Wednesday Briefs: Winter Haven's Dyrpath Chapter 2

 

The clouds started to clear as soon as I came out, bringing more light to the lumpy terrain so I could easily avoid the pitfalls around the chopped off stumps and the baby trees. I went around the orchard and started my trek up the hill; it was the way toward the closest town. There, maybe the snowy owl with the black-flecked wings would go unnoticed.

She flew on silent wings across my path, stopping on the stump of a fence ahead of me and to my right about two arm’s lengths away.

“Go away, shoo!” I hissed. I waved my arms.

“Whoo? Me?” she asked. “Or are you running away again?”

That stopped me in my tracks. I’d only ever heard a few words from her, things I could dismiss as my imagination. “Y-you talked.”

“So did you,” she said. She turned her head one direction, then back almost all the way the other. “Nooo one else here to say anything, dyrpath.”

“Don’t call me that,” I snapped.

“Are we not talking?” She flipped her wings open and then shut again, tucking them against her back. “Is that not what youuu are?”

“No. No, no, no.” I shut my mouth tight, clamping any more words behind my lips and behind the walls of my teeth, despite the desire for them to chatter with the freezing chill. Ill-omen indeed. I’d likely die out here, in the cold, before I ever reached the town. That didn’t stop me from hurrying on in the same direction I’d been going, away from the owl, from it’s ill-luck and drop in my fortunes.

Master Vado had never taken me to town once I’d been dropped off on his doorstep, passed along by another distant family member, from yet another family member, from the time my own parents had sent me off three winters past. The only place I’d gone was the casting shed, on the edge of his property where the hedge wizard worked, the cold storeroom for my meals, and my tiny attic space. No one suffered my presence long, not once the ill-omens appeared.

The animals were bad enough, with my ghostly appearance and dark locks. Ill-luck, their glances would worry as they skittered away, before the predators began to grow in number. At the first bloody corpse, the looks would give rise to whispers, and with the first livestock that went missing or dead, I’d be taken away under cover of night before the family who’d been stuck with the misbegotten ill-luck demon-kin would be blamed as well.

Usually with more than a few bruises to nurse for their trouble.

I hadn’t asked to be born. Glancing up at the sky, at the sickle of the moon that limited my powers these few nights, I cursed the fates that had sent me to this moment. Why had this been my life? The magic in my veins wasn’t something I could access, it just was, but the wielders could use me as a source before they became too wary of the flavor of my power and believed it tainted by the ill-luck that haunted me for three long years.

Since the eve of my fifteenth birthing day, the coldest and longest night of the year, when the magic of the moon held sway and the beasts did her bidding, including me. A dyrpath. A demon who speaks with animals, who does their bidding and tricks them into doing his. Ill-omen at birth, my mother had strove to keep the village from learning the night of my birth. She’d bleached my hair, dying it with red elder berries to lighten the hue, but blood will always tell.

On my darkest nights, I worried that the smoke I thought I saw that night, the first time I’d been sent away and the last time I’d seen them, meant they’d been burned out of their home or worse. My two little sisters, with their red curls and peeping green eyes that never judged me, hadn’t deserved that fate, the one I ran away from then and now in my nightmares.

A sob burned the back of my throat, but I suppressed it ruthlessly. I was magic, but I was not this corruption that everyone feared; I did not bring down death and destruction with my very presence.

The little voice inside of me that whispered all day, every day, as the villagers refused to meet my gaze despite the looks and whispers behind my back, whispered again, just so I could hear over the rising whistle of the wind… “Liar.”

A blush briefly warmed my cheeks, then faded. The light began to fade as well, making it hard to see the path. I squinted, floundering in some of the deeper snow as I stepped to one side. I paused, gasping for air, and then tried to orient back to the path.

Spinning, I cried out. “No!” I’d lost the path. It was hidden from me, and all round me were tall trees ringed with strange pokey spines. I stumbled into a clearing, desperately looking up for a sign of the moon or a glimpse of the stars to orient myself.

The ill-luck swept across, just over my head, from one tree to the next. “Here,” she called. “This way.” The tree began to glow, lighting up and then it lifted from the ground, spinning slowly.

No. That was not a direction I was willing to go. But no matter which way I turned, the first steps I took led me toward that spinning tree. “Why?” I cried out. “Why won’t you leave me be? What do you want?” Just like every time I’d asked that question in despair before, there were no answers.

The closer I came, each grudging step dragged forward by invisible forces, the glow in the sky grew behind the tree. My heart stuttered, but my feet did not, and the ill-omen hooted as it finally captured me. "Youuu." 

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J Ray Lamb

Julie Lynn Hayes

Wednesday Brief: Winter Haven's Dyrpath Chapter 1

 The sound jolted me from sleep. I held my breath, my heart thudding against my chest as I stared up at the knotty pine of the roof above me. Silence and wind blowing in the trees, the odd creak of wood, then the whoosh of my trapped breath escaping me was all I heard. It couldn’t be out there. It must have been a sound my mind made up, a nightmare phantasm that sent sweat slicking my spine.

Still… I pushed aside my cover, climbing off my pallet and inching toward the window. The freezing air chilled my flesh beneath my damp nightshirt, and the rough boards under my toes didn’t hold a speck of warmth from the fireplace underneath. Peering through the thick glass of the tiny window, I stared out. The night was dark, the lights of the stars shrouded by misty clouds and the moon a slim sickle.

I sighed soundlessly in relief, then crept over to the pitcher and basin. I trickled a little water inside the basin, the cupped a hand in the deep bowl and poured the water over the wrist of one hand before repeating on the other. I wiped my wet fingers over my forehead and patted my cheeks. Dipping my fingers and swirling them in the fingertip of water, I dripped it on the back of my neck.

“Whoo. Youuuu.” Peck. Peck. Peck. The cold water turned to ice because the call came again, followed by taps of beaks on the glass. I shuddered and quaked, clutching the back of my neck and wrapping my other arm around my chest.

“No, no, no.” I clapped my hand over my mouth, cutting off the words, listening hard. No one moved, thank the souls.

But now I knew it wasn’t a dream, and if anyone else heard that call outside my window, they’d know what it was. They’d know it was here for me.

Or they’d blame me anyway, even if they didn’t. My breath came in short pants behind my hand, and I trembled, part cold and part fear, as I strained both my ears for the silent swish of wings I knew I’d never hear or the ability to move. Movement came first, of course.

Tears burned hot in my eyes, the only thing warm about me, and I swallowed the sob back. I’d hoped to stay a little longer, but the fates weren’t on my side. Pulling on the leggings that went under my outer pants, I hurriedly tied them then tucked in my nightshirt. I’d need layers, so my two shirts went over top, and I belted a woven scarf around my waist twice before tying it. Another, a gift from two farms back, covered my head and neck so I could keep my ears, neck, and face warm. I curled up on the pallet and pulled warm, woolen socks out of my boots to cover my feet but left those off.

My coat was not as thick as I’d like, or the wind would make me wish for, but it seemed calm; I might get lucky and find a new place before a whiteout overtook me again. Rustling broke the silence, and I darted on my stocking covered toes to the window again. Peering out, I stared into the dim night.

Could I risk it?

I mocked myself, pursing my lips. If I tried to stay until the light of day, it would only go worse for me. This was no ordinary owl, and she was not going to be scared off by the lights of the sun’s rays. Her call of whooo might sound simple, but the bad luck would be put on me.

I was the master’s last apprentice, and he would not keep an ill-omen. And an owl calling at night, tapping on my window, was an ill-omen he could not ignore, not at his age.

The beating I’d get before the booting would make it too difficult to travel in the snow, so it was best to leave now, I reasoned. Besides, maybe I could pilfer a little something in the pantry. I’d earned enough, having almost two weeks of slaving away in the work room with naught but a broth and slice of bread without any spread. Ridiculous for the amount of casting I’d facilitated.

Bundling my spare pants, socks, and a woolen hat the young mistress at a house a few stops back had given me, I wrapped it up in the cover and folded the ends in tight to make a roll that fit perfect when tied with the string I’d put under my pallet.

Nobody called me a fool, or underprepared. Ill-luck, sure. The dark hair, bright as a raven’s wing, with the pale skin of a snowflake, And the animals.

At first, the call of the owl. I learned after the first time I was driven off to be wary, and the beatings I’d taken and the second and third farm were enough to convince me that getting gone was more important than staying warm or getting three hot meals.

With my bundle slung over my shoulder and my boots in hand, I crept down to the ladder one-handed and across the floor toward the door. The other two apprentices were enjoying the warmth, huddled together by the fire.

They didn’t twitch until I opened the door and the freezing draft swirled in along with several snowflakes that twisted and danced in the air. I stepped out quickly and latched the door behind me. That was it, I was stuck outside.

Scraping distracted me, and I glared up, shivers already wracking me as I hurried to shove my feet into my boots. I tied the laces with stiffening fingers, and then took off away from the house, away from the ill-omen that never brought anyone any bad luck but me. 

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Julie Lynn Hayes  

Wednesday Briefs: Ancalagon Ch. 119

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to be part of the new council?” I asked Garjah. I’d been sitting there quietly, lost in thought, but I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

He shook his head. “No.” Garjah twisted in his chair; I was sitting on a wide cushioned seat in the corner, pillows piled around me. Bouncer was curled at my feet with his head in my lap. I stroked behind his ears, watching as Garjah went over videos on his comm. “It was never my intention to take over for the Kardoval. I love what I do, and it’s more than enough for me. Besides, if we’re stuck on the new council, how can you do your job of studying the planet or going back to Ardra? We’d never be able to leave the city.”

I let out a sigh of relief. I’d been holding this question in for cycles as the Kardoval hid from the people and the rioting continued. We’d had to hide out in that tiny greenhouse, which was awkward enough during sleeping cycles, but it’d finally burst out of me. The Aqnars should arrive soon, but the Kardoval had to be found first. Garjah wouldn’t allow anything else.

He wouldn’t let vulnerable Galactic ambassadors onto the planet otherwise. I hesitated to warn him about how many would probably be coming with them; he’d been spoiled with Ases coming alone with the mech, but this was a whole different situation, despite what he’d negotiated. They’d bring every single staff member, protector, chef, server, pilot, deckhand, mechanic… basically if the could determine the Aqnars might potentially need the service of a being on their ship or during their stay, they’d send a being to fill that role.

And another one we’d not know as well. Every Galactic Council employee had secret skills; that was what made them so good at staying in power. Not that they abused it; they were their own checks and balances system.

“Do you want that? To be part of the takeover?” Garjah hesitated. He didn’t like the word, but there really wasn’t another way to phrase it. They had to takeover and figure out a new way of doing things. It just sounded more hostile than what he’d ever intended.

“Of course not!” I’d be more than content to roam the jungles with Bouncer. There was so much I wanted to see without the stress of fleeing for our lives. Maybe a few things I’d want to avoid too; I shrugged. “I’m not into politics. Just as Ases. The few classes I had to take I nearly failed, and it almost kept me off any planets or stations with intelligent species.”

“How could they do that?”

“Well, apparently I was not as much of a natural as I’ve proven with you.” I stood up and strode over to Garjah, straddling his lap and curling my arms around him. He grunted, and I smacked his shoulder. “Stop that, I’m not that heavy.”

“You’re not heavy at all,” he said. He pulled me closer. I stroked the back of his head, tracing the ridges that curled over his ears and down to his neck. His eyes closed partially. While I was trying to rest and recover from all the craziness of trying to rescue him, he’d never stopped pushing himself.

“Come lay down with me?” I whispered.

He opened his eyes and his mouth, to protest I’m sure, but I cut him off with a kiss. “Please? I feel better with your arms around me.” Yes, it was sneaky and manipulative, and maybe even more for me than him. No, screw it. It was better for him to come lay down, even if it mean that I had to lie to him to get him to do it. He was so tired I could literally feel it through our bond.

“I have to keep searching,” Garjah protested.

“You have officers doing that. And those flying comm things. You can rest, and the system will alert you if anything is found or if you are needed.” I lifted one eyebrow. “Won’t it?”

He nodded reluctantly.

“Then all you’re really doing is staring at screens. Do you really want to do that when you could be holding me?” I leaned back, and his arms tightened around my lower back. One slid to my ass cheek and squeezed.

“No!” he answered in a rush.

“All right then. Bed.” And as much as my shaft had started to firm as soon as I got close enough to smell him and to feel the rock hard muscles under his skin tempting my touch, I was good. I lay on the bed, stretching out an arm, and he actually cuddled into me for once. Scrubbing my fingers gently over the back of his head, I scraped the edges of his ridges.

Shuddering, Garjah tensed, then let out a big sigh and relaxed all at once. It was like I’d found the lazy button or the disconnect the joints spot or something. I yanked my hand away. His body was heavy, his breath on my shoulder and neck puffing in rhythmic long pulses. He didn’t respond to anything, but he did snuggle close and hum until I started stroking his head again.

Then he repeated the muscle melt. It was truly bizarre.

Though I did like it. It felt comforting, and even though I’d asked Garjah to lay down with me so he could get some rest, I couldn’t keep my eyes open either. Maybe this was what it was like, to be held close by a partner who he loved and who loved him so much that nothing else mattered. The universe could go to the stars, and they’d figure out it together.

Essell yawned and curled around Garjah’s larger body, determined that nothing would ever hurt his bonded again. Not the Kardoval, not the Aqnars Garjah invited, and not the Galactic itself. They had a new life to plan. 

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Julie Lynn Hayes