sothra doesn’t travel anymore, and fy lleidr bach isn’t in any shape to make that kind of journey this time of year,” Atres says with a shrug.
“Can you explain this bond?” Loket asks.
“We form an attachment to our mates,” Kethas explains, “even if they’re not dragon-blooded themselves. We can sense them through the bond. It renders other women undesirable. It’s got a few other effects, but they’re not that important for this discussion. That bond is part of what drives us to protect them. Losing them, becoming bond-broken, is terrible. It can rip the gift right out of a dragon-blood. That kind of thing ends, most often, with suicide or madness. Sometimes, it can kill outright. I’ve already lectured the girl about being more careful with herself. Even if you managed to resurrect her, he’s still in whatever state her death has left him in.”
“If we were to take her back to the Taig for a while,” Gramin asks, “does that mean we’d need to find a space for you, too?”
“It would be greatly appreciated,” Atres nods, “Too much distance is alarming for us, even distressing to us. We need to be able to sense them.”
“We’ll have to get you a helm,” Otrin grins, “You’ll be ducking doorways and lintels most everywhere.”
“If it helps her,” Atres shrugs, “I’d crawl on my hands and knees and be happy to do it. Having familiar people here seems to have been good for her. I would imagine that being in a familiar place with familiar people might be even better.”
“How’d you meet our Girlie?” Otrin asks.
“A very strange set of circumstances,” Kethas replies, “I’m not so sure I’d call them circumstances, given the length of that chain. Atres wasn’t even supposed to be on the recruiting run through the fairs, but Harcin’s wife went into labor early. Argonath’s team wasn’t supposed to be at the fair where the girl was. He was supposed to be a lot further west. Draltas’s group, the ones who should have been there, got their asses handed to them by a rogue werecat, so other groups got new routes to cover the extra territory. Someone mixed up an order and sent Argonath’s group to that fair, even though it was a long way out of their way. Argonath just happened to catch your Girlie at the archery game, trying to get away from some boy who was plaguing her. They were just about to take a lunch break and would have missed her in a few more minutes. Argonath was impressed by her skill enough to push her to go hunting with them. Your Girlie just happened to decide at the last minute, when they were leaving the Temple, that she might want to hunt a bit, so she packed her cats’ claws. She caught Atres’s eye when she jumped from one tree to another, scouting the elk herd. That about cover it?”
Both Benger and Atres look thoughtful.
“It does,” Benger agrees, “She wanted to see if we could take an elk or a deer on the way to my parents. We’d already loaded up the horses and were about to leave when she ran back to get her bow and gear.”
“How’d you know?” Atres asks Kethas.
“It seemed odd that you’d be in one of the groups that got rerouted to hit a fair that was so far outside the area you’d been assigned to. Plenty of other groups were closer, so I asked Korek and the girl some questions. I already knew about Draltas and Harcin. The more questions I asked, the less it seemed like mere chance and more like something else.”
“What kind of something else?” Loket frowns.
“Fate, divine intervention, destiny, whatever,” Kethas shrugs, “Take your pick, but it sure looks like something moved the pieces around the board a bit. Like they were supposed to meet.”
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“If it’s fate, I accept this fate,” Atres grins, “You didn’t see her. She was so damnably adorable with those luscious pink ears. How could I resist? When she made the jump from one tree to the next, I realized how she’d been hunting the bandits and went from intrigued to impressed. Argonath and Korek were giving her a hard time, so I decided to flirt with her. The whole time my gift is screaming at me that I need her, that she’s important. If you want to know what that was like, go stick your head in one of Kethas’s big cook pots and let him bang on it with that quarterstaff of his, because that’s how loud and insistent it was. I asked her to dance and maybe join me in a drinking game, and didn’t get much of a response. Since that didn’t get much of a response, I tried a little harder and ended up making her blush almost to her toes. I backed off just a hair to give her a bit of breathing room, but I wanted to be sure she knew she hadn’t put me off. I knew when she checked my motives that she was at least interested. Gods above! Those little pink ears were just too enchanting. Standing there, under that tree, even spattered by blood and elk guts, she was the most beautiful, entrancing, delectable thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I knew I was well and truly done.”
“Go back to the part about tribute,” Vorlig says.
“Our cohort has been tasked with hunting something that might or might not be a dragon calling itself Divaros. It’s not acting like a dragon. It’s been exacting tribute from a village in unsullied females,” Benger explains.
Vorlig nods and smirks for a moment.
Benger frowns, “Before you even ask, we’ve all suggested she sit this one out.”
Otrin laughs, “Our Girlie? Sit out a fight? Not likely. Any ideas on what this thing really is?”
“We have one,” Atres says, “Argonath thinks it’s a Fey thing of some kind that’s either pretending to be a dragon or morphed into one. My premonitions kicked off not long after she told me about it. We were still at the fair with Benger’s family. She’s had the smiths at the Temple busy building weapons and pulling things out of storage since Midwinter.”
“Hmmm,” Gramin asks, “What kind of weapons?”
“Something she calls siege bows,” Atres says, “It’s like a giant crossbow with enough power to send a bolt through six inches of solid timber. Lots of regular bows and spears to shred its wings.”
Vorlig nods approvingly.
“We think that some of this might work on a Fey,” Benger says, “She’s asked for the fletchers to dip the weapons in gold, silver, and mithril. Mostly, we’re afraid it will try to take her. Although I doubt our Goddess will give up on her that easily.”
“We discussed it,” Emlyn says, coming down the stairs. “She says some Fey can be powerful enough to give her pause, so she’s working on a deal with Neit, Lugh, and Nuada to all come if it should be necessary and beyond her power alone. I’m beginning to wonder if this isn’t a Fey variant of the shifter-clan scenario I planned for.”
“What are you thinking?” Atres asks.
“I know that there are all manner of were-creatures - werewolves, werecats, werebears, and even werebadgers - so I planned for a scenario where we discovered we were facing a weredragon. The worst variation of that particular plan involved not one, but an entire clan of them, who were taking the girls because they needed spouses. I’m wondering if this is something similar, though, but some Fey version instead of a true werebeast. Since it might involve hunting the whole family group if we discover that they’re abusing the girls, it’s one of the more dangerous scenarios. Replacing shifters, which we know how to kill, with Fey, which we don’t know how to kill or counter, makes me like it even less.”
“When I go back to break the news to Gendini, I can talk to our artificers to see if they know how to deal with it,” Otrin says, “If they don’t, I’ll ask them to research it.”
“See if they can come up with a way to get her back, if it does take her,” Atres says.
“Ask them if they can come up with some way for us to tell what this thing really is,” Emlyn says, “Once we know exactly what we’re dealing with, any other research can be far more focused and is more likely to give us something useful.”
“When my clan mates get here, they’ll be able to tell you if it’s a beast or not as soon as they get within sight of it,” Kethas says, “Our gift is with animals. Mine is with birds of prey – hawks, eagles, and the like. They’ll also be able to help steady Atres, help him control his need to protect you from this thing. Then he’ll be able to think more clearly, and his gift will function better to warn him, so he can warn you. His cousins, since they’re from the same clan, will be even better at that, but since we’re Rothe, we’re better than most who aren’t clan-kin at helping other dragon-blood steady themselves.”
“I think we know what we need to do,” Loket grins, “at least for the next few days. We see where Girlie is and start getting her back into fighting trim. Get Atres into as close to proper kit as we can find in Harito. Let Otrin tell Gendini about finding Girlie. Get Girlie’s haul of loot off to the traders. Talk to the artificers. Bring Henga back with you. She can spell Benger on chaperone duty and help Atres start learning Cymry. Gramin can go see about better ore.”
“I need to take Jagannath to the saddle makers and get him some new tack made,” Emlyn says, “When you see what he came with, you’ll understand. It’s not to my taste at all.”
“I had very specific instructions from my Mama when she found out we were coming back to Harito early to meet Atres,” Benger says, “If Henga’s willing to follow them to the letter, I’ll gladly share chaperone duty. Otherwise, they’re stuck with me.”
“I take it your Mama doesn’t approve of Atres,” Gramin grins.
“Not even a little bit,” Benger laughs, “Not even enough to let him sleep in the barn. She said, and I’m quoting ‘That good-for-nothing, womanizing bounder is trying to worm his way into her skirts. He’s much too old for her, and he’ll use that to his advantage.’ For the record, I think she’s wrong. I’ve had some time to observe the two of them. Once he laid eyes on my little sister, every other woman just ceased to exist. Even when they were trying to tempt him away from her, he never noticed them. She’s my Mama, though, and I’d rather not make her angry, so I’ll do as she says, even though he’s been remarkably honorable with her.”
“If he tries to take liberties with Girlie, Henga will swat him with that axe she carries,” Loket grins, “That apple didn’t fall far from this tree.”
“I appreciate Oja’s concerns,” Atres sighs, “I’m glad that Oja cares for her. I don’t think I could hurt her if I tried to. I don’t think my gift would let me, even if I were enough of a boot heel to attempt it. I suspect that if I were about to do something that might hurt her accidentally, my gift would warn me.”
Loket gives Atres a long look. “We’ll talk about this more tomorrow, boyo, while we’re getting you kitted out, eh?”
“Fair enough,” Atres nods. Loket nods and sips his ale.
“Girlie,” Otrin says, “I’ll see you get access to the House Irilan accounts. Buy what you need. Don’t worry, I can move a bit of it into the account you just opened. No one at the bank will say anything to the duke or the king.”
Kethas comes in, carrying platters of food. “I’m not sure what you lads like,” Kethas grins, “but I’ve got a good idea what Benger, the girl, and Atres all like.”
“I could tuck into some supper,” Gramin grins.
“Why is your Mama so attached to our Girlie?” Loket asks.
“I’m the oldest of seven boys,” Benger explains, “They kept trying for a girl. Since the Temple closes for Midwinter, I thought I’d take Nia home with me and let my mother fuss over her a bit. It seemed like it would be good for her. It’s been good for both of them, I think. My mother got the daughter she always wanted, and she got someone to mother her. My Da and my brothers like her a lot too.”
The group sits, eating and talking, until Emlyn yawns largely.
“Off to bed with you then,” Atres says, smiling, “We’ll all be here in the morning.”
Nodding, Emlyn heads up the stairs to sleep.
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Current Count: 18 "Fated Coincidences" and 1 "Scent-Tracking" incident.
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Observation: "Kethas is out here telling everyone that Atres and Nia meeting wasn't an accident—it was fate. He says Atres can 'sense her' even when he can't see her. That's not a gift; that's just being a creep! I can sense her too, usually by the sound of her shouting at me to go away. It’s a very strong connection.
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Current Jar Total: 112 coppers, a dented helm, and a very grumpy ghost-grandfather.
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Boltir’s Plea: "Melfyn is... let’s say 'traditionally minded.' He thinks Nia needs someone 'worthy'. Well, I’m worthy of at least a copper! Toss a coin in the jar, kin. I’m saving up for a 'Scroll of Ghost-Soothing' so I can talk to Melfyn without him threatening to blunt my creative spirit. Leave a review if you think the grandfather should give Boltir a chance—or if you just want to see Melfyn turn Boltir into a training dummy!"